[snapshot]

[illgotten]

It's like a cloud lifting. His face still shows signs of the strain that's present in his stance, his movements; but in a different, less grim light.

And he walks a different way this afternoon, up the path that leads past Melehan's cabin and eventually, by a roundabout way, to the Mansion; the way Cywyllog so often walks.

typist: yes, this

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[blind_judgment]

Justitia has been out for a walk - it's crowded enough in the cottage that any time spent out of it is good, if only for some breathing space - and his path happens to lead him across Mordred's.

"...Oh- oh! Hello--"

[illgotten]

"Hullo yourself." By this point he's looking a good deal more ragged than he did when he set out: windblown, red-eyed and with muddy patches on his jeans. Even his humor is a bit pale. "Miss me?"

[blind_judgment]

"Always," automatically, and he's looking closely at Mordred through his spectacles. "Where's the stampede that trampled you? You look terrible."

[illgotten]

"Yeah, I pride myself on always looking better than I feel." Mordred hugs him, and may or may not lean on him a bit while he's at it. "How's your day?"

[blind_judgment]

"Dull," slipping a supportive arm around Mordred's waist. "I went up to the Mansion and spent the whole morning reading the most bizarre legal cases you can imagine, in the library up there. Richildis v. the state of Atlantis being the least of them."

[illgotten]

It gets a laugh, if a shaky one. "You're kidding."

[blind_judgment]

"Not at all. Avalon was mentioned in that one, by the way."

[illgotten]

He rests his head quietly against Justitia's shoulder. "I see." In an unaccustomed small voice.

[blind_judgment]

He continues prattling on inanely, bearing as much of Mordred's weight as the boy will give him, neither expecting nor requiring an answer, or even an attentive ear. "There's a case in there, Athena suing her father Zeus for never giving her a proper childhood, or, well, any childhood at all..."

[illgotten]

"Okay, you made that one up," muffled against his collar.

[blind_judgment]

He laughs. "I haven't the imagination for that, I'm afraid. No, it's true, it's all in there. I could show you, if you wanted to come up to the mansion." If you've the strength to make it that far.

[illgotten]

"Might do that." And on the same breath, "Or maybe not. God, I--"

[blind_judgment]

"What happened?" softly. "A stampede of memories?"

[illgotten]

A sigh. "Not exactly." He shifts, straightening a little. "Cywyllog's leaving. Back to stay at the Mansion. I couldn't talk her out of it."

[blind_judgment]

"Oh," succinctly. He's silent, considering gravely, for a few moments. "She may be more comfortable there," he says diplomatically.

[illgotten]

"I'm sure," tiredly.