(Untitled)

[rebel_son]

Melehan is, at very best, displeased. His sheathe empty at his side-- there's no telling where the sword has gone-- he storms across the Mansion's lawn with a dark expression on his face through which bears a strong resemblance to the Orcadian side of the family.

One can try and talk to him-- a civil response isn't guaranteed.

Comments

[hardlyagravated]

His Aunt Laurel will likely catch him coming or going. "How now," in the calm but not fawning voice she uses when Agravain's in a snit, "what ails thee, sir?"

[rebel_son]

"Naught," says he, made all the more convincing by the fact that is is all but a growl.

[hardlyagravated]

"Aye, I plainly see," with a look that says she's not an idiot, Melehan. "At least thou hast left thy sword out of it."

[rebel_son]

"Ay, lady," he snaps. "I did give it my brother that he may slay himself."

[sissy_queen]

We don't think he's met his great-aunt yet, has he? Anyway, there she is, in her eighteen year old sissy splendor, and remotely... looking confused and sad.

She has been talking to Melou, so upon seeing him, she will make a small sound of recognition.

"Sir?" Worriedly.

[rebel_son]

"Lady," says he with the edge of barely suppressed anger not unknown to those familiar with his family.

[sissy_queen]

Let us clarify that by talking to Melou we mean, having civil conversations and trying to get over the fact that they are the same age, and yet that she is a great-aunt. Erhem.

"Art well?" She doesn't dare come closer - so angry he seems.

[rebel_son]

"What carest thou? I know thee not."

[illgotten]

Which is probably not the best time for his father to run across him, but these things happen.

[rebel_son]

"Sir," he says curtly, just because he thinks he ought to.

[illgotten]

Mordred gets a breath. "What's the trouble?"

[rebel_son]

"Naught, sir." Which is pretty obviously a lie.