Lancelot's First Stop (Beth and Open)

[Elizabeth Severn]

"Well aren't you a scoundrel," Elizabeth said in a slow voice, rolling the last R off her tongue. It was her norther accent coming out, as it did whenever she had something to drink. Clearing her though almost imperceptibly, she continued on without a hitch.

"If you'd like to bed down in the stables, I'm sure that can be arranged," she said smoothly, letting a smile smile tug at the corner of her lips. Shifting in her seat and swinging her wait to the side, Elizabeth brought her leather clad feet up and placed them on the table, but out of the way of their conversation. With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back. For a moment she simply sat there, relaxing, but then she came back around.

Turning her bright green eyes back on Lancelot, Elizabeth nodded. "Shields are not something I could ever use. They're to heavy for me, set me off balance. The longsword is a good weapon, but i must say, my favorites are my two long knives. They're light and quick as a whip and absolutely deadly," for a moment her features flashed into something wolfish. "Which is how I like to fight."

Adjusting her seat slightly, Elizabeth cocked her head to the side. "I tend to think I'm a pretty damn good judge of character, and my instincts are telling me that that's the truth about you. Maybe you're just really good at acting." she shrugged. "How am I to know without spending some time with you? But for me, I'm afraid, what you see is what you get."

A subtle look softened her features for a moment, letting her grin almost apologetically. but quickly, the moment passed and her normal fire came back. As if nothing had happened, she continued. "I very much doubt i will do anything important in my time. Perhaps I'll slaughter a few dozen enemies, perhaps I'll save some peasants. But I'm not A hero. Not made of the right kind of stuff, you know?"

[Lancelot Du Lac]

“I am?,” he laughed. “Well, I suppose I could be if the situation demanded it,” he said with a wink, “but its life that has made me that way. Anyway, I am generally well-behaved, as a knight should be, but not tied to any one pot. So, although I adhere to the knightly code of chivalry, I’m not always aware of the other niceties of civilized life,” he chuckled. He noticed the sudden strange lilt to her voice which minded of speech that he had heard on the northern extremities of Wessex in his travels.

“Hmmm …. are you saying that you might be the helpful arranger, then, of all things in the stables, both horse-wise and otherwise?,” he asked with a raised eyebrow over his tankard of ale. He wondered how much was truth and how much might be a sarcastic pun on her part. He watched her with a bemused smile as she apparently took the opportunity to relax as she stretched out her lower limbs across the table. He considered whether she was relaxing to much, as he saw her eyes close, and it almost appeared that she was drifting away. That wouldn’t do, he thought, if she was going to get his horse properly stabled for the night. However, in a few moments she was alert once more.

In fact, he was happy to see that her attention was once more turned directly back to him. Generally when he was in a pub he was alone and was always concerned with being on the defensive and defending his space. One never knew when someone might choose Lancelot as a means to prove their manhood, or lose it permanently on a particular night. It was pleasant just to be able to communicate with someone that there were no particular worries about. “Yes …. shields do have their place. I prefer to wear them in the ancient Greek way …. over the back. They are there if you need them, and they are a bit of protection from cowards who might decide to attack from the rear. However, more importantly I’ve always felt that the best defense was a good offense, and since I can fight equally well with either hand, two long-swords, two short ones, or a mixture thereof, has always been the way to go.”

He noticed now, though, from the way she held her head and talked, she was indicating that she had analyzed him and was making a general initial judgment. He rarely worried about such things these days, after his initial failure in Camelot. He didn’t worry about how people thought of him …. He let his sword speak for him. He was interested, though, in what she thought of him, at least at the moment. “And what do you attest this great judgmental ability to …. Is this from women’s intuition or is it from something I’ve done or said, or perchance has some sort of reputation preceded me? So …. its instinct, then,” after he heard her explanation. Well, he had had to do his share of acting, that was for sure. “So then, does that mean you want me to stay in the fair city of Camelot for a bit longer than a night, so that you can get a better read on my acting ability,” he chuckled.

For a moment, and Sir Lancelot, wondered if it was a mixture of his company and the ale, as her expression seemed to change for a moment. It was as if a mask had dropped momentarily from her face that she used to hide her feelings from the world had vanished. But it was just for a moment that she had had that look of vulnerability he had thought. After listening to what she said next his face turned a bit more serious. “One should never make too many assumptions of what we will do in certain situations, or what we will become. Our characters make themselves known in a variety of ways. Until you are faced with a situation in reality, one never knows what they are really capable of, whether it be a hero or a coward.”