sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Just — come over here, and put your arms round me, and tell me you still lov—” Her words choke off mid-sentence as a spike of pain seems to drive through her body. She doubles over, clutching her belly, but it’s not her pain. That faintest edge of detachment remains, and she struggles to deepen it, to separate herself out from the foreign emotion. “Medraut, fi angen i chi,” she gets out, under the weight of it. Everything seems blurry, blood rushing in her ears, and she fears she’s about to convulse. She hasn’t had a seizure in a long time, not since she learned to shield; why would she have one now?

       Mordred runs to her, gripping her shoulders, petting her face gently. “Summer, Summer — stay with me” he calls, panic encompassing him. “Summer, come on, take a breath, stay awake, please” he tells her, lowering the two of them to the ground, her head resting in his lap.

She clings to the sense of him, breathing hard. The sense of being overwhelmed receeds, but the pain is still so strong it brings tears to her eyes. It’s centred low in her body, and she half-expects to see blood when she lifts her hands. But there’s nothing, and her own feaar intensifies.

Oddly, that helps, providing a buffer. There’s still someone else’s pain, but she’s able to push it away, to truly be aware that it’s not hers. She curls over on her side, dragging in slow, ragged breaths.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

She buries her face in her hands. “Because that’s exactly what I need when I’m in /Camelot/, my magic doing something I don’t understand and can’t control.”

      “Summer, I’m sorry I can’t give you another answer.”

“Just — come over here, and put your arms round me, and tell me you still lov—” Her words choke off mid-sentence as a spike of pain seems to drive through her body. She doubles over, clutching her belly, but it’s not her pain. That faintest edge of detachment remains, and she struggles to deepen it, to separate herself out from the foreign emotion. “Medraut, fi angen i chi,” she gets out, under the weight of it. Everything seems blurry, blood rushing in her ears, and she fears she’s about to convulse. She hasn’t had a seizure in a long time, not since she learned to shield; why would she have one now?

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“It’s getting stronger,” she says. She undoes the straps he’d abandoned, finding what she needs to put together a quick stew. “I shouldn’t be able to do this.” The firelight flickers off her face, making the worried expression stand out sharper. “My magic — I’m not that strong. I shouldn’t be able to sense her from this far.”

Summer glances up at Mordred. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

       ”Your powers are either developing,” he tells her before he chews his lip, “or something is happening but I am not an expert, magic is a strange thing and often at times, many things happen for different reasons.”

She buries her face in her hands. “Because that’s exactly what I need when I’m in /Camelot/, my magic doing something I don’t understand and can’t control.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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 is not slow to do so, either, with that feeling urging her on. They trot out of the town before moving to a gallop, though the horses can’t sustain that pace for long. All the same, though, the feeling of being in motion helps immensely; there’s no longer the sense of being helpless.

She frets, during the course of the day, at the feelings. It’s not entirely new, but it’s the first since she left home. Any other time, she had been nearby, and so of course it was obvious — her empathic sense picked up someone’s distress. But she’s much too far to be sensing her twin. She worries at her lip as she worries at the problem, until it’s bleeding as they dismount in the dark to set up camp for the night.

       Mordred dismounts, the soles of his shoes crunching against the fallen leaves. “What’s wrong?” he asks, fiddling with the straps of the satchels before he gives up, choosing to set up a fire instead of wasting his time and patience with straps. “Forbearnan,” he whispers, his eyes flashing gold as a small fire started in the pit, deciding it was faster than taking all that time to light one manually. 

“It’s getting stronger,” she says. She undoes the straps he’d abandoned, finding what she needs to put together a quick stew. “I shouldn’t be able to do this.” The firelight flickers off her face, making the worried expression stand out sharper. “My magic — I’m not that strong. I shouldn’t be able to sense her from this far.”

Summer glances up at Mordred. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Yes.” She keeps glancing unerringly south and east, toward Dover. It’s a second to affix her pack to the back of the saddle, then she swings up. “I’m ready.”

        With that he nods, pulling himself up into the saddle before he jams his knees into the side of his mount, taking off out of the stables, waiting for her to follow.

Summer is not slow to do so, either, with that feeling urging her on. They trot out of the town before moving to a gallop, though the horses can’t sustain that pace for long. All the same, though, the feeling of being in motion helps immensely; there’s no longer the sense of being helpless.

She frets, during the course of the day, at the feelings. It’s not entirely new, but it’s the first since she left home. Any other time, she had been nearby, and so of course it was obvious — her empathic sense picked up someone’s distress. But she’s much too far to be sensing her twin. She worries at her lip as she worries at the problem, until it’s bleeding as they dismount in the dark to set up camp for the night.

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Yes, my lord,” she says obediently. That nagging feeling has grown stronger, and she moves through packing in a half-daze, straining her senses south and east. But there is nothing. Only the same feeling as before, of something wrong, of her twin in need.

She hurries to the stables, pack bouncing at her hip and dressed for hard riding. No pretty dresses, and a dagger at her waist, hair bound up firmly.

        All he had needed to get was food. Out of force of habit Mordred kept a satchel packed just in case he needed to leave on a whim. Mordred had been readying the horses when Summer arrived, attaching a satchel to the saddle before fiddling with the reins. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She keeps glancing unerringly south and east, toward Dover. It’s a second to affix her pack to the back of the saddle, then she swings up. “I’m ready.”

sirmordred-thedruid:

iamthefirechild:

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.”  

“Perhaps let me persuade him?” She sighs, scraping one hand back through her hair. “Na, ‘sdim ots. You’ve leave, and it’s early yet. If we go now, we’ll be there tomorrow noon.”

       Mordred tongues his cheek. “Go grabs your things and meet me at the stables in an hour.”

“Yes, my lord,” she says obediently. That nagging feeling has grown stronger, and she moves through packing in a half-daze, straining her senses south and east. But there is nothing. Only the same feeling as before, of something wrong, of her twin in need.

She hurries to the stables, pack bouncing at her hip and dressed for hard riding. No pretty dresses, and a dagger at her waist, hair bound up firmly.