❦ 15 | ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ | ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏʀɴ

[veneficus]

[ Guys, guess who's back from Utgard. No really, guess. Never mind that she hadn't said anything about leaving to begin with. ]

I was among the first travelers who arrived at this city.

[ younger and more naive she was; when things were much simpler than they are now. She and Merlin, together, before all the others. She wonders if they'll end this journey together too; him and her, destiny and doom, at the end of this tale. But no - that is too much for now. ]

The first people I have met here were Lord Boromir and his companion Aragorn but they are long gone. As well as many others.

[ The ruthless, angry queen is absent today, it would seem. Perhaps Morgana is tired; tired of slipping into the role of who she knows now that she will become, tired of slipping back into who she was and is no longer. And what does that leave her with? ]

Will you write letters for when you are sent back? The deities do not allow us goodbyes, after all.



( ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ | ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟғᴏʏ )

I wish to thank you.

[ action; Morgana is nearby New Camelot! Maybe she's lurking, what's it to you? She's wearing breeches and a tunic, a braid falling down her back. She doesn't seem to be doing anything but stare at a shadow across the grass.

But then the shadow rises, small in the sun and walks towards her. A moment later and it is gone. To those who might be around New Camelot, you might see an uncertain lady toying with her power. ]

Comments

[veneficus]

[ is this a rebellion, what is happening. She frowns herself. This is why she's not a fit parent. ]

Mordred.

[ you're blocking the entrance and she's stuck near the door for the love of. ]

[childofthewickedday]

[He stares up at her intently]

Yes, Morgana?

[He asks in a tone as if he has no idea that he has made himself a tiny human blockade]

[veneficus]

[ at Camelot, Morgana would have lashed out long ago at the insolence. But the truth is Mordred is kin and she sees beyond the stubbornness into the place where he longs for her. She knows herself to be just as longing. ]

Come, let us walk.

[childofthewickedday]

....you will not come inside?

[veneficus]

Why do you wish me to?

[ she goes to her knees in front of him so they are eye to eye, a bit of confusion on her face. If they can be together outside of the house, why insist on going in? ]

[childofthewickedday]

I have something I wish to give you.

[And if he goes inside to get it, you might not be here when he comes back]

[veneficus]

[ she wants to say 'and if I wait here,' but it dawns on her she is having a battle of wills with a child and is being ridiculous. She was never one to cower from confrontations but this is not a confrontation. Rather, there are too many memories in the house.

But perhaps it is time. ]

Alright.

[childofthewickedday]

[And as easy as if it had been a spell, Mordred gather's himself off the ground and still hold her hand leads her towards the door, smiling softly as he moves to push it open with his free hand.]

[veneficus]

[ she halts the moment she steps inside, takes in the place that has not changed since she had left (why would it? the only thing that changed is Morgana herself). She sees the little table where a vase once stood (she had tackled Arthur to the floor one afternoon and they had broken it, she remembers and fights the instinct to smile), and the kitchen where Mary used to stand, wearing the earrings Morgana had given her, the kitchen where they hugged one night when they could not sleep.

It is much, almost to much. She forgets how to breathe. ]

I'll wait here.

[childofthewickedday]

[Mordred hesitates a moment, but finally nods before making his way towards the room that was originally Morgana's but now, though he still thinks of it as Morgana's, is his. He disappears inside to rustle through his things to find where he has carefully tucked away Morgana's gift.

When he returns he carries in his hand a red rose that he has carefully dried in the sun. It was one of Percival's roses, but as he had not known when he would be able to give it to Morgana, he took care to dry it, instead of allowing it to rot away. He has bound colorful threads about its stem in braids and he holds it up to her expectantly.]

[veneficus]

[ The child would be the end of her, she's rather certain. Something softens in her face, another wall breached around her heart and she kneels down again to look at him. Smiling is easier when she is presented with such a gift. ]

For me?

[childofthewickedday]

[He nods intently, holding back a little smile by biting his lower lip as he holds the flower out towards her once more.]

[veneficus]

[ She takes it, inclines her head a bit, as a lady must. ]

Thank you. I will keep it close, it's beautiful.