for it's my thoughts that bind me here [open]

[anna_morcades]

She has been out, in the spring sunshine, and gathered sprays of new leaves from one plant and another. Back in her room, as the light fades, she stands at her table and strips them from their stems, her movements quick, neat, savage. Halfway through she throws them down again and turns away

Comments

[le_desirous]

"Lady," quietly, at the door.

[anna_morcades]

Morgause whirls, her dark skirts flying out. Her hands fall halfway, and then pause, her expression changing from outrage to something like relief. "Yes. Come in."

[le_desirous]

"You're well?" a sort of standard preliminary, because he knows she's not, and he offers a hand.

[anna_morcades]

She moves into his arms, clenching her fists in his sweater, silent.

[sonofpellinore]

Lamorak is, for perhaps the dozenth time recently, attempting to resolve to leave her.

Morgause should also know, however, that he's rather good at angry sex, and when he shows up with said resolve on his face, she's too smart to miss the want that's there too. "Lady..."

[anna_morcades]

She turns to him, straight and shivering. "Sir."

[sonofpellinore]

The resolve wavers a little, but he steps in. Quietly, "I would ask if you are well, lady, but I have eyes. What ails you?"

[anna_morcades]

She glances away. "I am sick to death of this house." Her voice is small and tired.

[lesser_son]

Melou isn't exactly sure he wants to bother her, but he isn't sure who else to talk to--he hasn't got Melehan, he can't broach the subject with his mother, and--that about does it for people he'd want to talk to about anything.

So he knocks quietly at her door.

[anna_morcades]

"Who?"

[lesser_son]

"My lady, Melou."

[anna_morcades]

She gets a breath. "Come, come in."