#ofxavalon

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄 ✉ ➟ PELLEAS ( @ofxavalon​ ) sent:

∟         ' your perfect face is the least beautiful thing about you. ' 

He slept dreaming, hoping he had died only to wake to the smell of apple blossoms heavy in the air. Though he was certain it had been winter when he last shut his eyes. 

Perhaps this is heaven and that is the scent from the new Eden. But then he wasn’t sure that in heaven he would still be able to feel Bors’ lips against his. They had been dry from cold and travel his chin whiskered and somehow perfect. Galahad wasn’t at all sure why he had asked for the kiss except that . . . Except that it had felt like he had finally forgiven or at least accepted something about himself. 

As he opened his eyes and sit up he began feel quite sure he wasn’t in heaven at all. He doubted he would feel so sore if he was.

When his eyes adjusted at last to the light he became aware of a strange woman in the room with him. 

@ofxavalon​ (LANCELOT!) said:  “ here , have my jacket . ”

            she was cold, and she had not realized it. she had been shivering without the temperature truly registering. now she smiles, shrugs a little as the jacket settles ‘round her shoulders. “thank you,” she says, pulling it closer over her shoulders with one hand, turning to lean against the railing behind her, the better to look up at him. “i don’t know what i was expecting,” she admits, still looking at him. “when arthur told me he met you....” she shrugs, searching his face. “none of us are the same people we were, are we? not really. but this...” she tugs lightly on the jacket collar. “it smells like you.” not just in the obvious sense, but in the way she would have imagined it would. in the way whatever memories she has informed her. “and...that’s a fucking weird thing to say, isn’t it? but that’s the way all of this has been, so i suppose it fits.” 

@ofxavalon​ sent “ it’s nothing, i’m totally fine ” Guinevere to lancelot

@ofxavalon​ sent :  ❝ the stranger the better. ❞ from viviane

               “THE STRANGER, THE stranger,” he replied, glancing up from his work to see her sitting on a fallen bough, looking all the world like the bizarre force of nature she’d been since she’d blown into his life. 

The former guard still wasn’t certain why she’d taken — well, he wouldn’t call it a liking that she’d shown him, but an interest — to coming around to his cottage, to the school building he was slowly trying to build, to the humble roots he was planting outside of the city. Thanks to his best efforts, he was practically nothing ( a fact which he knew drove his father absolutely spare ), and even with the school he was building for the People with whom he was connected to by nature of his mother, he still felt like practically nothing.