Lady Morgana

Morgana Florence Leforte Reincarnation of the once very notorious witch, Morgan LeFay of Arthurian legend. Morgana is a very caring individual, with a somber disposition. She suffers from nightmares that she has experienced ever since she was young. Lately they have been increasing in vividness and frequency, which has resulted in her getting little to no sleep. - Independent Morgana Blog {Previously magicmademewhoiam} Tracking: closerthanreality A lot of personal blogs have been following me, so I feel the need to state that I apologize but I do not follow back personal blogs.

[closerthanreality]

ooc | starting fresh! okay so after having been away a while - i am starting back up. i really would love to make use of all my verses - so take a look at my about page. also really hoping to worm my way into some Game of Thrones rp (coughshipsmorjoncoughs) so apologies that there isn't a lot of writing on my blog immediately for you to check out - but it's back there is you'd like to dig it up. i'll mostly be creeping and following and maybe writing some starters until i get on my feet. would really love to talk to you all! 

[katiemcgrathseyes-blog]

[van-dyne]

❅

[allthegoodurlsaretakensofuckit]

[obviousmagic]

[softlipsareopen]

[darkamera]

[houseofheda]

[sophiealeborgies]

[merlinblogger-deactivated201408]

[libetha]

Magic.

[lmnpnch]

Katie McGrath

[closerthanreality]

[ tags. ]

[closerthanreality]

new bodies, old souls | Rowan&Morgana

[subortas-blog-blog]

He’d come to the library on the nights that he didn’t spend in the park, fingers flicking through pages of books instead of sliding through rosebushes. Memories came to him in bursts of static, the world zoning out for a moment and another’s life flashing before his eyes. He tasted the tang of blood, and shut the book with a loud thud. 

More and more, as he was familiarizing himself with this world, did the other fight with him. It was hard enough readjusting to the lights and sounds of technology he’d never dreamt of, he didn’t need his own body rejecting him. When he’d first come to a week ago, he’d thought he’d become a murderer, a monster that had stolen the life of another in his last-ditch resort to live. The realization that he was in fact still innocent and the joy that followed was short lived; now, he spent fractions of his waking hours fighting an essence that wanted it’s body back. 

He sighed, fingers sliding over more spines, looking for an interesting title. He couldn’t stay in the park alone again, not without a book to read. He hadn’t slept more than three of four hours a night since he was thirteen, and it was something that helped him out now. The law enforcers of this time frowned upon homelessness, he’d noticed. 

He picked out two, one a science fiction (how intriguing that such a futuristic time still dreamed of unheard of futures) and the other a non-fiction history book. 

Without warning, his ring burned white hot, and he jumped, something in his brain clicking into place. He immediately felt trapped, behind bars again, and he backed up, back against the shelf, looking right and left for attackers. He caught the gaze of a woman, and his breath caught in his throat. “I," he started, then swallowed, torn between running and yelling. He steadied himself, forcing his fingers to uncurl. “Who are you?"

[closerthanreality]

It's a moment or so, before she can pinpoint exactly the person that draws her here. Certainly she is being drawn, like a both to a flame...because as she gets closer she can practically feel the heat threatening to burn her. There is something unnatural about their coming together...but she will no stop, not turn back, not now. 

She feels a darkness churn threateningly inside her. One she has felt before now, an impulse to use her abilities in a manner that seems unbecoming. Yet, now more than ever she feels the simmer begin to boil. 

When she turns into the row, she knows it's him the moment she lays eyes on him. They are very alone, and his reaction shows that he seems to know what she is. Seems to feel the same thing that she does,  it evokes a predator in her, a wrath that seems like it does not quite belong. Yet if memory serves her right...perhaps it does. 

Carefully, she raises her hands, palms facing him in a difficult submission, there is no reason for her to take this violently for any other reason than to cater to the whims of her impulse, "I'm not going to harm you," the words are easy, they're also undeniably true despite the tense nature of her body language, "That's something I'm still trying to figure out, I can tell we're the same, please I didn't mean to startle you," 

"I have but a name to offer you," something has been stuffing it down, she tries to offer her name but seems incapable of it. She knows it, but she has never spoken it before to another magical being and is unaware of the weight that it carries. It seems thick in her throat with significance, that small slice of Merlinian in her threatens to choke it out... 

"Morgana,"

[closerthanreality]

new bodies, old souls | Rowan&Morgana

It was extremely disorienting, the night that she is 'reborn' as it were, such high magic did not come without consequence. The first feeling she remembers is the extinguishing of life. Is it her own? Is it someone else's? It's hard to tell because simply coming into existence in a place like this is not an easy pill to swallow. 

The lights are bright and te streets she sleeps on are busy and loud. At first there is nothing other than hunger and the compulsion to keep herself alive, but slowly memories begin to come back to her. Memories that are broken and twisted and of a time long passed, it's evident enough to her that she does not belong here. In fact, there is an overwhelming sense that she simply should not exist at all. It's mostly a blur in the beginning, until she finally discovers the use of her unique talents. 

One morning, she wakes up to find that something has been left for her, a small ring. Instinct tells her to slip it over her pinky finger, and something that has been sleeping within awakes with passion and fire. How had she not noticed it there before? Unquestioningly, she begins to use magic, as if it is the most natural thing in the world to her and that's certainly how it feels. Things get better from there, she takes care of herself and once her basic needs are fulfilled...she begins to seek. 

Others, of her kind...of her powers. There must be more. She had a teacher once, however fuzzy the recollection she knows it. A great teacher, one beyond measure or compare. For some time, she feels like maybe there is no more magic left in the world. 

Until one night, she feels the slightest vibration in her ring - and something pulls her to him. It's strange, how she just knows where to go, and she finds herself at a library an hour to the minute before it closes. Does he feel her presence as she crosses the threshold? Is he looking for someone to? Has she finally founds someone to make sense of the paradox that is her existence? 

[katieskeep]

[closerthanreality]

shot in the dark | frost-and-lightning

[mortuusrevixlt]

Tumbling, tumbling, she hit the ground. There was nothing, no one there. Only the pain, only the hot, wet slick of blood growing slowly from the wound inflicted by a stray bullet. Why had she been down this way, again? To what purpose? Maybe this was fate. She was alone once more, bleeding out and fading. No one was there.

No. He was there beside her then, calling for her. His bright eyes watched her and red lips spoke though she could not hear it. It mattered not. She wasn’t alone. Loki was there as the darkness came.

—

Waking was unexpected. More so was waking in a world of white sterility,  hollow beeping and electric hums. Confusion filled the woman’s mind like a haze, the brightness of the room blinding. Where was this? What time? What day? As her bright eyes slowly scaped the small room she realized just where she was; a hospital bed. It was day, though which and when she knew not. Someone had left the window open. She could hear birds and the sounds of cars and people and goings on that were decidedly urban.

And then her eyes fell upon something else.

The dark haired god that had haunted her thoughts, both beautiful and mysterious and dearest to her heart. He sat by the open window, his even longer hair pulled back into a high ponytail, ringlet curls whispering down his shoulders and back. His bright eyes, never truly blue nor green but always curious, seemed clouded now by what could only be the plague of worry. His chin rest upon a closed fist, his troubled brow furrowed and worn.

Ah, but it was like a dream as he suddenly turned her way, his movements flowing and elegant as a painting. He looked upon her with such relief, almost, dare she say it, joy. Was this real? Was he here? Or was it another one of her strange flights of fancy? A fit needed to be overcome? But then he approached, easing off the chair he’d been occupying, which gave a tiny creak of protest. Same old Loki, flesh too dense for his own good. However did he manage being so heavy?

"Morgana.." he spoke, and a soft hand came to brush the hair from her forehead, soothing her with a tender touch like that a mother would give. He looked at her the same way, too. “Darling, are you alright?"

[closerthanreality]

Morgana had never accepted death before - instead she fought it as it plagued her age after age, time after time. The wound in her side was a familiar one, and she seemed to phase from memory to reality. That one she had survived, but what if she did not survive this one? Loki was there, though she was more aware this simply by the presence that permeated her heart and not so much the physical presence of the God. 

Even though her death was still an act of hate, this time she would die loved, and that was a new feeling. Maybe that's what made it easier to slip into the darkness this time... but she did not slip away from good. 

The first thing she noticed really was the headache. But that was quickly displaced by the blaring white lights and smell of the hospital  always so jarring to thought lifting from unconsciousness. 

That narrowing still as she laid eyes on him. 

Like a portrait he sat, completely out of place as he always looked with a strange look on his face. Her world seemed to clear like clouds from the sun as she looked at him, the softest of smiles tugging delicately at her pale lips. Morgana's head tilted into his touch just so. Before she went to answer she tried to lift herself up and a short gasp escaped her as pain shot through her body and she sunk back into the hospital bed, "Ah - I - uh," she closed her eyes trying to remember how she wound up here, "Wish my skin was as thick as yours," she tried to joke light heartedly, in case that worry was for her, "I hardly remember what happened,"