(no subject)

[lastgunslinger]

Roland is stretched out on a couch, his arms folded behind his head, his hat hanging on the end of the armrest. The Lord of the Rings is open, cover-up, across his chest.

His eyes are open.

He's smiling to himself.

Comments

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

Cuthbert sees Roland and staaaaares. It's a good thing he doesn't know what a camera is, because he'd be running for one right now.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland is still staring at the ceiling, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

Relaxed posture. Check. Smiling for no apparant reason. Check. Cuthbert bounds up to the couch and looms over him.

"Alright, who are you and what've you done with Roland?"

[lastgunslinger]

Roland peers up at him and says mildly, "Long days and pleasant nights."

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

"And may you have twice the number, whoever-you-are-in-Roland's-body." Cuthbert responds lightly. "You're not Anthy, are you? You'd better not be Anthy."

[lastgunslinger]

"Go on and ask me something only I'd know, then, if you don't believe me," says Roland. He reaches behind him for the hat on the armrest and puts it over his eyes. Still smiling.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

Cuthbert considers for a moment, then shakes his head. "Nah, Anthy wouldn't give that direct an answer."

He drops onto the newly vacated armrest and folds his arms over his chest, still eying Roland. "So, that leaves option number two--this place has finally driven you round the bend."

[lastgunslinger]

Roland's face is pretty much covered by the hat.

"Did that a long time ago, Bert."

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

Cuthbert snorts. "Yar, but now it's showing. Next thing you know, it'll finally get to me and all start acting serious."

If Roland's hat wasn't over his face, he might notice that Bert looks faintly horrified at that prospect.

[lastgunslinger]

"And we'd all say thankya." Dry.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

"I wouldn't. It'd be horrible."

Bert glances down at Roland, and the look of mock-horror fades into one of honest curiosity. "Alright, seriously. You, my friend, do not smile for no reason, so what's going on?"

[lastgunslinger]

"Am I not allowed to be in good spirits, Cuthbert Allgood?"

The hat moves a little bit as he speaks.

[key-youth-bert.livejournal.com]

Cuthbert just gives him a look that says Please. You're you.

...And then realizes that such a look is sadly ineffective with Roland's face covered, lifts the hat, and gives the look again.

[locks_it_up]

Death, coming down from the cocktail party to get some air, and stops.

She gives Roland a very small, almost rueful sort of smile.

[lastgunslinger]

Roland turns his head, then, still smiling, hat still hanging on the armrest, book still on his chest -- and sees her.

His expression does not change.

Death is heartstoppingly beautiful. Roland has ever loved beauty, as Meg Giry could tell you.

And so he smiles -- soaks her in, if it does you -- and makes no move.

[locks_it_up]

She approaches him, carefully.

"Hile, gunslinger."

There's a smile, on black lips.

[lastgunslinger]

He regards her, still smiling faintly.

Soft: "You'd use the High Speech, lady-sai?"

[locks_it_up]

A smile.

"It goes with the outfit, doesn't it?"

And she thinks that she has a right to it.

[lastgunslinger]

"It does."

She has a right to it. Death is the patron saint of gunslingers, in a way, and the mother of us all.

He's propped up on an elbow, now, still stretched out on the sofa. "It does me well to look upon you, lady-sai. Does me fine."

Perhaps he goes too far. Perhaps not. But he'd regret it forever if he didn't say it.

The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so

[locks_it_up]

"I'm glad to hear it."

Another smile.

"How've you been, Roland?"

[lastgunslinger]

"Well, I say thankya." Quiet enough, head still propped on his elbow. Still regarding her. Can't take his eyes off of her.
If only you'd come back to me
If you laid at my side
Wouldn't need no mojo pin
To keep me satisfied
"Is today a fair-day, lady?"

[locks_it_up]

"There was a cocktail party."

She sighs a bit, frustrated. The damn turtle had to go and punch the god... There's a glance over her shoulder.

[lastgunslinger]

The welts of your scorn, my love, give me more
Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more

He watches her, and for a moment his eyes, too, flicker at a point over her shoulder. Flicker. They return to -- settle on -- her again. Like coming home.

"Is aught amiss, lady-sai?"

[locks_it_up]

"Ahh. Nothing that won't be solved in time."

[lastgunslinger]

He regards her for a moment. He's only seen her at a loss once. It...is not something he cares to remember.

Don't want to weep for you, I don't want to know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow

And softly, he says, "Say sorry, lady."