King Arthur (legend based) - Prologue
There we go: the re-read of the prologue is done and I was not too unhappy with it, so I decided to share the story. There is no header because I do not have a title yet, no rating, no pairings, no nothing. I will have to see on which archive I will/can upload it. I still think ff.net is one of the most easiest archives to deal with.
The character icons I have made such a long time ago can be found here.
What else to say? I am still no English native - so, sorry for that. And I assume this will take me ages to write as I learned that became slower writing in English than I was back then when we wrote RPs. Probably because I think more about the stuff I write down when I do it on my own.
If you take the time to read it, feedback (good and bad) would be much appreciated.
“He was not!”
The voice of the woman shivered. She realised it and hated herself, but what could she do to fight that horrible shiver? She, a poor and weak woman? How could she fight the strength of her overwhelming powerful opponent. Disputant. Enemy!
A tiny part of her remembered the strength she owned in her young years. Nowadays she was weak and tremulous, she feared everything and avoided the world outside of the Abbey. This peaceful prison was her rock, that kept her from losing her mind in agony. She remembered the proud girl, the strong woman she had been once but had no vigour to bring her back to life. Not anymore. Not after all the prayers and vows, not after all the confessions and penances she has done. She was weak and broken, and weak she would stay, wouldn't she? And there it was again: the hated voice, that she did not want to hear again in her entire life. Guinevere ignored the urge to cover her ears with her hands.
“Come with me.” Morgaines voice was inviting and, oddly enough, warm and soft. Nothing changed during the years and obviously the magic of Avalon still pulsated beneath the surface of secular power. Intriguing and inviting indeed and Guinevere wanted to follow that voice. How she wanted to follow - immediately. But it would be a trap as always and nothing good would be the final outcome of this invitation. She had to stand strong at least as long as Morgaine was here. She had to find a tiny rest of the power and pride she called her own such a long time ago. Just a few minutes she had to fight before she could return to her prayers and confessions in her own little prison. “Come with me”, Morgaine repeated.
“Why should I?” Guinevere asked and she hoped that the shiver she felt deep inside her did not fall on her voice again. Strong. She had to be strong. “Why do you think I would leave the safety of these walls to follow you?” The sound of a warm laughter filled the room, deep and alluring, but Guinevere knew the double-minded illusion and did not mean to fall for it. Once Morgaine had been her friend indeed or least she thought so, but these times were over. Over and gone. An inviting hand reached out for Guinevere. The former queen was still an attractive woman but now, her hair grey and the rosy cheeks gone, she missed the gorgeousness of her young years.
“Because you want to.” The outstretched hand invited her again with an airy wave. At least Morgaine was intelligent enough to know that she should not touch Guinevere now. Not yet. So she had to work with her voice and her words because it was time to tell the truth of the story that was also their life. “Trust me.” The small room Guinevere lived in the Abbey was simple furnished and had nothing in common with the chambers she once lived in. There was nothing royal in the small bed in the corner or the simple desk next to the window, which was just big enough for a few hours daylight inside these walls. Hardly possible to write letters or read books during the cold and dark winter months. Guinevere tried it and failed badly. The entire room had nothing private, there were no memories to remember her past or show visitors who in fact she was. But which visitors should pass this threshold at all? This Abbey was such a hidden world for the people living outside like Avalon had been. Was. Would always be. “Trust me”, came the warm voice again, more pressing this time.
“Trust you?!” Guinevere laughed and it sounded strange in her ears. When did she laugh the last time? No time to think about this now. “Trust. You!” She felt how the strength returned, slowly and hesitatingly, but obviously it was lurking and lingering beneath the weak surface of her living. “You have been part of the game. You have been there and a lot of what happened was your fault and were your doings. And now, after all these years you dare to come here and claim trust! You, of all people!” Silence filled the room when she ended and for a moment Guinevere expected the other woman to turn into a bat, fly away through the small window and leave her alone again. She had a moment to watch her and realised that Morgaine's deep black hair turned grey as well during the years and around her full lips deep, bitter wrinkles could be seen. But the dark beauty that was more a hint than could obviously be seen still surrounded her. Two women united in their age and past but nonetheless so different.
“Yes, me of all people”, Morgaine answered seriously. She came here to help, to find something that could be called peace and freedom, but she did not want to discuss her reasons with the former queen at all. She knew that Guinevere was suffering from the happenings so many years ago and she would not find the answers to her questions while we sat in this Abbey praying to that odd God she believed in. But Morgaine could bring her the answers. Avalon was gone, hidden behind the mists forever, and it was time to tell the truth. “Because it is me who can tell you the whole story, Guinevere. Also the things you do not know yet. Are you not seeking for peace?” The fact that Guinevere lived in an Abbey said more than hundred words and as much as Morgaine knew about that Christian God the woman would only leave this world after she regretted her sins. And her biggest sin was hidden behind the story that had to be told and the answers she would find there. “Do you now want to understand? Then trust me.”
The colours of the room changed from a dim sand to a dark grey when Morgaine blew off the candles. Just one, big and white, was left burning. The flickering light brought the walls to life and gave birth to odd shadows that seemed to wait, lurking until their time would come to tell their story. There was no smoke but the heavy scent of forbidden and unknown substances filled the room. Guinevere's body felt oddly tired and heavy while her mind was fierce and ready for the unexpected journey. She still did not trust this woman who was barely more than a witch but something let her follow the instructions and she inhaled the bitter-sweet steam deeply. Something. Someone? Whatever power it was that pushed her to do what Morgaine wanted her to do, Guinevere knew deep inside her heart that she had to follow to find the peace she was so eagerly seeking for years already. So she ignored her clear mind that told her this was nothing but stupid charlatanism. Another deep breath and she closed her eyes. The walls of the room and the room inside the Abbey cleared away although Guinevere could not see anything else yet but she heard a voice, far away but so close. Was it Morgaine? “I will bring you back to the man you once loved” - Arthur, Lancelot, Arthur - “Arthur!”
C.D. Ward
The character icons I have made such a long time ago can be found here.
What else to say? I am still no English native - so, sorry for that. And I assume this will take me ages to write as I learned that became slower writing in English than I was back then when we wrote RPs. Probably because I think more about the stuff I write down when I do it on my own.
If you take the time to read it, feedback (good and bad) would be much appreciated.
“He was not!”
The voice of the woman shivered. She realised it and hated herself, but what could she do to fight that horrible shiver? She, a poor and weak woman? How could she fight the strength of her overwhelming powerful opponent. Disputant. Enemy!
A tiny part of her remembered the strength she owned in her young years. Nowadays she was weak and tremulous, she feared everything and avoided the world outside of the Abbey. This peaceful prison was her rock, that kept her from losing her mind in agony. She remembered the proud girl, the strong woman she had been once but had no vigour to bring her back to life. Not anymore. Not after all the prayers and vows, not after all the confessions and penances she has done. She was weak and broken, and weak she would stay, wouldn't she? And there it was again: the hated voice, that she did not want to hear again in her entire life. Guinevere ignored the urge to cover her ears with her hands.
“Come with me.” Morgaines voice was inviting and, oddly enough, warm and soft. Nothing changed during the years and obviously the magic of Avalon still pulsated beneath the surface of secular power. Intriguing and inviting indeed and Guinevere wanted to follow that voice. How she wanted to follow - immediately. But it would be a trap as always and nothing good would be the final outcome of this invitation. She had to stand strong at least as long as Morgaine was here. She had to find a tiny rest of the power and pride she called her own such a long time ago. Just a few minutes she had to fight before she could return to her prayers and confessions in her own little prison. “Come with me”, Morgaine repeated.
“Why should I?” Guinevere asked and she hoped that the shiver she felt deep inside her did not fall on her voice again. Strong. She had to be strong. “Why do you think I would leave the safety of these walls to follow you?” The sound of a warm laughter filled the room, deep and alluring, but Guinevere knew the double-minded illusion and did not mean to fall for it. Once Morgaine had been her friend indeed or least she thought so, but these times were over. Over and gone. An inviting hand reached out for Guinevere. The former queen was still an attractive woman but now, her hair grey and the rosy cheeks gone, she missed the gorgeousness of her young years.
“Because you want to.” The outstretched hand invited her again with an airy wave. At least Morgaine was intelligent enough to know that she should not touch Guinevere now. Not yet. So she had to work with her voice and her words because it was time to tell the truth of the story that was also their life. “Trust me.” The small room Guinevere lived in the Abbey was simple furnished and had nothing in common with the chambers she once lived in. There was nothing royal in the small bed in the corner or the simple desk next to the window, which was just big enough for a few hours daylight inside these walls. Hardly possible to write letters or read books during the cold and dark winter months. Guinevere tried it and failed badly. The entire room had nothing private, there were no memories to remember her past or show visitors who in fact she was. But which visitors should pass this threshold at all? This Abbey was such a hidden world for the people living outside like Avalon had been. Was. Would always be. “Trust me”, came the warm voice again, more pressing this time.
“Trust you?!” Guinevere laughed and it sounded strange in her ears. When did she laugh the last time? No time to think about this now. “Trust. You!” She felt how the strength returned, slowly and hesitatingly, but obviously it was lurking and lingering beneath the weak surface of her living. “You have been part of the game. You have been there and a lot of what happened was your fault and were your doings. And now, after all these years you dare to come here and claim trust! You, of all people!” Silence filled the room when she ended and for a moment Guinevere expected the other woman to turn into a bat, fly away through the small window and leave her alone again. She had a moment to watch her and realised that Morgaine's deep black hair turned grey as well during the years and around her full lips deep, bitter wrinkles could be seen. But the dark beauty that was more a hint than could obviously be seen still surrounded her. Two women united in their age and past but nonetheless so different.
“Yes, me of all people”, Morgaine answered seriously. She came here to help, to find something that could be called peace and freedom, but she did not want to discuss her reasons with the former queen at all. She knew that Guinevere was suffering from the happenings so many years ago and she would not find the answers to her questions while we sat in this Abbey praying to that odd God she believed in. But Morgaine could bring her the answers. Avalon was gone, hidden behind the mists forever, and it was time to tell the truth. “Because it is me who can tell you the whole story, Guinevere. Also the things you do not know yet. Are you not seeking for peace?” The fact that Guinevere lived in an Abbey said more than hundred words and as much as Morgaine knew about that Christian God the woman would only leave this world after she regretted her sins. And her biggest sin was hidden behind the story that had to be told and the answers she would find there. “Do you now want to understand? Then trust me.”
The colours of the room changed from a dim sand to a dark grey when Morgaine blew off the candles. Just one, big and white, was left burning. The flickering light brought the walls to life and gave birth to odd shadows that seemed to wait, lurking until their time would come to tell their story. There was no smoke but the heavy scent of forbidden and unknown substances filled the room. Guinevere's body felt oddly tired and heavy while her mind was fierce and ready for the unexpected journey. She still did not trust this woman who was barely more than a witch but something let her follow the instructions and she inhaled the bitter-sweet steam deeply. Something. Someone? Whatever power it was that pushed her to do what Morgaine wanted her to do, Guinevere knew deep inside her heart that she had to follow to find the peace she was so eagerly seeking for years already. So she ignored her clear mind that told her this was nothing but stupid charlatanism. Another deep breath and she closed her eyes. The walls of the room and the room inside the Abbey cleared away although Guinevere could not see anything else yet but she heard a voice, far away but so close. Was it Morgaine? “I will bring you back to the man you once loved” - Arthur, Lancelot, Arthur - “Arthur!”
C.D. Ward