Burns Too Bright, Lives Too Fast

Arthur appreciated the fact that his troubles and worries tended to remain nicely compartmentalized away, only to be taken out when needed, generally. It had been a long, long time since the issues with Dinah's magic, with Liir's, and he had settled into Fandom life with the acceptance that the magic users here were, all in all, not the worst sorts without letting it gnaw too hard or too long.

At least, that's what he'd convinced himself. The past couple of days had done a brilliant job of pushing all of that back to the surface - the fact that yes, he had thought about ways to sneak out from home to visit Fandom for Homecoming already, that he had killed quite a lot of magic users simply out of the conviction that they were evil, that life when he returned was going to be... more complicated.

Brilliant. Even thousands of years and miles away, his father managed to make him feel like shit.

Merlin seemed to have picked up on that, because midway through his determined attempt at focusing on the book he was supposed to be reading (Do Robots Snore Like Electric Pigs, something like that) a pear landed on his bed. He lowered the book and eyed the thing - clawed to all hell and nearly inedible - and then the bird, who was making earnest noises at him and tilting his head.

"...Thanks," Arthur said, nonplussed, which got him an even more concerned look. The bird cooed. He sighed. "But I opened the window because it's your feeding time, you twit. Get yourself a nice rabbit."

The bird leaned in closer. "I mean it," he said. "Your concern is touching, it really is, but I'm fine."

With another cooing noise, Merlin shoved his head against Arthur's knee once. Arthur gave him a Look. Then demonstrably held the pear up to his mouth and took a bite. "See? Now go on, you're thin enough without starving yourself and I'm not going to be responsible for it if you keel over from sheer ineptitude." He made a nudging motion with his leg. "I'll keep some bacon seperate for you."

There was a truly avian sigh, a roll of the eyes, and then Merlin flapped his wings, heading back towards the window sill. He didn't stray far, though.

"Insolent wretch." Arthur was oddly sure he was going to be covered in mauled fruit before the day was done with. He rather desperately hoped Merlin was going to turn back and soon. Because this was a nuisance. Yes.

He rolled the pear around in his hand before taking another bite. He smiled slightly, and came to the disturbing realisation that he did feel better.

[[ door is half-open, post is open ]]

You'd think he'd know better by now. Arthur had spent the day being a total bitch coping in a way that didn't involve standing in corners brooding like some kind of fool, and then he'd managed to throw his own roommate out of the room in a fashion that actually seemed to work. And yet he'd failed to feel appropriately triumphant.

There was something horribly wrong here. So naturally, by nightfall, the patter of his feet had brought him to Merlin's door - stupid, really - which he could go for knocking on right about now.

If Arthur had been anyone else, he might have lingered before said knock, but since he wasn't, he figured he might as well get it over with. So he knocked, and rubbed the side of his head, and leaned gently in the direction of the doorframe, in case he needed something to lean against once the door opened.

If Merlin remembered how to do that, anyway.

[[ yep, for the ears ]]

The... singing with Dinah and Zack had been bad enough yesterday, and the matter with Merlin was doing his head in to the point where he'd rather ignore it, but Francine had wound up jammed in his head and he hadn't quite been able to shake it yet. Not so much because of Francine, but because he'd remembered, suddenly, the lines of his father's (not his, Shilo's) still face in death, thinking he's dead and now I'll never been able to measure up, not that he was so sure he was ever going to manage in the first place--

He was dressed by now, and ready to head down to Sir Minsc's class once the time came. He couldn't settle yet, though, and after a fruitless search for some distraction in the cabin he'd turned to the roof, where he was presently trying to drive the ghost of that song out of his mind with some of the others.

Of course, many of the others had been embarrassing and very much something to be forgotten, which meant that he was now stuck humming senseless things like Welcome to England, you've got to bring your own sun and, mindbogglingly enough, I'm the one who put the Brit in celebrity.

It was enough to drive anyone mad. Which, as it stood, actually served as a pretty bloody decent distraction. Funny how that worked.

[[ open, although with bouts of SP, woo! ]]

Arthur hadn't actually made it back to his room for very long after his return from Shilo's world. He'd drifted around the castle, not quite settled; then when he'd turned in for the night, he'd gotten back onto his feet a few scarce minutes after entering.

If only you'd caught the sorcerer, this would have been resolved by now.

His father's face in that tomb, and--

Somehow, he wound up at Merlin's door, and then he'd opened Merlin's room with a care and concern that made it almost impossible to hear the creaking of the door.

The thudding when it closed was somewhat louder, and he winced at it. Why was he here? He could be back in the salle, just mindless sword drills, keep his mind off everything, don't be a girl about it, I expect more of my son.

He took a deep breath, and glanced at the occupied bed.

[[ for the guy who lives here ]]