The Orkneys' garden has been rearranged a bit, to make room for the frame of the new extension. In its partial shade, Mordred is working in between the vegetable rows. The hedgehogs take care of most of the pests, but weeding is universal.

He's consulted Gawain, and let the rest of the household know that they can expect company. All that remains to do is to see if the company actually shows.

When it does, the little house is warm and firelit, the kitchen is busy and fragrant with cooking, and the door is unlocked.

[Right! Here is the promised post, purposefully left vague so it ( Read more... )

Outside again today, in the makeshift shed beside the house, sanding down what looks to be half a bench for the living room (still furnished mostly with cushions and good intentions): scruffy, sweaty, his sleeves rolled up against the heat. For once he seems at ease.

[/sock] open post, you know the drill. :) [sock]

Not, for once, the cool and insouciant Mordred we've come to know and love: this is a tousled, tired young man whose relaxation is earned, rather than assumed. He sits with his back against a tree, eyes closed; there's dust in his dark hair, color in his cheeks, a smudge of mud or blood or old paint on his shirt; he looks -- entirely ( Read more... )

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