thatsamilkshake | The Preserve, Off Behind The Campground, Friday Night

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The Preserve, Off Behind The Campground, Friday Night

Subtle Francine who had partaken of NO WINE WHATSOEVER was very subtle as she wandered off from the bonfire, hands clasped behind her back and humming The Teddy Bears' Picnic not quite under her breath.

Very subtle.

No wine.

Not expecting to meet up with anyone who might also have abandoned the party at all.

[OOC: for certain people who are also Very Subtle and have had No Wine Whatsoever!]

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Merlin, who had also not had a drop of wine, was just so happening to be heading in the same direction as Francine. Only a little later on than her.

It was almost as if a meeting had been arranged. But that would be utterly silly!

Arthur had seen the both of them slink off. Which wasn't any of his business and ergo, he hadn't followed.

It was just that a few glasses of wine in, he thought that the bushes he'd seen them head into looked like they might be comfortable for... sleeping. Or sitting in. Or...

Honestly, Arthur's thoughts didn't extend beyond go roughly thataway, it looks comfy.

Well, and Merlin was there. But that was clearly not of consequence. Unless he bumped his head off something. Which was likely.

Katchoo wasn't following anyone, really.

She'd just gotten sick of the noise and the people and the making out that people who weren't her were doing.

So why would she be following two people who looked like they were taking off to do just that? She wasn't. Duh.

Just sneaking off. In a whiskey-influenced direction that just happened to be the same.

One might say Katchoo had an internal compass -- with a needle that said "Francine" instead of north. But shh.

Francine's internal compass usually said "Guy who will take advantage of my good nature and add to my future therapy bills" but luckily there weren't any of those in the woods tonight. Nor any teddy bears, though she had to admit she found herself peering around through the branches and underbrush every so often, just to make sure.

"Hellooooooooo..." she sang out, not actually calling anybody by name since after all she hadn't gone out here to meet anybody. In particular. At all.

Merlin did not giggle as he drew near. It was a manly noise he made. Very much so.

Really.

Of course this was cut short by things Merlin was sadly unaware of. One being the date. Well, not really the date. There was nothing truly special about any day in particular. It was more the belief in that day that gave it power. The other thing was the time. At midnight everyone had a bit of magic in them. And you add that to the... more than a bit in Merlin and you have an interesting combination of forces that got the ball rolling rather well.

"Gif uncer unáfeohtendlic béo mid sé ic bróðorlufu, bróðorlufu sé ic béo unáfeohtendlic."

He hadn't the faintest idea what he just said, but he was feeling a bit light headed now.

Wait a minute. Was that Merlin's voice? Was that magic?

The edges of his questions were blurring a little, so Arthur, in typical fashion, blundered onwards to make sense of it. Through the bushes, making an awful lot of racket, practically flailing on; he almost tripped over a branch.

"Merlin?"

"Where?" Francine's IQ did not increase with consumption of wine, no. Nor when her head was feeling extra dizzy for some reason, did sudden noises from behind help her to avoid spinning around and, well. BONK.

Huuh.

"You're not Merlin," Arthur told her. Or rather, the shape that was sort of over there on the-- His knees were weakening, but he'd stay-- "Stay strong," he muttered, and his hand found the rough surface of a tree before he knew he'd told it to do that.

"Owwwww." She was pretty sure she wasn't Merlin, yes. Merlin had a beard. She didn't have a beard.

She was pretty sure she didn't have a beard.

Sadly, the act of feeling her chin to verify that was just enough to through her off balance enough that she fell completely over.

Against a tree.

Wait. "Yrrr not a tree."

Yes, Francine, your ability to notice things is unparalleled, he wanted to say.

What he said was, "You have eyes," after which the unexpected impact made him slump suddenly into the real, actual tree.

"Thank you!" What? It seemed like a compliment at the time. It was better than not having eyes. Though that meant she owed him one back, right? "You're comfy." Said she who was slumped into the real, actual prince.

It was comfortable, at that. If you ruled out the tree. Since Arthur preferred ruling it out, he slumped the rest of the way, in slow-motion, down the tree.

"Same back to you," he mumbled, rolling his eyes up in an utterly weird way. "'s quite pleasurable."

What?

Edited 2009-05-16 06:39 (UTC)

"Mmm-hmm. Pillow," Francine murmured, snuggling in, and there was something she was supposed to associate with that word, but checking the inside of her eyelids for pinholes suddenly seemed much, much more important than figuring out what.

Arthur had grown somewhat accustomed to sleeping, or at least lying down, next to people who followed the ridiculous habit that was snuggling.

Besides, it really was comfortable, so his chin landed somewhere on her shoulder, his ~~regal~~ nose somewhere in her hair, and his arm flopped somewhat ineffectually over her before his eyes finally fluttered shut.

The rest of him went limp. Slow to fall asleep, he was not.

For no reason other than the booze, Katchoo felt compelled to do a weird little headbanging gesture when she heard . . . whatever the hell that was.

Headbanging while drunk in the dark in the woods was, as it turned out, not such an advisable idea, considering she snagged her foot on a branch and went sprawling.

In the direction of the sound, as it so happened.

The sound happened again, albeit a bit less magical and more sore. "Bugger," Called something from somewhere beneath her.

"I didn't think Francine knew how to say anything like --"

Katchoo looked down, blinked a few times, and grinned. Rather like -- oh, pick a carnivorous predator who'd just landed on dinner.

. . . yes, there might even have been lip-licking.

"That a request?"

This sort of misunderstanding would be better taken care of if only Merlin was capable of saying something more than, "Bzzah?"

There was someone on him. A very female someone on him.

"Well, hi there, someone," Katchoo said with an even broader grin, and absolutely no attempt whatsoever to move. "Lookit you, all confused an' . . . stuff."

"You seem to be on top of me," Merlin said with the careful consideration behind the pronunciation of each word that came from someone truly drunk.

"Yeah, and? 's comfy," Katchoo slurred. She was also a little too woozy to move, but that was rather beside the point in her opinion.

"Oh." Merlin nodded gravely, putting his hands on her sides to make this easier. And conserve some heat.

It got cold this late at night.

"I suppose that's alright then..."

"Well, yeah. 's not like you have a choice at this p--" Katchoo faceplanted inelegantly into his shoulder right about then. "Mmmmph."

Merlin snorted in amusement over... something something. It was fading now. "I like you," He decided, closing his eyes as they so desperately wanted to be that way and who was he to tell them no? And, really, her head was right there for him to rest his chin on now.

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The Preserve, Off Behind The Campground, Friday Night

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