Morgana's reversion is weighing heavily on Arthur these days. If he were in Camelot, he might go out for a hunt, or at least a ride--but his options here are limited, and so he turns instead to walking, getting to know this city better. He's already been here for far too long; he knows the streets better than he'd like. But at least his familiarity means that he can walk without concentrating too hard, which means he can let himself become distracted by the roundabout thoughts of Morgana--
But he's not so engaged in thinking that he doesn't hear his own name being spoken aloud. He's near the market, he realizes, absently, as he comes to firmer focus. Near the market, and the voice asking after him is unfamiliar--and so is the girl, when he finally picks her out. Pink hair is not so common (in Camelot, at least), and Haruno Sakura rises briefly to mind--and is instantly dismissed. She is a young lady, not a child.
He goes over to her anyways, carefully, intent on not disturbing her. He'd be first to admit that he's not good with children, but he can at least not frighten this girl, who already seems vaguely afraid.
"I am Prince Arthur Pendragon." He stops a small ways off--close enough that they can talk and hear one another, but just short of being too close. Uncertainly, he tugs at the edge of his tunic, straightening it just slightly over his chainmail. "Why are you asking of me? What help do you need?"
no subject
But he's not so engaged in thinking that he doesn't hear his own name being spoken aloud. He's near the market, he realizes, absently, as he comes to firmer focus. Near the market, and the voice asking after him is unfamiliar--and so is the girl, when he finally picks her out. Pink hair is not so common (in Camelot, at least), and Haruno Sakura rises briefly to mind--and is instantly dismissed. She is a young lady, not a child.
He goes over to her anyways, carefully, intent on not disturbing her. He'd be first to admit that he's not good with children, but he can at least not frighten this girl, who already seems vaguely afraid.
"I am Prince Arthur Pendragon." He stops a small ways off--close enough that they can talk and hear one another, but just short of being too close. Uncertainly, he tugs at the edge of his tunic, straightening it just slightly over his chainmail. "Why are you asking of me? What help do you need?"