"Why Sir Baldric!"  Guinevere laughed briefly and coyly as she reached over to slap at his knee.  "Why ever would you go off to war when we are just now getting acquainted?"  Baldric was the most eligible of her current suitors, being neither too poor, too old, nor too bland.  One of the qualities she liked best about him was that he was willing to march off to defend the kingdom, but that he was bright enough not the look forward to the endeavor. Brave, but not stupid.  And he did have nice shoulders.<br/><br/>"However to you expect me to get along with..."  The world faded around her, going out of focus, and then back in while taking on a swirling, dizzying "...out..."  Baldric and the the sitting room shrank away, like she was looking down from a tower window, and then the scene lost focus again and the colors began to swirl in sickening, disturbing patterns and bright flashes of raw, impossible color while her stomach churned in reckless, nauseating waves.<br/><br/>And then the uneasy sensation of drifting ended and she was falling from a frightening height.  She landed with a wet, sickening plop, thigh deep in viscous sucking mud. "Yalp!"  She shrieked as she landed, falling into the dirty fluid bottom first.  Floundering clumsily to her feet, she looked down from the rim of a great bowl half filled with ugly yellow waters.  "Disgusting!"  She wrinkled her cute nose as she spread her arms wide from her body, elbows hooked to allow forearms to hand limply down to finger-spread, dainty hands.<br/><br/>"My Dress!"  She screamed again, and with a last look toward the yellow fluid downslope, she turned to the rim and started to climb, wading with effort though the heavy mud.  There seemed to be people at one point, unconscious but laying on dry ground, so she made her way toward them.