[anOTP - Morgana] The archer Cupid... maybe not....
A warm summer afternoon, and Malcolm is at the rudimentary archery butts at the end of the gardens. He's in much better form than he was some months ago. He's been practicing every chance he gets, from daybreak till well into the evening, but right now, it's midday, the heat of the sun beating down on him.
For the moment, his bow and quiver are laid aside and he's peeling off his black polo-type shirt, now gummed to his back and chest with sweat. He might be the wrong side of fifty, but he's in top condition. Though he might be somewhat self-consciously examining the scars on his upper left chest. Someone has given him a hard time, but he's come through, scarred but still strong...
For the moment, his bow and quiver are laid aside and he's peeling off his black polo-type shirt, now gummed to his back and chest with sweat. He might be the wrong side of fifty, but he's in top condition. Though he might be somewhat self-consciously examining the scars on his upper left chest. Someone has given him a hard time, but he's come through, scarred but still strong...