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.

Sagramore is lingering in the general area of Helen's room, as he periodically does, with a gift of fine Hungarian wine.

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 ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )

( Meme, stolen from offspring )

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 ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )

cont'd.

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

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 ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )