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

62| Son of Ban - 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Lancelot is reunited with the Ash folk and Ari prompts him to make a decision.

The Ash folk had been quietly escorted to the tranquil cavern that Lancelot and Ari had so often frequented, led the way by lanterns and those who knew where they were going, so that they might have somewhere to stay. Lancelot also just wanted a more private place for him to speak with them.

He'd tried and failed to stop his palms from sweating along the short walk from the clearing to the cavern. The wood violet and leather scent that he would usually anchor his mind to was not there, since Ari had other matters to discuss with the elders.

Nira had wandered ahead of him, her white fur almost grey in the darkness. And Hector had been at his side— until the trail narrowed— his tongue spewing never-ending recounts of the stories he'd listened to for the last half hour. Lancelot listened, but his mind was partly elsewhere.

It was then an hour of bearing his soul and his past, which was not something that came naturally to him with strangers. Still, it had to be done and that is what kept Lancelot from turning away.

The Ash sat on the rocks within the cavern, beneath the canvas of bright orange and pink flowers that should not grow here, and yet did. Scattered around them were the few possessions that they'd travelled with. As he told his tale, Lancelot watched their faces fall, and fall, and fall. And he could not define between anger or disappointment in their features. They'd believed him to have been with the Fey for all this time, and he knew what it might feel like to realise that was far from the truth.

When he had no more left to say, he gave the Ash a moment to speak with one another, taking up a place beside Hector. Focussing on the water which trickled down the rock wall into the pool nearby. It was all that he could do to stop himself from listening in to their whispers. He did not even watch to resist the temptation to hear their voices.

"Well done," Hector whispered, catching the corner of his eye.

The encouragement didn't do much to ease Lancelot's mind. He gnawed on his inner cheek whilst he waited for their deliberation to end, wishing that Ari were here if not just so that he could see her eyes and know that she was nearby. His jitters and fidgeting hands would likely cease if she was.

Nira lay in the quiet corner of the cavern, her glowing red eyes examining Lancelot throughout it all.

After a few long minutes, Tomas stood with tears shimmering in his eyes and came to stand before him. His wrinkled hand faltered as it reached out, dark crimson fingertips hovering in the air between them.

Lancelot didn't say a word, his throat pulling rather tight and chest feeling as though it was carved of stone. The times when hands of men had been raised towards him, they'd preluded a strike. Then with a sorrowful purse of his lips, Tomas placed that hand on his arm.