[closed/incomplete]
Characters: Galahad (galahad) and Mordred (modraed)
Date/Time: Sunday, 07/31
Location: A church, then who knows?
Rating: PG-13 (to start)
Warnings: Mordred's kind of a dick.
Summary: Mordred seeks Galahad, conjecture from there.
Mordred was feeling unsettled. Despite the front that he'd been putting up lately he knew that he was due to crack any day now, and while he had no shortage of people he could confide in - Agravaine, Amphitrite, his brothers Castor and Pollux, Elaine, Hathor, and Melpomene had all made it clear they'd listen - he only wanted the counsel of one person - Galahad. It had been far too long since he'd seen the other knight face to face; they'd spoken across the network but honestly that wasn't enough as far as he was concerned. Especially not after the way that odious archangel had made sport of wanting to corrupt the perfect knight he coveted so.
Walking into the church he knew the younger man frequented, Mordred looked around with a sort of smug pride on his face. If he knew Galahad as well as he assumed, any minute now the other knight would show himself, and see him waiting. Of course, he could have easily just filtered a message to Galahad, but that wasn't as effective to Mordred as surprising him would be. Besides, he wanted to see the reactions his words caused, to study the planes of the others' face and hear the slightly chiding tone he knew would be coming from the mouth that had occupied his dreams of late.
Taking a seat in a mostly empty pew, Mordred shook his head to clear it of thoughts not befitting his current locale. He offered a ghost of a smile to the priest walking down the aisle, quickly making the sign of the cross and sliding to his knees with his head bent in prayer. It had been far too long since he'd communed with God, and it occurred to him that Galahad would be mortified to know that his intentions in coming to church were less than prurient. He supposed he'd just have to pray over that as well, while he waited.
Date/Time: Sunday, 07/31
Location: A church, then who knows?
Rating: PG-13 (to start)
Warnings: Mordred's kind of a dick.
Summary: Mordred seeks Galahad, conjecture from there.
Mordred was feeling unsettled. Despite the front that he'd been putting up lately he knew that he was due to crack any day now, and while he had no shortage of people he could confide in - Agravaine, Amphitrite, his brothers Castor and Pollux, Elaine, Hathor, and Melpomene had all made it clear they'd listen - he only wanted the counsel of one person - Galahad. It had been far too long since he'd seen the other knight face to face; they'd spoken across the network but honestly that wasn't enough as far as he was concerned. Especially not after the way that odious archangel had made sport of wanting to corrupt the perfect knight he coveted so.
Walking into the church he knew the younger man frequented, Mordred looked around with a sort of smug pride on his face. If he knew Galahad as well as he assumed, any minute now the other knight would show himself, and see him waiting. Of course, he could have easily just filtered a message to Galahad, but that wasn't as effective to Mordred as surprising him would be. Besides, he wanted to see the reactions his words caused, to study the planes of the others' face and hear the slightly chiding tone he knew would be coming from the mouth that had occupied his dreams of late.
Taking a seat in a mostly empty pew, Mordred shook his head to clear it of thoughts not befitting his current locale. He offered a ghost of a smile to the priest walking down the aisle, quickly making the sign of the cross and sliding to his knees with his head bent in prayer. It had been far too long since he'd communed with God, and it occurred to him that Galahad would be mortified to know that his intentions in coming to church were less than prurient. He supposed he'd just have to pray over that as well, while he waited.