You got: 1212: Kiss my character anywhere but the lips
”Ah …”
”Well, then —— a knight must keep his word.”
“Wh—oh. I — you don’t have to.”
Tag Archives: destinedtokill
[ + ]
Summer shakes against him for a long minute, fighting down the fear she can’t control. It’s an effort of sheer will to step away, sinking low in a curtsey. “My deepest apologies, Sir Knight. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll just — I’ll just take a walk, to clear my head.”
Mordred nodded once more, taking a step away, “Be careful, then. Even the city can be dangerous at night, my lady,” he announced. He knew that, Mordred had often seen a problem or two occurring on the streets surrounding the castle — his room overlooked the courtyard, you could see a lot from there.
A gentle smile crossing the druid’s lips in a way of comfort before he moved to depart from the area.
“I shan’t leave the castle, my lord,” she assures him. She wanders through the halls, starting at small sounds and feeling the fear burn through her veins. Come sunrise, she’s sitting on the bed, staring at her clasped hands, face dry but set.
I would send all you folk the crown, but I’m not intimidated, I’m impatient and eager!
[ + ]
“I dreamed it. I dreamed it again,” she whispered. “All alone, in the dark — you don’t want me to go with you, but if I don’t face it … “
Mordred nodded lightly, “It’s alright, I understand,” he answered; his voice soft. “I’ll see if I can convince the King to allow you to ride with us,” he reasoned, after all, that was all he could think to do.
He’d already convinced Arthur to go on a trip to find these bandits, what harm could this attempt do?
Summer shakes against him for a long minute, fighting down the fear she can’t control. It’s an effort of sheer will to step away, sinking low in a curtsey. “My deepest apologies, Sir Knight. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll just — I’ll just take a walk, to clear my head.”
[ + ]
She whirled around, hair flying in a wide arc and eyes huge, and then all but flung herself at him. In the aftermath of the nightmare, her bravado was gone, swarmed under by fear. She curled against his chest, trembling. “You /will/ protect me, won’t you?”
This sudden contact surprised him, and he almost stumbled backwards. He raised an eyebrow, but remained with his hands hung at his sides. “Of course I will,” he answered, confused by the question. He had said so after all. “Why, do you think I wouldn’t?”
“I dreamed it. I dreamed it again,” she whispered. “All alone, in the dark — you don’t want me to go with you, but if I don’t face it … “
[ + ]
Disoriented, both by the nightmare and the unfamiliar room, she stumbled out of the room, arms wrapped tight about her shoulders and shivering. One of the torches she passed flared up, and she shrieked again, flinching back and huddling against the wall.
Mordred heard another squeal, and a confused expression crossed over his face. He shifted a little before getting out of the bed properly, throwing back the blankets he hid under. He knew it must be Summer that was screaming, considering that there were no other women in this entire corridor.
He pulled open his door, and his suspicions were confirmed.“M’lady?” he questioned quietly, raising an eyebrow, “Are you alright?”
She whirled around, hair flying in a wide arc and eyes huge, and then all but flung herself at him. In the aftermath of the nightmare, her bravado was gone, swarmed under by fear. She curled against his chest, trembling. “You /will/ protect me, won’t you?”
[ + ]
She nodded, sharply, and went back into the room, letting the door close. She leaned back against it for a brief moment before all but crawling into the bed. The knowledge that she was completely safe, that she had made it to Camelot and survived, slowly sank in, and she curled up into a ball and just shook with relief for a long time.
Sleep overtook her at some point, and in her dream she relived the attack. Half a dozen men, ill-kempt but well-armed, bursting out of the underbrush and surrounding her. Her horse rearing, frightened, as someone waved a torch under its nose. Unable to draw her daggers, with hands full of reins, and unable to fix her mind on more than one attacker at a time. One, only one, going up in flames, and then someone grabbing her leg and dragging, and the fire spun out of control, sparks spitting everywhere but to no avail.
Summer woke up screaming.
Mordred took a step back as the door was closed, and he stood there for a moment with a slightly strangled looking expression on his face. He didn’t feel comfortable with allowing her to come with them; he, after all, would have preferred to head out with the knights and take out the threat before letting her near the forest at all.
With a light sigh, Mordred then turned his back upon the room and headed to his own chambers. If they were going to be busy tomorrow, an early night was always the best bet.He fell asleep quite early, yet because of the fact he slept only lightly, the scream caused him to wake. It was a sudden thing that snapped him out of whatever dream he was having. He was disorientated, and unsure that he had heard it or imagined it; so for the moment, he stayed put.
Disoriented, both by the nightmare and the unfamiliar room, she stumbled out of the room, arms wrapped tight about her shoulders and shivering. One of the torches she passed flared up, and she shrieked again, flinching back and huddling against the wall.
I want to do a thread with bandit!Mordred. A thread where the bandits capture her and make her do the camp work for them and maltreat her and Mordred has to decide his loyalties because he finds out she has magic.
Summer seeks out Mordred, nearly as red as his cloak. “Sir Knight, I am /so/ sorry. I — I have no excuse. I said unforgivable things to you, things for which there is no explanation.” She hangs her head and twists her hands together.
”It’s alright, you knew not what you were speaking of.”
She shakes her head. “I knew exactly what I was saying; I was merely incapable of stopping myself as I would ordinarily do. /That/ is unforgivable.”
[ + ]
She had pushed the door open, stepped in, and turned back to him once again. “That wasn’t actually a request. Sir Mordred. If you do not send for me, I will go alone.” Her eyes flashed, and all trace of lightheartedness was gone from her face.
Mordred raised an eyebrow; well, that would be one way of almost assuring a place in the party. She seemed pretty determined to get back at the bandits.
”I will make sure to send for you, my lady,” Mordred corrected himself.
She nodded, sharply, and went back into the room, letting the door close. She leaned back against it for a brief moment before all but crawling into the bed. The knowledge that she was completely safe, that she had made it to Camelot and survived, slowly sank in, and she curled up into a ball and just shook with relief for a long time.
Sleep overtook her at some point, and in her dream she relived the attack. Half a dozen men, ill-kempt but well-armed, bursting out of the underbrush and surrounding her. Her horse rearing, frightened, as someone waved a torch under its nose. Unable to draw her daggers, with hands full of reins, and unable to fix her mind on more than one attacker at a time. One, only one, going up in flames, and then someone grabbing her leg and dragging, and the fire spun out of control, sparks spitting everywhere but to no avail.
Summer woke up screaming.