Florence generally keeps himself occupied, with one thing or another: errands for Kay, chores around home, quiet handicrafts in the main room while he keeps an ear open for gossip. But today, apparently, he's elected to be idle. He's out by the edge of the forest, where the path to the cottage cuts through, leaning quietly against a bare birch ( Read more... )

In the main room of the Mansion, two young men are sitting on the floor by the fireplace. The mancala board is lying between them, somewhat neglected, although Florence still has a pebble in hand; he turns it in his fingers idly as he listens to Melou, who is talking earnestly ( Read more... )

Florence is happy. His brothers still haven't shown up, but his cousins are here -- both the ones he knew about, and another set that he didn't. The concept of alternate universes bothers him hardly at all; Lleu has won his affection and his allegiance as easily as Arthur captured his father's. Toward Melehan and Melou he feels a different sort ( Read more... )

Florence, having already done his duty by the cottage for today, is now gathering deadwood along the fringes of the forest, and bringing it back to the Mansion. He's already figured out that the place stays warm regardless; but the days are short now, and it is his considered opinion that you ought to have a fire anyway ( Read more... )

Florence is a little embarrassed. He really ought to have handled Guinevere's questions himself; he ought to have remembered that his father is not, as they say, one hundred percent, and not handed him an awkward situation ( Read more... )

After talking with his mother, Florence has been spending more time out and about the Mansion. He'll talk to anyone who notices him -- small, serious, soft-spoken young man that he is -- and he spends some time lending a hand with the hunting-and-gathering; but mostly he watches, and doesn't head back home to the Orkney cottage until sunset.