milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Some time after being told that the grandnephew and namesake of a version of him turned into a spider and ate people, Mordred's sitting at his normal table.

Sharpening his sword.

It's making him feel somewhat better.

Fucking Milliways.

[~~ooc: lunch calls, will be back soon.~~ Back!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Tada." And there is a small boy standing near him. The quiet one, to be precise, though the loud one is not far behind.

Even with his sarcasm and wtf levels approaching record levels, Mordred smiles at Melehan.

"Heya, boyo. You would never turn into a spider, would you?"

Melehan just stares at Mordred for a moment. Then he scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. He hopes that's the right answer. He doesn't like spiders.

Mordred grins.

"Good man."

He grins back, and then holds out a piece of paper. "Give." It's in crayon, a lot of loops and jagged lines that look a lot like... well, nothing, really. But it's colourful.

He puts his sword and whetstone the table and leans closer to look at it.

"Very colourful, Melehan."

He beams more, and bounces in place a little. Praise from his father is fleeting.

Meanwhile, Melou has crept to the other side of the table and is eyeing the sword.

Mordred glances at Melou, watching him but not doing anything yet.

It's a very shiny sword. Melou should probably know better. Still, he puts both hands on the table and tries to pull himself up to peek over the edge and get an even closer look.

"You're going to cut yourself, Melou," Mordred warns.

He pouts - caught - and lets the table go. Granted, had he even remotely started reaching for the sword his mother would have freaked out from her spot a few tables over where she is keeping an eye on them.

Melehan, who has moved closer to Mordred, eyes his brother. "Bad."

"Foolish, maybe." He corrects.

Melehan doesn't know that word! He squints up at Mordred, confused.

"Am not." Melou pouts more and then runs back over to Cywyllog, climbing into her lap.

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 01:51 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 01:56 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 01:58 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 02:03 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 02:05 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 02:16 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 02:33 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 02:43 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 02:44 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 02:47 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 02:49 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 02:56 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 03:03 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

cywyllog - 2006-01-19 03:09 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

maydaybrat.livejournal.com - 2006-01-19 03:12 (UTC) - Expand

*It makes Alanna feel better too. After watching Mordred for a few minutes from across the room, she moves to the table next to him and proceeds to do the same thing. No greeting, just a nod of her head and a small smile.*

Without really looking up,

"You know. There is a namesake of me. Somewhere. Who turns into a spider and eats people."

A long pause.

"This place gives me a fucking headache. How's your day been, Lady?"

*Alanna's hand pauses in mid-air. She blinks at her reflection in the bright steel of the blade and tries to make sense of this.*

I hate spiders. *Her hand starts moving again.* I always thought they were evil, and I've had more than one try to eat me.

I do not think any of them were named Mordred.

*Sighing, she shrugs.* Apart from a lovely two hours or so around mid-morning, it has been absolute shit. Yours?

"Well. Aside from Eddie telling me about his stepson the 'demonbaby werespider', it's been....no, actually. That kind overshadows everything else."

...werespider.

*Alanna carefully sets her sword on the table and turns to look at him.*

I'm not sure headache is the appropriate term. It's more that this place frequently leaves my brain feeling like it's been trampled by an invading army.

Demonbay werespider?

"Don't look at me, I'm just the confused, alternate-world great-uncle."

*Alanna buries her head in her hands and groans softly. After a moment, she starts to laugh.*

Goddess.

What a day. Poor Mordred. Every time I talk to you, something even more brain pain inducing has come along for you.

"Oh, my not'sons are good boys. Even if they are two."

*Alanna laughs.* Do they look like you?

"A little - pale skin, dark hair, but they also have dark eyes, like their mother."

Well, if any not-children of mine walk into the bar, you're the very first person I'm finding to ask how to cope. After I stop by Bar for wine, that is.

*She shakes her head, bemused.*

Has Morgan met them?

"I think it is easier when they are this little...any older, and, hell, I'll be joining you."

Mordred pauses.

"I...don't actually know. We don't talk much. She's not my mother yet, and I'm not her son, really. It's awkward."