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

[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.