Sir Sagramore

06:10 pm: Sagramore is having a very bad week. He hasn't been feeling well, and then there's the case of Helen--given how much he adores her, let alone the importance of her as perhaps his one friend he wasn't sleeping with, he's not feeling very optimistic right now.

Mostly this is being expressed through camping out in the garden in the barest minimum of clothes (why is it always so hot in the summer, what is with that?) with a cup of coffee and looking miserable. That Sagramore, folks, he's just the life of the party.

01:37 am: attn: Caliban
Molly has been put to bed, gently and very quietly, and once that was done Sagramore buckled on his sword, went out and locked the door behind him, and began to search. His face is carefully composed, an almost neutral expression that conveys nothing of the fact that he is out for blood. He's more angry than he can express; if anyone were to get in his way it would not go easy.

With much luck he won't meet anyone. It's late, and he's quiet. But when he finds Caliban, things will get very exciting indeed.

12:39 am: return of the prodigal
It's probably been long enough.

The return is heralded by Kutya, who bounds ahead, delighted to be back in a familiar place (she's missed the stables, and particularly Florence). Then comes Sagramore, looking rougher and leaner than he was when he left; the winter sunlight isn't really warm, but riding out in it for a month has made his skin turn a shade or two darker than usual. His hair has grown out and he actually has it tied back out of his way; his beard is longer and curlier than ever. His clothes are badly worn and there is a brand-new and rather large hole in his coat.

His poor horse, which he is leading, is burdened with a vast accumulation of Stuff, neatly packed into various boxes and saddlebags and somehow attached on. This includes a mediumish wire cage, a great deal of coffee, some bottles of liquor of exotic appearance, a handful of three or fine jewellery, and assorted other things which he will probably distribute among his chosen people.

Despite the fact that it's obvious he's been roughing it, he looks a lot better than he did when he left, refreshed and contented and considerably less haggard around the eyes and mouth.

Tags: courfeyrac, dinadan, florence, laurel, molly, phedre

12:09 am: mental health retreat
Sagramore's horse and Kutya are gone from the stables; his gear is gone, his saddle, and half the clothes from his room, neatly packed away into saddlebags (also missing are a few small bottles of liquor and his sword, but a person wouldn't notice this particularly).

There are love-notes left behind for Courfeyrac and Molly, effusive, ridiculous, full of phrases by turns sentimental and humourous. The gist of these letters is that he's going to be away for a while, and isn't entirely certain when he'll be back.

Other than that he doesn't leave any real indication of his going. Certainly he tells no one explicitly; the only person who'll know why or where he's gone is Morgause. The love-notes don't give any real concrete information or indeed much of anything remotely useful. Nobody else gets any information at all.

His warm room is empty. That's all.

12:49 am: attn: Morgause
Morgause has plenty of reason to hate her boyfriend right now, given that when she gets back to her room he will be already in it, sitting in one of her chairs sideways, one leg slung over the left arm. He is contemplating his hands very seriously.

Tags: morgause

11:07 pm: attn: Mordred
It's Winter Solstice. Some people have long memories.

Which is the explanation for why Sagramore, promises be damned, is at the Orkney cottage, leaning casually in the doorframe, as if he belonged there. He looks well: tired, maybe, a little worn out, but otherwise perfectly well. Things have been better lately, Courfeyrac and Molly take good care of him, he feels well. He taps on the door with the back of his hand, shifting the package under his arm.

Tags: mordred

08:16 am: [snapshot--fail]
As Courfeyrac intimated earlier to Phedre, Sagramore isn't doing as well as he could be. It's not because of anything, really, just some sort of neurological fail, but his seizures have been unusually frequent and unusually difficult.

Right now, midafternoon with a slight shine of winter sunlight coming through the window, he's in bed. He's mostly naked--he had a seizure in the morning and once the post-ictal passed he managed to get out of his clothes, wash a little, and then collapsed back into bed immediately--which makes it easy to see that he's lost weight, and his hair and beard are longer than he likes to keep them, and tangled.

He's sleeping, fairly soundly, but he doesn't look well. He looks tired and old and sick.

Tags: helen rossi, mordred, morgause, phedre

11:28 pm: open enough--post of moping
Sagramore is having a quiet day. He had a seizure in the morning, and now, by afternoon, he is thoroughly wrapped up in sweaters and scarf, with a cup of hot coffee, sitting on a spare bale of hay in the stables. Kutya's head is on his foot, and she's not even begging for snuggles--it's a low kind of day, quiet is the way to be.

Mostly he just looks rather tired and woeful; and he doesn't feel very well. And is out of alcohol to put in his coffee, so that's just kind of depressing.

Tags: curio, florence, melehan, melou

11:50 pm: (open post)
Sagramore is sleeping on the porch again. The heat has tamed down to only mildly excruciating, but it seems to help to strip down as much as possible and hope for cross-breezes, curled up in one of the chairs that overlooks the front lawn. So that is exactly what he is doing.

Life is good right now, which means that he's been having fewer seizures, and he looks contented and dozy, his head tucked in his arm, the curve of his bare shoulder warm but dry.

Tags: guenever, hadley-bright, molly, phedre

11:39 pm: attn: Courfeyrac
Sagramore is in his room, shirt off dammit, poking at his scars. It has been a long time, almost ten months, and everything is healed, and shiny and itchy. There are no scars from the Lascelles incident. He hasn't been drunk in weeks.

He is maybe a teeny bit bored. And, being Sagramore, this probably will lead to trouble unless he is distracted.

Tags: courfeyrac

11:12 pm: anti-otp: Laurel/Sagramore
As mentioned in the above anti-otp, Sagramore has been extremely happy and well of late, and tends to go out walking in the afternoon when it's cooler.

And that would be roughly what he is doing now, casual and comfortable, looking even healthier than the last time Laurel saw him. He has even gained some weight. It is awesome.

Tags: laurel

10:47 pm: anti-otp: Helen/Sagramore
Sagramore is lingering in the general area of Helen's room, as he periodically does, with a gift of fine Hungarian wine.

Tags: helen rossi

02:33 am: anti-otp: Sagramore/Ada Clare
Days are good. Sagramore has an unofficial puppy half-grown mongrel, and even though the coffee is almost entirely gone he is still in pretty good spirits, especially with August almost over and the promise of autumn on its way. And--well. As a result, he is in the kitchens, doing the responsible thing and washing some dishes, which we promise looks extremely funny in a way because he has an apron on, a half one, and is the sort of person who splashes the warm soapy water, and on one hand it's silly, and on the other hand he looks very comfortable and at ease and as though he does this every day, and belongs in this picture. And that belonging, and the doing of work in a relaxed, getting-it-done kind of way, can make you feel just good.

Tags: ada clare

01:10 am: [snapshot]
Sagramore is standing quietly by the window in his room, looking down at the expanse of lawn and the forest to which it eventually gives way. He has two drinks in him, and his body wants more and his head has no explanation for the fact, and at the moment it bothers him enough that he isn't just shaking it off, as usual.

He's not exactly concerned so much as he is annoyed; he doesn't want to be drunk. And Christ, it's hot. It's far too hot for alcohol, far too hot for movement, for distracting himself with the dogs and the horses; too hot even to go looking for someone he loves. He stays by the window, and contemplates.

Tags: courfeyrac, hadley-bright, helen rossi

01:33 am: useless foolery
( Meme, stolen from offspring )

Tags: .meme

09:37 pm: open post of happy!
Sagramore has been edited by his girlfriend, in the memory department, to the effect of his not remembering his own death, or indeed most of the Last Days; we can only assume that some of his DF memory has altered as well, however subtly, to encompass that loss. As a result, he is feeling really good. For the last week or so, he can be found with continuing frequency down at the stables, playing with what dogs are there and hanging out with the horses, and even taking occasional rides, because Sagramore not-so-sekritly loves riding.

He has cut back dramatically on his drinking. His body still wants to drink, but his head can't figure out why, or why he was doing so much of it, so mostly he just tries to distract himself from the feeling, although there are lapses. But mostly he is having a good time of things; without so much alcohol, the seizures relent a little, and he can do more, and enjoy more, and he isn't depressed, and basically life is good. Even the disgusting heat is not upsetting him as much as it might.

...He still hates it, though, which is why he is stripped down a little less than decency permits, while feeding a couple of dogs offal from a few recently killed rabbits. And looking much more cheerful than having puppies eat fat out of his hand merits. In the heat, it smells.

Tags: courfeyrac, dinadan, guenever, lamorak, laurel, molly, phedre

01:01 am: [snapshot--crisis point]
At first glance, he appears to be sleeping beautifully soundly, the rise and fall of his chest even. Mildly closer inspection reveals at once that he is in fact passed out. His drinking has been such lately that he's actually run out of palinka, and the empty bottle half-hidden by his hand is chartreuse. To judge by the strong smell and the dampness of his beard and pillow, he's managed to spill a great deal, and there's no glass; he appears to have given up all pretense of drinking by moderates.

He hasn't worn his sword in weeks--it's abandoned on the chair by the bed, as much an indication of the trouble as the bottle is.

Tags: courfeyrac

02:12 am: Crackplot!
cont'd.

"Sir," he murmurs, somewhat incoherently, and with a great deal of youthful passion, pressing himself closer to Mordred.

Tags: mordred

12:29 am: Attn: Courfeyrac
Once he recovers, somewhat later in the afternoon than he'd hoped, from the quick succession of seizures and the hangover, and other general feelings of fail--he wastes a good half-hour just swearing at himself--Sagramore sets off for Courfeyrac's rooms.

And when he gets there he hesitates uncertainly at the door for far too long before he knocks. He knows how to fight and make up with Mordred or Morgause. He's got no idea what it's like with Courfeyrac (and he loves him too much to be complacent about the fact). Also, hard as he's trying, he can't remember half of the things they said.

Tags: courfeyrac, melou

07:24 am: [open]
Drunk again. By four in the afternoon. As is becoming habit with him, though certainly not a good habit; the only time he consciously abstains is when he knows he'll be seeing Morgause, because he knows she'll have no patience with it, but apart from that--

He's fairly cheerful about it, at least, and it is, admittedly, keeping him from concentrating on the fact that his scars itch-hurt something crazy, but that's about it. He looks terrible, exhausted and fuzzy, his hair rumpled and his clothes wrinkled like slept in, and he's leaned back quietly in the windowseat, smiling at nothing particularly, glass and bottle by his hand.

Tags: courfeyrac, dinadan, kyllikki, laurel, morgause