Burns Too Bright, Lives Too Fast

You know, Arthur had always thought that it would be something else that finally drove him to make the move he'd made just that morning. Leto finally driving him insane (ending, in some of Arthur's fantasies, in his grisly murder. Not that he'd admit to that even under oath) had seemed far more likely.

Almost anything but the return of Merlin's irritating roommate. As far as last straws went, it was kind of depressing and probably he could've tried for something more dramatic. The honest truth was that he was well and utterly sick of everything related to the roommate arrangement, craved some space, and then there were a few other concerns, mostly involving how agreeable Leto was with his visitors.

Or not, in certain cases. Which meant he was straightening a few things and waiting for Merlin to get a few things packed.

The sooner, the better, if you asked him.

No offense to Leto. Well. Maybe a little.

[[ open door, open post ]]

Sure, they'd come back to Fandom safe and sound last night, but that hadn't actually done much for Arthur's sense of inner peace. Which was strange: he generally had little issue coming down from a hard-won campaign or likewise mission out in the field.

He resolved to check on Merlin throughout the day (just in case) then made a valiant attempt to shove his worries aside, picking up a book at random (military history of the 18th century, as it would turn out to be), opening it up, and setting it down on his desk to read.

Maybe he could come up with some ideas for the next reserve meeting - he'd have to let Zack know he was back - and in the mean time, it was a relatively decent distraction. In as much as he managed one. Even the Nexans refused to break away from his thoughts; they had been in quite a state when they'd left, even if things had been looking up.

It could just be that his mind hadn't been jerked back into its Fandom setting yet (which might actually be a blessing to anyone who had to deal with him today).

He would've gone hunting rather than read, but right now, that... just seemed like begging for more trouble. Eventually, he might even remember to put in some voicemails.

[[ open post, open door ]]

Arthur was in a mood.

This wasn't much different from usual - Arthur had any number of moods that varied wildly in intensity and contents but could all, generally, be classified as moods.

However, this was, to use the local vernacular, a really fucking big one.

As was evident by the way he shoved open the door to his room. The way he'd woken up had not been ideal, and so far, it seemed to be sticking. At least he'd gotten his clothes to cover him well enough, and the island had granted him a body that could be called Amazonian and that matched his male swagger well enough, but still.

He was a girl. A bloody girl.

He shut the door behind him, then threw himself at the bed. He had no intention of leaving. Even if he'd sort of have to, for class. The ceiling received a vast smattering of interesting curses across several languages; then he gave up on that, falling silent.

He was not going to grope himself. No. He was, however, going to very, very reluctantly leave a voicemail, and then possibly threaten Morgana with death if she ever, ever mentioned this to father. Ever. Oh god.

[[ door closed, but post open ]]

Arthur had had to put on spandex for class. It had taken work. It had taken effort. And it had become completely impossible to get rid of, which explained why he stomped into 303 still in his suit.

Red and gold spandex looked nice on him, yes, like many things, but Up With It he would not put. He sat down on the bed and got to unlacing his boots as soon as possible while he waited for Merlin to show up and help him out.

Once the boy was gone, he'd be far more comfortable.

[[ for the ears, at first, and then open to anyone after now that he's back to being dressed properly ]]

Yesterday morning, after Merlin had left, Arthur had thought that he'd gotten the past week under something resembling control, at least (even if Merlin was still behaving oddly about the whole matter, but then he had been for some time now). The thing with his roommate hadn't been too out of the ordinary, and the thing with Eric had been-- slightly more spontaneous than he would've personally decided on, but hopefully something that could be contained.

Although he had no idea about the boy's policies on discretion.

Then, of course, he'd gotten the voicemail last night.

Which meant that he was now in bed, waiting for Merlin to arrive, and mouthing the words a mouse over and over in a sort of building indignance. A mouse. What?

(Well, at least it hadn't been Leto. That would have ended badly)

Coincidentally, this also kept him from having to spend time trying to figure out how his phone recharger worked.

[[ for the ears ]]

Yesterday had been a long, long day. Arthur hadn't realised about his bruises until Merlin had taken off his armor that evening and taken out the ointment, the one that smelled like dung and peppermint ("Why the peppermint," Arthur had asked. "Gaius said it helped people ignore the stench," Merlin had said. "Oh," Arthur had replied.) and dealt with them as best as they could.

Unlike what some may have implied, Arthur was not stupid enough to get up out of bed and strain himself early when he felt like a beaten-up bag of potatoes (bloody goldfish. Bloody alligator, before Merlin had blown it to pieces) so when he woke up sluggishly in the morning, he chose not to make that much of a fuss about actually getting up.

He could deal with that once Merlin showed up.

[[ post is open to all, door is ICly closed until after Merlin shows up, so if you want to visit, mention if it's before or after omg ]]

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what had happened after he'd returned from radio last night. This was probably a good thing. What had he earned that pillow for anyway?

... All things considered, it was probably also a good thing that Merlin didn't have a mobile phone for Arthur to have the number of, because the voicemails may have been... many.

Of course, all of this amounted to the fact that when he finally did wake up, about half an hour late, half-dressed and in his own bed (with his nightshirt still dumped on the floor where he'd left it last night before things started to go insane) he had a headache that pounded harder than a hammer, or something like it.

Give him a few moments to realise he had a spar scheduled this morning. Just give him that.

[[ for one big-eared manservant, please ]]

After training in the salle which hadn't even been put up yet but hush, timezones Arthur returned to his room mostly sated with violence for the day. Still, there were other matters to discuss, such as setting up tomorrow's team exercise, and while he looked forward to speaking to Leto about that about as much as many would to having their teeth pulled, there was no getting around it.

He tossed his jacket at his bed as he came in, rolled his shoulders, then reached up idly to massage the still-not-fully-healed one with care.

[[ expecting one in particular, but open room is open, as is the door ]]

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! ]]

Arthur did not awake to the feeling of having slept particularly well. His head wasn't pounding, which was a good sign, but his brain felt like it still wanted to seep out of his head into something nice and unconscious of the sweetest kind.

He was usually an early riser. He was trying to remember why he didn't feel inclined to be so right now.

Of course, that's when he opened his eyes and found two very curious blue eyes peering back at him. "You awake yet?" Gawain demanded. Yes, demanded.

Oh, hell. "Go back to sleep," he ordered.

"But sir," Gawain said, plaintatively, "It's time for morning exercise."

Arthur was going to murder the world.

[[ door closed, post open! ]]