It's sunset before he makes his way back to the far side of the woods, still looking white and sick and spent. His knuckles have taken damage from the bark of several innocent trees, but otherwise he's in one piece, at least literally.

Evening comes on and Mordred is still sitting in the open meadow south of the cottage, with his arms around his knees, frowning.

Siblings, spousal units, and other interested parties are welcome to bother him.

( three guesses )

The trouble with feather-borne crackplots, of course, is that feathers get everywhere, blown on the lightest breeze, even when they're not carried awhile in the pockets of unsuspecting children ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )

Supper's nearly over by the time Mordred gets home, after the latest crackplot has worn off and he's finally gotten done whatever he was out doing. He elbows the front door open and slips inside, all windblown and lively. "Hi."

Cannot find a text of the awful thing -- yes, before you ask, I do have a lively sense of morbid curiosity -- but I have found this.

And also this, which is, as the kids say these days, for the win.

So, a little space later, Mordred swings the gate open to let Cywyllog past, and then pauses, with his hand still on the latch. "We meant to paint it," he says inconsequentially, "this summer. We just never got around to it."

Early in the morning he's leaning on the fence in front of the cottage, looking out across the fields. It's doubtful if he's slept -- his eyes have that particular bruised look; but he's too tired to be melancholy, at least. Brothers and snot-nosed kids are particularly welcome to bother him, but he'll probably be civil to anyone.

( Midsummer night was no night at all, just a long twilight. )