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

"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 ]

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"I think your idea is best," Morgana cannot come up with a better one. "All he asked from me was information, so I am sure it will be better appreciated.

Do Greek gods eat? That is something Morgana's never put thought into before.

Morgana smiles, but is a bit wistful. "They are not the same. He is not my Mordred." This might take some explaining. "Apparently, we not only come from different points in our lives, but alternate history as well."

She may adore Gwen, but she's not explaining the potentially twisted parentage involved.

Guinevere is completely perplexed by the possibility. Grasping the concept of being from further in time than Morgana was difficult enough, and now she must consider that though the names and places are the same, they are very much not the same people. It makes her a bit worrisome of Sagramore and Mordred's perceptions of her... or whether they were even aware of her at all.

"This place is strange indeed..." she says, still thinking on it a moment more. "I'm not sure I want to know the details of Camelot in other histories."

"Gwen," with all due seriousness, Morgana looks at her. "Please trust me. You do not."

"I think it is a better idea altogether," and the idea amuses Morgana as much as anything, "for us to turn to more important subjects."

"What kind of pie shall we leave Hermes?" Exactly what kind of pie would a Greek god like?

She nods because that is a much better way of spending their time here. Gwen needs to make a point not to worry over things in her not-entirely-possible as much as she tries not to worry over things in her past.

"I'm not really certain what would be common in Greece," She muses, somewhat amused by how seriously they are taking this. Things are always so serious, especially in Camelot, it's nice to just relax and discuss light topics for once. "My father was always fond of cherry."

"He might prefer something original then." Although, not that Morgana, nor Gwen would know what is a native fruit in Greece.

"Your father was a good man, Gwen," Morgana smiles, sympathetically, "so if Hermes does not have his fine taste, then he might not be a deity after all."

It is decided, cherry it is.

"I could help you make it." This could end ~~hilariously~~ interestingly, since Morgana has no concept how to do anything in a kitchen. No one tell Arthur when pies are being made in the palace.

Edited 2010-05-14 03:54 (UTC)

She smiles wide at Morgana in thanks. If she was going to remember her father she would rather remember the good. "Excellent, I actually know how to make it too."

Her expression slips into something a little more skeptical but she maintains that smile. She's not doubting Morgana's abilities, per say, she just doesn't remember the last time she even heard of Morgana mentioning cooking. "Oh, of course. Pie is fairly straight forward...have you ever made one?"

NOT Telling Arthur any of this is really the best course of action. He's likely to turn it into a spectator's sport.

"I am glad one of us does. You shall have to teach me."

It's all part of being independent and taking care of oneself, this whole learning how to bake idea.

As long as it does not become a spectator sport, because, let us be honest, it will be two against one and Arthur would be creamed.

"It's mostly just following a recipe, fairly straight forward. I'm sure the royal kitchen has everything we would need and then-some."

She places the plate of pastries down on the table next to the best, picking up one more for each of them. She hands Morgana hers while taking a bite of her own.

"Hopefully they will be as delicious as these."

"We shall have to do our best and hope Hermes accepts it."

She takes a bite of her palmier, pondering the point but Morgana is pretty sure Hermes is not that picky.

Edited 2010-05-14 11:16 (UTC)

"Now, you should try and get some rest while I go and get settled," she says, finishing her palmier. "I will just be down the hall should you need anything."

She moves the chair back to where she grabbed it from and takes a look around the room. Taking care of this work will have to wait until Morgana has had some rest.

"Thank you, Gwen," Morgana wants to say more, but she could not, in good conscience, say she is glad Gwen is here.

Morgana would rather Gwen be at home safe, in Camelot.

So, instead she settles down in the bed, following the implied instructions, and closes her eyes to rest.

It's important to note, that for the first time since Morgana started waiting, she's not going to awake from her nap due to a nightmare.

"Of course," she says, as if there is no need for the thanks at all.

She closes the drapes before slipping out of the room and closing the door softly behind her.

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

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers ~ oh these two. poor, poor arthur

Location: Royal Chambers: he'll live, covered in cherries, but he'll live

Location: Royal Chambers

Re: Location: Royal Chambers

Location: Royal Chambers