[2] WEEPING MONK║you're not what I was looking for

61| Familiar Faces - 𝐈

═ 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘍𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 ═

[ TW// Blood. Minor injury. ]

Ari hopes to make amends for her mistakes, and Lancelot is confronted with an unexpected reunion.

Hector whistled happily all through the courtyard, took the few steps into the servants quarters two by two, and then whistled again down the winding corridors. It was good to be back within stone walls again like he had been in his youth, sheltered from the elements outside. Though they were in luck with the mild weather today, a touch of cloud in the sky which was a blinding white instead of storm grey.

It had rained right after they arrived in the evening last, and he'd thanked the gods with a touch to his amulet that they'd managed to remain dry on their hasty journey.

The door he was seeking as he bounced along was already open down the hallway. Hector waltzed in unannounced and stopped immediately in the doorway.

"What are you doing?" He frowned at the sight before him.

"It's too long," Lancelot answered him plainly, not startled by the intrusion that he'd anticipated approximately twenty of his brother's loud steps ago. He blindly scraped the blade at his throat down and down, turning his chin up high to stretch his skin taut.

"Well stop before you nick yourself, Lance." Hector stepped forwards through the modest sized room and wafted out his hand. "Here, give."

Lancelot narrowed his eyes, flicking his sight between Hector's own and his brother's waiting palm. Eventually he conceded, since Hector was probably right. He tapped the blade to the metal bowl of water he'd placed on the windowsill and handed it over.

Hector gestured for him to sit down on the bed behind them, and placed the bowl in his hands to hold in his lap when he was sat. The younger Ash held the blade lightly between his fingers and positioned himself by Lancelot's knee.

"You don't want to take off too much, brother," he said, coming closer to his side, and added with a conspiratorial smirk, "trust me."

Lancelot tilted his head to one side and allowed his brother to raise the blade to his cheek. "Why?" he asked, and regretted his curiosity immediately with the answer.

"Women like how it scratches... something I'm sure you have learned thoroughly by now," Hector said, pulling his attention away for a quick second to catch his brother's side eyed glare.

Lancelot bit his tongue. He knew enough of the world now to not need ask what his brother was implying.

Hector chuckled lowly to himself as he continued with his task, moving the blade in steady strokes down towards Lancelot's jaw. "I know, I don't understand it either," he mused. He swished the blade quickly through the water in the bowl and manhandled his brother's head with jovial and unnecessary force, ordering, "Now hold still."