Re: Croatoan [52]
anonymous
April 19 2009, 04:53:33 UTC
When Arthur wakes the next morning, sunlight shines through his window, golden and warm and strong.
Arthur blinks, stretches, and sighs, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He thinks he must have been tired, to have fallen asleep with his clothes on. He usually feels gross after sleeping in his clothes, but today he feels refreshed and - not happy, perhaps, but calmer. Content.
It’s Avalon, he thinks, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and looking out the window. It’s because this place is a part of me.
This place is different from Midsummer’s Forest. Midsummer’s Forest spoke of mischief and something dreamlike. Avalon feels more solid to Arthur, tangible and strong.
And there’s trouble here that I cannot see. His face falls a little as he thinks of the invisible creatures - the things that exist just beyond his sight. How is it that I can’t see trouble in a realm that I master?
Kiku is somewhere out on those lands; Ariel is with him to help if the air of this land begins to overwhelm him. And Arthur is here, useless, watching the wind shift the shadows of leaves on the ground.
“I really wonder if everything will work out,” he murmurs. Then he shakes his head. “Can’t think like that,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure there’s got to be something I can do.”
He slides a hand into his hoodie pocket. The first thing he feels is the plastic of the flashlight before the warm aluminum.
With this to cheer him, Arthur walks out into the hall and ventures through the corridors. He remembers stopping once or twice to ask a servant, but when he tries to focus on them, his head starts to hurt and drift. He frowns and wonders why that is, but all such thoughts are banished when he finds himself turning into a room filled with swords, lances, and maces.
“So this is his weapons room,” Arthur murmurs, picking up a sword and swinging it. He frowns, not liking how heavy it feels. He sets it back down on a rack, picks up another one - thinner this time, with a slimmer blade. It feels like he’s cutting the air too easily; he sets that one back as well.
He’s on his fifth sword when a voice makes him jump. “Is your search going well, Sir Kirkland?”
Arthur whirls around to find Kaho leaning in the doorway, smiling, arms folded across her chest. One of her hands holds a book, her pointer finger tucked in the pages to hold her place.
“…I’m afraid I’m having some trouble, Milady,” he says, placing a sword back and selecting another one.
“Could I help, perhaps?” She puts her book down and walks into the room, selecting another sword by the hilt and holding it out to him.
“I don’t think so,” he says, frowning as he swings the sword she gave him. This one might do; he goes to slide it into the sheath, and it takes a moment and a few hard shoves before he realizes it won’t go in. “It’s a matter of what I can carry and what I’m comfortable with.”
“And you have not found anything yet?”
“M’afraid not,” Arthur says with a frown, placing another sword aside. He glances at the book and does a double-take when he sees the title.
“That book is about Camelot?”
“Oh, this?” She picks the book up, turning it over in her hands with gentle fingers. “Yes. It’s a history book, detailing some of His Majesty’s early adventures - and that of his knight, Sir Gawain, and his challenge to the Green Knight.”
Arthur feels his spine stiffen as he thinks of the pale man, of his white hair and great wings. “I remember that tale,” he murmurs.
“Really?”
“It’s the reason why King Arthur had his knights wear a green sash,” he says. “To honor Gawain when he came back.”
“Ah, but perhaps you also remember how he came upon that sash, yes?”
And Arthur sees it again; that knowing smile, that light in her eyes that suggests that she knows more than she’s actually revealing.
“He got that sash from the wife of the Green Knight,” Arthur says. “And he never gave it to his host, as he promised.”
“I wonder why that is.”
Soft fingers cup his face; Arthur finds himself looking into brown eyes and a soft smile.
Arthur blinks, stretches, and sighs, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He thinks he must have been tired, to have fallen asleep with his clothes on. He usually feels gross after sleeping in his clothes, but today he feels refreshed and - not happy, perhaps, but calmer. Content.
It’s Avalon, he thinks, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and looking out the window. It’s because this place is a part of me.
This place is different from Midsummer’s Forest. Midsummer’s Forest spoke of mischief and something dreamlike. Avalon feels more solid to Arthur, tangible and strong.
And there’s trouble here that I cannot see. His face falls a little as he thinks of the invisible creatures - the things that exist just beyond his sight. How is it that I can’t see trouble in a realm that I master?
Kiku is somewhere out on those lands; Ariel is with him to help if the air of this land begins to overwhelm him. And Arthur is here, useless, watching the wind shift the shadows of leaves on the ground.
“I really wonder if everything will work out,” he murmurs. Then he shakes his head. “Can’t think like that,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure there’s got to be something I can do.”
He slides a hand into his hoodie pocket. The first thing he feels is the plastic of the flashlight before the warm aluminum.
With this to cheer him, Arthur walks out into the hall and ventures through the corridors. He remembers stopping once or twice to ask a servant, but when he tries to focus on them, his head starts to hurt and drift. He frowns and wonders why that is, but all such thoughts are banished when he finds himself turning into a room filled with swords, lances, and maces.
“So this is his weapons room,” Arthur murmurs, picking up a sword and swinging it. He frowns, not liking how heavy it feels. He sets it back down on a rack, picks up another one - thinner this time, with a slimmer blade. It feels like he’s cutting the air too easily; he sets that one back as well.
He’s on his fifth sword when a voice makes him jump. “Is your search going well, Sir Kirkland?”
Arthur whirls around to find Kaho leaning in the doorway, smiling, arms folded across her chest. One of her hands holds a book, her pointer finger tucked in the pages to hold her place.
“…I’m afraid I’m having some trouble, Milady,” he says, placing a sword back and selecting another one.
“Could I help, perhaps?” She puts her book down and walks into the room, selecting another sword by the hilt and holding it out to him.
“I don’t think so,” he says, frowning as he swings the sword she gave him. This one might do; he goes to slide it into the sheath, and it takes a moment and a few hard shoves before he realizes it won’t go in. “It’s a matter of what I can carry and what I’m comfortable with.”
“And you have not found anything yet?”
“M’afraid not,” Arthur says with a frown, placing another sword aside. He glances at the book and does a double-take when he sees the title.
“That book is about Camelot?”
“Oh, this?” She picks the book up, turning it over in her hands with gentle fingers. “Yes. It’s a history book, detailing some of His Majesty’s early adventures - and that of his knight, Sir Gawain, and his challenge to the Green Knight.”
Arthur feels his spine stiffen as he thinks of the pale man, of his white hair and great wings. “I remember that tale,” he murmurs.
“Really?”
“It’s the reason why King Arthur had his knights wear a green sash,” he says. “To honor Gawain when he came back.”
“Ah, but perhaps you also remember how he came upon that sash, yes?”
And Arthur sees it again; that knowing smile, that light in her eyes that suggests that she knows more than she’s actually revealing.
“He got that sash from the wife of the Green Knight,” Arthur says. “And he never gave it to his host, as he promised.”
“I wonder why that is.”
Soft fingers cup his face; Arthur finds himself looking into brown eyes and a soft smile.
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