He went to the West, I tracked to the East. He ran to the south, I strolled in the North. He climbed stairways, I loitered in sitting rooms. He's heading for the tents on the tourney field, I'm hiding under skirts of women doing their embroidery...
Dangerous territory, this. Delicate fingers with tiny -- and let it be noted, sharp -- implements. Simultaneously looking for and trying to avoid a certain queen. Why do I do this to myself?
They giggle and blush as I wink to them, as I lay my head upon their pillows, among their skirts, getting in the way of their crucial tapestry work. I make the queen feel pretty again. More than this, I make her feel useful. I tell her that I know that only Christ can save me. I moan. I sigh. I grin. I sing.
But at the setting of the sun, they turn me out...
The darkening sky is no place for such a gaggle of women to find safety with a man such as you, Drustan, they say. I followed the trail of their skirts, drinking in the scent of flowers and honey on their skin and in their wake. And in the departing sunlight, I step out of the castle, exhale, and turn my eyes to the appearance of stars. The sky is purple, magenta where it meets the earth. And the stars, God's eyes, blink and wink in the darkness. Ah, you're a flirt, Old Man. Just like me.
Drustan stands in his stag hide breeches, his blue wool shirt, the ties undone at the wrists. His arms folded against his broad chest. The beard shaved from his face. He looks 10 years younger. Now, if only his mood would hold...
Uriens, King of Gorre, Lord of Rheged. Once the fierce rebel that was seen as the only man other than Lot that could oppose the might of the banners rallying behind the boy king. With Lot's death, Uriens decided it would be best to side with the eventual victor. His courage was great, but ultimately was always eclisped by his Pragmatism. The one thing he can never let go however, is his Temper. People say Gawaine is a vengeful soul, but he hasn't a thing on Uriens once his blood is up.
His prime long since passed, he still stalks the halls of Camelot, like an old lion who's mane has long since turned grey, searching for Drustan so he might settled the manner with him personally. Arthur has tried to calm Uriens and tell him that he has handled the situation, but the King just insists that he merely wishes to talk with the banished prince. His family has even less success calming him. The fight with his wife is already the source of much gossip, and his Oldest son seems content to keep quiet and stay out of this in his usually laid-back manner.
The middle son however has been more bold in his attempts. He just returned from a quick mission to investigate rumors of gathering Saxon's and came home to find his father still stalking angrily about the castle. Ywaine, bold young knight that he is, tried to confront his father and calm him. He got backhanded with a mailed fist for his trouble. The pagan prince could not bring himself to return his father's blow however.
When Ywaine eventually finds you Drustan he's wearing a nice swollen eye and a split lip that reopens and bleeds every soften. One eye (the other is almost swollen shut mind) Narrows as Ywaine approaches and he says, "I think you're starting to have a lot of fun with this game of cat and mouse you and my father are playing."
She spent the day avoiding Gwenhwyfar and Uriens as much as possible. Seeing either of the two of them would only spell trouble. She also did her best to avoid Mark and Yseult, making sure she did not cause more problems than she already has. Drustan wasn't the only one making himself scarce today.
Arthur, of course, could always find his sister, and so she was subject to a battery of questioning and talking from him... and even some begging. He made it clear that he didn't want her to go back to Avalon. But she remained solid on this and even he agreed that getting Drustan away for a while might be a good plan.
Eventually, she just locked herself up in her room to 'pack' and told her woman to stay by the door and tell people she was just not taking visitors today. The woman did as she was asked, embellishing a bit that the Lady Morgaine was a bit unwell.
After all of that, she managed to get herself packed and once the sun started to set, she managed to sneak off, leaving her woman to tell people that she was resting. Out of doors she went. Not too far from where Drustan now stands, she sits in the tall grass at the side of a pool, partially hidden and gazing into the still waters.
The myriad of colours of the sunset plays with the crystal water, drawing the attention inward. Remaining very still otherwise, she touches a single finger to the pool, causing a ripple to form and move outward in waves -- her hand remains hovering over it as she continues to stare deeply into the moving water.
"If I am said to be happy these days," he says, eyes still to the stars, "...then I am happy I am winning." Dark blue eyes leave the sky behind and eyebrows cock upward at the sight of you. "I see he found you. You're not going to pay me back for it, are you?" A sudden chuckle. "I haven't had a drink all day, I doubt I'd have the strength. For while Lance's strength comes from his ... purity," we all know about that now don't we, "... mine comes from the bottom of a bottle these days. It's as much as finding me unarmed..."
What do you see in the water there, Lady? Do you scry for the future? Do I have a happy ending? No...wait... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess...
Ywaine doesn't comment on his father finding him, or whether or not he's going to pay you back for the flow. Instead he takes issue with some of your bolder claims. "Drustan, that you find your strength in the bottom of a bottle, is something that we both know is utter... if you will excuse the term, horse shite." so sayeth Ywaine.
"But I probably shouldn't get into this discussion with you..." It's then that he notices Morgaine, kneeling down in the tall grass watching the still waters beneath her. She seems off in her own little world, and that worries him. "Morgaine?" he asks, as he takes a step in her direction.
The pool of water is a small distance away, but she does not appear to be disturbed by the two male voices nearby, even when one calls her name. Nor does she move. Even her hand has not withdrawn from hovering above the water, barely millimeters above its surface. Yet somehow, the surface continues to ripple in small waves, distorting the image of the sunset.
Raven-black locks hang down, their tips mingling with the water, partially hiding her face. Blue eyes gaze deeply, as though she looks so far away that she sees through the pool and even into the earth below it. Indeed, images flash and flicker rapidly before her eyes, but she is frozen, unable to react to any of them for now.
"Tell your father that next time," as if there shall be one, "...he should check the Queen's embroidery room. Smart cowards hide beneath skirts." He is always one for self-depreciating humor. He calls it Humility. Lancelot admires it. But then, he would.
As you jerk forward blurting out the name of your step-mother, Drustan looks... confused. Ah, oh! Arms unfold and he comes alongside Ywaine. "Scrying," is what he says softly in passing.
How is it he knows such things? Perhaps his mother. Perhaps his nurse Brigit.
He doesn't want to disturb her visions. The grass whispers as he moves through it. But he remains at the water's edge. Just so long as she doesn't submerge, right?
Lancelot has never and will never truly understand what Humility is. Despite the lip service he pays it. When you... helpfully.... point out that she's 'scrying' You are given a look as if to say, I knew that.
The young knight shakes his head however and speaks with a lower voice so as to not disturb his step mother, "Scrying yes, but what is she trying to see?" He shakes his head. Devout pagan or not he doesn't get this whole 'sight' thing. He watches Morgaine for a moment longer before his attention returns to Drustan, "So when do you think you are both leaving?"
But she really hadn't intended on scrying today. The pool seemed calming, and so she sat by it, watching the colours of the sky change... but something called to her, causing her fingertip to touch the surface and set things into motion.
Suddenly, all colour drains from her face, as though seeing something truly horrible -- punctuated by a sudden gasp. "No..." she whispers, then strikes at the water's surface with her hand, destroying the image in the water.
Quickly, she brings her hand up to her forehead...then lowers it as she hears voices so close. As though startled, she turns her head quickly toward the two of you, peering through the descending twilight. "Ywaine... Drustan...? I'm sorry. I did not hear you," she calls out, shaking off her hand and finally wiping it on her skirts.
Drustan cranes his neck, leaning forward and lifting his voice. "That's quite alright, My Lady. I was busy hiding behind your son." A wink to Ywaine. "As for when we're leaving, I think tomorrow?" Drustan glances to Morgaine. Wondering what she has seen. Knowing better than to ask. "Are we heading to the land of milk and honey with the new day, my sweet and fair cousin?"
Not waiting for her to answer, Drustan pivots toward Ywaine. "Olwen asked for you by the by. That sweet little thing has quite the crush on you. Haven't you carried her little hankie into tourney?" He grins broadly, baiting. Of course. "I made such piteous moan about no longer having a lady's favor that each woman sighed a pitiful sigh. Olwen said she couldn't give me her favor. It was already foresworn to another..."
Ywaine looks to his step-mother, with some concern. "Is everything alright?" He always worries we she starts having visions. They seem to take their toll on her. His concentration is broken though as Drustan lays out the bait for him.
"Ah yes. Olwen." Actually no he hasn't carried her favor yet, but at this point he's going to feel quite guilty if he doesn't. "A sweet girl, though I understand that the queen has bent her ear a bit about the dangers of 'making eyes at unwashed pagans.'" He takes your teasing in stride and turns to and in a brotherly gesture draps his arms over your shoulders. "Perhaps I will carry her favor in the next tourney." After all she's often teased by the other's for being a 'silly girl.' It would be nice to let her have her moment of fame.
"So you will be leaving on t he morrow then most likely? That's fortunate then Drustan.." Ywaine grips your shoulder affectionatly even as a broad smile spreads across his face. "That should give you plenty of time to dry off..." and that said he gives Drustan a solid push towards the edge of the water, to give you a little bath.
Thankful for the lack of questions, Morgaine quickly finds herself on her feet, closing what distance there is between the two of you and her. Grinning, she murmurs, "Well, it seems that too many of us have spent the day hiding, hm?"
She glances at Ywaine now as he asks her if all is well, suddenly noticing the mark on his face. She blinks once. Then again. Finally, she says in barely a whisper, "Oh... well, ah, yes..." For now, anyway. She mention the mark on his face. There is no need.
Her attention is drawn from this as Drustan mentions Olwen, however -- it causes a smile to form upon her lips. "Well, you have an admirer, it seems, hm? She's such a sweet girl, too. I think it would please her if you did wear her favour into the tourney. I've seen how she looks at you," she adds quietly, joining in the teasing, trying to pull attention from bad occurrences and visions.
But then, she blinks and begins to laugh as Drustan is pushed toward the water. Oh now... this can come to no good... but perhaps it will lighten the mood of the day.
I have the balance of a cat!
A three-legged cat utterly sick on catnip, that is...
There wasn't even time to shout something offensive of ear-burningly blasphemous. One goodly shove by Ywaine -- and pity poor little Olwen if she ever feels the full-on shove of Ywaine! -- and Drustan stumbles a step forward, rescues himself by swinging his arms...
All well and good, right? If only the grass wasn't wet...
There's a fair splash for it, and Drustan ends up on his arse, in the water up to his chest. And the furious face -- as if you were going to believe that -- breaks into a wide grin as he breaks into a side-splitting laugh. Howling, ladies and gents.
Arms wide thrown back, Drustan wallows in the water, still laughing. And strategically kicking his leg.
What's that law of magic? Oh yes...
What goes around comes around...
As quickly as possible, Morgaine ducks behind Ywaine, seeing what's coming...
Oh it will come back around, he's sure, but Ywaine feels at least a litlte justified in giving Drustan a dunk. Even as he gets splaysed by the flailing knight he takes a step over to the edge of the water and leans over offering his hand to Drustan. "Here let me help you up.."
Oh make no mistake, he knows what's coming next, but sometimes you simply must embrace your fate. Besides the logical conclusion after Ywaine takes his swim is that Morgaine will be next....
Seeing that she can't hide behind Ywaine, as he actually moves toward Drustan, she laughs and moves a little further back. If she is to take a swim as well, then one of you will just have to climb out to get her. She's not going to stand near the edge and make it easy for either of you.
In fact, she'd likely be a handful for one person. She's no weak, frail, meek little woman.
And so she slowly begins to step back, hoping to keep a goodly distance between herself and the water, laughing as she watches the two of you play in the pool like children.
"You're so kind, brother," brother-in-arms, brother in name if not in blood, and the strong yet still harp-fine hand of Drustan comes up, grasping your forearm. Better leverage, you see...
He makes much of getting to his feet. Drenched, the leather and wool sticks to him like a second skin. He's popular for a reason. And it's not his dour expression. Great fit of water makes commotion as he rises and with a wink and a chuckle -- sure it's predictable and cliched -- he jerks Ywaine forward. "No... allow me!"
And with a laugh, he slips back, ends up on his arse again. But this time: misery loves company, wot?
Has he been heard to laugh this much in the last year? It's almost musical, it's been so missed. Earthy but light. Hearty. Rich. It sings, his laughter does. And it comes from his gut. Truth be told, it's the same as crying.
And so the young knight goes careening forward into the pool. Misery has it's company and both men are now completely drenched. He sits up and shakes out his arms, sending a hail of water spattering against the surface of the water.
Ywaine's head casts backwards as he laughs loudly, looking like nothing but a big kid for the moment as he wallows in the shallow water. After a few moments his laughter starts to get under control and slowly he looks to Morgaine... uh oh.. is she next?
Oh dear. Two grown men, sitting up to their chests in water, and one's already looking in her direction. Oh dear, this can't be good. "Oh no... no... uh uh... don't you even think about it," she says, starting to back away from the pool again. She's managed to get about ten feet away and looks about ready to bolt if needed.
But she's grinning widely... likely as widely as the two of you. Her own laughter melted with yours, but... she is not the one sitting chest-deep in water, now is she? She'd have a fine time explaining to her lady at her bedroom door what happened if she showed up all soggy, now wouldn't she?
Her pale gaze flickers between the two of you, waiting to see what happens as the world darkens just a wee bit more.
"She looks a bit worried, aye?" Drustan says in aside to Ywaine, but she can bloody well hear it. Drustan fixes his eyes on her and smiles. That silken, wayward, honeyed smile. That look. That look that once charmed ladies right out of their bodices and was the undoing of at least one queen.
But there's no move to jump her -- in any context of that phrase -- at least at the moment. Drustan rises, shaking like a hound, sending water flying, and he reaches down to Ywaine, half-lifting him, giving him enough heft to stand up on his own. "Ah, now... what do you take us for. We're knights of King Arthur," Drustan proudly proclaims in his best Lancelot impression. "We're bound to a strict code of honor..."
Ywaine often wonders when Drustan is going to finally lose his patience with Lancelot and see the sparks fly. "Yes... honor and duty...." It's a sad day that dunking women isn't part of that code, but such is life. the young knight unties his long raven hair and shakes it out, sending water splattering in all directions.
Ywaine's laughter is cut off however when he hears the bellow of his father. Apparantly out on the prowl again for Drustan. "Well damn.. I had better go intercept him. He's determined to see this blow up into a bigger incident than it needs to be. Linolas must be one of the illigemate son's he thinks Accolon and I don't know about." Shaking his head, Ywaine trudges out of the pool and looks back over his shoulder to the both of you. "Be well" Though neither of you are his relation by blood he loves you both dearly. "I'll be there to see you off tommorow..."
At Drustan's comment about being honor-bound, Morgaine can't help but laugh. It's not that she makes fun of this... but she knows he's not being serious at the moment. "Oh dear... yes, and it's for that reason alone that I should worry. Remember who King Arthur is, dear Drustan... my brother. And I know how devilish he can be..." They did grow up together, afterall.
She's stopped moving backwards at least, crossing her arms across her chest -- a defiant stance. Her eyes haven't moved off of the two of you yet, however.
But then she hears the hollering of her husband as well and sighs, looking over her shoulder in that direction. Moving forward, she says hurriedly, "Come, Drustan... I'll get you hidden before he sees you. I don't have a mind to see him myself..." Looking at Ywaine, she nods and murmurs, "Tomorrow, then."
"Uriens!" comes the war bellow of the Cornish prince. "I'm over here... by the pond, sir. I understand, lord, that you've been looking for me!"
He is the master of subtlety and tact. Truly.
Drustan comes tromping out of the water, splashing you both. And you're both given a bit of a squeeze. Don't worry about me. I need to do this.
There's a thin line between bravery and stupidity. Or reckless endangerment. But Drustan is sober. And when he's sober there are few who could touch him. Fewer still who can truly be angry with him. At least for long.
So off he goes, twilight departing with the last sliver of day. Crescent moon above and stars twinkling all around.
As the cornish prince strides past him, Ywaine just sighs, "Oh by Gwydion...." he looks back to Morgaine. "You know.. some nights I hate that man as much as I love him...." he's talking about either Drustan, Uriens or some combination thereof...
Not caring to see the man herself, she turns on her heels and makes a run for it...in the opposite direction. She does not fear him, but she just does not wish to deal with him any further right now. The men can take care of themselves...and so, she heads off toward the stables to visit the horses.
Posted by rowan at October 01, 2003 07:31 PM
