[Open Post] ..hell yes i mind..

[lanselos_du_lac]

It's been a long while since Lancelot felt this way: angry and adrift, too overwhelmed and in his own head to determine how best to manage it. (If Susan were here, it would be simple -- but the fact that his Susan is gone is part of the problem.) His anger is a hot stone at his center, a roiling mess, a weapon without a target. He still feels that he would like to smash something, start a fight, find some way to externalize everything all the things he could not bring himself to say to the Galahad who is far older than he ought to be, the quiet king of a quiet kingdom.

A fulfilled purpose. A completed quest. A long chain of manipulation and events that dragged Lancelot along in its wake, and that (in this other time, he has to acknowledge, not his time and not now) led only to the ruin of everything Lancelot had cared for. And for what? It makes him furious to think that the price of the Grail was Galahad's joy, Galahad's self, and that that price was somehow being paid long before Galahad was even born.

That's just the start of it; there is more, much more, and it feels like it will keep spooling out without ceasing.

His impulse, as ever, is to stalk off to his room and stay there until he feels he can manage himself. (He thinks, not for the first time, of himself ten years older and outwardly angry, angry enough that everyone sees it, fears him or dreads his company. A man who lashes out. He does not want that future, but this possibility has always been somewhere just under the surface; he's always known it. Sometimes it has worked for him, with him, but he knows that it is dangerous and there is no one in this place that he would want to bear witness to it.) If this were Camelot, that is what he would do.

Since he can't figure what to do, he settles for a middle ground. It's been a long while since he felt like getting very deliberately drunk, but that appeals just now, and so he heads for one of the smaller bars, just off the main corridor.

^{[Note: All are welcome! Those who care for Lancelot and/or those who also wish to fistfight God are particularly welcome.]}

Comments

[ninth_cavalier]

Gideon shrugs. "It's okay. Like--it wasn't her. And she's here, so it won't be." Except, simultaneously, it was, and it will be, because she visited from somewhere. Man, fuck this interdimensional bullshit. "I hope your deal with the alternate Susan sucked less."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Even so, it still hurts," he says, immediately. After a beat he ventures, "She did not punch me, though I suspect she is capable of doing so."

[ninth_cavalier]

Gideon gives him a look sympathetic look. "Doesn't mean it was a good time, though."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No," with a little smile, "It could have been worse, but no. It was not a good time."

[ninth_cavalier]

"Did you meet anyone who was a good time, or was this whole event about how we should be grateful for the versions we've got?" Gideon thinks she's probably grateful enough for her Tally already, but no way is she saying that aloud.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I met only the Empress Consort and King Galahad, so," a little pause, "No, I did not meet anyone who was a good time. Hopefully someone else did. Either way, I am already immensely grateful for Susan."

He shoves down the part of him that says, I only hope we get our Susan back.

[ninth_cavalier]

"Gross," says Gideon, but it's approving. "Only other guy I ran into was alternate Lan Wangji, who was still Lan-Wangji-enough to not be any real fun, but not nearly so, like, personally depressing."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That sounds all right." He smiles a little, "What's gross?"

[ninth_cavalier]

"Oh, you know. Earnest affection, sincerity, being happy in love."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ah, yes. It turns one's stomach."

[ninth_cavalier]

"Way too much of it around here. Not enough people hate each other's guts," Gideon declares. "I don't think I hate anyone here. Isn't that fucked up?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I believe there may be some who do not like me much, but no-- I cannot think of anyone I might hate."

[ninth_cavalier]

"Nah, dislike is whatever. Dislike is boring. I'm talking, like, deep hatred. Hatred in the fuckin' bones." Gideon sounds almost wistful. "You have anyone you hated like that back in your dimension?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He considers this, then says, "I don't think so. Perhaps there were some who felt that way about me, there. But for the most part, if I do not enjoy someone's company I try to leave well enough alone."

[ninth_cavalier]

Gideon laughs. "Can't relate."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot grins at her, "I would not like to be the object of thy hate. Thou'rt fierce."

[ninth_cavalier]

Fierce is nice. Gideon likes fierce. But the whiskey is making her thoughtful, rather than just flattered. "I do tend to mostly hate people who try to kill me," she muses. "And who have a decent shot at it. The ones who try and don't have a shot are just, like, sad."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Where I am from, we have contests of martial skill as sport -- but there is war, as well. It does make it easier to know who has a better chance of killing me on the battlefield."

[ninth_cavalier]

"You fought the same people for sport as you did in war?" Gideon asks, interested.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He shrugs, "At times. I've been in service to the King for nearly twenty years, now. Tournaments are one way the High King can help keep smaller kingdoms content, but trouble still brews."

[ninth_cavalier]

"Huh. War in my—" she waves vaguely. "Time? Place? Is like—way distributed. No one fighting each other knows each other personally. A lot of the time they don't even see each other's faces—the closest they get is gun range. Nobody uses swords for war."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot listens with interest, then explains, "The petty kings fight among themselves, and the High King's forces back whomever is allied. Things are very changeable, so we might end up fighting nearly anyone at any time. We may not see one another's faces -- helms prevent that -- but I know the devices of most knights, and there are other soldiers as well. Much of the combat is hand to hand."

[ninth_cavalier]

Gideon tries to imagine that—like a hundred cavaliers, all clashing at once rather than in a formalized duel. "What's a device?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"A kind of image that identifies a knight. We have them on our shields, usually, or sometimes a banner. If I am in full armor, those who see it will still know me for who I am," a thoughtful pause. "I've been meaning to choose a new shield and add my device, now that the armory is sorted. The shield I have here is not my own."

[ninth_cavalier]

"You get your own icon?" Gideon asks, interested. "What did yours look like before? You don't like it anymore?"