xregicide-deactivated20140812:
Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
Summer smothers a giggle. “No, I did not, and now you shall have to, for waking her curiosity.”
Indeed, Winter’s expression is of avid curiosity. “She sang your praises til I was like to be deafened by it. Indeed, if my sister is to be believed, you should have a halo of light and be more noble than Sir Lancelot.”
”Some things are best left unsaid,” he tells her simply, leaning against the wall. Mordred smiles, shaking his head, “no, Lancelot was our finest, I am only sorry that I never got the chance to meet him.”
“No, you shan’t be let off so easily as that!” Winter pushes herself upright, though a hand goes to her stomach as she does so. “If I must lie here ill and heartsore and be fussed over, then I will have my will by way of tales, and I sense a tale here. So tell, Medraut, lest I unleash my wrath.”
By the end of this speech, Summer is hiding her face in a pillow, shoulders shaking with laughter.
“And then you may confess what concerns brought you in here in the first place,” Winter finishes, loftily.