Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@mostwretchedson-blog
( verse-specific starter call !! )
i just put up a new verse that i really want to give a whirl, because i love being mean to my grouchy son. verse name is “a thousand years of guilt” (bc i’m extra like that), so give this post a like if you’re interested in a starter for that verse!
*not mutual-exclusive, but i would prefer some plotting be done beforehand if we’ve never interacted before.
verse summary under the cut:
Keep reading
water moodboard
sheisthechaos:
Morgan was not one to allow people to speak lowly of themselves, especially when they did not deserve it. She remembered her own time spent as a child, thinking she was a MONSTER, so different from the other children. Today the raven-haired enchantress knew this difference was a strength. She hoped Mordred would come to realize that too.
❝ How you reassure me! My mind is eased, knowing my son will be under your guard. ❞
Her smile was genuine, her concern was soothed. Concern was soothed, as she knew very well that Urien would not hesitate twice before sending their son away to Arthur’s court.
❝ Well, such a journey is hardly pleasant but I will not complain. We have not had the misfortune of encountering bandits along the way. I was skeptical about coming here but now that I see you are here too, I see that my journey was not vain! ❞ she smiled again but not before pursing her lips. ❝ tell me, Mordred, have you tried to practice your… gift? ❞
Mordred nodded, glad that, in some small way, he could repay his aunt for all she’d done for him. It was thanks to her that he had been able to navigate his youth without being crushed by fear or self-doubt. Although his steps were still hounded by the knowledge of what he was, he also knew that it could have been so much worse. He gave Morgan a faint smile when she assured him her journey was not hampered by outlaws.
“I’m glad to hear it. I worry for you, though of course I know you’re formidable enough that any bandit would turn and run if ever they crossed you.” Not for the first time, Mordred found himself with the knowledge that he could never say such things to his own mother: Morgause was also powerful in her own right, but she had never been one for affection or playfulness. Mordred never smiled at her, and she never had kind words to say that were not only a mask for some ulterior desire.
“Yes, Aunt. As much as I can, though I fear I won’t have much time or privacy once I’m made a knight.” It wasn’t an excuse, but an expression of regret. What Morgan called his gift was a thing he knew better than to allow anyone else to know, and without any time to himself, he worried that it would atrophy without use.
( verse-specific starter call !! )
i just put up a new verse that i really want to give a whirl, because i love being mean to my grouchy son. verse name is “a thousand years of guilt” (bc i’m extra like that), so give this post a like if you’re interested in a starter for that verse!
*not mutual-exclusive, but i would prefer some plotting be done beforehand if we’ve never interacted before.
verse summary under the cut:
sheisthechaos:
The raven-haired Queen had always been very fond of Mordred. He was one of the most important person’s in her life, even though she had not seen him in years. She cared for him as she would ( or more ) for a son.
❝ My dear nephew, do not think so lowly of yourself. After all, my brother Arthur was as young as yourself once, perhaps even younger when he inherited the crown. A boy with no skills who managed to become, somehow, a proper king. Fighting skills matter, yes, but being wise can triumph over violence in a combat. ❞
Morgan had the same thoughts as him on one point: Arthur was indeed feeling guilty. That how her brother was. Acting rashly & on other people’s advice and then regretting it. Ah, Mordred deserved much more than his so-called pity.
❝ I do not doubt he will. And to be honest, I was hoping that when the time comes, you would be the one training him. Court is vile, and I fear my son is yet too innocent to realize it. However with you by his side, I wouldn’t have to fear for him. ❞
Besides, Mordred was the only one she ENTIRELY trusted at Arthur’s court. The other ones, she would not allow herself to trust. She would smile at them, laugh with them, but give her blessing & trust? NEVER.
Of course Morgan would not let him speak poorly of himself: for as long as he could remember, she always had something positive to say in response, and though it did not always succeed in its intended purpose, he appreciated her intentions nonetheless. He nodded, but voiced neither agreement nor rebuttal, for one would be a lie and the other would fall on deaf ears. He focused instead on his aunt’s request.
“If it is permitted me, I would be most honored, Aunt. At least where court is concerned, I have confidence in my ability to guide him. It can indeed be tricky to navigate, and even more so young and alone. Ywain will never want for the comfort of family here, that I can promise you.”
Much like Morgan, Mordred was always on his guard around anyone who was not family: even those whom he called his friends did not entirely have his trust. He knew better than to believe he had such a luxury, for so long as the gulf of what he was sat between himself and all the rest of them, he could never allow himself a moment of negligence.
“Did you have a pleasant journey? I know that the roads from Gore to Camelot can be treacherous this time of year, and even with the knights to keep the peace, there’s more to fear out there than just the weather.”
sheisthechaos:
STARTER FOR @mostwretchedson
❝ Mordred!! My sister tells me you are to be a knight! With you as a protector, I am sure Camelot will be safe from all harm. ❞
A smile was dancing on her crimson lips as she looked at her nephew. The son that could have been hers.
❝ How you have grown! Times flies so fast. I fear the day my dear Ywain will have to join the knighthood too. He, on the other hand, cannot wait! He admires you, you are his HERO! He was very upset that his father decided to make him stay in Gore while we came in Camelot.❞
And Morgan had been upset as well. Alas in this world, a wife had to obey her husband. Not for long, the fairy thought. She was not one to be obedient or easily tamed. She only had to wait long enough and everyone would see that Morgan le Fay was not one to be underestimated by men.
“Aunt Morgan!” Mordred’s expression lightened on hearing the voice of his aunt. It had been years since he had seen her, and though he was much changed - a fact she noted, almost before he could even consider it himself - she appeared very much the same. At the least, her affection for him was as apparent as ever, and managed to dampen the anxiety he felt on the subject of his impending knighthood.
“I’m afraid Camelot will be left wanting, if she depends upon me for protection,” he replied, a self-deprecating laugh following on the tail of his words. “I’m not what anyone would call skilled in the knightly arts; it’s mainly a courtesy from an uncle to his nephew.” Or guilt from a father to the son he doesn’t want. He swallowed down the bitter words before they had the chance to climb up his throat, and forced a broader smile. A slight flush chased away the pallor in his cheeks on hearing Morgan’s claims about her son.
“I’m certain that, when his time comes, he shall bring the greatest honor to you and Uncle Urien,” he said, though he suspected that she didn’t much care about ridiculous conceits such as knightly honor. It was immaterial, regardless. “And I promise to look after him when you cannot, of course.”
( ooc. )
believe it or not, i am actually alive. i’ve been having a rough time of it lately, but i’m here again. i know i probably owe replies to literally everyone and their mom, but i understand if anyone wants to drop threads, or start over, or what have you.
also for some reason, a bunch of dog blogs started following me while i was gone?? what’s up w/ that??
I highly recommend you follow the person I reblogged this from.
( ooc. )
depression is a wonderful thing y’all. i love how it just…drains all enthusiasm for roleplaying out of me and makes me cringe when i so much as think of working on drafts. :/ so i’m gonna take a break from mordred for a bit, wait out this slump, and hopefully come back better than ever.
as always, if anyone wants to contact me outside of here, you’re welcome to message me on discord (mordred#1304) or skype (mercutio.lives).
( ooc. )
depression is a wonderful thing y’all. i love how it just...drains all enthusiasm for roleplaying out of me and makes me cringe when i so much as think of working on drafts. :/ so i’m gonna take a break from mordred for a bit, wait out this slump, and hopefully come back better than ever.
as always, if anyone wants to contact me outside of here, you’re welcome to message me on discord (mordred#1304) or skype (mercutio.lives).
Reblog if your muse would risk their life to save a loved one
Cliffs of Orkney
L.M.
ofbriars:
There was nothing Rosamond loved more than tournaments. Mother and father had permitted her a whole new wardrobe for this visit, and she was dressed in the most lovely of the gowns for the feast.
“I did very much,” she said in answer to her companion. “Everyone fought bravely, you were the knight that was injured by Sir Aglovale were you bot?” Youthful veridian eyes sparkled excitedly, “will your wound scar?”
Mordred blinked in surprise at her answer. In his experience of the women at court - those few to whom he spoke, at least - they cared little for the actual details of the tournament. They attended either to socialize, or to cheer on their beloved in his contest of choice. There were those who did enjoy the sport itself, who could follow every single aspect as well as or better than the men, but Mordred hadn’t expected to find such a one among their foreign guests.
“Yes, my lady, that was me,” he replied, slightly abashed. He touched lightly at the wound just an inch or so above his eyebrow: any lower, and he might have lost the eye. As it was, it had scabbed up nicely, and hadn’t even required any stitching. “I don’t believe so. Does that displease you?”
lxstpriestess:
“ Then I find myself in good company. ” A whisper of a grin danced at the edge of her lips, the closest to a smile she felt in a while. It was not beyond her notice that the infinite line of cups along the table had been filled almost as much as they were being emptied. Her own was no exception and she spoke again only after savoring one last sip.
“ Being underestimated adds a certain spice to the dish of victory, does it not? “
Mordred ducked his head, faintly pleased with himself at having, at the very least, managed not to offend her. He prided himself on his diplomacy, but he was far from perfect and did have a tendency to put his foot in his mouth at the worst of times. Cautiously, he nursed his wine without going too far: an appreciation for drink ran in the blood, and he was far from exempt.
“Indeed, it does at that. Succeeding against all expectations is more satisfying than most anything else, I think.”
( ooc. )
okay if y’all could do me a huge favor, like this post if i owe you a reply. i know for sure i owe @mayquccn / @thetablercund, @lxstpriestess, and @ofbriars but is there anyone else i’m missing?
thetablercund:
continued from here with @mostwretchedson
Galahad physically flinched as the other raised his voice. He had always been a quiet soul and always hated when someone raised their voice at him, perhaps most especially when Mordred was the one doing the shouting “because I’m not going to die…” he took a moment to breath. “Why would God be granting me visions if he did not want me to follow them? Have you thought of that?” He regretted the harshness of his tone even as he spoke, but he could not take back his words. “I have always respected your gift, why can’t you see that this is the path I’m meant to take,” When had they become this? What the boy wouldn’t have done to go back to the warm days by the river.
“You aren’t going to lose me beloved, I’ll be back before you even start to miss me…” He spoke gently as he raised a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind Mordred’s ear. “I vowed myself to you completely remember?” It wasn’t even anything legal, and yet it was real enough for him at least. “but I have to go…” If this was the fate God had given him then how could he refuse.
Guilt washed over Mordred as soon as he saw Galahad flinch. He hated everything about this situation; why couldn’t he make Galahad see what he had seen? Surely, if he knew about all the misery that awaited him on this quest, he wouldn’t be so eager. Or perhaps he would, and Mordred was misjudging him completely. That was the difference between the two of them: Galahad was honorable, stout-hearted, brave - he would face down whatever challenge or danger set before him - whereas Mordred would do whatever he had to in order to stay alive, even if it meant resorting to cowardice.
The gentle touch broke the dam behind which Mordred had shored him his strength. With a dry, desperate sob, he threw his arms around Galahad and pulled him close, pressing his face into the crook of his love’s neck.
“Come back to me,” he said, voice muffled and hoarse. “Grail or no Grail, you have to come back. I cannot go with you, but I will be here waiting, so promise me that you’ll come home.”
