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Daily -- Knightly

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"There are many cursed things on this island," says Lancelot, referring to the Knights' earlier conversation as he leans against the doorframe of Arthur's chambers. "But I do not scare easily."

He steps into the room. "Unless, of course, you were entirely serious about starting at dawn tomorrow," he says lightly. "In which case I should probably leave now and get a good night's sleep."
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Lancelot carries five flagons of ale over to the large table at which all the Knights, except for Galahad and Gawain are sitting.

"Where are those two anyway?" he asks with a faint growl.

"Where do you think?" asks Tristan in return. He smirks very slightly. "In another week, you will owe us all money, Lancelot. They have stayed together for a bit longer this time round, hm?"

Lancelot rolls his eyes as he sits next to Arthur. "We'll see, we'll see."
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Galahad glances over at the chair and the woman and the ties that bind her there and he can't help but give a little bit of a smirk. "Thank you, Tristan," he murmurs profusely, slipping a few coins into his hand. "Honestly, we won't hurt her, but it's simply best that we get to interrogate her." His eyes flit to Gawain before looking at Sarah and then back at Tristan.

"Don't hurt her," he warns. "I don't want to have to explain to Arthur."

"We won't," Galahad promises and begins to walk Tristan out.

"For what it's worth?" Tristan stops in the doorway and glances back at Sarah, perusing her body in a onceover and scoffing. "I don't think she's pregnant."
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Galahad hums under his breath as he traverses the tavern, looking for something to drink and if he's feeling a little loose with his change, perhaps he'll even try and look for something for Gawain to drink as well. Everywhere he goes in the tavern, there are hushed whispers and he frowns and wonders what's going on.

He sees Lynette in the corner, smirking at him, and he gets the worst chill down his back.

"Vanora," Galahad asks cautiously, "What's going on?"

Vanora just grunts. "Some girl sleeping with a knight. Gossip's flying. What else is new?"

She hands him his drink and Galahad slowly slips away with it, sipping idly and sitting at the bench. He quickly orders a jug of wine and when it's delivered, he makes his way back to their quarters, needing to simply validate that everything is going smoothly. He has the oddest feeling that things aren't okay. When he arrives, he pushes into the room to find Gawain sitting there thoughtfully.

"It's mad out there," Galahad comments. "Whispers everywhere."
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For some reason, Arthur has decided that the Knights need extra training; perhaps because it has been relatively quiet around the garrison recently although Galahad's injuries at the hands of the Woads are still fresh in the memories of the Knights.

They have been up since before dawn, excercising and training their horses before Arthur divides them into pairs in order to practice some one-on-one combat skills. Galahad is paired up with Tristan while Gawain has to take on Lancelot.

"Do you really think that two swords are necessary, Lancelot?" he asks lightly as Lancelot begins to circle him. "It seems a little showy to me."
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"Oh gods, oh gods," Galahad mutters, pacing around nervously. Gawain is in his best and on his cot and he seems perfectly calm and relaxed. Galahad is taking deep breaths. It has been ages since he's been with a woman and he's wondering just how much attention he will wind up giving her as opposed to Gawain.

He bit his lip. "Gawain," he worried aloud. "Gawain, what if...what if she...I..." he stammers, sighing and sitting down in Gawain's lap immediately for the proximity. He cranes his head around, resting his head on Gawain's shoulder. "What if she latches on to the thought of being with you?" he whispers, unsure about their choice now. They had looked friendly the night before.

"Don't forget me?"
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Galahad brings the mugs of ale to Gawain and drops them down on the table in front of Gawain, letting his arms linger over Gawain's chest for a moment before bringing his hands back up, stroking Gawain's chest as they go. He leans down and rests his chin on Gawain's shoulder, eyeing the girls.

"What about her?" he whispers, pointing over towards the entrance. The other knights are all there, but no one seems to be paying them any mind. Galahad is trying not to bring attention to their coupling, but he finds it hard. He's pointing to a well-known whore, but she would be good for the night. "She's a redhead," Galahad whispers mischievously. "I like redheads."

"You better not be talking about Vanora," Bors growls warningly.

Galahad glances over. "I'm not. Swear." He rests his chin on Gawain's shoulder again, sitting down atop the table. "Well?"
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Galahad idly tucks away his sword and heads back from a day's training, pausing along the way to talk to a girl that he's slept with before -- ages ago, after Gawain and he had gone separate ways the first time -- and as he's speaking to her, it slowly dawns on him that he's not sure what is going to keep Gawain and himself from delving into that place again with the arguments and the jealousy.

He smiles and kisses her on the cheek before heading back for their quarters, hoping Gawain will be in there. It's as he goes inside and finds Gawain sitting where Galahad thought he might that Galahad realizes that he hasn't a word to speak, he doesn't know what to say even.

"I saw Dierdre in the halls," Galahad blurts out stupidly. He may have recovered well from the physical injuries, but his mind is as jumbled a mess as it ever was. Gawain knows who the girl is, and likely, Gawain knows about Galahad sleeping with her. "She said hello," he lies.
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Galahad is sure that most people would regard returning to the fortress as returning to home. He sees it as more of being transferred from one prison to the next. The ride has been quiet, he's winced with the pain of his wounds and he's managed to make it with great thanks to Gawain's constant help. He honestly doesn't quite know what he would do without him. He dismounts before they arrive inside the fields, guiding his horse inside slowly, almost dreading having to see the others.

He glances over his shoulder to Gawain, almost a default reaction now. "What do you suppose will happen now that we've returned?" Galahad comments idly, recalling Arthur's words to pretend that they had never spoken of their current status. "Do you suppose it will be as it always was?"
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Galahad storms back towards his quarters, muttering under his breath about the inadequacy of the Romans. They're ready to leave tomorrow and his wounds only twinge with the barest hints of pain now. They don't seem to understand his instructions on upkeep for when he leaves and he hates dealing with all the details and plannings when he should be more focused on important matters.

Like Gawain.

He pushes into the quarters, cursing under his breath. "Bloody Romans," he swears, grasping clothes and getting his bundle ready to go for the ride back. He scratches at an itchy wound as he swears a little more, smiling in acknowledgment of Gawain before returning to digging out his clothes from crooks and crannies. "They don't know how to keep their heads on straight," Galahad complains, throwing a dirty tunic onto the cot. "Idiots," he sneers.
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