exsilium | ♔ video ||

[Arthur Pendragon, prince of Camelot, is wearing a very wrinkled version of his usual shirt, and someone has done up the laces crookedly.

actually, he looks a general mess. he's clearly made the effort to appear slightly presentable--his hair has been recently smoothed down with some water, though not as flat as it usually might lay--but his shirt looks like it was trampled beneath a horse's hooves and the room that he's in is a little hazy with smoke from some old fire. or hopefully it wasn't an actual fire, because it was meant to be dinner.

but he's here to make an official announcement, and so he's composed himself as best as he can--all slightly rumpled clothing and bad hair and smudges on his face aside--and he stares grimly into the camera. this is a dare to anyone to comment, to make any smart remark.]

I must speak with the witch Morgana. She can deliver herself, but I do not expect her to come when she is called upon. If there is any of this city that knows her location, send word to me, and you will be rewarded.

[he's not learned how to send messages privately, so here it is, curt clipped, and that might be all there is to it, but then he glances away, his face tightening into a small glare.]

I would speak, too, with anyone that can be counted honest enough to make a delivery. Your reward will be a smaller sum, but your service will be counted valuable.

[without Merlin, what choice does he have? the smoke seems somewhat thicker in the room now, and it's a good thing you can't smell over the devices, because it would smell strongly of burnt food now. Arthur spares the air an irritated glance and now, finally, he reaches to flip off the video before this gets any worse.]

[[ any roommates, feel free to notice the smoke/horrible smells/et cetera! ]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Then they might at least have asked me. He is a servant of Camelot, he can't be-- snatched up and forced to go--

[he cuts himself off with a sigh, pushing a hand through his hair. he dares not risk showing weakness--not here, not where everyone can see, but this is tiring.]

If it is in their power, I would have them take all of us back to Camelot.

I know you would.

[ if it were his choice. But nothing here seems to be about choices. ]

He'll be back, Arthur, I'm certain of it. Merlin is stronger than he appears.

He's an idiot.

[it's true, so he says it, and perhaps the word and the impulse is cruel, but the way that he says it somehow isn't.]

Even if he were sent back to Camleot--you truly think he would return?

[ it's an odd friendship, the one of Arthur and Merlin but Gwen has always known it's a strong friendship still. She smiles, tries for the eternal optimism she is so well known for. ]

I believe that Merlin is devoted and stubborn enough to always come back and make sure you do not burn down the house.

[he actually snorts at that.]

What--hurry back so he could burn it down himself? Yes, that sounds just like Merlin. [a beat.] I-- didn't burn it down, by the way. It was the stove.

You burned the stove?

[ confused. ]

I didn't burn anything.

[perhaps that is... a bit too defensive. he clears his throat and tries again.]

The stove was burning the food. I think it might be broken.

Do you wish to use mine until it is fixed?

[ just don't ruin hers, Arthur. ]

[the gesture is so kind, and he would say yes--except then she'd see that he can't cook. (which she already knows but he's still not willing to humiliate himself any more than he already has.)]

Er. No--there's no need for such measures. I am having food delivered. I am sure it will be passable.

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