(Untitled)

[maydaybrat]

In some ways Mordred is predictable. He is snarky and emotional, prone to overreaction and fits of cold, thoughtless fury, but if you know him then he is predictable.

He is by the lake.

Lying on his back under a tree, watching the clouds through the leaves and branches as he smokes, but the main thing is that the world is (has) falling to pieces

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[balletrat]

*Meg still spends a fair amount of time outside - moreso, as the weather gets warmer. It's a good place to work - and though they have the studio now in the apartment, old habits die hard.

She knows Mordred well. But all the same, she's surprised to stumble across him under the tree; it's been so long (although she's not sure. Time does strange things, these days) so her voice is almost hesitant, as she says,* Mordred?

[maydaybrat]

He stills for a moment, and then tilts his head further back to see her.

She looks odd, upside-down.

"Yes?" His voice sounds...bemused, almost. Dreamy. Yes, I am under the tree, why shouldn't I be under the tree

[balletrat]

I just haven't seen you in -

*She doesn't know. She drops down instead of continuing, crouching easily beside him, and smiles a little.*

Anyways, it's good to see you now.

[maydaybrat]

"In a while, I think. Time's fucked up again, so I can't tell." He pushes himself up, a little.

"Good to see you, too."