part two of FAIL: attn. Morgause

[lesser_son]

So around evening Morgause is going to have a grandson at her door, half-dressed, dishevelled, his face dead white and sick-looking around the mouth, shaking badly. He knocks and waits, hugging himself with one arm.

He was so not prepared for this.

Comments

[anna_morcades]

She is sitting before the mirror, her hair halfway in its nightly plait. Her eyes flick to the door. "Who?"

[lesser_son]

"Melou, my lady."

[anna_morcades]

"Come then."

[lesser_son]

He pushes open the door and comes inside, and stands quietly by the wall.