[closed post -- heraldry]

[onthewillowsthere]

It took another few meetings with Grantaire before Galahad was satisfied with the colors and able to reproduce them himself, especially now that his time is taken up with training with Lan Wangji. Every moment he's not with Magnus or Claudius he's in the parlor meditating, at the wood edge lifting stones, or watching Lan Wangji practice sword forms. His balance is improving steadily from pure repetition. He's assigned himself to every exercise with the kind of singular focus he always used to give to God's commandments, and if he's not exactly happy he at least has the comfort of knowing that, however slowly, he's getting stronger.

That evening he showed Claudius the finished heraldry, after they were back in their room together, and Claudius was silent for several long moments before he said, "Well," and the back of his neck flushed, and everything he had to say after that mattered, but by then Galahad already knew it was what he'd wanted.

So now he's looking for Janet. He's wearing his red velvet pinafore and his sword belted on as usual, and he has his sketchbook in his arms.

Comments

[sorrowandsorrow]

"I guess it was a joint effort between her and Dionysus? And Nina, but I guarantee Nina didn't know The Wizard of Oz before they picked it."

[onthewillowsthere]

"She asked you to be the stage manager?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Yep. Why? You didn't want to do it, did you?" Janet swipes her coffee from the table.

[onthewillowsthere]

"Are you good friends?" He asks it with a directness he's learned from Claudius, who praises him for asking questions, who never tells him that he's being too bold or too rude. Claudius loves his curiosity as much as his imagination.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet breaks into a grin at the question. "You could say that."

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad just looks at her. "Does that mean you're lovers?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

On cue, her eyebrows go up. Galahad is not the guy he used to be, clearly. Maybe it's an improvement? He seems less like a stiff breeze might give him an existential crisis. "We haven't exactly defined the relationship. Since when are you into gossip?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"Claudius likes to know things," he answers truthfully.

[sorrowandsorrow]

Ugh, Claudius. Janet wrinkles her nose. She hasn't even talked to the guy in months, but still. "So you're his lead reporter."

[onthewillowsthere]

"I'm his beloved. And I will marry him."

[sorrowandsorrow]

Well, okay. At least Janet's not fucking either of them. She wonders what interdimensional mansion divorce proceedings would look like. "Mazel tov. You're still okay?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"Yes. Thank you. I would like to ask for your help."

[sorrowandsorrow]

Janet's genuinely surprised. "Me? Why?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"I would like a tattoo."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Okay," Janet says, and then realizes he probably means from her. He's presumably not asking for a referral to a real tattoo artist. "From me? Why me?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"Because you are a magician, so I believed you could do it."

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Huh." Janet, still holding her mug of coffee, narrows her eyes as she thinks about it. She's had a magic tattoo, but she didn't give that to herself. "How big are we talking? Sleeve? Tramp stamp?"

[onthewillowsthere]

"What is a tramp stamp?" he asks, perfectly seriously.

[sorrowandsorrow]

It's not like Janet can pretend to be surprised that Galahad, the Holy Grail kid, doesn't know what a tramp stamp is. "It's a lower back tattoo," she explains, actually pretty patiently. She sits up in her chair and reaches back to pat her own back just above the beltline of her jeans. "Right here. They're slutty, supposedly."

[onthewillowsthere]

"Wanton?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Wanton, sure. Culturally, anyway." She shrugs. "People are freaks about women."

[onthewillowsthere]

"If a person who was not a woman had a tattoo there, would people also think it wanton?"

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Hm." Janet gives Galahad a good, hard look. Eliot's voice floats unbidden into her brain, whispering twink, twink, twink. Yeah, she can see Imaginary Eliot's point with zero effort. Put Galahad in a mesh top, booty shorts, and body glitter, and he could walk into the club and get eaten alive. "For you? Yep, I think so."

[onthewillowsthere]

"That is where I would like it," Galahad says, with finality. No one would see it except Claudius, and he would like Claudius to think him wanton.

[sorrowandsorrow]

"Oh my God," Janet says, but: "Okay. Do you want a tattoo of something specific? Don't say a dolphin or a rose."