#flowermagus

Yaiba paused his handheld system and sat straight up on the lawn – the sight of Merlin across the street had him instantly on alert, with fox ears fully raised. There was never a time when Merlin wasn’t up to something. The sooner he learned what it was, the sooner he could yell about it.

Then something fell out of Merlin’s sleeve. Yaiba recognized the wrapper as soon as it hit the ground.

“I SAW THAT! ARE YOU LEGEND OF FOR REAL?”

“You’re here? Really?”

Honestly, Cath Palug felt this would have been a meeting best avoided. However, it seemed as though the Mage of Flowers was here in this place in his entirety, somehow spirited away from Avalon. That in itself was a mystery worth looking into, though if it could have been attributed to someone else, that would have been perfectly fine.

Roman dives, rolls, splays himself out before the clinic’s mini--fridge -- arms stretched out in mock defence.  “Not again, Merlin! This is the third time this week you’ve come here, looking for my puddings! I just bought a super-saver pack of twelve and they’re mine! All mine!”

He squints at the other, defiant. 

“If you’re that hungry I’ll -- I’ll treat you to lunch! There! Just don’t touch my puddings!” A daring sacrifice, but one he’s willing to pull. Some things were worth it. Puddings, for example. And that one slice of strawberry cream cake with chocolate strawberries on the side he has stored away, too.

"Merlin," he says, his voice tempered to stillness--and yet, his hands are still shaking, illuminated by the soft light of the window behind him. He looks the epitome of a shy maiden, hair loose and framing his face in flaxen waves, sea-colored eyes wide open and trusting. "I've heard tell that it's, ah, it's kiss day today..." and he trails off, making no mention of whom he heard this information from--but what he plans to do with this newfound excuse is obvious.

Those shaking hands cup the magus' chin with incredible gentleness, like he's holding something made of porcelain that will shatter if he mishandles it. His kiss is chaste and innocent, the close-mouthed brush of lips on lips vaguely reminiscent of a barely pubescent boy and his first crush. Still--he's flushed when he pulls away, eyes averted, and a small smile on his mouth.

In the middle of practicing his sword stances, Yaiba felt the unsettling sensation of being watched. With a smirk, he whirled with Ryukenden in hand, ready to strike and be met with a familiar ax.

“Crow, if you have a Legend of Smart Comment to make—!”

But that wasn’t Crow there to parry – Yaiba’s swing met with the air as his eyes met with the stranger sitting on the edge of their hot tub. He pulled back defensively, tail puffed in surprise.

There is no one that Bedivere trusts more than Arthur himself, but the magus Merlin comes in closely enough that he is on par with the rest of the Knights of the Round. The magus has never wronged Bedivere--in fact, he's been more than helpful to the knight, even going so far as to gift him with his silver arm. And Merlin had always been on Arthur's side, just as Bedivere was, and that in itself was enough to endear the magus to the knight. So: Bedivere trusts Merlin implicitly, and, perhaps unfortunately for Merlin, that makes the magus the first one that Bedivere goes to when he needs a helping hand.

The wording is literal, Bedivere staggering to Merlin's home sans silver arm, brush in hand, and hair in tangles. It's a blow to his pride to ask for help in such a fashion, but then, which is worse? To look like a windblown disaster or to humble oneself and admit he couldn't do it himself?

Still, Yaiba waited until his cigarette was lit and he’d taken the first drag off it to say anything.