milliways_bar | (no subject)

Smiling back at her, Mordred pads over and gracefully sits down on the chair cross-legged.

You didn't really expect him to sit normally, did you?

That done, he watches his brother and the others with bright golden eyes, listening to the works with a small smile.

*As the seating arrangements are worked out, Paul softly accompanies Bran's verse.*

On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves
Washes the grave with silvery tears.
A soldier cleans and polishes a gun.

*Will continues. If he notices significance in the song -- impossible lands below the waves, and his brother singing about incomprehensible battles -- his face shows nothing of it, though unreadable eyes slide briefly to meet Bran's as they sing.*

Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather.
Then she'll be a true love of mine.

*Paul's voice grows a little louder, and his eyes are on Will, unfocused, as though he is looking at something far away.*

War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions
Generals order their soldiers to kill
And to fight for a cause they’ve long ago forgotten.

She looks at Paul very carefully as he sings, and then glances at Will for a long moment.

Finally, Blodwen looks again at Bran, watching him with a gentle smile as he plays the golden harp.

Perhaps he would have noticed Blodwen's watching, but his eyes aren't seeing the scene in front of him. They seeing battle-field after battle-field, fighting the Saxons and then each other...

Soldiers fighting, dying, because after so many years of the Romans leaving them, they knew nothing else but that. Peace? Peace was a dream that none of them believed in anymore.

A few short years, maybe two at the most, and then he dragged them back into the blood because at least then he knew he was useful.

The prince looks at Paul, looking so much like Will, and his eyes are empty.

*Bran's eyes narrow at Blodwen's stare, but then he is distracted by the lostness in Mordred's eyes; he sings the last verse gently to his brother.*

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
Remember me to one who lives there;
She once was a true love of mine.

As the music fades, an eerie stillness settles over the table for a moment. It is broken by a light soft voice, saying, "Oh, now, that was so lovely a thing to hear."

Blodwen turns to Paul. "I did tell you, that Bran has a particular gift for the harp."

*nods* And so he does. Beautiful playing, Bran. How long have you been learning?

Eight years, it is now. Half my life, really. *Bran's tone is friendly enough.* Have you met Mordred, then? Mordred, Will's brother Paul Stanton, and Mrs. Rowlands. She lived on Clwyd Farm. *Bran omits further information about Mordred.*

To get the whole last name business out of the road, seeing as it would look odd if he did have one, Mordred offers his hand first to Paul, and then to Mrs Rowlands.

"Mordred Ambrosius, pleased to meet you both," he sounds British, but impossible to place; Cornish? Welsh? Slightly Irish, and more Scottish?. Ah, well.

*with a friendly smile, as he shakes the offered hand* Pleasure to meet you. Interesting name, Mordred. Are you a friend of Will's and Bran's?

"Yes, I am," Mordred replies easily enough, not making the distinction that he's more Bran's friend then Will's.

He's also taken note of Bran's careful introduction, and isn't about to go and complicate things.

"How lovely it is, to have such a reunion of family and friends here in this bar. A surprise to be sure, now, but a pleasant one."

Blodwen smiles warmly at Mordred and says, "Delighted to meet you, cariad."

Ever so slightly, he raises an eyebrow at that, and glances at Bran questioningly.

"The ways of Milliways, ma'am, it brings all sorts here. Are you enjoying your vist?"

*Bran's return glance is a warning.*

"Why, yes indeed. A lovely place, this is, very welcoming. I am glad to have found it."

How did you find it?

*Will's face as he looks at Blodwen remains politely interested, a boy listening to casual conversation, but his gaze sharpens just a little.*

"Why, I was wandering in a strange place, and happened upon it."

Blodwen's smile back at Will is bright and cheerful.

"An amazing thing, it is, these 'ways of Milliways,' as Mordred has said."

"Oh, they are, ma'am. Most people do not intend on coming here in the first place." Mordred's watching her carefully, absently wishing for his sunglasses.

"And then it seems completly random who stays, and who can go. Pot luck, I think."

*Bran judges it prudent to change the subject.* What was the descant on Scarborough Fair, Paul? Lovely, it was.

Heard of Simon and Garfunkel? I can play you some next time you visit. Simon wrote it, and yes, it's lovely.

They're an American group. Paul adores them.

*A sidelong grin at Paul; Will likes them too, but has no compunction about teasing his older brother about his many musical obsessions.*

I think I played you some last time you came?

I remember now. What was that song you were rather unsubtle about playing, I Am A Rock?