cold metal too close to the bone [open]

[anna_morcades]

It's begun to snow, light but steady. Morgause has ensconced herself in one of the theoretically innumerable small sitting rooms, where a good fire is burning. She has sewing by her; clothes for Hero's son, who is going on a year now, out of a gown she wore once and rejected, back when the closets as well as the cupboards were bottomless

Comments

[bravegoewin]

"My lady? Are you Cassandra? Oh--"

Goewin pulls up short in the doorway.

[anna_morcades]

She looks up, coolly. "I am not."

[bravegoewin]

Goewin is caught utterly off guard. She knows, and doesn't know, who this is. She stands staring and silent, clearly poised for flight but stricken with indecision.

[anna_morcades]

Morgause puts the sewing down in her lap: small neat hands, nails trimmed short. "And who are you?" she says, mildly enough.

[myrddin_wyllt]

If you need to throw something at someone... heck. Merlin's life has been much too quiet for his own good, Morgause.

He'll pass by, and stand against the wall, observing.

"I did not know you had an interest in hand labors, My Lady."

His tone is quiet, almost respectful, definitely careless. Merlin is more and more detached from the going ons of the Mansion.

[anna_morcades]

Morgause looks at him, expressionless as a snake and about as warm. "There is much you do not know."

[myrddin_wyllt]

He shrugs, completely relaxed. "Oh, there is of course. And yourself?"

[anna_morcades]

"I am well enough," sweetly.

[sissy_queen]

They haven't spoken yet, have they?

Guinevere walks in, stops, looks down, and away.

Not sure what to do with this incredibly uncomfortable stumbling, is what she is.

[anna_morcades]

Not in this incarnation, anyway.

Morgause glances up, and, putting her sewing aside, makes a point of rising, slowly and with care.

[sissy_queen]

She isn't quite sure what to say. Or to do. So... she puts a hand on the threshold - as if to steady herself.

"Pardon me, I must have taken a wrong turn."

Oh, the irony.

[anna_morcades]

Morgause curtsies deeply, not to say ostentatiously, and with velvet politeness says, "Madam. Do I trespass?"

[dutifuldaughter]

"Mother?" Clar calls, at the door, having chosen to brave the painful bustle of the house again - she cannot make herself live here, not even for her mother's sake, it is too loud, and too full of people, and after half an hour here she wants to flee, but she can come up, certainly, she can do that. "Mother, I brought you something."

[anna_morcades]

Morgause looks up, and the prickle in the air fades a little. "Did you so?" she says, and reaches out a hand, beckoning.

[dutifuldaughter]

Clar goes to her, easily, and sits casually down at her feet, her hands remaining behind her back all the while. "Yes," she says, "For Christmas. Against the dark."

[anna_morcades]

"And am I to see it?" smoothing her hair gently.