[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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[cywyllog]

Often enough that it's a reliable way to find her, if one is so inclined. And it seems Mordred is, so he is rewarded - if we can call it that - with the sight of her slim figure not too far ahead on the trail.

[illgotten]

Whereupon it becomes a bit late to change his mind. So he walks on a few paces, casually, hands in his pockets. "Lady."

[cywyllog]

She stops and waits for him, head tilted and expression carefully neutral. "My lord."

[illgotten]

His cheeks redden, from more than the cold. "Don't start that, will you?"

[whosyourmom]

Always glad to ruin whatever good mood there might be hint of, Morgause appears behind him. "So, will you be inviting me to dinner to meet him, or will your poor mother just have to 'drop by' like everyone else?"

[illgotten]

He turns sharply. "When I want him poisoned, I'll be sure to do that."

[whosyourmom]

"Must you always bring that up? If I wanted him dead, he'd probably be that way by now. I'm merely trying to take an active interest in my children's lives."

[illgotten]

"I notice you don't specify which ones. Or exactly what kind of active interest."

[littlebetter]

"--Mordred."

(He's still wet, although he's had time to wring out his clothes; but still wet and he ought to be shivering but he's not, he's a little too sharp.)

[illgotten]

"Who else?" He's still a little shaky and defensive, having left Cywyllog further up the path. "What in God's name have you been doing with yourself, you'll freeze."

[littlebetter]

Gaheris ignores this. "The Lady told me--damn you, why didn't you tell me? I trusted you."

[illgotten]

"Do I have to run messages between everybody around here? It's her business. She only just told me, if you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly her confidant."

[sonofmordred]

Perhaps it will go unnoticed, perhaps it won't, but-- as he passes Melehan's small cabin, still half-built and hardly anything against the elements, there's a shadow in the doorway, tall and lean.

[illgotten]

He notices; perhaps he was looking for just such a shadow. In any case, he slows as he comes near. "There you are," neutrally.

[sonofmordred]

"I am," is the answer, not cold but not warm, and the shadow has not moved.

[illgotten]

Mordred stops, a little way off, with his hands in his pockets. "Bit cold for that still."

[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?"