milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

The door opens, and River wanders in.

She looks to be in a reasonably good mood; at least, she's looking around the room, rather than staring at the floor or the air, even if her gaze doesn't quite settle quite normally. It's the tall boots today, rather than bare feet, under a loose floral skirt, and a couple of shirts in layers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Bastardized, but yes."

"Linguistic changes over time."

"Latin to Romano-British to Church Latin, the Angles' speech to Old English to Middle to Modern...I know"

"Smart," she tells him, with a tiny smile. "Did your homework."

He shakes his head. "No, just watched. I was dead for nearly all of it."

She looks sympathetic.

His lips twitch, and then he shrugs.

"Can't sleep," she says understandingly. "Too noisy."

"Too many thoughts."

She nods.

She understands that, too.

Mordred tilts his head, like an owl.

"Been here long?"

"Don't live here."

"Lucky."

She looks at him.

It's not agreement or disagreement, really. Just looking.

He looks back.

"It can be a prison, when you cannot."

She pulls in on herself.

"But you are free, no? You can leave when you want."

She's still hunched in on herself, but she nods.

"Door opens."

He smiles at her.

"See? Free to go."

She nods, and uncurls again, after a moment.

"Outside," she tells her hands. "There's a lake. Not a prison."

"No, I guess not."

She slides down to sit in the chair sideways, boots still up on the arm of the chair and knees curled to her chest. She looks at him over her shins, and then tilts her head back to look at the rafters.

He regards her a long moment.

"I think you're a Magpie, really."

"Family Corvidae. Pica pica."

She rolls her head down to look at him.

Seriously, "I don't have any feathers."

"I meant in here," he pats his chest over his heart, "Or here," a tap to his temple."

"Most people are birds or animals."