[ Maybe Moran's hair is greyer. Maybe he looks a little more haggard. Maybe he lost his bracelet through an idiotic incident involving a window and a few stones and what was once RDJ Holmes' room, but you don't get to see or know any of that, oh no. Because Sebastian Moran going to pretend as if he was here the entire time and attempt to piss a few people off.

Just like the last time. ]

What the devil was all that rot, then? You lot still don't know the meaning of a battle, do you? It's you against the other army, you sorry blighters. Slash and shoot and spill blood and you stay alive. It seems to me there wasn't nearly enough of that.

As always, that could have stood to be bloodier.

I am well aware that these past days have been rather trying for all. Many were injured and even lost.

[Her gaze drops for a moment and then she's looking back up, her hands resting almost primly on her knees.]

I know it is not a lot, but if any are interested, I always have a pot of tea and plenty of cups for those who wish to come and talk. Or if talking is not something you are interested in, some tea and a few moments of silence. I know it is not much, but it is something I can offer.

[The video begins with what some may find a ghastly or morbid sight: the dead body of a black bird being held aloft by its wings which are pinched gingerly between the pale fingers of a small boy. Mordred stares at the small corpse with a quiet blank expression. The number of feathers that have been lost and a tell tale bite out of one of the wings suggests that Mordred did not kill this bird, but stumbled upon it in his wanderings through the park. 

Still he is transfixed by it. 

He begins to walk with it still clutched carefully in his hands, shifting it to his palm, wings toward the sky as if they might begin to move at any moment.] 

...Oidhe...

[He mumbles before shoving the heel of his boot into the dirt to mark that spot]