Burns Too Bright, Lives Too Fast

It was time to send the girls back home. They would have earlier, actually, but there'd been something strange in the air - according to Merlin, and sadly Arthur's experience in the magical arena was rather lacking, beyond the bit where wizards kept trying to kill him - and, well.

It didn't really matter. Nor did it matter that Arthur still didn't really want to let them go, but that wasn't anything he was going to admit to anyone, let alone to himself. Instead, he was going to stand back with a slight smile on his face, arms crossed.

"It's always good to know the two of you are still up to the same trouble," he said.

[[ for the three other people currently in Camelot. ]]

For some reason, Arthur was in a truly magnificent mood when he woke up.

He was mainly repressing the fact they'd have to go back to Fandom early tomorrow morning. (It would never be 'home'; if anything, this was home) So caught between sleeping in late and getting up to enjoy his surroundings some more, Arthur took the middle road and left his room halfway into the morning.

It was still a fairly beautiful morning in cold, cold Llanuwchllyn. Enjoy it.

[[ open! ]]

Later in the afternoon, they'd have another drive ahead of them.

But not yet.

Now, there was an impressive Bed & Breakfast, a bed, breakfast, and another good helping of coutnryside to explore.

Of course, considering the previous day, you'd be excused for not taking advantage of that last option.

Arthur had slumped over in one of the chairs out in the main area of the place, staring out the window.

[[ open, ocd-less, establish thyself as thy wisheth ]]

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 ]]

It was their second day out in Caerleon, and Arthur had finally gotten the measure of their achingly familiar surroundings. It was a lot like having something just barely out of his reach, close enough to fill him with some joy and yet not quite... it.

He resolved not to waste time on that thought. It was a lovely hotel, and another lovely (cold) day, and maybe if he was lucky he'd be able to drag Katchoo out for a hike.

[[ open! to those who be here. or those who would call those who be here, to be fair. ]]

There were times where portal transit just wasn't possible, and that inevitably translated to sitting in an airplane for hours listening to Merlin babble about planes (a topic on which he was an expert) and enjoying patently tasteless bags of peanuts. Well, and the meals, but those were practically made out of wood chips or something.

It also meant bickering with the customs man about whether or not he could technically be considered an expat, a matter of much pride on Arthur's part, and this: sitting outside the belt that brought out everyone else's luggage, waiting for a few tell-tale bags to appear.

With their usual luck, Merlin might lose the last of his Camelot trousers this time. Arthur drummed an idle rhythm on his leg and took a swig of water.

[[ for the members of Team UK ]]

Despite classes and everything of their ilk, Arthur still had entirely too much time on his hands most days. Especially now. When he wasn't out hunting or frustrating blessing the student body with his presence, he liked to spend it either in the salle, or here, making sure his body was trained down to the nines for anything. Even if there wasn't anything to fight right now.

It was also blissfully mindless. More things about this time should be as comforting as pounding your frustration into a bag - or channeling it into the lift of some weights.

Well, in theory it was always comforting, anyway. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. (Maybe he should just find Morgana and start a fight; that was always good for his nerves)

Francine was all for blissfully mindless. Not that she was, currently. She'd just love to be, instead of seeing the entire gym through a haze of red -- or really just the part of the gym she was heading for. If she'd bothered to look around the whole place instead of just making a beeline for the full-size punching bags, she'd probably have spat out something incoherent, watched her vision go purple, turned on her heel and left.

As it was, though, she just tossed her bag at the nearest wall, kicked her shoes off, and ( started punching )

[OOC: To be continued in comments! *provides more popcorn* And, hell, open to OOC if anyone's got any. Contents NFB, but that they talked is OK for broadcast ]

Last night hadn't been anywhere near bad, if somewhat confusing in how up front it was (and Arthur had thought he'd gotten used to, and appreciative, of how straightforward the island was) and so by the time Arthur finally reached his room, he wasn't in too bad a mood.

It was slightly hampered by the fact that his roommate wasn't around (... all right, he had to admit, something might be off if he was thinking that) but he chose not to think much of it.

Rather, he took a perch on his bed and flopped back, idly rubbing at his own stomach.

[[ for two people, please! ]]