(no subject)
Arthur was not in the habit of requiring so much thought of himself.
When the time came for battle, he was ready. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses, the way the land played to their benefit or detriment, the habits of those they fought, the condition and spirit of his own men. He knew what would be required of them for victory to be won, and the consequences should they fail.
But there was no battle field here on this island. Only a stage. And Arthur found that he was lost.
At his one side was a small pile of thin books: plays of Shakespeare, written in small text, clearly well-read and worn. At his other side was a Bible: also small, but thick and well-bound. Arthur sat on the edge of the stage, Excalibur carefully positioned at his hip, and alternated between the two sides. His face would change expressions, not quickly or severely, but from a sort of mild pleasure to a mild displeasure, as one idea that had appealed to his senses at one moment did not after several minutes' consideration.
He was searching for guidance, and he had come to the stage thinking that perhaps some of the magic of that place would inspire him. And because the emptiness of his own shelter did nothing but plague his mind.
[Find him on the stage. Open to everyone. I'll be slow to respond as it's Arthur and I'm working on things, but I wanted to get him up here for various interested parties.]
When the time came for battle, he was ready. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses, the way the land played to their benefit or detriment, the habits of those they fought, the condition and spirit of his own men. He knew what would be required of them for victory to be won, and the consequences should they fail.
But there was no battle field here on this island. Only a stage. And Arthur found that he was lost.
At his one side was a small pile of thin books: plays of Shakespeare, written in small text, clearly well-read and worn. At his other side was a Bible: also small, but thick and well-bound. Arthur sat on the edge of the stage, Excalibur carefully positioned at his hip, and alternated between the two sides. His face would change expressions, not quickly or severely, but from a sort of mild pleasure to a mild displeasure, as one idea that had appealed to his senses at one moment did not after several minutes' consideration.
He was searching for guidance, and he had come to the stage thinking that perhaps some of the magic of that place would inspire him. And because the emptiness of his own shelter did nothing but plague his mind.
[Find him on the stage. Open to everyone. I'll be slow to respond as it's Arthur and I'm working on things, but I wanted to get him up here for various interested parties.]