It was fairly early, but Arthur had been planning to head down into the salle for early practice - as per usual - today anyway. He stirred in his bed, sitting up, and rubbing the back of his head. This was also fairly normal, which meant Arthur was starting to grow confident that perhaps today wasn't going to wind up completely insane.

He would, of course, be horribly mistaken, but for the moment he was blissfully ignorant as he bunched up the sheets around his legs and shifted awake.

[[ for the ears, but feel free to react to the upcoming noise, wing-mates! ]]
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 ]]

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bitchprince

December 2020

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