Futuristic ♕ Camelot | ellarose & Syntra

[Syntra]

If Guinevere's days hadn't been torture before-- well, they probably were now. Whereas Arthur mostly left her to her own devices during the day, she certainly couldn't hope to escape Iphigenia in that time window. Whenever she went, the woman followed her like a shadow, and destruction followed in her wake. (Of course, none of it could ever be connected to her. No, lady Iphigenia was too smart for that. All those torn dresses, heels that broke all too easily and missing items? Why, a mere coincidence! That, at least, was what you'd think if you had the naivety of a five year old. Of course she was behind it, doubtlessly waiting for Guinevere to snap so that she could point her finger and laugh. 'Look, a savage from the wastes!')

Worse yet, Iphigenia seemed to work on turning the rest of the ladies against her. It was difficult to guess what exactly she had told them, but many of the women had grown noticeably colder towards her since she had entered her inner circle-- and the way they all fell silent when she entered the room nowadays, as if they had just been talking about her? Oh, how very telling. Chances were they had been doing just that! (That blasted Iphigenia. What kind of seeds had she sown? How long would it take for them to sprout in all their glory?) Fortunately, though, Guinevere didn't have to ponder about the content of the rumors for too long. One day after the breakfast, lady Aurelia stayed behind instead of going to the garden with the other ladies-- as of late, that seemed to be the all the rage among them. (Not that they were actually doing something there, mind you, but watching the knights train? That apparently passed as entertainment in Camelot. Although, considering their status, most of them were actually hunting for a noble enough husband there.)

"My queen," Aurelia spoke, her eyes downcast, "I, um, think you should be aware of something." The tone of her voice was quiet and terrified, almost as if it belonged to a mouse rather than a human. "There are-- rumors. Bad ones." Right, 'there are' rumors. What a funny way to phrase it! As if rumors were, say, similar to hurricanes in nature, in that there was no perpetrator and they just happened. Still, Aurelia's refusal to outright say who, exactly, spread them was as good as if she pointed at Iphigenia directly; it was no secret that the woman feared her. Why? Nobody but the two of them likely knew for sure at this point, but certain rumors had reached Guinevere's ears. Rumors revolving around downright ancient grudges and dead pets. Surely those had to be exaggerated, though, right? ...or maybe not. "It's about you and lady Morgan." Because of course it was. What else would it be about? "They say that you, uh, learned magic from her, and that you're bending the king's will according to your whims. That even your sister was a mirage created by you. I don't believe it, of course," Aurelia added quickly, "but, uh, many people do. And it's starting to become a problem." Yeah, a 'problem' was probably a mild way to put it. Arthur would likely do nothing to threaten the existence of his precious heirs, so she had nothing to be afraid of in that regard, but in other ways? Those rumors could ruin her. Her popularity would dwindle, and with the majority of her subjects hating her-- well, any coup was doomed to fail before it even truly began.

Meanwhile, Morgan traversed the wastes. As strange as it seemed, it was almost-- therapeutic? Both the endless shades of grey and the loneliness. She missed her Gwen because of course she did, though having to focus on bare survival instead of... everything else, really, kind of put things into perspective. Camelot wasn't larger than this. It could feel more overwhelming at times, yes, but ultimately it was just a drop in this terrible fucking sea, and if Guinevere had survived that, she would survive Arthur, too. And now-- now she also had her, if it still meant anything. When the familiar silhouette of Gwen's old camp appeared on the horizon, Morgan took a deep breath through the sudden surge of guilt and continued, preparing a speech in her head. Gods. How could she even begin to describe the situation in Camelot? Because they would ask, and damn, would that be ugly.

 

[ellarose]

Rumors were obviously going around, so hearing about them in detail doesn't necessarily take her off guard. Not to say that it isn't a flaming shit show-- because it definitely is-- and she's got no clue how she's going to handle it yet. But if there is one thing she has a grip on when Aurelia comes to her, it's her composure. Because losing it here and now? What would that accomplish, aside from making her look guilty as hell? Even if Guinevere is lost and doesn't know what to do, she can't let that show, can't let it stop her in her tracks. Morgan's not around to give her advice now and she's not sure doing something to Iphigenia's precious earrings are going to do her any favors now. (Even if Morgan was here, though, the chances of meeting with her would have been slim. Thinking too much about all that time they had for lessons before and the distance between them now -- ugh, it's slowly unraveling her, isn't it?) God. She'd been ostracized since she came to Camelot... then Arthur tosses her in the deep end with the ladies and expects her to know how to play their sneaky, backstabbing games? This is on a whole other level. She's endured the incessant bullying up to this point without shattering, but these rumors --

Learning to speak in codes was manageable enough. Hell, she and Jen devised their own code to survive when they were trapped in that creepy old hospital. But this is... she's out of her element, in over her head. They might as well have lost already, if she ends up handling this the wrong way. Nothing left to do but try, though, considering she's got no other choice. She'll just have to hope that she doesn't crash and burn in Morgan's absence.

"Thank you for telling me." Guinevere answers, completely steeled over after taking a deep breath. Aurelia is undoubtably sweet and she can see her as a prospective ally going forward... but considering the poor woman's so shy and uneasy just confronting her with the rumor, it's hard to ask her to do much beyond that. The last thing she wants to do is put her in an uncomfortable position. That doesn't mean she can't be of help, though. "I understand if you don't want to be seen alone with me because of the rumors. But... if you'd continue to make me aware of them going forward, I'd really appreciate it."

At dinner that night, Guinevere sips on wine to ease her nerves and decides to air out all the rumors, right then and there. "Oh. Have you heard, my love?" She's grinning as if it's all just a joke. Something to scoff at and brush off her shoulder, like nothing. (Except that it's so far from nothing, considering everything is on the line right now. She takes another sip of wine.) "Apparently I bewitched you into marrying me." Then she laughs and proceeds to spill every detail Aurelia had given to her. Unloads it in front of Arthur himself, in front of his esteemed company, as if the rumors don't frighten her in the slightest. If she were really slinking around like a criminal in the shadows, would she have the gall to confront it outright like this? These might not be the way games are typically played in Camelot, but she's been backed into a corner now, damn it, and it's flight or fight. Eventually her infectious good sense of humor depletes into something a shade more melancholic. "Really, though. As much as I'd hate to spoil the ladies fun... you all can only imagine how stressful it's been, to hear such delusional tales have been spun behind my back." Keep your enemies close, right? Well, she's been playing the role of Arthur's good little wife for weeks now and in the end his word will hold more weight than Iphigenia's. It's fine time she reaped the benefits of all that hard work, of everything she's had to sacrifice over the past few weeks. She lowers her voice, for Arthur's ears alone. "You've heard how stress affects fertility, haven't you? I'm concerned that's why I haven't been..." The rest speaks for itself, doesn't it? If nothing else, putting the prospect of his precious heirs on the line should ideally spur him to take action on her behalf. Maybe it'd even compel him to open the door of her cage just an inch, to offer her a taste of freedom?

It quickly becomes apparent that Guinevere isn't used to liquid courage. Alcohol can be hard to come by outside, and it's... foolish to get wasted, in the wastes. Feeling like a husk of her former self, she finds comfort in the way each sip of wine numbs her to loneliness and fear. Needless to say, she discovers that she's a bit of a lightweight in the process when Arthur practically has to carry her back to the room later that night. "It's all... all bullshit. I don't want to sit around with those ladies anymore. 'Cept for lady Aurelia. She's nice, you know?" She mumbles halfway into her pillow when he lays her down. "...I can't live like this. Let me visit the stables to take a ride or... or let me train with my sword. Let me breathe." Fortunately, she drifts off to sleep before she can saying anything particularly careless.

Meanwhile, the only thing unchanging about camp is the orange glow of the fire in a sea of grey. The faces reflected in it's light, though stubbornly enduring to fight hunger pains, have definitely seen better days. With shadows under their eyes, sunken cheeks, and sickly complexions, it's clear they're worn out. (But they're used to this, too, and there's a sort of strength in the way they remain rooted there, sharpening their tools and speaking quietly amongst themselves.) It can be gauged at a glance that there are less of them than before, too. It's hard to tell if it's because more of the women have gone to bed early to get some much needed rest, or if it's because there really are just... less of them. Adrianne, out on watch, is the first one to catch sight of Morgan's approach. She approaches her and the worry in her eyes is unmistakable.

"--Morgan?" Adrianne squints, as if to peer behind her for a second person, and falters a bit when she comes to a grave conclusion of her own. "You came all this way by yourself? Don't tell me Gwen is--" Dead? That must have been her first thought, since she swallows and shakes her head violently, as if refusing to consider the prospect in any further depth than that. "No, no, wait. Everyone will want to hear it. Come on." She gestures for her to follow behind, leading her in. Eyes lift up to acknowledge their approach. Morgan's greeted with a few tired smiles... but there's the same sort of silent fear in them, too, when they realize her usual traveling companion isn't there with her. It gives the impression that they're used to this, to bracing themselves for bad news. And perhaps they are. It's not uncommon, when they send a group off to hunt and realize upon their return that they've lost someone when the group returns without one or more familiar faces.

"Hey, Morgan. Long time no see." Sam waves lethargically from her place at the fire. As one of the missing girls from their last visit, at least that's one question answered. They were found alive. Or... at least one of them is, anyway.

"...It's been months." Adrianne intervenes, looking like she's struggling -- like she doesn't know what to say and like she has a thousand questions all at once. "What happened?"

 

[Syntra]

Did Guinevere's little spectacle work? Well, mostly. Arthur obviously didn't allow her to do as she wished as that would have been too beautiful, but the threat of losing out on his heirs-- okay, that did inspire him to lift some of the restrictions imposed upon her. Obviously, her sword training was a lost cause, but the rest of her demands? Those didn't seem that unreasonable to Arthur. (Letting Guinevere ride a horse from time to time, after all, didn't threaten his authority in the slightest. It wasn't ladylike per se, but it also wasn't an activity intrinsically connected to knighthood. And if it got him what he wanted? Oh, he was more than willing to sacrifice some of his ideals on that particular altar.) Along with those allowances, he also gave her more free time-- suddenly, she wasn't expected to waste all of her energy on diplomatic encounters and improving the royal couple's image. Hell, it was more than that. Arthur had gone so far as to forbid most of the ladies to bother her aside from the time allocated to them, which obviously included Iphigenia.

Speaking of Iphigenia, she did not take this too well. Blackmailing Guinevere was kind of pointless in this situation, and so she could do nothing but stew in her own rage-- stew in her own rage and spread more rumors, none of which really did her any favors. (As shrewd as she was, she also turned out to be... surprisingly tone-deaf? As in, one would have thought that she would have noticed the lack of children was a sore spot for the king, but apparently not. And when she came up with the implication of the queen and the king's sister having an affair together-- well, at that point, all of her credibility flew out of the window. At that point, it was her family's reputation that saved her, because Arthur was livid. Those who spouted such harmful rhetoric about his queen insulted him by extension as well, after all, and besides, Morgan's absence was almost blindingly obvious. How did she dare to lie to him so blatantly?! And so, for now, lady Iphigenia was advised to keep her distance. Needless to say, one did not disregard advice given by the king if they wished to keep their head, which she very much did.)

With so much free time, Guinevere could imvestigate the Lady of the Lake to her heart's content-- Merlin didn't like to share more than just basic platitudes, really, but the more she visited him, the more comfortable he got with her. More importantly, though? In the past few days, she had made an interesting, uh, discovery. Namely, one of the servants she had grown close to had noticed that Guinevere visited Merlin often, and let her know that the old wizard got noticeably more talkative when encouraged by alcohol. Well then, that was an interesting piece of information, wasn't it?

Meanwhile, Morgan let out a sigh of belief. Gwen's friends looked less healthy than the last time they had met, and some of them seemed to be missing, but-- well. At least those kidnapped by that giant monster were fine? Perhaps the rest of them was, too, and she had only arrived while they were out hunting or something. (Gods, Morgan certainly hoped so.) "Ah. Hello, Adrianne," she greeted the other woman. It was-- strange, really, being there without Gwen. Not that the women seemed unfriendly now that she visited them on their own, but there was this air of wariness that just hadn't been present before. Maybe worries for Guinevere had caused it? Well, either that, or they were just afraid of the witch that had entered their camp. Their experiences with magic, as Guinevere had pointed out earlier, hadn't exactly been positive, now had they? "I've brought some supplies. It's not much, but I couldn't physically carry more," Morgan said, figuring it would be easier to start with the unambiguously positive part. Carefully, she put the backpack on the ground and sat down near the fire.

"As for what happened-- gods. Too much. Too much of everything. I'm not even sure where to begin," the sorceress admitted before hugging her knees. "Gwen-- Guinevere is fine," she clarified after a few moments. "Well, okay, fine is a stretch, but she's unhurt. She just, uh. Married my brother, you know, and so she doesn't really have the time to travel. He won't allow her to do anything." Because, yeah, no point in hiding that. Morgan of all people wasn't invested in preserving Arthur's image, after all. "But she was worried about you guys, so she asked me to visit you on her behalf. How are you faring? Do you want me to bring her a message or something like that?" It wasn't like she could do much else in this context, but by gods, would she try.

 

[ellarose]

Relief and concern both seem to go hand in hand when they hear Morgan's news -- more than anything, the fact that their former leader isn't dead makes a noticeable impact, as they seem to breathe a collective sigh of relief. There are undoubtably several questions still weighing in their minds, though, and no one seems to know where to start. What does 'too much' entail, after all? They can expect the wedding, at least, they'd known it was coming all along. But what else could have happened in a place like Camelot? They've never been there, they don't know enough about it aside from what they've heard from Guinevere. Unless it was a matter from the outside on one of their travels, or an encounter with one of those oversized monsters.

"So... she actually went through with it." Adrianne puts her head in her hands, runs her fingers back through her hair. While she was absolutely cool and composed the last time they visited, she certainly seems to be fraying at the seams now. "That bastard. I knew this would happen. I knew it'd be too much for her. What is she doing this for if she can't even--" Tamara's hand pressed on her back causes her to stop before she can completely unravel.

"Gwen told you to have faith in her, didn't she? She'll have to adjust to her new life before she can take any risks." Tamara states, gentle but firm. "It's been difficult without her, but she's trying. For us. Not only that, but she managed to send Morgan to us. We have to be thankful that she has such a wonderful ally on her side." She smiles at Morgan and -- well, that smile seems to have a dual meaning, doesn't it? As if to imply she means Morgan must be more than just an 'ally' to Guinevere, in the grand scheme of things. Perceptive enough to catch the way she'd used her nickname before correcting herself, after all, seemed to have made her grow even warmer yet. A beat passes and she casts a reprimanding look at one of the girls approaching the bag of supplies. "--And we are thankful, aren't we?" Ever the mother hen, the girl nods and says a brief 'thank you' before returning to her place. A few more follow her lead and take that same approach, lest they want to face Tamara's quiet wrath.

"Adjust. Adjust to being his wife." Adrianne sighs heavily and stands, moving a short distance away from everyone to pace around and cope with it. A few of the girls exchange knowing looks, but no one goes after her. There seems to be an unspoken consensus to give her privacy to cope. An awkward silence follows, and Mia takes that opportunity to crawl out from behind two of the women, and boldly invites herself to sit in Morgan's lap.

"Can you give her this for me?" Despite seeming a touch less energetic than before, the girl wraps her into a bear hug with a strength admirable for a child. Whether that's just to emphasize how she's feeling or how she always gives hugs, it's hard to tell. "And tell her I miss her?"

"We all miss her." Sam pipes up with a chuckle. She brings a blanket over for Morgan. "Here, take this. It's been real cold recently. And Mia, you know better than to crush our guest. Give her a little space to breathe, would you?"

"But Gwen always said hugs were the best medicine." Mia recites faithfully, and though she does loosen her hold eventually, she doesn't leave her perch in Morgan's lap.

"God, that's so fucking corny." One of the women snorts in a way that's somehow just as teasing as it is affectionate.

"Hey. And just where do you think she learned that valuable piece of advice from?" Tamara shoots the snickering women a glare, though it all seems to be in good fun. "Hugs are very important! You ought to give her one for all of us, Morgan."

"--As for news," Liv finally speaks up with a tone of seriousness that anchors them back to the matter at hand. "Well, you can see that we managed to find Sam and the others. Dumped out in the middle of the wastelands. We never found the monster's den, but... we did catch this suspicious bastard trying to run off."

"So we questioned him and found out that, well..." Tamara trails off reluctantly and Sam finishes her sentence. "The guy definitely works for Gwen's twin sister. Have you heard of her? She's... uh, real charming." The scoffs and rolled eyes that follow that? It very clear that these women do not like Jennifer. Not even slightly.

 

[Syntra]

Morgan didn't know Adrianne that much, but honestly? In that moment, they might as well have been sisters. Sisters in anger if nothing else, because that reaction was just so relatable it almost made her cry on spot. (Now, the cruelty of forcing Guinevere to leave the camp shone even brighter. It wasn't much, yes, at least judging by the materialistic side of things, but it was her home; the one place where everyone accepted her, no matter what. In contrast, Arthur did everything in his power to steal that away from her. All those things that made Guinevere Guinevere were to be stripped away, as if she was his to mold. A doll more than a human, really. Oh, if only he had gotten an actual doll instead of-- instead of--)

Tamara's knowing gaze colored her cheeks scarlet, but Morgan did her best to pretend it wasn't happening. Acknowledging it would only lead to more embarrassment, and she wasn't sure whether she would survive it at this point. Instead, the sorceress watched the flames lick the firewood intently, and-- okay, that only made Mia's surprise attack less apparent. "Ah. Damn!" she laughed, startled but willing to cooperate. (Touches still unnerved her somewhat, though it had gotten noticeably better since Guinevere had barged onto her life. Being able to associate them with something else than pain and abuse-- yeah, that helped. It helped a lot.) "Alright, then. If you insist." And if they found a moment without spies, that was. Considering how that last attempt had gone, Morgan guessed that opportunity wouldn't come any time soon. (Gods, Iphigenia. How was Guinevere dealing with that snake around, observing her every move? Likely well enough, given just how adept she was at adjusting to new situations, but still. Poor, poor Gwen.)

"Oh," Morgan said, absolutely unsurprised. Looking at the whole mess now, it had Jen's handwriting all over it. (Where was she now? Building a new, peaceful life somewhere far, far away? As much as Morgan would have welcomed that, it didn't seem too likely. No, knowing Jen, she was likely hatching some new scheme.) "I am more familiar with Jennifer than I would have liked, really. She's one of the reasons a lot things happened." Where to even start with that particular story? Playing with Mia's hair absentmindedly, Morgan took a deep breath.

"Jen, uh. She arranged for some weird blood cult to kidnap Guinevere and then she replaced her. It was a total shitshow." (Not a word Morgan would usually use, though maybe Guinevere's habits were rubbing off on her? Huh. What a weird idea. ...despite that, though, she found herself liking it.) "I and a few other people noticed, but Arthur didn't. He almost freaking married her! Except that Guinevere saved herself in just the right moment and crashed her own wedding." A terrible, terrible shame. Had she been just a little slower, just a little more unlucky with her escape, Arthur would have been stuck with Jennifer, and Gwen-- Gwen would have been hers. Hers in more than just spirit. With their plan in shambles, surely she wouldn't have minded running away together...? No, there was no point in torturing herself with these would have, could have scenarios. Eventually, they would have their happy ending-- even if they had to carve it out with their own hands.

"But anyway," Morgan continued. "Guinevere really isn't alone in all of this. We're working on a coup together, so she won't be stuck in the role of a wife forever. What I want is for her to be queen in her own right. Now that she married Arthur, the only thing left is to dispose of him." Was it foolish to reveal their plan like that? No, Morgan didn't think so. These women only had Gwen's best interests at heart, and besides, there was no conceivable way for them to possibly abuse that knowledge. Not when living in the wastes, anyway.

 

[ellarose]

There's a moment of total, bewildered silence as Morgan speaks. From the looks on their faces, it's pretty clear they're all thinking something along the lines of 'what the ever loving fuck?'. A few more beats after she finishes. There's a 'wait, what?' from somewhere in the back. And then everyone seems to speak all at once. There're some bitter remarks about the 'False Guinevere', a nickname they seemed to have come up with at some point for Jennifer, others are murmuring about blood cults and some quip with weary amusement that of course Guinevere of all people would manage to save herself and then proceed to crash her own wedding. It's a strange blend of horror and amusement, really, as they all come to terms with this new information at their own paces. Either way, it certainly manages to explain why they've been absent these past few months.

"He really couldn't tell them apart...? What a dumbass." Mia blurts, shaking her head. In spite of the worrying news, a few of the women burst into laughter at that. (Isn't it funny, though, that a starving child from the wastelands could find it in her to insult the mighty king of Camelot without so much as thinking twice about it?) The gaze Tamara gives her in that moment is outright horrified, but Sam steps in before she can give her a proper reprimand for it. "Let the child speak! It's the truth."

"Hold up. I'm still trying to process, here." Liv furrows her brow and rubs her temples. "What the fuck would a blood cult even want with Guinevere?"

"Well..." Emily speaks up a bit reluctantly towards the back, with a look in her eyes that says she might know better than anyone. And it's highly possible that she does, as their expert in treating all magic-related wounds. Either way, most of the women look just as lost as Liv. Except Adrianne and Sam also seem to have at least some sort of idea based on the troubled stares they trade with each other.

"When I think that heathen can't get any worse, she always finds a way to fuck things up spectacularly. I tried to warn Gwen. But I still couldn't stop it--" Adrianne just seems to be digging herself deeper, now. "Christ. This is a whole new low. How could she put her through that again?" She went from looking like she wanted to strangle Arthur, to Jennifer, and now the entire freaking cult.

"Adrianne." Sam's typically light tone turns into something a little more like a reprimand. Based on the echoes of 'again', and the puzzled looks, it becomes apparent that not everyone in camp knows about the first kidnapping. She coughs a bit awkwardly, addressing everyone else. "Honestly, we don't know a whole lot more than you guys do about it. But it isn't our place to talk about it." She seems to mean that genuinely, but Emily and Adrianne still seem a bit... suspicious around the subject, to say the least?

"A coup, huh. So that's why she was so insistent on staying in Camelot." Liv muses softly, seemingly more relaxed then the last time they visited. Maybe some part of her has warmed up to Morgan, now that she's seen her use magic for their benefit firsthand against that giant monster? "I get that you two are really close and all... but, uh, the cost just seemed too high for the reward, you know? We wanted her to come back, but... if you guys pull this off..."

The murmurs all around sit on a broad scale from enthusiastic to dubious-- like 'what kind of coup' and 'how do you expect to pull that off'. Adrianne seems to shake through her thoughts at last with something steely and hard emerging in her eyes. "What's the plan, Morgan?" She crosses her arms. "There might not be much we can do from the outside, but I want to help. Anything to overthrow that bastard."

 

[Syntra]

Well. The reactions to her little speech were mixed to say the least, but at least they seemed to be more positive than negative? The negative side of it comprised entirely of doubts, too, which was honestly more than fair. Had someone come up to Morgan with a claim like that, after all, she also wouldn't have been inclined to believed them. Not without a concrete plan, at the very least. More than anything else, the whispers among Gwen's friends proved that their minds were sharp, their instincts true. And Morgan? Oh, she would never begrudge them for that. "The plan," she said quietly, now facing Adrianne, "is to reveal my brother as the fraud he is. Don't get me wrong-- if I just wanted him dead, I would have killed him with his own hands before he even got to meet Guinevere." Which honestly might have been the better option. Sure, it only would have earned her a noose around her neck, but so what? Gwen, at least, would have been free. Free and happy, with no pathetic kings using her as their pawn.

"I'm not as kind, though," the sorceress continued. "Besides, it wouldn't really do anything in the long run because his subjects love him, and I'm sure they'd just find a leader similar to Arthur if they tried hard enough." Men like him, after all, were dime a dozen-- superficially charismatic, yes, but fake underneath it all. "So, I'm starting with turning the public opinion against him, and directing that love towards Gwen. She's pretty and kind, and obviously cares, so manufacturing that sort of propaganda isn't even hard." Whoops. Morgan had kind of tipped her hand there, hadn't she? Oh well, to hell with caution! Again, there was no real point to hiding the nature of their relationship from these women. Secrets only had to stay secrets within the walls of Camelot, after all. Besides, wasn't revealing this plan much more damning than, say, implications that she loved their dear leader?

"Anyway, we're also working on breaking Camelot's magical defenses at the same time. Once that happens, I'll run a cute simulation of the beasts overruning the castle, which I guarantee will send Arthur running away as fast as he can. His survival instincts have always been good, after all," Morgan chuckled. "At the same time, Guinevere will make her grand appearance and fight off the monsters. Let's see how he will manage to keep his power after that display. Spoiler alert: he won't." That, at least, she was certain of. No matter how thorough the brainwashing they had gone through had been, it couldn't possibly make them see Arthur than anything aside from the sad, pitiful boy he truly was in that moment. "If you wish, you can join Guinevere when it happens. Your presence will only make her look more capable as a leader since, well-- your courage will reflect on her, too." And, oh, wouldn't that be an impressive scene? A beautiful, benevolent queen, backed by her army of equally powerful women. Of women who had been scorned in the past, but still found it in their hearts to help Camelot in its hour of need. Flawless, really. "What do you think?"

Morgan spent some time sitting with the women around the fire and playing with Mia's hair, but when she noticed Emily and Adrianne distance themselves, she excused herself as well. Their response to Guinevere's kidnapping hadn't escaped her, even if she had chosen not to draw attention to it at that time. It was deeply personal, after all, and Morgan didn't feel comfortable sharing all the sensitive details in front of people who weren't familiar with Gwen's history. No, that decision should only ever belong to Guinevere alone. Given that Emily and Adrianne seemed to know something, though? Comparing the notes might be useful, especially considering Emily's expertise.

"May I?" Morgan asked, somewhat shy. Perhaps unreasonably, it felt as if she was intruding upon a private moment. "I, uh, couldn't not notice that you are aware of Gwen's... condition. Of what happened to her and Jen when they were children. Do you happen to have some information about it? That coup-- it also relies on Guinevere's connection to a certain magical sword. Excalibur. It has something to do with her blood, and I'm trying to figure out how exactly it works. Anything would help at this point."

 

[ellarose]

"Of course. Come sit." Emily smiles and nods, looking somewhat relieved for Morgan's intervention. Adrianne, on the other hand, has been a fortress of steely resolve ever since she asked for details about the coup. Whatever she's wresting with is buried beneath a guarded front, now. The mention of a magic sword, though, causes both of their eyebrows to go up at once. "...Excalibur? I thought that was just a myth." Adrianne, at the same time, muses, "--A magic sword?" It's clear they're not informed on that specific subject, but they trade a meaningful glance nonetheless.

"We may not know much more than you do, really. Gwen was always really selective about what she told us." Emily bites her lip, "At one point I wanted to investigate the hospital, to ransack for supplies if anything... but, heh, apparently she and Jen burned it down when they escaped. They're forces to be reckoned with apart, so I can 't even begin to imagine how destructive they were when they worked together."

"Oh, they were insufferable. Both of them." Adrianne rolls her eyes. "Jennifer was Jennifer and... Gwen was so standoffish back then."

"I still have trouble picturing that." Emily admits, shaking her head. Then she reassembles her expression into something a touch more serious. "Anyway, there is... there is something." Adrianne shoots her a reprimanding glare. "--Emily."

"I promised not to say anything unless it became relevant again. And it seems pretty damn relevant now." Emily doesn't take this tone often and it effectively stops Adrianne in her tracks. "Besides, there's nothing left to protect her from if she already knows." She turns to Morgan, then, completely undeterred in sharing with her. "It happened a while ago, when I belonged to another gang. They used magic to take what they wanted and needed a someone to act as their nurse, so to speak... and that someone, unfortunately, was me. I wasn't there by choice and leaving on my own would have been deadly, so... to make a long story short, Gwen found out and offered to help me escape."

"Didn't bring any backup." Adrianne mutters, like it's still a sore spot. "It was stupid and dangerous."

"Yeah, well... yeah. We were in over our heads. Uh, we got caught sneaking out. The gang leader, Ace, caught up to us and used a spell that would've, uh, definitely sliced me clean in half." Emily fidgets, recalling it. "Gwen dove in front of me before it hit, so... technically it should have cut her clean in half? Only it didn't." Her brow furrows, then. "Ace was a prideful bastard. That kind of magic was obviously going to take a toll on him eventually, but he kept hurling that spell at her. Over and over."

"It's not like she was completely immune to his magic. Gwen passed out after a while... and her back was covered in gashes. Almost like something was preventing the spell from cutting all the way through? I dunno." Adrianne sighs, "He finally took a hint and realized that his magic wasn't going to kill her. I made it there just in time to see him reaching for her. Before he could touch her... well, I don't actually know how it happened. He was blown back? It happened so fast, I..."

"Her eyes were glowing." Emily points out. "For a split second, but I swear they were. She was having a magical reaction... but I don't know how to define it, exactly, since I've never seen anything quite like it. I think she reflected his spell, more or less?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the impact cut him in half." Adrianne bites her lip, uncertain, maybe a little afraid. "Didn't have time to really look at his corpse, though. If the rest of his gang showed up, we would've been fucked. Gwen was losing a lot of blood."

"She didn't remember what happened she came to. Adrianne made me promise not to tell her what happened." Emily sighs, maybe appearing just a touch regretful about that decision. "And I agreed. But only on the condition that I would tell her if something like that happened again. It might've scared her, but it's better to be aware of these things."

"Gwen didn't need that on top of everything else." Adrianne defends her stance, unbudging. "And if it didn't scare her to death, it probably would've given her incentive to pull more self-sacrificing stunts. Like... like now, for instance. How are we even supposed to know that this 'Excalibur' is safe?" She crosses her arms. "Don't get me wrong. I'm for this coup as much as anyone. But what if the magic backfires? What if she's not ready and-- and--"

"If magic is a part of who she is, then straight up avoiding it isn't going to save anyone. Least of all her. Besides, she obviously hasn't been dealing with all this alone. Morgan's been there to help her through it." Emily offers Morgan a grateful smile. "I can tell Gwen's changed. She doesn't seem as afraid of magic as before... she must really trust you."

"Right." Adrianne looks a bit dubious, still, but the question in her eyes seems to have switched over to another topic at some point within those few seconds. Because the way Morgan spoke before? Well, it's impossible even for her to ignore the implications at this point. "--I'm sorry, I can't help but ask. Just how close have you and Gwen been, lately?"

 

[Syntra]

Morgan listened to Emily intently, weighing every word. Well then, wasn't that just curious? The amount of magical coincidences that surrounded Guinevere was just so large and so thematically coherent they couldn't even be called coincidences anymore. No, clearly some sort of pattern was emerging before her very eyes. The sorceress didn't yet know what it was, true, but surely receiving more pieces of the puzzle would help? Oh, Morgan stood on the verge of a breakthrough here; she could see it, feel it. "A magical resistance," she whispered, her gaze distant. "I've heard of such people, but I assumed it was just a legend, too." Magic, after all, terrified the masses. Almost everyone wished to be free of its influence in some way, and being naturally unaffected seemed like the most desirable scenario. It meant they didn't have to do anything for it-- that they had been born special, like most of their mythical heroes. It appeared, however, that it might have been true for Guinevere.

"Thank you for sharing the story," Morgan said, her voice quiet. It couldn't have been a pleasant memory, yet Emily had reached after it nonetheless, and only to help them. That was how you knew true friends, Morgan supposed. (Not that she would know from experience. Growing up with her family had ensured her isolation, and in adulthood-- well, the idea of letting someone so close had felt downright terrifying. Even to her allies, she had always been lady Morgan; a capable with, yes, and also someone to be followed, but never a friend. It had been Guinevere who had first broken that particular layer of ice, and then all the others. And to hear that this girl had at some point been standoffish? Gods, fate truly had a strange sense of humor.)

"We don't know if it's safe," Morgan admitted. Something about the way Adrianne spoke didn't really sit well with her-- did she think she would endanger Gwen willingly? That she would use her as a guinea pig and discard her after that, when all the knowledge had been extracted from her little experiment? Because that wasn't true. Not even slightly! "That is why I'm trying to learn more. I don't intend to risk Guinevere's life in pursuit of my research. If I find out it's too dangerous or too unpredictable, then we simply won't use Excalibur at all. The plan would work even without it, really. The only real advantage to using it is the power of that symbolism-- people adore these things." Well, that, and maybe also restoring the earth, though Morgan didn't really know whether she believed it at this point. Like, it could very well have been metaphorical? Witches, and mages in particular, often dressed the truth in a fancy language. It wasn't exactly lying, of course-- just their penchant for grandiosity. Nevertheless, if you allowed yourself to get too invested in an idea, your own expectations could easily mislead you. And Morgan? Morgan would rather defend her mind from those false hopes. They were nothing but poison, plain and simple.

Adrianne's question, however, interrupted her string of thoughts. Somewhat startled, Morgan looked up. What was she supposed to say? Lies? The truth? Was there a variant Guinenevere preferred? (She didn't think the other woman was ashamed of being with her, but-- well. Wasn't that the kind of announcement you made together as a couple?) "Gwen, she's my... uh." Once again, Morgan found herself stumbling for words. What were they, even? Lovers? That didn't feel accurate, and the title of a mistress was even worse. (Calling her 'my fate' sounded right in her head, but gods, did it also feel corny! If she ever were to spout such a line, Morgan would probably combust spontaneously about three seconds later.) And so, instead of any attempts at objectivity, Morgan decided to focus on her feelings only. "I love her," she finally said, and gods, did that fit. Like a missing piece of herself, right where her heart should have been. (Kind of said that Gwen didn't get to hear it first, but oh well. When this storm passed, Morgan would make it up to her. She'd repeat it so often her ears would fall off!) "Why?"

 

[ellarose]

"I'm just saying... make sure you're both on the same page about that. Because Gwen has this penchant for risking her own life. You can lay out all the reasons why something is a bad idea and she'll run off and do it anyway. Then suddenly she's disappearing on the horizon with the fucking king of Camelot or getting gobbled up by monsters." Adrianne mutters that last part through gritted teeth and then swallows, seemingly grappling with something beyond what's being said aloud. The concept that Guinevere has been dabbling in magic seems to make her a bit uncomfortable, if anything. "Just keep an eye on her. Especially when it comes to all the magic stuff." But maybe it's also the fact that she found someone she's so close and comfortable with? Because that's almost how it seems when Morgan answers her question.

"You... you love her?" She seems to have to pull quite a few strings to get herself to speak again after that admission. (Love. That one word is so powerful, it takes both of the women aback for a moment. Between the two of them, at least Emily appears pleased to hear it.) Adrianne, on the other hand, seems to take it like a punch to the face and a reason to breathe a sigh of relief all at once? It's a very strange meld, to say the least, which is why she fails to find the exact words to explain how she's feeling at the moment. "And what does she--" She shakes her head, seeming to think better of it. (Because maybe some part of her already knows the answer. She blinks hard.) "I see. I only asked because... well, it seems like everyone's been talking about how much she seems to care about you. I was curious. And if you love her, it means you really do have her best interest at heart." A night chock full of reveals and it seems like she's finally hit her limit. "I... I'm gonna go take a walk. Clear my head."

Adrianne dismisses herself, then, and Emily chews her lip in the awkward silence that follows. "Sorry about that, Morgan. She's, um..." Knowing every detail and not necessarily being in a position to expose anything makes her hesitate. It takes a moment of thought for her to come up with something appropriate to say -- enough to explain, if only a little, without divulging anyone's personal business in the process. "Dealing with a lot. She's been leading most our hunts singlehandedly now that Gwen's gone and... well, we lost few of our friends a few weeks ago. Now with everything we've learned tonight and the mention of magic on top of that... I think it all probably just caught up to her."

"It wasn't always this hard. The supplies you've brought for us have helped, but the monsters weren't always like this, either. The more animals fall prey to them, the less there is for us to hunt. Especially now that they seem to be... infecting them in groups and frankensteining them together." Emily muses, "We starve and grow weaker while they grow stronger. I mean, we're not being targeted specifically anymore now that Jen stopped coming for us. But it's really only a matter of time before... well, I shouldn't gripe on about it."

After a while, now that Adrianne's definitely out of earshot, Emily manages a genuine smile. "You and Gwen, though. It makes me happy to hear some good news for a change... and that you have a plan. Gives us something more to fight for." She bites the inside of her cheek. "Might take some of them time to get used to the bits with magic and Excalibur, but, hey... what're you gonna to do? It's been a refreshing change of pace to have someone like you around to change their perspectives for the better. I think even Liv warmed up a little since last time."

"I think I knew it back then. Gwen didn't want to leave your side for even a second after you took out that monster. Wouldn't stop pestering me to hear updates on how you were doing." Emily shakes her head and tsks her tongue in a way that says she's endeared and exasperated at once. "She didn't need to tell me outright that she cared about you for me to know it, you know?"

 

[Syntra]

"That I will," Morgan nodded, because, honestly? It was genuinely good advice. Despite only knowing Guinevere for a few months now, it was glaringly obvious what kind of person she was-- namely, one who wouldn't hesitate to throw herself into an active volcano if it meant saving just one of her friends. And if her death could somehow live to the earth itself being restored? ...yeah, Morgan wouldn't be telling her about that. Lies may not have been the best foundation for a relationship, granted, but with the other party dead, there would be no relationship at all, and Morgan wasn't nearly selfless enough to let her go for some higher purpose. Gwen was human, for gods' sake. Human, not Arthur's baby-making factory or some vessel of a prophecy. Too many people forgot about that little fact, and Morgan sure as hell wasn't going to join their ranks.

"I do," the sorceress repeated, far steadier than she had been before. (A strange thing, really. Just a few seconds ago, the whole concept of a confession had terrified her, and now-- now she seemed to draw her strength from it. It was true, after all, and was there something more powerful than the truth? Especially in a world lost in endless lies? Morgan didn't think so.) Adrianne's reaction surprised her somewhat, though. Was it just her or did she seem... jealous, almost? If not that, then she definitely was shaken in a way most friends just wouldn't be. Hmm. Could there be some, uh, history between the two women? Gwen had claimed to be just as inexperienced as she had been, but that, of course, didn't rule out romantic relationships entirely. And the way Adrianne had sounded when she had spoken of Arthur... Good grief. (Some part of her did sympathize, really, even if she was ultimately happy that Guinevere had ended up in Camelot. Well, maybe not happy per se given what kind of price she had had to pay for it, but-- damn, it was so difficult to know her own feelings when everything was colored in so many shades of grey. What had happened to her had been horrible, undeniably, though without that? They never would have met. Morgan would still have been alone, stuck in her ivory tower, and Gwen-- Gwen would have been surrounded by her friends, and probably found love elsewhere. Gods. Was she selfish for being sort of glad that hadn't transpired? For building her happiness off Gwen's grief?)

"No, I get that. No need to apologize. I, uh, I'm sure she has her reasons. We all do," she said quietly. No, Morgan definitely didn't blame Adrianne for leaving-- as far as negative reactions went, this one had been pretty tame. (And really, had it even been a negative reaction in the first place? More than anything else, she just seemed overwhelmed, and removing herself from such a situation just made sense. It was better for everyone involved.) "I won't pry," she assured Emily, who didn't appear to be too comfortable with the situation herself. "I am not particularly interested in getting caught up in the past." When Emily mentioned the nature of their relationship being obvious, however? Morgan bit her lip, suddenly a bit flushed. Gods, people noticing was about the worst thing that could happen, and apparently they had been so unsuntle about it that the entire camp talked about them. Did the entire Camelot talk about them, too? Did the ladies whisper, encouraged by Iphigenia?

"... it wasn't even true back then," Morgan muttered under her breath. (Though, yes, hearing all of that did make her feel touched. Her Gwen, her silly Gwen, had cared even before all of this. Morgan had, too, now that she thought of it, but actually admitting it to herself? That was a whole another story.) "Anyway, I'm, uh. Glad that you guys seem to like me? I mean, I know that you're important to Gwen, and so I want to... get along, I suppose." ...gods. Why did this feel like meeting her inlaws?! How supremely awkward. "I'm sorry about the hunts not being as fruitful as they once were, though. I have some... capable friends, though, and so I may be able to set up more regular deliveries. Is there anything you need in particular? Aside from food, of course."

 

[ellarose]

"There's no need to be so formal." Emily giggles at that, considering just how different Camelot is from the wastelands. It's strange for someone who's never been there to truly understand what it's like. But hearing stories, seeing the dresses they wore, it makes it plain to see that it's an entirely different world. Bridging the gap between them might take some getting used to. "We were worried about Gwen, adjusting to a new life all alone in Camelot. So knowing she's got you there for her really put some minds at ease. Personally, it was hard for me to be too suspicious after the first night. She's so obvious -- she was smiling like a total dork when she talked about how you guys took out that monster." She shakes her head. "It's too bad we don't have more time to really get to know each other. It'd be nice having someone around to talk magic with. Maybe if we come out of this alive..." She trails off. "And that -- that would definitely help. Hold on, I can check with the others and get back to you."

It takes some time for her to compile a list of what they need -- there are some grievances among the women, out of a mix of pride and mistrust, about receiving supplies from people they don't know. Adrianne returns from her walk in time to help Tamara convince them that their situation is dire enough that they need to take whatever they can get, build their strength back up so that they can hunt and, hopefully, provide assistance in Camelot if the time comes. From then on it's all hushed conversations about future hunts and the coup. As the night stretches on, eventually Morgan is told she can take Gwen's tent for herself whenever she needs to get some sleep. (...And, of course, some of them wink and comment that it might as well be their tent now.) Adrianne, in spite of needing time to process before, still takes it upon herself to help her set up. Apparently they'd hung all the sleeping bags out to dry after a few days of rain. The only thing to keep her company inside of it now, though, is Jennifer's bear... which Adrianne regards with a scoff. "I told her to throw that thing away ages ago." She lingers there for a moment, as if noticing the absence of the other bear. "Sam and Tamara want to travel with you, make sure you get back to Camelot in one piece. They're insisting, really, since traveling alone has been so dangerous. We, uh, we do appreciate that you took that risk for us, you know?" From there, she tries to decide if she should say anything else, before settling for a deflated 'goodnight' and leaving Morgan to her own devices.

Meanwhile, Guinevere has been taking advantage of the time that has opened up to her. Josephine became her new confidant ('Josie' for short) primarily because Josephine could be trusted not to tell anyone a word of what she's heard. She isn't one of the ladies, of course, but a horse. In spite of her attempts to be friendly with the ladies, her standing with a majority of the ladies who Iphigenia had gotten to hadn't been particularly great at first. Some of them have begun treating her a touch too kindly, which gave off an underlying sense that they were being held at knifepoint to do so. Which they might as well have been after evoking Arthur's wrath. Guinevere didn't shy away from addressing the rumors the first time they gathered after that. She outright asked them why they thought she would have conjured up a fake twin sister if she was going to marry Arthur anyway. (Confronting them with logic -- now isn't that unheard of? But really, it was infuriating that they would assume that her kidnapping was nothing more than an illusion. And one she'd created herself, no less! To take that seemingly endless month she'd suffered alone and turn it into a device to orchestrate her downfall was... heartless, really.) On top of that, she also mentioned that if she were really so skilled at improving her image with magic, why wouldn't she mend all those torn dresses and broken heels -- why had a cloud of misfortune attached itself to her for the past few days? Either way, it's still a bit rocky and hard to say yet how that affected her standing with them.

Thankfully, the ladies aren't the only ones Guinevere has been spending her time with. No, she's been befriending plenty of the maids and servants by extending them her kindness and curiosity about their lives -- which extends to those who work in the stables, too. (Although she has a bad habit of stirring them all up in a panic, chasing after her frantically and yelling that she shouldn't ride so recklessly. And one of the stable boys might have caught her trying to 'speak horse' with Josie.) There's also Camelot's children, actually, who she'd been asked to read to on occasion. (Whether that's to give her something more to do or to evoke feelings of motherhood in her, she isn't sure.) When left to their own devices, she quickly tossed the boring book they'd given her over her shoulder and created some... uh, interesting new fairytales of her own. The fact that they were given something new for a change seemed to light their eyes up, though, so she kept going. She's careful not to get too carried away, though, considering the possibility of them running to their parents with her values might be too much for a place like Camelot to comprehend right now. (Such as, say, the princess and the witch running away to be together and leaving the absolute prick of a prince in the dust... now isn't that the real fairytale? God, she misses Morgan more with every passing minute.) Either way, after all that time that Arthur had kept her sheltered away from the people in Camelot, now they seem to be learning things about their new queen's personality with every passing day.

Then there's Merlin. Guinevere's not trying to sway him over to her side... no, it's quite the opposite. Because there's something else she wants from him. So she's done a good bit of talking about how she honestly wasn't sure about Arthur at first, but she's coming around to see things his way. (Ironic, considering the more time she spends with Arthur, the more he convinces her that he's a monster. She'd known it before the wedding, of course, but there are... quite a few extra layers added to that concept, now that they're married.) Either way, it's her goal to make him think that they've brainwashed her so completely that she no longer serves as a threat to them. A mere doll of a queen, only present to sit pretty and serve her purpose in the lives of the men who define it for her. So she takes the servant's advice and brings a tray of wine for him on her next visit. "Here. I wanted to thank you for taking the time to speak with me lately." She explains as she pours him a glass. "I hope you don't think it's rude that I'm not going to indulge in a glass myself. I was told recently that when trying for a baby, it's... not the best idea." A true fact, apparently... and an acceptable excuse, right? Especially considering how 'important' those future heirs are. Considering those heirs are going to be non-existent, though, it's more because she, uh, she definitely hasn't built up a tolerance to alcohol herself.

"So we spoke a bit about the Lady of the Lake last time." Guinevere approaches the subject in a way she hopes is casual enough once the wizard downs enough wine for his cheeks to turn slightly pink. It's now or never, right? "...That title is a bit of a mouthful, isn't it? Does she have a name?"

 

[Syntra]

"That is wise of you, my queen," Merlin nodded approvingly. (In the past few weeks, she had seen that expression from him more and more often-- this careful, measured acceptance. The old wizard didn't seem to believe she loved Arthur, of course. Unlike the king, his eyes weren't blinded by his own ego, and Guinevere would have had to be a far better actress to convince him of something like that. Her duties, however? Well, those she obviously took seriously, and he saw that. And that her duties didn't really consist of what he believed-- well. Now that was Merlin's problem, wasn't it?) "Don't mind me if I have some, then. Wine sharpens the mind, after all. Did you know that some of the greatest inventions were created under its influence? You need a certain... discipline, of course, as it can easily become poison, but if you're careful-- you can get some interesting results."

Then they, as usual, began talking about the interesting things-- about Excalibur, and also about Guinevere's destiny. As always, Merlin was exceedingly unhelpful. Not even alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue enough for him to abandon the talk of children. Her heirs this, her heirs that; all of them would be famous heroes, he was sure, and yet not a single word of what would happen to her. Did he really believe that was her only role? To bring children into this world, and then die of old age? At this point, it certainly looked like that. (Perhaps that truly was all he knew. How depressing. Could it be that her fate truly was that, and nothing more? Or had his own prejudices colored his conclusions?)

"Ah, the Lady," Merlin sighed. "Well, of course she has a name. All living things do." He seemed a little hesitant, maybe, but then he leaned closer as if they were fellow conspirators and not-- well, whatever they were. "It's a secret, my queen, though I do know it. I assume you won't be telling anyone, though? Viviane. That's what she's called. Not that it would help you in any way as she is not in a state to communicate, but that is her name." ...not in a state to communicate? Huh, how interesting. (Merlin, of course, didn't elaborate-- not even the wine helped Guinevere solve that particular mystery. Maybe because the wizard actually took care not to drink too much? Either way, with that, their nightly session concluded.)

Meanwhile, Morgan said her goodbyes to the women in the camp. Honestly, their kindness still sort of stunned her-- it was easy to understand, truly, how Gwen could be so gentle and trusting despite having lived in the wastes now. Surrounded by people like that, who took care of each other? Naturally, the traits would get passed on. Or was it her who had warmed their hearts to this extent? In a way, it must have been a self-reinforcing cycle. (Which, uh, had some interesting implications for her own character. Was she more similar to Arthur and the other nobles than she would have liked to be? Had they corrupted her somehow, too? Morgan would prefer to think not, but her preferences couldn't exactly alter the reality. Not in any meaningful way. The isolation had maybe protected her to an extent, but nothing, nothing in this world existed in a vacuum, and she certainly didn't, either. Well, those were ponderings for another day, though.)

The travels with Tamara and Sam were interesting, to say the least. Morgan didn't escape their teasing (and some of it was enough to make her blush), but the women also genuinely had fascinating facts to share. As in, fascinating to a scholar who studied magic. They lived in the wastes, after all, and so their eyes had seen more than Morgan's ever had. It didn't take long and the sorceress began interrogating them, with a quill and parchment in her hand. No piece of this puzzle could allowed to be forgotten, after all-- not when every single one of them could potentially be an embryo of a great discovery.

Seeing Camelot on the horizon was, as always, a bittersweet affair. Morgan couldn't say she was looking forward to returning, but at the same time, she was dying to see Guinevere-- Guinevere who was in trouble, partially thanks to her. Ugh. Hopefully Arthur hadn't hurt her in her absence? ...well, at least no more than he usually did, anyway. "Thank you for keeping me company," Morgan bowed to Tamara and Sam. "And for everything else. It has been a pleasure, truly. Just one last thing-- could you wait here for a bit? I'm sure Gwen would like to see you." And yes, that may have been slightly dangerous, but so what? Guinevere deserved to see her friends, dammit, and they had already come so far! Not at least trying to arrange a meeting between them would have been monumentally cruel. Knowing that they had been this close at some point and she hadn't even gotten to exchange a few words with them? Yeah, that just wasn't a feeling Morgan wanted her to experience. Her loneliness must have been deep enough as it was.

And so, with the cipher Guinevere had shown her still fresh in her mind, Morgan scribbled a coded message. 'I'm back, and Sam and Tamara have come as well. We're waiting near the gates. Can you meet us?' Slipping the note to some maid was the easiest thing in the world, and after that, all she had to do was wait.

 

[ellarose]

"My queen. Here's what you requested from the kitchen... and a note." The maid finds Guinevere in the stables at dusk, when she's settling down after a ride. Arthur and his knights had arranged a 'very important meeting' about an upcoming quest that was expected to stretch well into the evening -- he informed her that morning that she needn't eat dinner in the main hall if she didn't want to. (Because she's more or less a decoration for him, isn't she? If he isn't present, there's not much reason for her to be, either. She won't complain, though, considering that arrangement will only serve to benefit her in the future.) It's a good thing that Arthur's not around now, because by the time she manages to decode the message, tears of unadulterated relief well up in her eyes. Morgan's safe, she's okay -- and not only that, but she made it to camp and back! (She can sense that she's near. And that brings with it a warmth that comforts her unlike anything else.) Not only that, but Sam's alive -- which means the other missing women should be, too! Before the stable boy can work up the courage to ask her if she's all right, she reanimates and springs up to her feet, startling him comically in the process. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" In a rush, she haphazardly stuffs the sandwiches that were brought as her dinner into a makeshift knapsack and makes efforts to prepare Josie for a second ride. All the while, the few staff nearby watch their newly energized queen in a stupor. She hesitates, though, before taking off. "Would any of you happen to have something I can write with?" The maid produces a pen from one of her pockets and Guinevere uses the back of Morgan's note to write a coded message of her own. 'I learned the Lady of the Lake's name. It's Viviane. But there's something else... I'll tell you in person when I can.' She doodles a dopey looking smiley face next to that and at the bottom adds, 'p.s : Do you have any idea how worried I was!?' And then, under that... 'p.s.s : Thank you. I want to kiss you senseless.' Of course she could have written so much more than that... but she can't afford to waste anymore time, either. She leads Josie towards the stable's entrance and mounts her.

"Queen Guinevere..." Helena, the poor woman who was assigned to chaperone her out on rides, is still huffing and puffing from the last one. "Wherever are you going at this hour? It's getting dark!"

"Just out to the gates and back. I'll be quick, there's no need to follow me!" Guinevere doesn't wait to hear a response before she takes off. And, okay, she really doesn't mean to test the woman this way, because she likes Helena well enough. She's like a kindly old aunt who frets and worries too much -- or rather, what she imagines one might be like if she ever had one. Still. Guinevere grins as she listens to the clop of Josie's hooves against the ground, relishes the wind in her hair and the feeling of the heart beating back to life in her chest. Arthur and his knights are all preoccupied with that meeting and Iphigenia won't be on her heels if she wants to keep her head. If there's any time she can claim a moment for herself, it's right now.

It isn't long before she makes it to the gates. Despite the crown and extravagant dress, she resembles herself now more than ever with her wavy hair and a tinge of pink in her cheeks. With heavy skirts to work around, a quick dismount makes for a very clumsy dismount -- but Sam and Tamara are so quick to rush over to her that they basically catch her in a hug before she can fall to the ground unceremoniously. "You always knew how to make an entrance, Gwen." Sam chuckles.

"Sammy! You're alive I--" Guinevere chokes on the words, on the overwhelming emotion wringing her on the inside. "All this time I thought you were dead."

Sam squishes her cheeks between her hands, reprimanding and yet affectionate. "Hey, now! You should know better than anyone that I won't go down without a fight." When she realizes she's crying, though, her own voice tightens up. "Aw geez, don't cry. Your tears are always... always so freaking contagious." She sniffs there, proving her point by crying as well.

"We thought we'd lost you for a while, too." Tamara explains, shaking her head. "It's been so long. We can't even imagine what you've been through these past few months..."

"I'm okay, Tam, really." Though it's not entirely true, it's easy enough to say that while she's locked in a hug between two old friends. And... and Morgan's standing there, too, of course. Oh god, her heart might just pop out of her chest, it's beating so vehemently! Guinevere can't help but stare as she takes her in from head to toe to make sure she's unharmed, her expression alone practically screaming that she'd been sick with worry. Thank goodness she's still in one piece! There's nothing she wants more right now than to wrap her in a hug, too. To pepper her in endless kisses and thanks for everything she'd just done for her. The desire is so overwhelming she could just cry. "I'd love to catch up, but--"

"--Good heavens, queen Guinevere!" As if on cue, there's the somewhat distant bellowing of a very frantic sounding woman, which causes both Tamara and Sam's eyebrows to lift at the same time. Guinevere hides her face in her hands and groans softly.

"Raising hell in Camelot, are you?" Sam smirks, though the look in her eyes is sad. Their time is clearly being cut short -- but that was probably to be expected, considering the short leash she's been kept on recently. "Is that your nanny?"

"Um. Something like that?" Guinevere smiles guiltily and bites her lower lip. Although she feels she could trust Helena with her secret, she still has incentive to be cautious. It's... too soon to tell. "Shit. Shit. Okay, I have to go." She sounds sorry for it and of course she doesn't want to tear herself away so soon... but she prioritizes responsibility, as always, and passes the wrapped sandwiches over to Tamara. "Take these. Be safe on your way home... and tell everyone hi for me."

"We will." Tamara assures with a melancholic smile. Though it was brief, at least they got a moment.

"Oh. Also, Morgan--" Guinevere steps out from between them and kisses Morgan's cheek briefly before pressing the note she'd written safely into her hand, giving it a meaningful squeeze before stepping away again. What? She's still being careful! Sam's tall and Josie's big enough to shield them from view of the castle, if only for just a second. Tamara and Sam both make noises that cause her to blush and she swats frantically at them both. That doesn't change the fact that she's smiling like an idiot, though. (Besides, she's been yearning to do that and so much more for weeks! And being so close to kissing before Iphigenia caught them last time certainly didn't help matters, either.) There's so much she wishes she could say to her, now... but it'll have to wait. With Arthur's upcoming quest, they should be able to arrange a proper meeting soon enough. Still, it becomes apparent that she'll have to go before she gets caught... or before she can spontaneously combust. "I'll see you soon."

"Aw. How romantic!" Tamara clasps her hands together adoringly while Sam chuckles with a teasing, "--Passing love notes, are you?"

"Psh. Wouldn't you like to know?" Guinevere's still bright red, but she grins cheekily as she hops up to mount her horse again. Helena's shouting sounds closer, now, so she leans forward and gives the horse an affectionate scratch behind the ears. "Okay, Josie. Let's head back before Helena has a total conniption." And with that... almost as soon as she arrived, she's off again.

 

[Syntra]

Morgan couldn't help but smile when Guinevere arrived, all messy and wild-- that was her Gwen, alright. (Gods, how much she had missed her! It had been a few days, really, but to her heart, the absence had felt like ages. Ages without sunshine, dark and cold. Not that she would ever admit that outloud, mostly because it just sounded so dramatic, yet it was so very true it hurt. Also, damn. Had she gotten even more beautiful somehow? Morgan had no idea how she did that, though it seemed to be that way every freaking time she saw her. If this trend went on, the sorceress was convinced Gwen would sprout angel wings next time or something.) "Hey," Morgan smiled and cupped her face. "I missed you." And she would get to miss her for a longer period of time, it seemed, for Guinevere seemed to be in a hurry. Oh well. It wasn't like she had expected to be able to talk to her freely-- the inability to do so did hurt, but it was a distant, faded thing. Something she was used to, in other words. And hey, at least she had the message, right?

The message that, when she opened it in the privacy of the room, revealed the Lady's name. Oh, thank you. Thank you so very much. Despite being oh so tired from her travels, Morgan decided to perform the seeking ritual right away-- or, well, almost right away. The time she spent re-reading that message, silly and cute and so quintessentially Gwen-like, surely didn't count, did it? (Only she could make a serious thing sound so freaking playful, really. The old Morgan would have been bothered by it, most likely, but now? Oh, it amused her so! ...come to think of it, that may have been one of the reasons she loved Gwen. For far too long, Morgan had lived in the shadows, and Guinevere seemed to know exactly what to do to make them go away. Her little sunshine, truly. And if it manifested itself in smiley faces? Well, so be it!) After hiding the note in her drawers, Morgan proceeded to prepare her chambers for the ritual.

Most of it, of course, was purely cosmetic-- technically, nothing required her to light all those candles or pull back the curtains. Magic, after all, came from the spirits, and they certainly didn't care about such props. No, the one who cared was Morgan. In the beginning, she had stuck with the traditional aesthetic ironically-- others had always wanted to see her as the wicked witch, and so a wicked witch she would be. That sort of thing. To her surprise, though, Morgan had discovered in time that all those things actually helped her to concentrate more effectively? Apparently, the witches of old hadn't been just superstitious buffoons-- everything they had done had been done with a purpose, even if that purpose may not have been clear at the beginning. That, too, had been a valuable lesson to learn. (She liked to think she was free of prejudices, being one of the witches and everything, but that wasn't really true. When you lived in Camelot, you kind of absorbed these messages, you know? It was unconscious, and unlearning those assumptions that lurked in the back of your mind seemed to be a constant work in progress.)

Either way, when the candles were the only source of light in the room, Morgan sat down in front of them and emptied her mind of... well, everything but fire. Fire, which translated to heat, which translated to life itself. As usual, it didn't take long for the spirits to find her-- she was warm and inviting, after all, and they were so very lonely. Like flies to honey, really. Welcome. Welcome, friends, she thought, both oddly disconnected from the reality and yet more aware of it than ever. Perhaps it was the shifting perspectives? Morgan's eyes were blinded, sure, but she gained so many others. 'Friends, friends, friends,' echoed in her mind, over and over. I'm looking for Viviane, she announced, and then thought of the sword resting somewhere in the depths of Camelot. Viviane and Excalibur-- two concepts that were intrinsically linked. With the location of one of them known to her, she could use it as a level, and find the other. That, at least, was how it usually worked.

And, sure enough, a vision emerged in her mind. The place was freezing and desolate, like most places these days, but this one-- huh. Was it submerged in water? ...Lady of the Lake indeed. (Morgan hadn't expected it to be so literal, but here they went, she supposed.) Once the sorceress opened her eyes again, there was a cold loneliness in her chest, but also knowledge of the location they were looking for burned into her mind. Scared it might fade away, Morgan reached for the map lying on her night table, and marked it down. Finally. Finally she knew!

Even if all strength had been sapped away from her at this point, Morgan still reached after her energy reserves to write to Guinevere. 'I found her. Our Viviane. Come when you can.' And then, after a moment of hesitation: 'PS: I can't wait to finally greet properly. I almost forgot what your lips taste like.' Morgan had little idea how to flirt, especially through a message, but something like that would probably work, right? (...ugh, she should probably send it before the embarrassment made her change her mind. Gods, her cheeks were scarlet again!)

 

[ellarose]

When Guinevere receives the message, she's freshly out of her bath and resting by herself in bed. She can't help but smile to herself while reading it -- though her eyes keep flicking anxiously over to the door. It'll only be a matter of time before Arthur returns from his meeting, so she'll have to be quick. As wonderful as it would be to keep Morgan's messages with her, there's no safe place for them in these chambers. The only thing she's confident Arthur won't touch is her box of old things (too dirty, probably) and even then, they don't feel entirely secure. The what if scenarios of Morgan's locket being found, hidden in her old coat pocket tortures her constantly. It got especially bad when Iphigenia's rumors were spreading Camelot like wildfire, weaving subliminal themes in her nightmares... which have grown incredibly vivid, recently. If someone discovered coded notes among the queen's things on top of that? Despite not knowing the contents, it'd be suspicious as hell. And so, much like the last message, she uses the back of Morgan's paper to write her reply. 'That was fast! You never cease to amaze me.' Guinevere's smile turns to a little frown, then, when she levels another pointed stare at the door. 'Arthur will return soon. He leaves tomorrow morning on another quest and expects me to be there to see him off... some kind of weird old tradition?' Another new part of being queen, apparently, is giving him and the knights some kind of hopeful spiel before they leave on a quest she still knows jack about. Does it have something to do with Excalibur? She can't help but wonder. 'You must be so tired. Take tomorrow to rest, okay? We probably shouldn't visit each other in our rooms -- too risky. How does meeting in the gardens tomorrow after sunset sound?' She bites her lip and nods to herself there. That would give her time to attend to her schedule and time for Morgan to rest up again before they reconvene. Eager as she is for answers, none of it is worth Morgan getting hurt by overworking herself. 'ps : I missed you so, so, so much. I'll remind you the first chance I get.'

Thankfully, Guinevere manages to slip the note back to the maid a good twenty minutes before Arthur returns. And when he does, he takes the first opportunity he can get to make her skin crawl by whispering in her ear that he was going to miss her. His concerns by the lack of heirs were fueled further recently by those rumors Iphigenia spread. Along with the fact that they would be apart for a few days time... yeah, she'd have been kidding herself if she thought he was simply going to let her sleep that night. Every caress and kiss just giving her reason after reason to look forward to his prolonged absence, really. (How long has it been since she drank that concoction Morgan made for her? She might need another one soon. With Arthur and Merlin's constant talk... well, it's been impossible not to get in her head about it. That all she's really good for is... this. Constantly haunted with the sense that her body isn't her own anymore, she longs for the simplicity of being in control of herself again.) When it's over, he snores and sleep so soundly that of course she resents him for it. Not once has she gotten a good night's rest in these chambers, with the exception of the night she indulged in too much wine. She curls up tight to keep that ball of fiery rage in her chest quiet and contained. Some day, she reassures, it'll be safe to come out again.

The morning proceeds as Guinevere described to Morgan in her letter. Rising with the sun to see Arthur and his knights off... she was expected to give that sorry excuse for a handkerchief she'd embroidered in the ladies circle to him. Considering she had to restart it when she got blood on the last one, the handiwork looked like it belonged to a child, really, fraying thread depicting a flower that resembled a formless abomination more than anything else. Though he responded to her token 'charmingly' in front of his audience of knights, he also implied in a backhanded manner that she would have plenty of time to practice in his absence. Yeah freaking right. Little does he know, it would only be a matter of time before she and Morgan attended to a quest of their own. The thought alone caused her heart to beat faster, for her toes to curl excitedly in her shoes. Morgan. God, she might have laid eyes on her yesterday, but it wasn't nearly enough. The universe kept teasing her with the briefest encounters ever since the wedding and it's agony to wait. Watching Arthur disappear on the horizon, though, that nearly makes her happy enough to dance on the spot. Fucking finally!

The day stretches on forever from there, the butterflies in Guinevere's chest beating their wings far too eagerly to wait to take flight for minutes or god forbid hours to see Morgan. She's only asked to sit with the ladies for a mere half hour for a meal, afterwards she reads to the children, visits the library and then proceeds to take Josie for a ride in the afternoon to try and kill a little more time. It's probably better that she's forcing herself to wait until later to meet, though, provided Morgan's reappearance hasn't gone entirely unnoticed and she can practically feel Iphigenia's eyes on her from a careful distance. (Still cautious around her for fear she might get in trouble again, but undoubtably waiting for her chance to strike again.) As she prepares to take a bath after her ride, she asks her most trusted maid to tell her when Iphigenia retires to her room for the evening -- and also sends her with a note to confirm this with Morgan and make sure their times were sorted out. There would be no mishaps this time around, if she could help it!

When the agreed time finally comes, Guinevere busies herself with setting the table towards the very back of the gardens. It occurs to her that it's a very romantic spot -- one she'd only have considered a figment of her imagination before, inspired by old stories. Resting near a little stone pond with moonlight dappled on the surface and shielded by flowers and shrubbery. On the table is a lit candle and a tray with two mugs of coffee. Morgan's treated her so many times in the past, it's about time she repaid the favor! (Especially after the lengths she'd just gone to, braving the wastes alone for her. God. God damn. How does she even begin to put it in words, how thankful she is for that?) Either way, she's particularly happy she remembered what Morgan had told her so long ago, on their first visit to camp, that she enjoys coffee. Can't go wrong there, right? She'd also brought cups of cream and sugar to be safe -- in case she likes it sweet. It'd been an endeavor to make it all this way without spilling it all over herself, but an endeavor well worth it. And now, all that's left to do is wait for Morgan herself. Which is easier said than done, really, as she perches herself in her chair and swings her legs anxiously. Damn. Why does time seem to be moving slower than ever today?

 

[Syntra]

Guinevere's message found her when she was already in her bed and ready to drift off-- the quiet knocking on her door woke her up so thoroughly it might as well have been thunder, though. (It had to be Gwen! This, at least, Morgan knew. Her chambers hardly got visitors, and when they did, it was usually the staff. Frightened young girls who had come to change her bedding, or the occasional kind soul who thought lady Morgan would appreciate some fresh flowers on her table, yes, but nobody else. The lords and ladies avoided her room like the plague, and why wouldn't they? Morgan herself had spread rumors about vile curses that struck anyone foolish enough to approach.) The message, as usual, conjured up a smile on her lips. How could Guinevere possibly fit so much enthusiasm into a few words? Her own prose felt stiff, unadequate in expressing her feelings, yet there never seemed to be such a problem with Gwen's writing. Yet another talent of hers, she supposed. 'Fine, fine. I will rest,' the sorceress scribbled. 'I am not yet so useless as to not handle one spell, Gwen. Besides, you did most of the heavy lifting here. With the name, finding her was simple.' As for them not meeting in their rooms-- well, Morgan didn't know about that. Her room in particular seemed safe enough, at least if nobody saw Guinevere entering or leaving, but if gardens made her happier, then why not? The air there was fresh and sweet-smelling, and sitting outside for once instead of being confined to the grim castle could be nice.

'And alright. See you there, then. I miss you so, so much.' It was a good thing that Arthur planned to embark on another pointless trip of his, really, because if not, Morgan might have challenged him to a duel over Gwen's hand in marriage. Yes, that was how desperate she was! Lately, it felt like they both lived in different dimensions-- they were close enough to intersect from time to time, yes, but never to overlap fully, and Morgan could only watch from the distance as she pretended to be something she wasn't. Watch, watch and watch. Before the whole mess had gone down, the sorceress had had no idea just how cruel merely seeing things could be; that a time would come when she'd prefer to gouge her own eyes out to spare herself. Still, ignoring reality wouldn't make it disappear, and so she didn't. Besides, Guinevere needed her in one piece!

The time before their scheduled meeting passed slowly, as if enveloped in molasses. Morgan used most of it to sleep, partly because she genuinely was tired and partly because it sped up the process at least a little bit, but it still felt as if ants were moving underneath her skin. That was how pringly with anticipations she had become! (Gods, she couldn't wait to finally, finally embrace Guinevere. To feel her heat against hers, and to kiss her until her lips were all swollen. How had she even managed to last this long without her? That she didn't know, but if this isolation would go on for a second longer than it necessarily had to, Morgan would die.) In between sleeping, she-- well, did things she usually did. She read, even if focusing on the words seemed like an impossible task, studied the map, prepared forbidden concoctions. You know, witchy affairs.

Finally, finally the hour of their meeting came, and Morgan found herself practically running towards the gardens. (Gods, how undignified! ...she would have had to care about these things for them to matter, though, and she distinctly didn't. Every moment not spent in Gwen's presence was wasted one!)

Just as she had expected, the smell of flowers greeted her-- and also the unmistakable smell of fresh coffee. It overwhelmed her senses for a while, but gods, it was nothing in comparison Gwen looked in the moonlight, with her hair silvery instead of the usual gold and such a soft look in her eyes. (Shit. One of these days, the woman really would kill her. How was she expected to deal with such unbrindled beauty on the regular?)

"Gwen," she said, quietly, before sitting down next to her. And, yeah, restraint would have been wise now, but against her better judgment, Morgan just had to hug her. She couldn't help but kiss her, too, even if for a much shorter time than she would have liked. (Then again, only spending a whole night and day peppering her with kisses would likely satisfy her now, which, you know, was sadly impossible.) "I've wanted to do this for such a long time," she whispered when their lips parted. "Also," Morgan took her own cup and sipped from it, "you remembered! Thank you, it's delicious. Not as delicious as you, though." ...gods, to think she could say such things to her now! Months ago, she would have died from embarrassment. "So, how were things going in my absence? I hope Iphigenia hasn't been too much of a pest."

 

[ellarose]

"--Wow." Guinevere breathes when they part from the kiss, grinning so big it almost hurts. And here she'd almost almost forgotten that the act of kissing could be so warm, soft, comforting. So unlike everything Arthur's subjected her to. He's gentle enough with her, sure, but that doesn't change the fact that his actions are cruel. But now's not the time to sour while thinking of him. He's off on his precious quest and now... now they finally, finally have a moment to themselves. Having Morgan so close at last, close enough that she can truly admire the green of her eyes -- it's as though she were dying of thirst and finally found a clean spring to drink from. She leans forward and presses another kiss on her nose and then, another on her cheek on a whim, before a giggle disturbs her little pattern and she finally pulls back to let Morgan taste her coffee. "So have I." A shade of pink spreads across her face at the other woman's comment, the butterflies that sprung up in her chest earlier flying around in an outright frenzy.

"Iphigenia..." Guinevere sighs. Oh lord, where does she even start? "At first she was just a thorn in my side. Annoying, but easy enough to ignore. I guess she was trying to make me look unqualified for my role or something. More than... more than usual, I guess." Walking and talking like a proper lady is one thing, but there are some skills that take years to perfect, skills she just can't fake. It's easy to see why any of the ladies who once fought for Arthur's affection would resent someone who failed to meet any of their usual standards. (Still no reason to converge on her like a pack of hungry wolves, though.) She was already clumsy enough without all the sabotaged heels and dresses... but it's not like she cared enough about petty schoolyard antics to sink to Iphigenia's level. "None of that stuff got a rise out of me. So she started all these rumors that I was using magic you taught me to bend Arthur to my will or whatever. Really unoriginal. The real kicker was the bit where, apparently, Jen was just an illusion created by yours truly." She presses a hand to her chest and rolls her eyes. "At that point I was pretty sure I was going to crash and burn. But I, uh, had to handle it somehow. I acted like it was a joke and told Arthur everything in front of his guests." She sucks in a breath and smiles a bit guiltily there. "I was nervous and drank a lot of wine, so, um, the rest of the night gets blurry from there? But apparently I said enough that Arthur banned the ladies from bothering me and I scored permission to visit the stables. Still can't train with my sword, though... god, I'm probably so rusty."

That's still a particularly sore spot of this whole ordeal. During the wedding, a few maids were tasked with moving Guinevere's things over to her new chambers... and, well, her old sword was nowhere to be found. When she asked, Arthur waved her off and insisted she wouldn't need it anymore and that was that. She wouldn't be surprised if he simply ordered it to be dumped in a ditch somewhere, never to be seen again. Either way, none of the staff she trusted seemed to be privy to its whereabouts.

"Iphigenia obviously wasn't happy about that. So she decided to spread more rumors about how I'm cursed and barren... even went as far as to tell everyone that we were secret lovers." Guinevere lifts her eyebrows as though scandalized, but smiles cheekily despite the severity of the claims. That's the very thing they wanted to avoid, after all, but it turned out it was actually that particular rumor that ended up saving them in the end. "Arthur was livid. So she can't follow me around anymore if she wants to keep her head." There's also everything with Merlin... but that can wait for when they discuss their upcoming trip. Besides, she's been dying to know about what Morgan's been up to!

"Ugh, but none of what she put me through could even begin to compare with how much I missed you. And how much I worried! I mean, I had faith in you, of course. You're so strong and capable and beautiful, but--" Guinevere rambles, her cheeks flushing again. Okay, so being beautiful doesn't really have much to do with surviving a place like the wastes but it's true, so? "But the wastes are so unpredictable, and -- and traveling alone out there is dangerous. If you were out there because of me and got hurt or worse--" She swallows, giggles a little around the tightness in her throat considering Morgan is right here. In the flesh. So close. Close enough to touch -- yet it still feels like a dream! Now heat is pricking at her eyes, on top of that. Gosh, what a freaking sap she is! "God. You did that for me and I --" She loves her, she could honestly say, but she chooses to kiss her instead. Geez. She doesn't want to scare her with her muchness, after all of this! When she pulls away, she blinks hard, still fighting tears. "I don't even know how I can begin to thank you for it." Well. She can probably start by just saying it. "--Thank you. How was everyone? How -- how are you?"

 

[Syntra]

"As subtle as a sledgehammer, huh?" Morgan chuckled. That had always been Iphigenia's issue, really-- the woman fancied herself to be this mastermind manipulating events from the shadows, but in reality, she was little more than a high school bully. (If high schools still existed, which they distinctly didn't. A damn shame, too. Maybe, if those people got some basic education, they wouldn't have been so eager to kiss every demagogue's shoes!) "Anyway, that is fortunate. I doubt anyone will actually believe that we're having an affair now that our friend Iphigenia managed to discredit herself so thoroughly." Which was one fewer problem for them to deal with! Apparently, the gods could be merciful as well. Truly, what a pleasant change of pace. "And speaking about you being cursed and barren..." Morgan reached into one of her pockets and pulled out yet another vial, as dark and murky as the one before it. (It looked utterly insignificant, and yet so much hinged on it. If she were to have his child-- no, no point in thinking about it. Not when no such child would exist, ever.) "Here, to ensure it stays that way." She would love to add that this was the last time she was giving her such a thing, the last month she'd have to endure Arthur's advances, but-- well, there was no guarantee it would end up being the truth. The plans moved forward, yes, though they moved at their own pace, irrespective of her wishes.

Thankfully, Guinevere directed her attention elsewhere. "Oh?" Morgan raised her eyebrow, playful. "Careful with the compliments, Gwen. I might get used to them, you know? And then you'd have to sing my praises every day." Still, despite those words, it was obvious she did enjoy hearing them-- just like so many things, this, too, was new. When had been the last time someone had complimented her? Complimented her in a honest manner, instead of, say, some random lord telling her her dress was pretty? Gods, Morgan didn't remember. And the compliments coming from someone she actually cared about-- oh, that was whole another level of strangeness. (A pleasant strangeness, yes, but strangeness nonetheless. Kind of like being colorblind and then seeing color for the first time in many years. That was bound to be strange, too, right? "Hey, no need to thank me this much," she waved her hand, suddenly a little self-conscious. "It wasn't such a big deal. I mean, before you came to Camelot, I used to do this all the time. For my research and such." Because, yeah, nobody would have joined her back then. Before Guinevere, the only companion she had had had been her own shadow. Well, at least it had never stabbed her in the back? Loneliness, as sad as it was, had its own advantages as well. "I was able to do it, and so I did. That's all."

"And I've been fine, more or less. Aside from missing you, which is always a bummer." To put it mildly. Morgan would have illustrated the true extent of her loneliness, how she yearned to hold her and kiss her, but honestly? That would only have made everything that much worse. Guinevere of all people must have known how she felt like, and reminded her of that-- no, there would be no value in it. "Your friends are... okay, I suppose? Alive, but tired. Hunting is apparently more difficult than ever with the machines being larger and more aggressive, so I've arranged for regular shipments of supplies," Morgan shrugged. "My allies will take care of it. Most of them have very little regular duties to attend to, and they can handle themselves in the wastes. It should go smoothly. I've also, uh, told them about the basic outline of our plan, after which they agreed to help." Wow. It was a lot of news at once, wasn't it? She should probably give Gwen some time to breathe.

"Aside from that, it was nice to meet some friendly people for once." The difference between Gwen's gang and the inhabitants of Camelot? The night and day, truly. The way they had treated her at the camp, with blankets and everything-- yeah, that made her smile. "I've talked to so many of them! Not just Sam and Tamara, but also Emily and Liv, and Adrianne as well." Which, uh, had been kind of awkward, and Gwen should probably know. "Adrianne, she..." Morgan looked in her lap, suddenly a bit self-conscious, "she asked what kind of relationship we had, and I told her the truth. I didn't know what else to say, so hopefully you don't mind. I'm not sure if it was my thing to share, but she did ask."

"Anyway," Morgan looked up to her again, "you said you had some important information about the Lady of the Lake?"

 

[ellarose]

"I'd travel alone sometimes, too. But the monsters have been changing out there, I..." Guinevere couldn't help but worry. Morgan had taken out plenty of monsters with her magic in the past -- she's seen firsthand just how effective she is in a battle. Especially in the case of ending fights with particularly formidable opponents. But that's the thing, isn't it? The magic. Having used it now herself, she understands to an extent just how hard it can hit in the aftermath. Hell, she's seen Morgan cough up mouthfuls of blood and even faint after using it. While she could undoubtably take care of any monster that crossed her path out there, the idea of her passing out afterwards and being attacked by something else... well, of course that concept didn't escape her. (And it's oh so very hard to sit still focusing on needlework while envisioning someone she cared about so much meeting such a horrible end and -- and doing something as insignificant as listening to the ladies prattle on about their dresses in the meantime!) It'd taken a lot of self control and discipline for her to stay put and trust in Morgan, in the fact that everything would be all right. Those anxieties tore her apart and it's impossible to ignore that. (Of course it matters -- because she matters. She's... she's everything.) Reaching for Morgan's hand, her eyes bore into the other woman's, though they're soft, as if to say she'll let up on the subject after she makes this clear. "It is a big deal, though. It is to me."

Guinevere listens intently when the subject turns over to her gang. It's a relief to hear of the arrangements Morgan made to take care of them with more supplies. God... it's really occurring to her that it would have been impossible to accomplish anything remotely worthwhile in Camelot without her. Running supplies over to them the way she always had would have been dicey. Considering Arthur hadn't kept his word to help, though, she probably would have fled already if not for the fact that she had their coup to fall back on now. (Arthur's destiny is riding on her back, isn't it? Would Camelot have held her prisoner in a more literal way, like the cult did, if she decided to leave? She's kind of glad she doesn't know the alternative in this situation. But the possibility that he could be capable of such a thing on top of everything he's already subjected her to... is unsettling, to say the least.) "Thank you. I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but... I mean it." She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly. It went without saying that they would be tired, considering the state of things in the wastes. But the rest of it is good news -- and the fact that they know of the plan now means they have something to hope and fight for. A reason to live rather than give up, more than anything. Though she wishes with all her heart that she could have been there, hearing Morgan was getting along with everyone causes her to smile fondly. "Makes me happy to hear that. They're pretty great, right? I definitely wouldn't have survived out in the wastes without them. They've all taught me so much." Not only that, but she's a undeniably a better person because of them, too. She and Jen practically had to raise themselves from the age of eight and naturally there were a lot of things she just didn't know until she had a group -- a real family -- to rely on.

"I'm glad you told her the truth." Guinevere reassures sincerely, chewing her lip when she thinks about it. It's a weird situation, isn't it? Now it's her turn to tell the truth. Not necessarily the whole story, because they'd be here for a while, but Morgan deserves to know. "Adrianne and I -- we used to date. It was always kind of an on and off type of thing? It ended officially two years ago, but..." Then Adrianne dropped the bomb that she wanted to try and get back together right before Arthur showed up. Guinevere chose the responsibility of taking care of everyone over staying for her, though, and they haven't had time to genuinely talk about it since. She'd thought that her decision might have solidified the end of it, but then... then there was that kiss. And she hasn't seen her since. "I don't know. I think she still needs closure, after all this... I feel bad that I haven't had the chance to give that to her." There's just been too much to worry about lately to do that properly. Like, for instance...

"Right. Aside from her name... I didn't learn anything that useful. Merlin mostly just babbled on about how my future sons would all turn out to be great, legendary heroes. Apparently mothering Arthur's children is my only purpose in the grand scheme of things." Guinevere mutters bitterly before downing the vial Morgan had given her in one, rebellious swig. It's her way of spitting on the concept, to say the least. She sighs, then, because what she's about to say isn't good news, if it's true. "But when he gave me her name, he -- he also mentioned she was in no state to communicate?" She tugs anxiously at the ends of her hair. "...That doesn't have to mean anything though, right? Maybe he was just, uh, lying to discourage me from looking for her?"

 

[Syntra]

"... I suppose I understand," Morgan said, clasping her hand tighter. Because, yeah, of course she did-- it wasn't difficult to see the parallels here. She knew that Guinevere was a capable warrior, too, and had zero issue with entrusting her life into her capable hands. That didn't mean that she would be happy about her potentially venturing into the wastes alone, though. No, that idea sounded positively terrifying. (And that felt nice, kinda. Not the cold dread part, of course, but that she mattered enough to someone to inspire such feelings. It probably should have felt normal by now, but it didn't, and Morgan had no idea it ever would, either. Some scars just ran too deep.) "I'll bask in your gratitude instead, then," she teased with a smile. "I'm sure we can come up with a way for you to make it all worth my while."

Taking another sip from her cup, Morgan listened to everything Gwen had to tell. (Gods, she couldn't even imagine how much she must have missed her friends. That was, unfortunately, one of the things Morgan couldn't really empathize with; if Camelot were to get destroyed tomorrow and only escape could save her from certain death, Morgan would just... shrug and do it. And the people left behind? Most of them would fade away from her memory within a few weeks. Gwen was the exception to that, of course, and she wouldn't leave without her, but aside from her? She had always been alone, a part of scenery more than anything else. Relying on such a large number of people, relying on them and trusting them, would never not feel strange. It just... required the kind of courage she didn't have, you know? Hell, even trusting Gwen was still hard at times-- people's natures could be so fickcle, after all. They swayed with every gust of wind.)

The news of Adrianne and her having dated, though? Yeah, that didn't surprise her. "I figured there was some history between the two of you," she said calmly. "I didn't pry because she... reacted kind of badly? In that sense that she needed space. Then again, it also looked like she was happy about my intentions to protect you at the very least, so it was a mixed bag. Either way, it seems to me she has your best interests at mind, and that it would be good to have her as a friend." There wasn't a hint of jealousy in her tone-- perhaps a part of her did feel that way, but being jealous of someone who had absolutely no access to Guinevere most of the time was just so irrational that she refused to even consider it. Besides, so what if she had had some love interests in the past? That sort of thing was natural; Morgan was the odd one here, in fact.

"The wizard is old and delusional, and drunk on Arthur's fame," Morgan said, clearly outraged. Her Gwen being reduced to... just an incubator, basically? A means to continuing his bloodline? Pfft, as if. Not on her fucking watch, anyway. "You have to understand how high his stakes are in this. He has helped Arthur construct his image of a savior from the very beginning, and if he gets exposed as the fraud he is, Merlin will get discredited, too. I wouldn't be at all shocked if they hoped for you to get pregnant as fast as possible solely so that you get out of their way." Having to take care of children, after all, depleted one's energy reserves quickly. Where would she find the time to scheme against her husband dearest? She wouldn't, and oh, they would love that.

The thing about the lady, however, was worrying. Worrying and ominous. "Come to think of it," Morgan began, "I did see her in a literal lake. The vision wasn't exactly clear, but it's possible she's dead, or close to death. I know of no magic that allows one to breathe underwater." And combined with the knowledge that she had lost Excalibur? That it had somehow wound up in the hands of someone as unworthy as her brother? Well, it wasn't difficult to put two and two together-- Merlin must have hurt her, perhaps even fatally. ...gods. "Even if she is dead, though," Morgan looked up to Gwen, "I can extract information from her body. Knowledge, uh, leaves physical traces behind. You can't see them without magic, but they're there. Anyway, I was planning on leaving soon. Will you accompany me on my search or shall I do it alone?" Because, as much as she would love to have Gwen by her side, Morgan understood it may not have been doable. A queen just did not have the same degree of freedom as a fiance did.

 

[ellarose]

"The Lady of the Lake is... in a lake." Guinevere reaches for her neck anxiously. And okay, she knows it fits her namesake perfectly -- but it still comes as a grim surprise. It's not that she hadn't considered the possibility that something had happened to the woman after Merlin said that so cryptically, but until now she had clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was nothing more than a bluff. (A defense mechanism she's fallen back into -- dissociation mixed with fragments of denial. She thought she had moved past it, since the first kidnapping, but recently... well, when there's nowhere to run, the only place she can really retreat into is her own mind.) As far as she knows, there are no other leads on Excalibur. This is all she's got. And if her only hope comes from a body at the bottom of a lake somewhere, then... okay, okay. Breathe. She needs to breathe. (No... what she really needs to get out of here before she fucking suffocates!) Blinking quickly as if to wake herself from a trance, she shakes her head and the fog slowly clears from her eyes. Even if the worst has come to pass, Morgan still has some semblance of a plan. At least there's that, right? "Okay. I'm coming with you. I'll -- I'll find a way. I saw Arthur off this morning and they've packed for a week at least. Should be gone long enough for us to pull this off, anyway." None of his mysterious quests have been successful so far and she can tell it's starting to grate on him. Maybe they'll begin to keep him away for longer stretches of time? She can only hope.

Emotions running so high... before long, there's a burning sensation in her nose and a rustling in the plants nearby. (They're growing. They must be. But how? It's not like she's doing it on purpose!) Snapping her attention over to them and wiping her bloody nose with the back of her hand, she briefly catches sight of that ghost lady again. The woman disappears so quickly, though, to the point where she wonders if her eyes were playing tricks. Sleep deprivation and all the caffeine, or stress maybe -- "I need to find out what's happening to me." Excalibur must have unlocked something -- something she obviously can't control. And she'll never find out how to do that if she doesn't find her answers soon. She's not here to be Arthur's good little wife forever... and if she wants to rise up against him, it's about time that she takes some risks of her own.

Guinevere said she'd find a way out and that's exactly what she did, spinning a simple story that she was feeling under the weather and refused to take any visitors. (Arthur himself had made the impression on most people in Camelot that Guinevere was frail and sickly when she'd first arrived by keeping her out of sight, anyway, so that should work in her favor now.) Perhaps that mysterious, contagious illness Arthur told people she had after her 'accident' was making a comeback? She asked a few maids she trusted spread that rumor around while she was gone... considering how well it worked when Arthur employed it, she figured it'd be solid enough to keep anyone from putting too much effort into investigating her whereabouts. That night she packs a light bag before curling into bed and sleeps more soundly on her own than she has in the month she's been married. While she still has the dagger Morgan had given her, she also sneaks into the armory early that morning before their allotted meeting time to steal a sword. It might not be hers -- but it's something. None of the knights will be around to miss it, anyway, and there're enough stocked up that no one should notice that it's gone. Though she can use magic now, she'd still prefer to only use it as a last resort.

She and Morgan pass through the gates as the sun rises and before long Camelot becomes nothing more than a dot on the horizon. Guinevere breathes out an airy laugh as soon as it feels safe to, slipping out of her skirt to reveal the trousers she was wearing beneath. "Good riddance." It's hard to tell at this point if she's talking about Camelot or the skirt. Probably Camelot. Skirts aren't so bad, really, she's got nothing in particular against them -- but fighting in them is a pain. God, she hasn't ventured outside of Camelot since... since she ran away from the cult. From one prison into another. Leaving now with a sense of ambition greater than that, even if the odds are stacked against them -- it's a feeling she wants to relish if only for a moment. Stuffing the skirt into the bag on her shoulder and walking with the slightest bounce in her step, she beams brightly at Morgan for the first time in... what honestly feels like forever. "Alright, Mor. Which way are we headed?"

 

[Syntra]

For Morgan, leaving Camelot behind was an even less complicated affair. It wasn't likely that anyone would seek her out on their own-- not when most of the lords and ladies tried to pretend she didn't exist, anyway. The witch, after all, only represented a stain on their collective honor. Still, in case someone did wish to talk to her for some bizarre reason, Morgan instructed Marietta and the others to tell the would-be visitors she was busy with research, and thus not to be disturbed. That word alone should serve as a fine repellent-- those people acted as if knowledge was poison, so of course they would keep their distance. (Well, that, and Morgan also may have disseminated rumors about her research potentially having, uh, explosive effects. That was usually enough to keep out even the nosiest of intruders. And if they insisted on going inside of her chambers regardless? Morgan would just deal with the fallout later. Accounting for every single development was impossible, and she certainly wasn't going to waste her precious energy on trying. Like, no. Improvisation was the key here.) Anyway, before leaving, she packed just a few necessities; mostly fresh clothes and food supplies, but also some medical equipment, her map and a compass. Morgan could rely on magic alone to lead her, sure, but following the thread could get tiring with all the magical pollution in the air, and she needed to remain clear-headed throughout their trip. What if something attacked while she was too focused on finding her way? No, sometimes the boring methods were the most practical ones.

And so the two of them left, as if Camelot and everything that had happened there was just a bad dream. (It wasn't and the fact that they had to return proved that, but it was a nice thought, wasn't it? That they could simply... leave, just like she had suggested on the day of that cursed wedding. If they chose to give Arthur a middle finger, nobody would be able to find them, either. The wastes would welcome them with cruelty and hardship, yes, and every day would be a struggle, but with Gwen smiling as freely as she did now? It would be worth it, Morgan knew.) "You know," she smiled gently, "I can't decide whether I prefer the way you look in dresses or trousers. I've always considered dresses to be aesthetically superior, but they don't highlight how nice your legs are nearly enough." Morgan, of course, made no such effort to change into trousers-- she wasn't used for them, for one, and her way of fighting didn't really rely on physical movement anyway. If a monster got to her close enough for such things to matter, then she was basically dead, and if she had to die, she would at least look stylish while doing so, thank you very much.

The nickname Gwen gave her, though? Okay, that did make her burst out in laughter. "Mor? That's a new one. Did you know it means 'plague' in some languages? I'm trying to gauge whether to be offended here," she said, though her efforts at maintaining a serious expression were doomed to failure from the very beginning. No, her look was too fond for that-- too gentle. Ah, how she wanted this moment to last forever! (And not be tainted by, you know, them potentially finding a corpse.) "Anyway, I don't know where we're actually heading. I have a map, you see, but the actual names of places have been erased because they reminded Arthur of the old world, and that's a serious no-no." Yeah, the random fits of censorship were one of the things she had never really forgiven him for. In the light of recent events, though? Those had been very minor things. Even so, Morgan pulled out her map and showed it to Guinevere. "See the mark? That's where we're going, which means that... uh, we need to head mostly south east. I'd say it'll last about two days, maybe more if the weather is terrible." It would have been faster with horses, but horses spooked easily, and they also attracted the attention of predators. Two lone women, on the other hand, were much more likely to fly under their radar.

So they walked, walked and walked. The wastes were as grey and colorless as usual, with the scenery being so monotonous it was hard to tell whether they had been walking for minutes or hours, but that mattered very little. Guinevere was here, meaning Morgan would always find some way to amuse herself. "Tell me, Gwen," she began. "How well-travelled are you? Have you seen much of the land?" Surely much more than her, that was for certain. "Have you seen other places like Camelot, or at least similar to it? I mean, places where everything isn't totally dead. If so, do you remember any... I don't know. Any characteristics?" Because, frankly, everything about this situation was fascinating. Terrifying, yes, but also interesting if you were able to look away from all that suffering. Why had some parts of the earth died and different parts thrived? Each metaphorical oasis in the desert couldn't have Excalibur underneath it, dammit. That was the whole point; the sword was one of a kind!

Soon enough, though, Morgan stopped in her tracks. "Can you sense that?" she turned to Gwen. "Something's coming." Hundreds of tiny legs, moving forward, forward, ever forward...

 

[ellarose]

"Heh. Jen always used to say that we looked good in everything. Or at least that she did. Always so freaking cocky... but I admired her confidence, too." Guinevere admits, though there's a sharper pain that comes with reminiscing about her sister now. She brushes it aside easily enough for now when she delves a little deeper. "Whenever we found old clothes she would spend hours putting outfits together. Some for herself... some for the characters we played. It was really boring just waiting around for her, though, so I made this game of putting together the ugliest outfits I could find. You should've seen them." Neon leggings, a torn trench coat, duck slippers that made a pathetic, broken quack every time she took a step. (Okay, those were terrible but amazing at the same time! Jen hated them, obviously.) Makes her wonder what kind of people even owned those things to begin with. Either way, it does make her wonder what type of clothes Morgan would like to wear, if she were able to choose -- finally free of Camelot's influence and able to be herself out in the open, without having to hide who she is from anyone anymore. She grins. "There're so many different styles of clothes out there. I bet you'd look great in trousers too, if you gave them a chance."

"I -- I did not know that." Guinevere stammers and blushes, maybe a teensy bit embarrassed. Yet seeing Morgan's expression, she can't help but snort and then burst into a fit of giggles herself. Electricity zings through her, getting unashamedly high on the fact that she's finally free to smile and laugh the way she always used to. The chains of royalty that shackled her might have been beautiful and luxurious, but it'd never make her happy the same way expressing herself could. That she's able to look at Morgan as much as she wants, without grappling with fears that too much of the affection she held in her heart for her would be reveal itself in her gaze. Ducking and shielding herself teasingly, she plays along. "Don't hate me! I was just testing it out! Besides, I thought it kinda... kinda sounded like the Spanish word for love. Amor. Is that right? Or was it French..." Okay and now that she's saying the words out loud, it's even more embarrassing than before! Blushing even fiercer than before, she works up the courage to sidle up to Morgan, hugging her arm loosely as she glances over her shoulder at the map and nods along with her description. Traveling for a few days at a time, it's something she's used to. If anything, a longer trip was a blessing. More time to spend with Morgan, away from Camelot and all its backwards rules and restrictions.

Traveling the wastes, though dangerous, was something she's missed. Exploring the wastes on good, uneventful days, her gang was rowdy and alive with chatter -- it was impossible not to be, with so many people. Walking alongside Morgan is nice in it's own way, though. The brief spells of silence are never awkward and when they do find things to talk about, she's content either with listening to Morgan's voice or sharing stories of her own. (In the meantime, she's started waving around that sword she'd stolen from the armory, practicing swings. Ugh, she's going to be so rusty if they do run into trouble out here.) "I feel like I've been everywhere. I mean, I haven't, obviously... world's too big for that. But all my life, I've never stayed in one place for long." She chews on her lip, thoughtful. Well, with the exceptions of her childhood home and the prisons she was kept in. "There're still some cities and towns out there where you'll find groups of people trying to get by. Some of the better ones are even trying to rebuild. Still impossible not to find a place with debris and corpses in the streets, though." Scenery painted in morbid destruction is the norm to the point where Camelot is very distinct and unusual -- and not just in the sense that it gives you the impression that you've stepped through a time machine. Well, except... "Come to think of it, the blood cult... they had this whole fenced off village. That was kind of surprising. They, uh, forced a bunch of canned fruit down my throat, too. I wonder where they got it." She falters a little, there, recalling it. It was all so horrible... she'd begun to bury it, if only to spare herself from the heartache and shame. Still. They were put together, pristine, hell they had even built a statue made from marble! Then there's the food. Sometimes on her travels she encountered people who seemed to have access to special resources that no one else did. (A rare, select few who flaunted and exploited that for power. The man who gave her the scar on her face, for instance, who made people compete with each other to have just a taste.) Her gang tended to follow tips and rob them when they could, but even in all that time she never figured out the source.

"Um, anyway... my friends and I found out that traveling the open wastelands was more productive than trying to make our way in any old town. Always teeming with other gangs and attracting monsters. Out here, if you look hard enough, you can sometimes find little patches of land that aren't completely barren. Always made for the best places to hunt." Guinevere explains. And while technically alive, even those 'patches' as she described them weren't flourishing by any means. Covered in a stale, brownish green, just dying a slower death than the rest of the earth. "Problem is, we couldn't just set up camp and rely on the same spot for too long. The patches always get consumed by whatever took the rest of the earth and... and die eventually. Whenever that happened, we had to pick ourselves up and find a new place. Eventually all that traveling led us towards Camelot." And the rest, as they say, is history. Ugh, as much as she hates to talk about it now that they've left it behind them. For now. "All our hopes of survival were just... constantly dying around us. It's why I had to take Arthur's offer."

Fortunately... or maybe unfortunately, there isn't much time for her to dwell on that. Not when Morgan stops so suddenly. Guinevere follows suit and squints ahead. "Yeah, actually." She grips her sword tighter, bracing herself. A stampede of metal insects and small undistinguishable creatures is charging towards them as if possessed -- this is, uh, different to say the least. "Do you think we could, um, just crush them by stepping on them? Or do you think they'll..." Right, so that was definitely too optimistic. The micro-monsters gather together and combine right in front of them, linking their joints as if to build themselves into a new kind of weapon. "Shit. Yeah, okay. I figured that might happen." These things are so unpredictable when they combine like this -- but what if she can stop it before it happens? That in mind, she takes a risk and rushes forward, swinging her blade at it. It causes a few of them to let out mechanical squeals as they topple off the structure like building blocks. Seeing some of their beady little eyes up close clues her into a very important bit of information, too. "--Morgan, be careful. They're being controlled by someone. We're not alone out here."

 

[Syntra]

Morgan would have loved to respond to what Guinevere had told her-- it had been genuinely fascinating, even if in a sad way, and she had followup questions. Like, where were those cities she had spoken of? Could she mark their locations on the map? And what of those patches of land that seemed to die just a little slower? Was their existence random, or could some pattern be spotted among the places that resisted the Catastrophe more effectively? Perhaps, if she found a way to study them, Morgan could learn just what it was that that had caused the anomaly, and then-- well, then replicating the conditions would be a matter of time. (Or maybe not. Maybe she was just being arrogant in thinking anything she did could possibly sway the tides of fate-- as arrogant as Arthur, or those buffoons that followed him. Despite knowing that, though, the hope still bloomed in her heart. Even if her efforts turned out to be fruitless, it was still better to do something, dammit. Sitting around and watching the world die? She'd rather slit her own throat!)

Still, now wasn't the time to occupy herself with such thoughts. Not when the creatures began attaching themselves to one another, forming one grotesque centipede. Gods. How utterly gross! Morgan had never loved insects, and this experience sure as hell did nothing to cure her of her prejudices. "Why am I not surprised?" she sighed. (Probably because nothing ever went right for them, but that, too, was a complaint for another time. For a time when no bizarre mecha amalgamations were hunting them, for starters.) And the warning about an enemy mage being controlling the beasts? That didn't really shock her, either. (At this point, nothing aside from the moon itself falling off the sky would accomplish that. Like, the monsters could very well start speaking in perfect English and ask her what the time was, and Morgan's only reaction would be an apology for not having a watch. That was how bizarre the world was now! Not that there weren't certain advantages to that, though.) "Okay," the sorceress said calmly. "Okay. In that case, we need to destroy the caster." Because if someone else controlled the monsters, Gwen might as well have wielded a toothpick for all the good the sword did her. The things didn't feel pain or fear, and now they didn't even need the neural connections to move. The mage freaking did everything for them! Clearly, when it came to defeating a hydra, they had to go after its head.

"I can find them," she continued quickly. "The caster, I mean. There will be an energetic footprint. Since they're still controlling it, it should be super fresh, and thus it shouldn't be impossible to discover where they're hiding. The issue is," Morgan gulped audibly, "I will be out of it. Totally." The beast itself was one giant cluster of magical energy, after all-- finding the mage's handwriting in such a messy environment would take all she had, and maybe a little more. Just like the proverbial needle in the haystack, really. Damn. If only there was a better way! "So, uh, protect me? As I won't be able to do that."

Sadly, it didn't look like the creature was planning to give them more time for their much needed strategy session. It hissed, sounding more alive than mechanical, and then it lunged towards Guinevere. And then-- then, just a few seconds later, there was a quiet thud of an arrow hitting a rock. A rock they were hiding behind, to be precise. Wow. Did they expect Gwen to dodge in that direction? Such a level of coordination was, uh, bad news. Seriously bad news!