Woods Surrounding Camelot, Wednesday Morning

[bitchprince]

After the feasts of a few weeks back, Arthur had fallen into the routine he preferred above all. Training, training, and more training, interspersed with some talks about minor adjustments in grain dispersion and the occasional audience for the public, as well as the odd hunt.

But he was hunting for something else today; he was hunting for contact with Fandom, or rather, his friends both on and off it.

As it turned out, having his old routine back made his thoughts about the island far kinder than they used to be.

[[ for phone calls, yes! ]]

Comments

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo bristled, just a bit; it was a tangled mess of completely understanding the sentiment, agreeing with it, and, damn it all, not wanting to leave despite every bit of hell the place had put her through.

She also knew it was about the only way he could feel useful from a distance.

"Our deadline for having to leave is creepin' up pretty fast anyhow."

[bitchprince]

"How many weeks left?" he asked. It was hard keeping up with Fandom's seasons from afar, as they blurred the longer he was away from it.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Two or three?" It might have been a rough guess; it might have just been vague so as to deny the reality that tiny bit more, just a little longer. "No time at all. You can breathe."

As if he wasn't just as aware as she was what could happen in Fandom in that 'no time at all.'

[bitchprince]

"I'm breathing just fine, thank you," he said, leaning one shoulder against the nearest tree. "You know how the island works."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Damn you," Katchoo answered in a mild-for-her tone. "I'm tryin' to keep you from having vapors here. Work with me, geez."

[bitchprince]

"No vapors," Arthur assured her. "I don't get vapors."

Uh-huh.