[ Lancelot is holding a soft conversation with a ferryman as she rides up. His face is furrowed with exhaustion, marked with cuts and bruises and his wrists are raw under the leather guards from squirming in their bindings. His dog looks up as soon as it senses her approaching, eyes sharp as it watches. After a moment it sidesteps closer to Lancelot, head down and ears flicking back warily.
He looks over and for a moment he just watches her.
She is still Lady Morgana, but equally she has betrayed Camelot. She has turned on it in anger, but it is an anger he does not fully understand. Anger at Uther? Yes. Uther enacted the laws that made her and her people suffer. He was cruel and at times unjust. He feared what he did not understand. Arthur, though? Arthur may not fully be able to accept things as quickly as he could but Arthur was working toward slowly righting wrongs. Surely he was learning? Surely she could see that?
Perhaps not fast enough for her. Perhaps not well enough.
Here, though, what can Morgana do? Killing him would do her little good. Perhaps it is curiosity, perhaps it is naïvety, but Lancelot wants to know. He hands the reins of his horse to the ferryman, watches him steady the animal as the craft dips and wobbles under its weight before scooping up his dog and stepping on.
He may as well make the crossing. If Morgana wished to find him it seems she could anyway, her birds could track him even if he turned now and left. What point is there in running when he could simply walk to his fate and listen?
The craft is pushed away from the bank slowly and Lancelot glances back long enough to check he isn't being watched, to study the slowly shrink sight of the other bank before he turns curious eyes back to Morgana. When the ferry is close enough he jumps clear carelessly, takes the reins of his horse and lets it splash off the planks of the craft and up onto the bank.
His dog jumps clear and hops to catch up, hanging by his feet and regarding Morgana warily -- unsure if she should be defending him from her or greeting her. ]
action;
He looks over and for a moment he just watches her.
She is still Lady Morgana, but equally she has betrayed Camelot. She has turned on it in anger, but it is an anger he does not fully understand. Anger at Uther? Yes. Uther enacted the laws that made her and her people suffer. He was cruel and at times unjust. He feared what he did not understand. Arthur, though? Arthur may not fully be able to accept things as quickly as he could but Arthur was working toward slowly righting wrongs. Surely he was learning? Surely she could see that?
Perhaps not fast enough for her. Perhaps not well enough.
Here, though, what can Morgana do? Killing him would do her little good. Perhaps it is curiosity, perhaps it is naïvety, but Lancelot wants to know. He hands the reins of his horse to the ferryman, watches him steady the animal as the craft dips and wobbles under its weight before scooping up his dog and stepping on.
He may as well make the crossing. If Morgana wished to find him it seems she could anyway, her birds could track him even if he turned now and left. What point is there in running when he could simply walk to his fate and listen?
The craft is pushed away from the bank slowly and Lancelot glances back long enough to check he isn't being watched, to study the slowly shrink sight of the other bank before he turns curious eyes back to Morgana. When the ferry is close enough he jumps clear carelessly, takes the reins of his horse and lets it splash off the planks of the craft and up onto the bank.
His dog jumps clear and hops to catch up, hanging by his feet and regarding Morgana warily -- unsure if she should be defending him from her or greeting her. ]