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home is a feeling a state of mind an abstract thing, and permanent because of its transience
Damn, son, I gotta start hanging out at the Camelot Fleet more often, especially if they're going to have a take your fandom home with you AU minifest. I totally would have been all over that and I am sadface that I missed it! Merlin in New York has already been expanded upon here, but Worcester and Manila have not yet been broached. Let us rectify that!
The thing about Worcester is that, to get to the heart of it, you can't rely on what the tourist brochures are pushing. Sure, you can say that about all places, but Worcester especially, because it's the armpit of Massachusetts. ("Don't give me that look," Morgana says. "Even the locals call it that.") They hit up the art museum and the Ecotarium, which were cool-I-guess, and then they visited the Higgins Armory Museum, which at least excited Gwen and Morgana, who began to talk shop about weaponry. Merlin and Will were mostly just bored and making length-of-my-sword jokes.
When Morgana gets a craving for strawberries, she makes Merlin find a Price Chopper and they all get a little quiet driving through the Main South neighborhood, watching the scenery (lack thereof) outside the window.
"Are those factories still working?" Morgana wonders.
"I hope not," says Will.
The factories, made with red brick and industrial optimism, are in a state of disrepair, abandoned. Windows are smashed, graffiti is rampant. ("Are," Will corrects. "Graffiti are rampant. 'Graffiti' is plural, 'graffito' is singular." Morgana replies, "Shut up, Will.") The paper industry was the lifeblood of Worcester in the nineteenth century, Gwen tells them. (She is the only one who read the guidebook.) When the manufacturing moved south, the city collapsed, and even now it's still recovering from the blow to their economy.
"But it's getting better," she says. "They say in ten years Worcester will be like Providence."
Will says, "What, run by the mob?"
They don't stay very long in Worcester. The bars are nice enough, but it seems like if they're not overflowing with screechy uni students, they're peopled by dodgy-looking fuckers. "There has to be something else we can look at while we're here," Gwen says worriedly, looking through the guidebook. And there are; it's just that with Worcester, you have to look a little harder.
The last thing they do in the city is make a stop at the Worcester Common to take a photo with the turtle-fucker statue, because Will insisted.
"Say goodbye to Worcester, folks," Merlin says as he drives towards the highway, and everyone goes, "Byyyyeee."
Once on I-90, Will, who is sitting in the back with Gwen, takes something out of his wallet and says, "Morgana, can I borrow your lighter?"
Merlin glances at the rearview mirror. "What have you got there?"
"A little pick-me-up for us all." Will, not without a hint of pride, holds it up for all to see: a joint.
Gwen says in wonderment, "Is that a--"
"Where'd you get that?" Morgana demands, but she is grinning as she hands her lighter to him.
"One of the Clark students we met at the Blarney Stone," he replies. "I have half an eighth in my bag."
"You cheeky bastard!" she crows cheerfully.
Will smiles. "Yeah, you're welcome. Windows up, guys, and turn up the music."
+
Uther reckons he'll never complain about another winter again. As soon as he stepped out of the airport and into the sauna of tropical weather, he started sweating. You sweat just standing in one place here -- it's obscene.
"There are two choices, sire," says Gaius. "Either you can slather yourself in this sunblock that I've concocted especially for this trip, or you can never leave the hotel room."
Gaius himself is covered in a shiny patina of sunblock and sweat, and it makes him look more frog-like than usual. Uther detects the tones of mockery in Gaius's words, but he lets it slide. Gaius means well, and in this case he is also correct. Arthur burnt horribly the first day here and had spent an hour subjecting himself to Gaius's ministrations with various home-made creams. Uther is not in any hurry to have that experience himself. But still, the sunblock smelled vaguely of mayonnaise, and Uther never liked mayonnaise.
"I have been given to understand," says Uther, "that in these southern regions, there are beautiful beaches to be had, yet I've seen none."
"Well, that is because we are in the city, sire."
And what a city it is. With 1.6 million people densely packed together, it can swallow Camelot several times over. It seems like Manila has swallowed several things, several times over: it is a place of bizarre contrasts. Shantytowns rise up like ghosts outside of gated communities, and ragged beggars rap on car windows at the intersections of the Ortigas business district, asking for change. And you, in your air-conditioned car, listening to the new Norah Jones CD, tell them that, improbably, you have none to spare. (Except if you're Lancelot, in which case you will give at least fifty pesos.)
The solution, Uther decides, is to go out only at night. It's still uncomfortably balmy, but at least nobody burns, and nobody has to smell of mayonnaise. They dine at Fort Bonifacio, a neighborhood named for the man who led the revolution against the Spanish, now an area frequented by well-heeled youth where the beer costs three times as much as the beer in, say, Quiapo.
"You've barely touched your ostrich in wine sauce, Arthur," Uther says. "Is anything the matter?"
"Nothing, Father," he says.
"Perhaps you should have chosen the crabmeat risotto after all," Lancelot says, smiling, "if ostrich is too exotic for you."
Arthur gives Lancelot the slightest of sidelong glances. "Yes, you are well-acquainted with the things I like."
Lancelot looks away, and Uther exchanges looks with Gaius. There has been something off with Arthur and Lancelot recently, and neither he nor Gaius quite know what it is. It is not in Uther's nature to pry into such things, and besides, if Arthur is to be king one day, then he has to learn to sort these things out by himself. He just hopes they'll sort it out soon; it won't do to have these divisions between a prince and his best knight.
They go to a lot of malls. There is a frightening number of malls in Manila, including the gargantuan Mall of Asia by the bay, which - if Gaius is to be believed - is the fourth largest shopping mall in the world.
"How strange," Lancelot muses. "The shopping malls are so large and numerous here, and yet there are people living under a tarp on the sides of the highway. Entire families! And there are people living barely above their own filth on the banks of the Pasig."
"It's the inevitable march of progress," Gaius nods solemnly. "We can't help it."
Lancelot asks, "Progress of what?"
The mall Lancelot seems to like best is Greenhills, especially the bazaar, which is a rat's maze of haggle-happy vendors selling pirated software, tarot readings, state-of-the-art tech toys, baby clothes, taho in a cup, jangly jewelry, and in short: everything. Uther buys a t-shirt with "Pearl of the Orient" emblazoned across the chest in flowing script, and finds out later that he was ripped off. They jack up the prices for foreigners, and he and Arthur have a conversation where they pretend they're not trying to soothe their own egos: so what if we paid more, it's still cheap to us, we can afford to pay the jacked up price, they probably could use the extra money. But then Uther would glance at his new t-shirt and Arthur would glance at his new watch, and they would do some ruing together.
In the DVD section of the bazaar, something catches Uther's eye. "Arthur," he says.
"Father?"
"Look at this." Uther picks up one of the DVDs, a film starring Sam Neill and Helena Bonham Carter. "Merlin. Isn't that your servant's name?"
"Yes, it is." He peers over. "What is this film about?"
Uther flips to the back, and frowns. "It seems Merlin here is a powerful magician of legend."
Arthur snorts. "That sounds nothing at all like Merlin."
"I should certainly hope not."
Uther puts the DVD back where he found it, and they move on.
I kind of wanna do that meme where, in the zombiepocalypse movie of your life, who would play you and your friends? And I will choose fandom characters instead of actors/actresses. But it's already 3 AM, so maybe another time. To close: THE GREAT GAIUS MEME!!! \o/ <333!
ETA: Oh Christ, I don't need to be tempted by another ficathon,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
apocabigbang. But my Merlin/Sandman crossover can count for this, and I already have 3000 words.
The thing about Worcester is that, to get to the heart of it, you can't rely on what the tourist brochures are pushing. Sure, you can say that about all places, but Worcester especially, because it's the armpit of Massachusetts. ("Don't give me that look," Morgana says. "Even the locals call it that.") They hit up the art museum and the Ecotarium, which were cool-I-guess, and then they visited the Higgins Armory Museum, which at least excited Gwen and Morgana, who began to talk shop about weaponry. Merlin and Will were mostly just bored and making length-of-my-sword jokes.
When Morgana gets a craving for strawberries, she makes Merlin find a Price Chopper and they all get a little quiet driving through the Main South neighborhood, watching the scenery (lack thereof) outside the window.
"Are those factories still working?" Morgana wonders.
"I hope not," says Will.
The factories, made with red brick and industrial optimism, are in a state of disrepair, abandoned. Windows are smashed, graffiti is rampant. ("Are," Will corrects. "Graffiti are rampant. 'Graffiti' is plural, 'graffito' is singular." Morgana replies, "Shut up, Will.") The paper industry was the lifeblood of Worcester in the nineteenth century, Gwen tells them. (She is the only one who read the guidebook.) When the manufacturing moved south, the city collapsed, and even now it's still recovering from the blow to their economy.
"But it's getting better," she says. "They say in ten years Worcester will be like Providence."
Will says, "What, run by the mob?"
They don't stay very long in Worcester. The bars are nice enough, but it seems like if they're not overflowing with screechy uni students, they're peopled by dodgy-looking fuckers. "There has to be something else we can look at while we're here," Gwen says worriedly, looking through the guidebook. And there are; it's just that with Worcester, you have to look a little harder.
The last thing they do in the city is make a stop at the Worcester Common to take a photo with the turtle-fucker statue, because Will insisted.
"Say goodbye to Worcester, folks," Merlin says as he drives towards the highway, and everyone goes, "Byyyyeee."
Once on I-90, Will, who is sitting in the back with Gwen, takes something out of his wallet and says, "Morgana, can I borrow your lighter?"
Merlin glances at the rearview mirror. "What have you got there?"
"A little pick-me-up for us all." Will, not without a hint of pride, holds it up for all to see: a joint.
Gwen says in wonderment, "Is that a--"
"Where'd you get that?" Morgana demands, but she is grinning as she hands her lighter to him.
"One of the Clark students we met at the Blarney Stone," he replies. "I have half an eighth in my bag."
"You cheeky bastard!" she crows cheerfully.
Will smiles. "Yeah, you're welcome. Windows up, guys, and turn up the music."
+
Uther reckons he'll never complain about another winter again. As soon as he stepped out of the airport and into the sauna of tropical weather, he started sweating. You sweat just standing in one place here -- it's obscene.
"There are two choices, sire," says Gaius. "Either you can slather yourself in this sunblock that I've concocted especially for this trip, or you can never leave the hotel room."
Gaius himself is covered in a shiny patina of sunblock and sweat, and it makes him look more frog-like than usual. Uther detects the tones of mockery in Gaius's words, but he lets it slide. Gaius means well, and in this case he is also correct. Arthur burnt horribly the first day here and had spent an hour subjecting himself to Gaius's ministrations with various home-made creams. Uther is not in any hurry to have that experience himself. But still, the sunblock smelled vaguely of mayonnaise, and Uther never liked mayonnaise.
"I have been given to understand," says Uther, "that in these southern regions, there are beautiful beaches to be had, yet I've seen none."
"Well, that is because we are in the city, sire."
And what a city it is. With 1.6 million people densely packed together, it can swallow Camelot several times over. It seems like Manila has swallowed several things, several times over: it is a place of bizarre contrasts. Shantytowns rise up like ghosts outside of gated communities, and ragged beggars rap on car windows at the intersections of the Ortigas business district, asking for change. And you, in your air-conditioned car, listening to the new Norah Jones CD, tell them that, improbably, you have none to spare. (Except if you're Lancelot, in which case you will give at least fifty pesos.)
The solution, Uther decides, is to go out only at night. It's still uncomfortably balmy, but at least nobody burns, and nobody has to smell of mayonnaise. They dine at Fort Bonifacio, a neighborhood named for the man who led the revolution against the Spanish, now an area frequented by well-heeled youth where the beer costs three times as much as the beer in, say, Quiapo.
"You've barely touched your ostrich in wine sauce, Arthur," Uther says. "Is anything the matter?"
"Nothing, Father," he says.
"Perhaps you should have chosen the crabmeat risotto after all," Lancelot says, smiling, "if ostrich is too exotic for you."
Arthur gives Lancelot the slightest of sidelong glances. "Yes, you are well-acquainted with the things I like."
Lancelot looks away, and Uther exchanges looks with Gaius. There has been something off with Arthur and Lancelot recently, and neither he nor Gaius quite know what it is. It is not in Uther's nature to pry into such things, and besides, if Arthur is to be king one day, then he has to learn to sort these things out by himself. He just hopes they'll sort it out soon; it won't do to have these divisions between a prince and his best knight.
They go to a lot of malls. There is a frightening number of malls in Manila, including the gargantuan Mall of Asia by the bay, which - if Gaius is to be believed - is the fourth largest shopping mall in the world.
"How strange," Lancelot muses. "The shopping malls are so large and numerous here, and yet there are people living under a tarp on the sides of the highway. Entire families! And there are people living barely above their own filth on the banks of the Pasig."
"It's the inevitable march of progress," Gaius nods solemnly. "We can't help it."
Lancelot asks, "Progress of what?"
The mall Lancelot seems to like best is Greenhills, especially the bazaar, which is a rat's maze of haggle-happy vendors selling pirated software, tarot readings, state-of-the-art tech toys, baby clothes, taho in a cup, jangly jewelry, and in short: everything. Uther buys a t-shirt with "Pearl of the Orient" emblazoned across the chest in flowing script, and finds out later that he was ripped off. They jack up the prices for foreigners, and he and Arthur have a conversation where they pretend they're not trying to soothe their own egos: so what if we paid more, it's still cheap to us, we can afford to pay the jacked up price, they probably could use the extra money. But then Uther would glance at his new t-shirt and Arthur would glance at his new watch, and they would do some ruing together.
In the DVD section of the bazaar, something catches Uther's eye. "Arthur," he says.
"Father?"
"Look at this." Uther picks up one of the DVDs, a film starring Sam Neill and Helena Bonham Carter. "Merlin. Isn't that your servant's name?"
"Yes, it is." He peers over. "What is this film about?"
Uther flips to the back, and frowns. "It seems Merlin here is a powerful magician of legend."
Arthur snorts. "That sounds nothing at all like Merlin."
"I should certainly hope not."
Uther puts the DVD back where he found it, and they move on.
I kind of wanna do that meme where, in the zombiepocalypse movie of your life, who would play you and your friends? And I will choose fandom characters instead of actors/actresses. But it's already 3 AM, so maybe another time. To close: THE GREAT GAIUS MEME!!! \o/ <333!
ETA: Oh Christ, I don't need to be tempted by another ficathon,
apocabigbang. But my Merlin/Sandman crossover can count for this, and I already have 3000 words.
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