[ Even for someone disinterested in the state of this world at large, some things are impossible not to notice, like the clear signs of a recent occupation. For once, she isn't looking for a fight (though if one finds her, so be it) but rather, information. She isn't here to help one side or hinder another; of the two options, she knows it's Zenith who can give her what she wants, rather than just restoring the status quo... but before she commits, Mordred intends to make sure it's to the winning side.
With a (swiped) piece of fruit in hand, she sits atop a fence and takes stock of an outpost near the cornerstone, assessing the comings and goings of soldiers and civilians with a deceptively casual air. When she's done eating, she hops down, yawns, stretches, then idly tosses the remaining apple core at the back of someone's head, already walking off before they can get mad at her about it. ]
[ Gray has been busy in recent days, pretty much all thanks to the occupation of Alenroux. Last month, she spent weeks scouting the island in solitude, and so became well-acquainted with it. It's a little strange now to see the place swell with incoming soldiers, turning the idyllic landscape into a trail of people like ants infesting the plans.
Less dramatically, she isn't used to people littering in the area either, much less directly into her head. Gray's hood saves her from the worst of the apple's offense, but she turns reflexively to see who threw it. What she sees is the familiar blonde back of a head...
Gray quickly trots after the person, apple forgotten. Sometimes Kenos plays strange tricks, drags up unexpected memories, so a shadow of disbelief stalls her reaction, but there's still a candlelit hope in Gray as she catches up to the person's side and peeks over to see if it's that same-but-not-quite-same face. ]
[ The list of people here (or anywhere) who can match Mordred's name to her face is a vanishingly short one, and she whips her head around to look at the source...
... before breaking into a toothy grin, accompanied by a genuine laugh. ]
Hah! Is that you, mouse? [ No, Gray still doesn't get actual name rights. ] How the hell are you even still alive?... Well, I guess that's a good thing. 'Cause if you were dead, that means someone else killed you — and then I'd be really pissed off!
[ She reaches over to ruffle the top of Gray's hood. Ignore the death threat, and it's almost cute. ]
[ How strange, how unexpected, but how glad Gray is, which should probably be called strange and unexpected in itself. In spite of Mordred's quasi-death threat, Gray breaks into a genuine smile unbothered by Mordred's ruffling. ]
Thank goodness. I thought I'd never see you again...
[ Most people would see a Servant who never stops talking about killing you as a blight, but for reasons Gray can't begin to express, Mordred comes out as a net positive. Gray absently fixes her hood back in order as she looks curiously at Mordred for clues as to how she's doing. Gray, for her part, wears modest but sturdy clothing, well-worn from her travels around the island. An inobtrusive set of light padded armor peeks out from under her cloak. ]
Have you arrived recently?
[ She must have, or Gray is sure she would've heard of her in some way or another by now. ]
[ She'd normally have a quick and easy comeback — about how Gray shouldn't underestimate her, how she'd never disappear so easily — but Gray's sincerity catches her completely off guard. When was the last time someone was genuinely happy to see her? Not for her strength, her worth as a knight, but for her company? She can't even remember...
... No, it's not that she can't remember. It's simply never happened before. Suddenly flustered, she turns her head away, desperate to look at anything except the curious eyes seeking hers out. Outside of the blush on her face, there's nothing too notable about her appearance: her (relative lack of) clothing shows no signs of having been in any fights, though knowing Mordred, that's liable to change at any moment. ]
Y... yeah. Just a few days ago, actually. [ She coughs. ] You ever hear the saying "an army marches on its stomach"? Well, whatever happens here is gonna have a huge impact. I wanted to take a good look before I made my final decision.
[ What a strange reaction. Gray can only interpret it as embarrassment — trying to hide your face isn't nearly as effective without a hood — but the source of the embarrassment is a bit beyond Gray. In the meantime, she'll politely pretend not to notice that Mordred is a bit red in the face. ]
Your final decision... between Meridian and Zenith?
[ When she says the word father, Mordred's voice fills with the usual combination of hostility, animosity, and admiration... though, for once, she doesn't seem a hair away from wanting to kill Gray for broaching the topic. Whether the other girl realizes it or not, she's earned the right to (almost) be seen as an equal: not because of her face, but for her persistence, and her lack of cowardice in the face of what would have sent much (self-proclaimed) braver knights running. ]
All that I require is the restoration of Britain, and the chance to challenge the sword of selection. Anything else is worthless dross to me.
[ Surpassing her father is a logical goal in light of Mordred's place in history. Whether that drive was born from admiration or hatred, she clearly had something to say by staging the rebellion that became King Arthur's downfall.
The more specific goal to also challenge the sword of selection that King Arthur famously drew is a more curious one. Gray can see the glimmer of logic there — the closest thing to an objective evaluation of whether Mordred could be as worthy as her father... though Gray isn't sure if being an "equal" is the same as "surpassing." It seems to Gray like a roundabout way of proving herself. ]
Wouldn't it be simpler to fight King Arthur directly and make him, um, yield?
[ A valiant attempt to not condone (re-)patricide... ]
[ With the verbal equivalent of an eyeroll: ] Simpler? Perhaps. But you fail to understand the true purpose of my wish, mouse.
[ Roundabout or not, she's clearly given it a lot of thought. As she talks, she continues to stare off into the distance; finding it difficult to look her father's face in the eye. ]
On the battlefield, might makes right, but kingship is a far more complicated matter. During my time as regent and king, I had to deal with dozens of political squabbles; things that no amount of strength alone could solve. [ Which sounds more impressive than it truly was, given she knew the end of Britain would come long before all her promises and threats could catch up to her, but she's at least speaking from "experience". ] In that, and everything else, I was my father's equal. No... his superior. And drawing the sword from the stone will force him to acknowledge it.
[ Gray listens attentively. She's thought that the world of noble kings and knights should be fundamentally different from that of the shadowy Clock Tower, but it sounds like neither can escape politics. It's a bit jarring to hear that Mordred was that involved with the political side of things given her general demeanor, but Gray supposes being brash and forceful doesn't exclude cunning. ]
In that case... if you want to challenge the same sword of selection and your father, shouldn't you join Meridian? The world that Zenith would build would be something new.
No way. Those Meridian guys... they only wanna put the world back the way it was. What's the point in that? [ For a second, it sounds as if she's talking about something deeper than just her selfish wish... but she shrugs without elaborating. ] ... Besides, it's all way too good to be true. People like that Cyrus guy are always hiding something, mouse — but I guess you haven't lived long enough to figure that out yet.
[ Luckily for Mordred, Gray has no reason to think her age hasn't yet hit double digits. Meanwhile, Gray has done enough time in the Clock Tower to know better than to think that anyone in high power has the luxury of being kind, whatever their personal wishes. ]
That one's easy. [ She grins. ] I already know I hate her. But as long as we're using each other... no, as long as I'm the one using her, then it's fine. She won't suspect a thing.
[ Overconfidence? Maybe Definitely. But if there's one thing Mordred's never been short on, from the moment she was born, it's bravado. ]
[ Gray is stunned into silence. That confidence... where does it come from?? Then again, Mordred is notoriously the Knight of Treachery. Maybe she just can't help herself. Gray feels like cooperating in a more straightforward manner would be easier for everyone all around, but that's also why she could never attempt to play at politics. ]
... Well, it's not like we've actually met. [ Which should immediately invalidate everything else she says, but hey, she's never been afraid to jump to conclusions about people before. ] At least not outside that weird dream. I swear, listening to those two bozos talk gave me a freakin' headache.
[ But she hasn't answered the question. Or rather, she's purposely avoiding it — until she finally relents with a sigh. ]
She just reminds me of someone else. That's all. [ The pettiest reason in the world, but Gray is the only person who might know who Mordred's talking about, and why that alone is enough to shape her entire opinion. ] No matter what happens, you should keep your distance from her, mouse.
[ Gray isn't really sure what to make of that. Mordred's reasoning is blatantly subjective from every angle, but Gray can't ignore Mordred's hard-won experience either. For now, she'll call the advice taken under consideration and leave it at that. ]
I'll be careful. [...] Thank you for always worrying about me. Though I'm with Meridian, so maybe we'll end up on opposite sides in the end.
[ It's sad to think about so soon after finding Mordred again. A faint cloud of melancholy descends on her. Even after all this time, her heart isn't cut out for the tragedies requisite of war. ]
[ She burrs up at the implication that she's worrying about the other girl, but the sombreness of what follows is like a slap to the face. It's not as if she'd expected them to be allies again, but it's only now that she realizes that part of her had, perhaps, been hoping for it.
How stupid. ]
I don't know why you're surprised. With that face of yours, it was bound to happen. [ An odd thing to say, when she's long been adamant about Gray being the furthest thing possible from her father... but it's comforting to blame something other than her own naivety. Hating Gray is hard, but hating King Arthur is easy. ] You shouldn't have been happy to see me in the first place.
[ Fated to fight because of the faces they were given. It should be a stupid and dramatic statement, but Gray feels that it's a fact. Her encounter with the Corpse King felt just as inevitable. They're all bound by strings, moving at will but never free of their center. King Arthur's legend was a parade of conflicts, and all that has followed has been more of the same.
Even so. For everything her body represents, Gray is in essence an outsider to King Arthur's world, an impostor with no avenue of escape. ]
You're the only other person here who understands why this face is worth hating. It gets a bit lonely, being the only person to think so.
[ Most people would find it a blessing to be given a "cute" face, and Gray understands that. There are far worse problems in the world. Which is why she couldn't possibly try to convince anyone that her feelings on the matter are sane or valid, and she doesn't try. She's an only child, but she imagines that the automatic understanding she and Mordred have (at least in this one topic) is like something siblings would share. ]
You're wrong, [ she says, like she's going to argue. Instead: ] It's not just worth hating. It's worth despising, loathing, and resenting.
[ The truth is, she's never hated it. She hates what it represents — not just the king, but another person cursed to live in his shadow. Gray might hide her face by choice, rather than fear of execution like Mordred once did, but when they look in the mirror, it's always someone else looking back.
Who wouldn't despise seeing that face? Who wouldn't loathe having that face? Who wouldn't resent that face for ever existing? ]
Whether we're enemies or allies, that won't change. I won't ever stop being mad about your face. [ This is meant to be reassuring, maybe. ]
[ It is meant to be reassuring and only in this specific case does it succeed, prompting a small, grateful smile from Gray. ]
Please do.
[ Said with careful sincerity, like the renewal of a vow. It's reassuring to know that even if Mordred's been gone a while, she's more or less the same.
For the rest of today, at least. I doubt I'll be welcome once night falls.
[ And while a lack of an invitation keeping her at bay is laughable, it's a (not so) subtle cover for her current lack of strength. She's already designated herself as a future enemy, so Gray would be well within her rights to kill her before she becomes a real threat — but Mordred knows she won't. (As for whether Mordred could say the same if their situations were reversed... it's best not to ask.) ]
... I have no intention of being a Zenith spy, if that's what you're wondering. I only came here to satisfy my own curiosity.
[ Though she won't be surprised if Mordred later uses whatever she learns here to her advantage. Coming here for the express purpose of being a spy doesn't seem like Mordred's style. Especially when she doesn't have her powers back yet. ]
I was just wondering if you wanted some company while you're here.
[ Because, she doesn't say out loud, it can get dangerous on the island...... but Mordred probably wouldn't like the insinuation that she'd need protection. ]
[ Even when she was around others, she was still alone. It's something she long since accepted as necessary: that since her father always was, she always would be, too. That a requirement of kingship was to stand so far ahead of everyone else that you couldn't even see them as people anymore, much less as comrades, friends, equals.
But despite her acceptance of that solitary future, and the fact the next time they meet, it'll be as enemies, Mordred finds herself unable to say no to Gray's offer. Her face cycles through a series of expressions, most of them constipated looking, before she finally turns her back so she can scoff without her own emotions betraying her. ]
... Fine. But keep your hood up, and follow all of my instructions. I'll let you act as my squire for today.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alenroux
With a (swiped) piece of fruit in hand, she sits atop a fence and takes stock of an outpost near the cornerstone, assessing the comings and goings of soldiers and civilians with a deceptively casual air. When she's done eating, she hops down, yawns, stretches, then idly tosses the remaining apple core at the back of someone's head, already walking off before they can get mad at her about it. ]
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Less dramatically, she isn't used to people littering in the area either, much less directly into her head. Gray's hood saves her from the worst of the apple's offense, but she turns reflexively to see who threw it. What she sees is the familiar blonde back of a head...
Gray quickly trots after the person, apple forgotten. Sometimes Kenos plays strange tricks, drags up unexpected memories, so a shadow of disbelief stalls her reaction, but there's still a candlelit hope in Gray as she catches up to the person's side and peeks over to see if it's that same-but-not-quite-same face. ]
Mordred?
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... before breaking into a toothy grin, accompanied by a genuine laugh. ]
Hah! Is that you, mouse? [ No, Gray still doesn't get actual name rights. ] How the hell are you even still alive?... Well, I guess that's a good thing. 'Cause if you were dead, that means someone else killed you — and then I'd be really pissed off!
[ She reaches over to ruffle the top of Gray's hood. Ignore the death threat, and it's almost cute. ]
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Thank goodness. I thought I'd never see you again...
[ Most people would see a Servant who never stops talking about killing you as a blight, but for reasons Gray can't begin to express, Mordred comes out as a net positive. Gray absently fixes her hood back in order as she looks curiously at Mordred for clues as to how she's doing. Gray, for her part, wears modest but sturdy clothing, well-worn from her travels around the island. An inobtrusive set of light padded armor peeks out from under her cloak. ]
Have you arrived recently?
[ She must have, or Gray is sure she would've heard of her in some way or another by now. ]
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... No, it's not that she can't remember. It's simply never happened before. Suddenly flustered, she turns her head away, desperate to look at anything except the curious eyes seeking hers out. Outside of the blush on her face, there's nothing too notable about her appearance: her (relative lack of) clothing shows no signs of having been in any fights, though knowing Mordred, that's liable to change at any moment. ]
Y... yeah. Just a few days ago, actually. [ She coughs. ] You ever hear the saying "an army marches on its stomach"? Well, whatever happens here is gonna have a huge impact. I wanted to take a good look before I made my final decision.
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Your final decision... between Meridian and Zenith?
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Duh. Right, wrong, the fate of this world... I don't give a shit about any of that. All that matters is getting what I want.
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What do you want?
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[ When she says the word father, Mordred's voice fills with the usual combination of hostility, animosity, and admiration... though, for once, she doesn't seem a hair away from wanting to kill Gray for broaching the topic. Whether the other girl realizes it or not, she's earned the right to (almost) be seen as an equal: not because of her face, but for her persistence, and her lack of cowardice in the face of what would have sent much (self-proclaimed) braver knights running. ]
All that I require is the restoration of Britain, and the chance to challenge the sword of selection. Anything else is worthless dross to me.
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The more specific goal to also challenge the sword of selection that King Arthur famously drew is a more curious one. Gray can see the glimmer of logic there — the closest thing to an objective evaluation of whether Mordred could be as worthy as her father... though Gray isn't sure if being an "equal" is the same as "surpassing." It seems to Gray like a roundabout way of proving herself. ]
Wouldn't it be simpler to fight King Arthur directly and make him, um, yield?
[ A valiant attempt to not condone (re-)patricide... ]
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[ Roundabout or not, she's clearly given it a lot of thought. As she talks, she continues to stare off into the distance; finding it difficult to look her father's face in the eye. ]
On the battlefield, might makes right, but kingship is a far more complicated matter. During my time as regent and king, I had to deal with dozens of political squabbles; things that no amount of strength alone could solve. [ Which sounds more impressive than it truly was, given she knew the end of Britain would come long before all her promises and threats could catch up to her, but she's at least speaking from "experience". ] In that, and everything else, I was my father's equal. No... his superior. And drawing the sword from the stone will force him to acknowledge it.
[ Acknowledge her. ]
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In that case... if you want to challenge the same sword of selection and your father, shouldn't you join Meridian? The world that Zenith would build would be something new.
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No way. Those Meridian guys... they only wanna put the world back the way it was. What's the point in that? [ For a second, it sounds as if she's talking about something deeper than just her selfish wish... but she shrugs without elaborating. ] ... Besides, it's all way too good to be true. People like that Cyrus guy are always hiding something, mouse — but I guess you haven't lived long enough to figure that out yet.
[ YOU ARE HALF HER AGE SHUT UP ]
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Isn't it the same with Miss Yima?
[ Too good to be true either way... ]
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[ Overconfidence?
MaybeDefinitely. But if there's one thing Mordred's never been short on, from the moment she was born, it's bravado. ]no subject
Why do you hate her so much?
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[ But she hasn't answered the question. Or rather, she's purposely avoiding it — until she finally relents with a sigh. ]
She just reminds me of someone else. That's all. [ The pettiest reason in the world, but Gray is the only person who might know who Mordred's talking about, and why that alone is enough to shape her entire opinion. ] No matter what happens, you should keep your distance from her, mouse.
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I'll be careful. [...] Thank you for always worrying about me. Though I'm with Meridian, so maybe we'll end up on opposite sides in the end.
[ It's sad to think about so soon after finding Mordred again. A faint cloud of melancholy descends on her. Even after all this time, her heart isn't cut out for the tragedies requisite of war. ]
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How stupid. ]
I don't know why you're surprised. With that face of yours, it was bound to happen. [ An odd thing to say, when she's long been adamant about Gray being the furthest thing possible from her father... but it's comforting to blame something other than her own naivety. Hating Gray is hard, but hating King Arthur is easy. ] You shouldn't have been happy to see me in the first place.
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Even so. For everything her body represents, Gray is in essence an outsider to King Arthur's world, an impostor with no avenue of escape. ]
You're the only other person here who understands why this face is worth hating. It gets a bit lonely, being the only person to think so.
[ Most people would find it a blessing to be given a "cute" face, and Gray understands that. There are far worse problems in the world. Which is why she couldn't possibly try to convince anyone that her feelings on the matter are sane or valid, and she doesn't try. She's an only child, but she imagines that the automatic understanding she and Mordred have (at least in this one topic) is like something siblings would share. ]
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[ The truth is, she's never hated it. She hates what it represents — not just the king, but another person cursed to live in his shadow. Gray might hide her face by choice, rather than fear of execution like Mordred once did, but when they look in the mirror, it's always someone else looking back.
Who wouldn't despise seeing that face? Who wouldn't loathe having that face? Who wouldn't resent that face for ever existing? ]
Whether we're enemies or allies, that won't change. I won't ever stop being mad about your face. [ This is meant to be reassuring, maybe. ]
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Please do.
[ Said with careful sincerity, like the renewal of a vow. It's reassuring to know that even if Mordred's been gone a while, she's more or less the same.
Anywho........ ]
Will you be staying on the island for very long?
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[ And while a lack of an invitation keeping her at bay is laughable, it's a (not so) subtle cover for her current lack of strength. She's already designated herself as a future enemy, so Gray would be well within her rights to kill her before she becomes a real threat — but Mordred knows she won't. (As for whether Mordred could say the same if their situations were reversed... it's best not to ask.) ]
... I have no intention of being a Zenith spy, if that's what you're wondering. I only came here to satisfy my own curiosity.
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[ Though she won't be surprised if Mordred later uses whatever she learns here to her advantage. Coming here for the express purpose of being a spy doesn't seem like Mordred's style. Especially when she doesn't have her powers back yet. ]
I was just wondering if you wanted some company while you're here.
[ Because, she doesn't say out loud, it can get dangerous on the island...... but Mordred probably wouldn't like the insinuation that she'd need protection. ]
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[ Even when she was around others, she was still alone. It's something she long since accepted as necessary: that since her father always was, she always would be, too. That a requirement of kingship was to stand so far ahead of everyone else that you couldn't even see them as people anymore, much less as comrades, friends, equals.
But despite her acceptance of that solitary future, and the fact the next time they meet, it'll be as enemies, Mordred finds herself unable to say no to Gray's offer. Her face cycles through a series of expressions, most of them constipated looking, before she finally turns her back so she can scoff without her own emotions betraying her. ]
... Fine. But keep your hood up, and follow all of my instructions. I'll let you act as my squire for today.
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