bitchprince | On the Road in the Brecon Beacons, Wednesday

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On the Road in the Brecon Beacons, Wednesday

Arthur was still driving. He had yet to cause any accidents or collisions, although he'd probably killed his fair share of overconfident birds by now.

He wasn't, after all, going to stop driving because of a mad pigeon or something.

But nevermind that.

Driving around the countryside was getting to be oddly relaxing, once one got the hang of it.

[[ open to those of you currently haunting this part of England ]]

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You're in a car. There's landscape.

Don't worry! Arthur's at the wheel. ... Sorry, crow.

About halfway into the afternoon, Arthur stopped the car by the side of the road.

In the middle of nowhere. (Well, all right, not too far from Abergavenny)

"Right, here's our stop."

... if you can call it that. Arthur's setting up the tents. Busy yourselves.

Today is going to be massively stressful. My apologies if I'm slow as hell.

Don't worry! Arthur's at the wheel. ... Sorry, crow.

I read that as "Sorry, cow." And was unshocked.

That would be Francine's face in Katchoo's bosom ~~or reasonable facsimile thereof~~ every time a ~~cow~~ bird met the bodywork. "Tell me it's not on the windshield?"

"...are you serious?"

"Very serious," Arthur said, glancing up from his work with the tent pole. "Come now, how long has it been since we went out into the woods?"

"But I like indoor plumbing!"

"But you haven't forgotten how to cope without it, have you?" Arthur asked.

It was... about three-quarters rhetorical. "Get that line, will you?"

ARE YOU MAKING JOKES ABOUT HIS TENDENCY TO CASUALLY MASSACRE ANIMALS? Why I never.

"I also like beds," Merlin grumbled, doing as asked. "And heating."

"I brought bedrolls," Arthur pointed out, cheerfully. "If you're that cold, you can always come on over. You do seem to enjoy sticking your limbs in my armpits."

Merlin shot him a Look. "Not on purpose!"

Arthur gave the pole a good nudge to make sure it was standing right, then took a line himself and pulled it back. "You were just born an octopus."

"..." Don't think of condoms, Merlin. Don't think of condoms. "Right."

Arthur would be rather disturbed by that bit.

He shot Merlin a dry (if mildly confused) look. "Are you going to help with the tent, or are you going to keep standing around flapping your mouth like an idiot?"

"You're the one insisting on sleeping in a tent. I'd be perfectly happy in the car."

"You want to sleep in the car?" Arthur asked him, dubiously.

"...would that keep me out of the cold?"

"No, it cools down if the engine isn't running," said Arthur, who was just glad he knew more about stuff like this now. "So the tent's your best bet. Now stop rabbiting on and get the next line?"

"Rabbiting on?" Merlin huffed, taking the next line sulkily.

I mean... with mature grace and dignity befitting a man.

"If you're that concerned about being cold, you can always build the campfire, too," Arthur pointed out, nailing down a fourth line into the soil. "It's not like you'd be any use on the hunt."

"And yet you always drag me along," Merlin replied, rolling his eyes.

"I'm still not entirely sure why," Arthur said, pausing in his work to muse about that.

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On the Road in the Brecon Beacons, Wednesday

Driving!

...And Stopping?

'Camping Ground'

OOC

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