Lascivious

(If you haven’t already read this…)

Consider me a glutton for lust. I was so enamored of life at court that I returned to Medieval Times within one cycle of the moon. Another birthday, another bff, another opportunity for mischief. It was Libby’s birthday this time, and we’d made the decision to celebrate after the fashion of horses and glitter during a unicorn slumber party. It seemed appropriate timing. Libs has known for some years now my intrinsic love of things that are “just…. just SO BAD….. so bad……….” Having never been to The Past, she was willing to let me be her escort and guide, and I took up the challenge with fervor and honor.

In spite of my beguiling efforts, we were not able to sit in the Red Section. In fact we were once again shunted off to the section where everything is Black and White. Of the 3 occasions I’ve been to The Past now, it’s been in black and white every time. I suppose that’s apropos. We elbowed our way into the antechamber, and in spite of all the pre-warning I imagined Libs had, I reckon nothing can really prepare a person for having some blustering fool of a John Cleese impersonator bellowing out poorly crafted quips at you, and expecting you to actually respond. We were in hysterics inside of 4 minutes, not least because it turns out I have no ability to apply lip gloss to anyone else’s face without painting their teeth.

Even though we hadn’t sprung for the “Royalty Package” or whatever it was, and even though we arrived approximately 2 minutes before the seating assignments, we somehow wound up with seats in the 2nd row. I can’t even imagine what the first row is like, you’re practically under the horses. In a birthday care package from LisaDoll came appropriate accessories for the evening – DIY foam tiaras and pink wands. I obsessively crafted my tiara with the precision of a one-armed gorilla orchestra conductor, Libs did the same (hers was way better) and we waved our pink wands, and felt like visitors in our own skins as neither of us frequent the “cutesy girly pinksy sparkly” planet.

I was completely engrossed in tiara architecture through the opening “back story”, but from what I gathered it was similar to the prior back story, in that it was exactly the same back story. Hostage prince and kid with whip. Bring me soup. Horses dancing in lines for 10 minutes solid, and then a well trained bird of prey. Bring me a pig’s head. Introduction of gormless king and vapid princess, for the love of horses bring me some KNIGHTS. And then…. they rode out in style, one by one like they do, being announced by their color and banner. And lo and behold, once again putting life into the story of the Red Knight – “IT’S HIM LIBS IT’S HIM IT’S HIM IT’S HIM!!!!” *bounce flap point flap squeak*

Indeed it was him, the same Red Knight with all the handsome that had won my heart/eyes not a month ago. It was almost like The Past was repeating The Past, and we were even in the same section. I didn’t recognize any of the other nights but no matter, I rubbed my hands together energetically with the assurance that my eyes would be nourished with red candy. Blackandwhite be hanged, I would obviously be cheering for red. He was my veela.

He cantered past our section as he had before, with an air of taunting us and relishing in the negative attention, when suddenly our eyes locked… I could almost see his brain shouting “IT’S HER HORSE IT’S HER IT’S HER IT’S HER!!!” *bounce flap point flap squeak* He pointed right at my face, I blew him a kiss, he clutched his bosom, I waved at him, he winked at me, and I was pwned. Libs’ eyes were agog as two gogs, it’s not every day you watch true love unfold over chicken carcass. I was shocked that he’d remembered unobtrusive little me after a whole month, but as several people have said, “Ems…. He works at Medieval Times….” No doubt I was a bright purple spot of cleavage in his otherwise dreary families-with-little-kids day.

The rest of the events went by with me in a red haze, he would ride past us and look at me often, he did the heartbeat thump thing with his hand on his chest, he would point his sword at me when he passed one of the “tests”, winked and blew kisses a lot, mouthed that he’d missed me, and placed me into a very large cauldron until I melted. Our knight was no slouch in the handsome way either, in fact he threw one of the flowers right at us which I caught, in the absence of FPP. And our knight had a beard, which 9 times of 10 is the preferred look for men on horses. Unfortunately…. The beard wasn’t strong enough to save him from the pretend. He was killed the first time some half-hearted fool swung a sword through the air to his left. We barely knew what had happened before he was suddenly being lugged off the field like a sack of death. That’s what happens when you see everything in black and white.

Luckily, my allegiance had been turned several moments prior to a horse of a different color, who was still fighting with the best of them. Even though he sustained injury after injury by overdramatic gestures and oxygen (air swords > air guitar), he battled through and won the day. The prince came back with his Yanklish apocalypse accent and yadda yadda, none of this matters in the slightest you understand because the Red Knight was handsome and not dead with really really strong thighs.

Libs and I waited in the DMV-esque line for the loo afterwards and then wandered into the Knight Club (yes.), this is where the warriors gather for photo opportunities and to be niggled by small children or giddy teenage girls. Or me. As soon as he saw me, my knight pointed at me and grabbed me in a hug that nearly crushed my ribs, not least because he was still in his armor, pressed his cheek against my face and got sweat all over my glasses. There wasn’t any 40’s movie score swelling in the background but there should have been. We stood and chatted with him for a few minutes, I’m pretty sure he talked about things like horses and politics and the destruction of the Amazon, but I couldn’t swear to it because I was too busy staring at his mouth to listen. The transcript of the encounter in my brain would read something like *Tall, good gracious he’s TALL, omg I wonder how tall, his eyes are brown but that can be overlooked, he knows how to ride a horse and wield a sword and fling flags at foes and, wait hang on –* (“Yep, me too”) *- lips, he has them and I like boys with lips, why can’t I see him clearly out of this eye, oh because of the sweat smeared across my glasses, that’s really repulsive in a sexy way, and I just got bored so I’m already walking away but he still has lips*

It was the bliss of true love. Libs gave me the best present ever for her birthday, by letting me take her there. And for those who will understand, I have red bottomosity.

Monday night I’m going to the Pirate Place.

Chant Down Babylon