Morvydd is in her room, today, but the door to the hallway is open as well as the tall windows that look out over the lawn; she is doing something extremely pungent, between the worktable and the fire. Gaheris is off somewhere -- a little steadier now that Lynet is back, a little more inclined to come and go.

Visitors are welcome.

Morvydd is outdoors again today, on the fringes of the woods; she is, with apology to her cousin Ragnelle, gathering evergreen to hang up in the Mansion. It is not shaping up to be a very festive holiday, but Morvydd is of the firm belief that one does what one can ( Read more... )

It's early in the afternoon, the sun already sinking. Morvydd sits on the steps of the back terrace with her shawl tucked over her arms, sorting through her basket: bits of bark, roots, stones.

Morvydd is in her long linen nightgown, brushing out her hair by the wide mirror in her front room. The fire is low; she's about to go to bed.

Compliments.

Criticisms.

When Mordred and Percy have gone, Morvydd gets up shakily and finds her way to the bathroom to wash off the blood and related filth; trades her ruined clothes into the plothole for a clean robe; and then sits down abruptly on the floor.

The cut on her palm still bleeds, but it's shallow. Nevertheless, she's terribly pale.

In her high-ceilinged room, by firelight, Morvydd is arranging her small table with tea, biscuits, and the Scrabble board. This done, she tosses another pinch of herbs on the fire and goes to dig out Gaheris wherever he's hiding.

Somewhere in the gardens there are traces on the ground, marks in the turf, bits of ash, where Morgan laid the spells to bind her nephew. The grass is singed a little from the backlash, when the rite was interrupted by the force of Morgause's rage and Clarissant's silent, terrifying power ( Read more... )

The tall windows of Morvydd's room are open, though it's raining outside quietly and steadily, and the breeze that blows in is almost chilly. There's a small fire burning, and the little table laid out for tea. Morvydd herself is at her worktable, sifting some fragrant stuff while she waits for Zara to come and fit her for another gown.

Morvydd has already been to the deserted cottage in the woods, wearing her red dress and carrying a basket (no comments from the peanut gallery, please). Finding no one, she walks around the house for a little while, and then goes back to the main path and down through the woods, past her cousins' house, out over the fields ( Read more... )