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[king]

I've been wondering, Scorched.

[ Arthur has been training since before the sun rose: it's visible in the flush across the bridge of his nose, the way his blond bangs are sticking dark to his temples, the slouch of his usually straight-backed posture. But he needs a break, a distraction from his own mind, from the questions that have been plaguing it without concrete answer. ]

Say that the Door started — temporarily — working the way that all doors should, and we could all trip merrily back to our own worlds.

[ A breath, considering whether he's really going to ask. Despite his slightly laconic tone, he knows how depressing some of the answers he'll get will be. But he still wants to know: ]

Would you stay here in Anatole?

Or would you go home?

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[brewglory]

The situations are not comparable.

In the strict confines of the scenario presented, I would stay. However, there are variables which would alter my decision. I would not rather be here than anywhere else, and certainly not unconditionally.

I would rather be here than at home, from the moment I was snatched away, were I given a choice.

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[king]

[ Calms, somewhat. ]

Fair enough. I suppose I took a very long time to resign myself to my fate.

How's the search for a way home going, anyway? You should seek out that woman from Wynn, she knows a lot about the magic of this place.

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[brewglory]

Her name?

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[king]

Claramond.

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[brewglory]

[What follows is a very long delay - hours, in fact. He eventually wanders back and remembers his manners.]

Thank you.

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[king]

Welcome. Also, if you want to know about the Venificus, you'd do well to call on Remus Lupin, at the Clinic. He's got some interesting theories on just how we've come to be here.

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[brewglory]

Noted.