It doesn't get any better after he gets out of the library.

Somewhere in the midst of the Mansion, one Michael Wilkinson -- Mordred only to his very close friends -- sits with his head in his hands. He's a little taller, a little older, but mostly recognizable to any of his erstwhile acquaintances.

He walks home finally, having left Gaheris somewhat calmed. The path leads through the forest, of course, and he's taking it slowly out of bravado -- he hasn't been entirely comfortable in these woods since he came out of them all those months ago, overwhelmed with memory, and in not much better case than Gaheris is now ( Read more... )

...Gareth?

I'm sorry.

*sighs*

So Gareth's six again. Somehow, that makes me feel old.

He's a good kid. He always was. Easygoing.

Trusting to a fault.

*discovers that he doesn't want to pursue this line of thought*

...Hell. *goes to find an extra quilt*

Gareth's here. Finally. Am just as glad to see him rather than the Middles, the prats.

And I did not, no matter what you may hear, spend this evening defending a lady. So just... don't even start.