forma • [ holo : arrival ] • hwílum and tówearde cwén

[consorting.livejournal.com]

"This isn’t the castle...what has happened?"

Shock. Pure and utter shock and a shiver are what go through Guinevere when she realizes she's not in the corridor of Camelot she meant to turn into. She grabs at her wrist, looking down when she notices the cool metal there. This was no part of the castle she'd seen before… but she didn't remember being taken away. It must be the work of magic, though this was no magic she had seen before.

She steps forward, examining the object on the pedestal that almost demanded her attention. The Tablet was an odd thing indeed. She didn't quite understand its purpose and poked at its interface for a few moments before shifting her attention.

"Merlin?....Gaius?" She yelled out into the echoing room as she approached the walls, palm first. "Where in the world am I..."

Up until then she was able to maintain that semblance of stability, but when no voices returned her call and she slipped down to the floor and let the tears flow unchecked. It reminded her of being in the dungeon, locked away and kept all alone away from everything with nothing to look forward to but an execution.

"Morgana...Arthur. Anyone!" She says through the sobs. "What is it you want of me? I have nothing of value… I am just a servant."

She hangs her head, fiddling with the Tablet in her lap. Everything about this place is so foreign to her, it’s hard to calm herself down and think. But then she remembers Morgana, one of the strongest people she knows, and thinks of what she would do in this situation. It helps her to take a few deep breaths and stand up off that cold metallic floor, shoulders back and chin up. The regal strength of a lady of Camelot; she would need to thank Morgana once she saw her again.

"My mistress is Morgana, Ward to Uther Pendragon, King of Camelot. My mistress and my king do not take kindly to kidnapping, but I assure you they will come for me." She said into the cold room, keeping a tight seal on the nerves that threatened to make her voice shake. Her hands clutch the fabric of her dress and the tablet at her sides, her eyes glassy with the fear she tried to suppress.

[ ooc • notifs are going slow for me so sorry for any delays ]

Comments

[voice] camelot universes collide~

[consorting.livejournal.com]

Yes, though I appear to have already made myself out to be hysterical. [ She sighs lightly, partially amused and partially disappointed. ]

[voice] well, it *is* a silly place.

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

[He might be smiling.] You've the best of excuses. --This thing makes pictures, I expect you've found out by now -- is that more comfortable, or less?

[voice] oooh yes it is. what with the singing and hamsters

[consorting.livejournal.com]

[ She makes that smile out in his voice and it makes her smile as well. ] Well, I feel awful for sending threats to those who have proven to be nothing but kind allies.

Ah this...oddity has eluded me, though speaking face to face is more agreeable than into thin air.

[voice / visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"A moment, then."

And in a moment he's switched modes; the lack of height is not immediately apparent, but the body language is: calm, easy. "Is that better? There should be a sort of colored square, if you give that a prod it should do the same."

[ visual ]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

She complies with his instructions, as these things were much easier with someone to assist. She stares at the device inquisitively with a hint of nervousness in her voice as she speaks.

"There? Has it worked?"

The image in view is a bit off kilter as she fidgets with the tablet, but that smile has not faded from her expression as she continues with curiosity.

[ visual ]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"There you are," he agrees. "Much better." It's not quite flirtatious -- he has better manners than that, nor is he feeling that much better -- but he smiles back at her almost easily.

He hasn't missed her introduction, but he's withholding judgment, considering what he's run into lately -- and even in his own reality, some of Morgan's assorted damosels are trustworthy.

"It's a tricky thing, but occasionally useful. May I know your name, lady?"

[ visual ] incoming wtf moment for mordred i'm sure

[consorting.livejournal.com]

"Ah, wonderful. I will remember your instructions in the future." She maintains her cherry expression and bows her head gratefully to him.

"My apologies, where have my manners gone? My name is Guinevere." All nerves, she hesitates a moment before asking him in return. "And what may I call you, good sir?"

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

For a moment, very briefly, his face goes expressionless. It's not a face that's kindly in repose: black-browed, sharp-featured, worn hard with stress. The name is no more uncommon than his own, but he is not pleased by the emerging pattern.

Nevertheless he recovers himself, inclines his head politely, though his eyes are still watchful. "Mordred, lady, of Orkney born." Let's get that out of the way up front.

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

She lets her smile fade some as she notices the momentary shift in his expression. Had she said something out of the ordinary? Was she being rude? The possibilities rushed through her head in a fast paced swirl that stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of his name.

Mordred... he was the druid boy Morgana seemed attached to for some time and Arthur was intent on capturing. She had kept a silent distance and a skeptical eye on the young boy at the time, and decided that would be best this time as well. Perhaps a subject shift is in order.

"Ah, Orkney," She nods, letting a smile slip into her expression again though a fraction less vibrant than before. "That is a place with which I am familiar, if only by name."

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"And no more so, I hope for your sake." This is actually a lie, he loves his windy backwater. But the deprecation is habit by now, delivered with a smile that's only a little wry at the corners. She is so unlike his aunt -- or for that matter his wife -- so plainly the waiting-woman she proclaims herself, that he finds it easy to smile at her; which does wonders for that rather dour countenance. "So I'm a stranger here myself, but if you have need of anything--"

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

"I am sure it is a lovely place. Home usually is." And now she id finding it difficult to curb her curiosity. "Have you been to Camelot?"

She bows her head in response to his offer. He has a lordly air about him, something she's had much experience with picking out and properly addressing in her line of work. Not all would show her such kindness without her mistress present, however, and for that she is grateful.

"I thank you. I will not forget your help and kindness and I hope to return the favor."

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"I have." He's wary again, remembering previous encounters. "Long enough to learn my duty," and the bitterness shades his voice despite his efforts.

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

"Oh," That smile leaves her once more with his change in expression. Perhaps his ties to Camelot were closer matched to the Mordred she knew.

"I-It is not always accommodating for for those who dwell there." Of course she is referring to the constant magic paranoia from Uther, that which got her father killed and her locked in the dungeon once.

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"That's not the fault of the place." He shrugs, deliberately dismissing the question. "As for this, it's a city, or so it appears. It's more civilized outside, at any rate." By this he means 'less metallic'.

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

She more than agrees with that statement, but she has no place to air her complaints about Kings and no reason to speak more on such a disappointing topic.

"Should I proceed with cautious watch or are the streets safe to wander and explore?"

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

Imagine once they got each other started.

"Safe enough for the most part." Mordred hesitates, and then, rather diffidently, "I could come there, if you liked, and show you."

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

That will be quite the conversation, though Gwen's fairly optimistic despite it all.

"I thank you, my lord, but I will remain and await my mistress as she is a prisoner of this place as well..." She pauses a moment, before giving a warm smile. "But I would love a guide, that is if you are willing to do so at another time. I wouldn't want to impose."

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"Is she, indeed." That gives him pause; but he lets it pass. "You could hardly do that; my time's my own, and little enough to do with it. I'll lend it most gladly."

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

She looks on curiously as he pauses, unsure of what to make of his demeanor and reactions when coupled with his kindness to her.

"Hopefully then I will have found away to repay you for your assistance."

[visual]

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

"Don't think of it. I'll be glad of the occupation."

[visual]

[consorting.livejournal.com]

One last polite smile. "Until then, my lord."

[visual] dear mordred, your issues

[sibreden.livejournal.com]

He flinches then, for no very obvious reason: a little jerk of the shoulders, a flash of the dark eyes. "Lady," he says shortly, and the screen goes blank.