Burns Too Bright, Lives Too Fast

After an exhausting day, there was little Arthur enjoyed more than getting to lounge about his thankfully not-an-alcove bed, which was just about as good as the one he had back in Camelot. He was already in his nightclothes by now, and he was fairly sure that whatever happened, he had a good night's sleep coming up on him.

If you didn't know him any better (and most people on the island didn't. Even many who thought they did) you could almost say he was completely back to normal, had put That Weekend out of his mind, and was continuing on as per usual.

You'd be wrong. So would Arthur, who made deluding himself into an art form when he felt like it.

He was just going to concentrate on the whole good night's sleep - have a hunting dog now - nice bed thing. That was about in keeping with his sanity. (That, and considering everything that Reno had put on his mind. It was always nice when life accommodated your denial with more responsibilities)

He wasn't yet aware that in a few short hours, he was going to be bustled out of his room by cranky rodents, no.

[[ door is cracked, post is open! -- and thread with Leto nws. sigh ]]

He'd been putting this off due to Merlin's transformation, the zombies and the resulting fall-out and everything else involved with it. Unfortunately, there was no avoiding it forever, and with finals being next week, Arthur had to get to it.

The idea of throwing himself into the hands of some foreign magic didn't sit well with him. The rest of his classmates had, however, and as a TA... well, he'd gone through all the reasons why he was doing this.

It all came down to this morning, and Arthur was giving the potion a half-disguised foul look as it sat there on his desk, clearly taunting him.

[[ for two, please! ]]

Hunting with Merlin hadn't done much to soothe Arthur's frazzled nerves yesterday, but the handwavey beat-up sparring session with the boy afterwards had helped. Somewhat.

All right. Not that much, but it had been funny, especially since Merlin didn't need to be patched-up afterwards (not that he worried).

He'd gone to bed miserable and angry and ready to take it out on just about anything, and now he'd woken up with something insistent pressing against the bed. Something that hadn't been there for five rather frustrating days. Well, it'd been there. Just not quite-

It would be unbecoming to claim he was happy about it. But displeased, he wasn't. With some effort, he propped himself up.

God help them all, he better be able to do something about it, or he'd slaughter the island.

[[ for the roomie, and very probably nws. um. ]]

Between training Dinah, getting his own body back into shape- neglecting it for a few weeks hadn't done too much damage, but there was still some to make up for- and navigating the increasingly familiar strangeness of this place, Arthur's days were slowly filling up with things to do.

However, that didn't mean that at some indefinable point in the afternoon, he wouldn't find himself bored as all hell, sitting down on his bed. The idea that he had no duties here but going to class wasn't nearly as nice as some may have thought.

Nevermind the enduring trouble in getting home. He was attempting to speed up the healing of his arm with his mind by now.

[[ open door, open room! ]]

Arthur awoke to a fuzziness of the mind and an overabundance of body heat. He was attempting to decipher several things all at once, but gave up once he realised it was entirely impossible to do so. He endeavoured to accept them at a more leisurely pace instead.

First of all, it occurred to him he'd woken up with someone. He'd have to kick them out of bed once he found the stomach to open his eyes. When he did open his eyes, he realised it was not his bed, so he imagined Leto would try to kick him out in a bit. He'd burn that bridge when he got to it.

Second of all, it occurred to him that Leto slept a lot like those blasted sea creatures Yzma seemed to be so fond of. To be fair, he wasn't protesting, but he dearly hoped Leto would be far less clingy once he'd woken up. There was a line, after all.

Third of all, he realised he'd have to get Merlin to clean up the pie stain on the wall. Sweet mercy, Leto had the worst drunken aim in the history of drunken aiming.

And finally, his head was pounding. Ow. Bloody hell, what was in that ale?

[[ for two at first, but certainly open if you want to see Arthur afterwards for whatever reason ]]

Arthur pushed open the door to his quarters with a grunt. After summarily beating up Hannibal in the wake of the latter's challenge earlier that week, he felt a bit better about his abilities. Soon, he'd be able to lapse back into a regular exercise regimen.

Of course, he had to take the screaming pain in the still-tender flesh of his left shoulder with it. "That went well," he grunted. He sat down on the bed.

[[ door's closed but post is open, especially for the fake roomie and servant! ]]