Lancelot du Lac (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knightscode) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-05-05 05:56 pm
knightscode) wrote in undergrounds2016-05-05 05:56 pm
Entry tags:
Semi-open: May 05
Who: Lancelot and friends!
What: It's a birthday party! With both regular people and supernatural types. What could go wrong?
When: May 05
Where: Lancelot's flat & garden, Richmond!
Warnings: Gratuitous doggy! Probably a punch up later. Possibly some drunk kissing.
Lancelot's garden is not exactly an acre-large tented paradise.
He's not made of money.
It's big enough to just about fit the people invited across the patio and grass, with Lily variously herding them and rolling around, and he's flitting between them and the kitchen and living room and generally doing his best to butterfly around all of them making sure they're happy. The garden is relatively tidy, as tidy and well kept as a garden that suffers an enthusiastic dog can be. The hedges are neatly trimmed, the tree in one corner healthy and big enough to throw a little shade, and the one flowerbed border seems to mostly have some roses that are yet to fully bloom.
For those who he's only known since the incident last year he's given them a warning: not everyone who will be there is aware of the supernatural side of things, so try not to blurt it to people you don't know.
Despite it being his own birthday Lancelot is, of course, playing host. There's a table set up outside with finger food, salads, drinks and all sorts -- and food strategically inside for those who can't be out in the sun too. He appears to still be checking on more in the oven every so often too, but Lancelot does like to cook -- and he seems quite focused on making sure everyone has something they could eat.
Some of the drinks are alcoholic. The punch isn't that strong, but he has a few other drinks along the side for people who want them and some bottles of beer in an ice bucket. If someone decides to do a little mixing of course then it might wind up stronger.
His sound system is playing the soothing strains of Dire Straits through the place and all in all, for now at least things are going smoothly. So long as nobody says the wrong thing to the wrong person, it will probably be a nice evening. With the mixture of factions present alongside those who have no idea what a faction is, of course... that may be difficult.
[ OOC: Feel free to mingle away on the post with others here! ]
What: It's a birthday party! With both regular people and supernatural types. What could go wrong?
When: May 05
Where: Lancelot's flat & garden, Richmond!
Warnings: Gratuitous doggy! Probably a punch up later. Possibly some drunk kissing.
Lancelot's garden is not exactly an acre-large tented paradise.
He's not made of money.
It's big enough to just about fit the people invited across the patio and grass, with Lily variously herding them and rolling around, and he's flitting between them and the kitchen and living room and generally doing his best to butterfly around all of them making sure they're happy. The garden is relatively tidy, as tidy and well kept as a garden that suffers an enthusiastic dog can be. The hedges are neatly trimmed, the tree in one corner healthy and big enough to throw a little shade, and the one flowerbed border seems to mostly have some roses that are yet to fully bloom.
For those who he's only known since the incident last year he's given them a warning: not everyone who will be there is aware of the supernatural side of things, so try not to blurt it to people you don't know.
Despite it being his own birthday Lancelot is, of course, playing host. There's a table set up outside with finger food, salads, drinks and all sorts -- and food strategically inside for those who can't be out in the sun too. He appears to still be checking on more in the oven every so often too, but Lancelot does like to cook -- and he seems quite focused on making sure everyone has something they could eat.
Some of the drinks are alcoholic. The punch isn't that strong, but he has a few other drinks along the side for people who want them and some bottles of beer in an ice bucket. If someone decides to do a little mixing of course then it might wind up stronger.
His sound system is playing the soothing strains of Dire Straits through the place and all in all, for now at least things are going smoothly. So long as nobody says the wrong thing to the wrong person, it will probably be a nice evening. With the mixture of factions present alongside those who have no idea what a faction is, of course... that may be difficult.
[ OOC: Feel free to mingle away on the post with others here! ]
no subject
He tosses his jacket across the arm of the sofa before he turns back and puts the rest of the ties away -- he does like to keep his flat neat and tidy, even if there's hardly anything in it. He makes his way back out into the main room and promptly begins struggling with his tie. "I don't know why I'm bothering with this," he says. Both in frustration as well as because he's convinced himself he isn't going to win.
no subject
Lancelot pushes to his feet, pads over and takes hold of Faolan's -- crosses it one way then the other before frowning.
"Do you have a mirror? Forgive me, I'm not good at doing this backwards."
Since he's more used to tying them on himself rather than other people, of course.
no subject
Faolan flushes slightly as he realizes what the other man intends to do, before nodding. "In here," he says, motioning towards the bedroom before leading the other man in that way. In through the bedroom to the bathroom, where there is a decent-sized mirror, above the sink. And perhaps just enough room for the pair of them to stand behind it comfortably, if it is perhaps a bit tight.
Faolan wonders if perhaps the universe isn't doing this on purpose. Or if not the universe, perhaps Lancelot himself.
no subject
"There you go, how's that?"
Squeezing Faolan's shoulders in gentle reassurance he takes a few steps back, giving him space to fuss as he likes or turn and come out if he's done.
no subject
It makes the rest of it so much more confusing, though.
"It's perfect," he says, though he flushes slightly at his own choice of wording, knowing he hadn't been talking all about the tie, and knowing Lancelot might catch on to that as well. He glances down at the tie itself and starts to fuss with it before deciding to leave it alone if he doesn't want to mess up the whole thing entirely. "I mean. Certainly better than anything I could tie over anyone else's shoulders." Not that Faolan can reach over many other people's shoulders for that matter, but that's neither here nor there.
no subject
"It will do," he allows, and shoves his hands into his pocket -- gives a small shrug. "If you're happy with it that's good enough. Are you ready, then? Or is there anything else you want to do first?"
Take something for his head? Drink some more water? Splash cold water on his face? Eating something? Anything of that sort.
no subject
He shoots the other man a glance. "Is there anything you need?" Or any questions, he has, for that matter. He knows that Lancelot's a down-to-earth kind of guy, that he doesn't really like to pry into Faolan's personal business, but this is the first time they're at his flat. He's honestly surprised that he isn't more...curious. Then again Faolan's probably given him enough to think about already.
no subject
So he shrugs in answer, shakes his head.
"Not that I can think of. It shouldn't take too long, anyway, then I might just head back."
no subject
He sticks his hands in his pockets and slumps his way back through the flat to pick up his suit jacket from where he'd dumped it. "Might as well face the music, then," he says, draping the jacket over his arm and making sure that he's stuck his keys and wallet and the lot of it all in the right places to take with him.
no subject
And really, either could apply to either outcome. Faolan might well be relieved to lose and feel upbeat about it all.
no subject
"I'd. Like that. I mean. If you're not sick of having me about as it is," he amends, sheepishly, moving to stick his keys back in his pocket and then glancing away.
no subject
They're still friends, as far as he's concerned, and despite all the unsteadiness Lancelot still enjoys his company.
"And I promise not to cook sausage rolls."
no subject
"I'm in no position to be making any sorts of demands from you," he relies. "Sausage rolls or no." And they had been good. He's just got the feeling he's never going to be able to look at one again without being reminded of the various mistakes he'd made the night before.
"I'd like that, though," he admits, softly. Self-consciously to be honest. "If you'll have me." Like he could ever say no, especially to an offer of food and Lancelot's company. He only hopes the other man understands what it is that he's asking of him.