Complicated. She's just a witch, with a mark, and it's complicated.
Lancelot wants to argue, wants to protest but he doesn't even know what he's protesting. It's all nonsense yet somehow it's nonsense that makes sense, on some gut level, and he has no idea why it does all of a sudden. It's like the dreams he used to have weren't dreams at all.
She's tugging at his wrist anyway, so he stops resisting -- stumbles to follow the slight woman, Lily trailing after them uneasily. He doesn't blame her, he'd be uncertain about following the both of them too.
He glances back a little, but keeps following nonetheless.
"Where to?" he prompts, trying to moderate his speed to match her smaller stride.
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Lancelot wants to argue, wants to protest but he doesn't even know what he's protesting. It's all nonsense yet somehow it's nonsense that makes sense, on some gut level, and he has no idea why it does all of a sudden. It's like the dreams he used to have weren't dreams at all.
She's tugging at his wrist anyway, so he stops resisting -- stumbles to follow the slight woman, Lily trailing after them uneasily. He doesn't blame her, he'd be uncertain about following the both of them too.
He glances back a little, but keeps following nonetheless.
"Where to?" he prompts, trying to moderate his speed to match her smaller stride.