(Untitled)

[illgotten]

It has never been clear to Mordred why his sister does the things she does; least of all why she can dismiss him and all his sex as useless one day, and insist the next that he look for something for her, yes, him, no, she can't go herself, she's busy, stupid

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[lionbright]

Lleu starts a bit, coming across him in the snow, in the woods; whatever-it-is that makes Mordred so uncannily familiar hasn't gone away. But in Lleu's mind the events of his kidnapping were resolved three years ago, so it's not raw.

He's got a sword at the moment, too--he's borrowed Kay's. He wears it unselfconsciously, with as little fuss as you'd sling a backpack over one shoulder.

"Oh--" He struggles for an appropriate greeting. "Happy new year."

[illgotten]

Mordred blinks at him, stopping short, and then laughs a little. "Hello."

[lionbright]

"I've failed you, I'm afraid. I haven't seen Telemakos at all."

The soul of subtlety as always.

[illgotten]

Double blink. "I'd forgotten. Well, he probably doesn't want to be seen, then. Sneaky brat," though it lacks rancor; he is actually quite fond of Telemakos when the latter isn't having cognitive dissonance at him. "He hangs around Morvydd some, if that helps. How are you?"

He hasn't registered the change yet.

[cywyllog]

It seems Mordred is not alone. At least, a voice can be heard not too much further in the woods, singing not loudly per se, but not entirely to their self, either.

"Huna blentyn yn fy mynwes,
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon,
Breichiau mam sy'n dyn am danat,
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron,
Ni cha dim amharu'th gyntun,
Ni wna undyn â thi gam,
Huna'n dawel, anwyl blentyn,
Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam..."

[illgotten]

He freezes, one hand on the nearest tree trunk, listening.

[cywyllog]

She'll continue, not realizing anyone else is in the vicinity, wandering slowly and seemingly aimlessly, but in his general direction.

"Huna'n dawel, heno, huna,
Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun,
Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu,
Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun,
Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu,
Arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon,
Tithau'n gwenu'n ol dan huno,
Huno'n dawel ar fy mron..."

[illgotten]

Now he's got it. The words come foreign to him, sound before meaning: "Paid ag ofni..." under his breath. Then he laughs, his face clearing. "Lady," he calls aloud into the trees.