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Post by Brynhild on Oct 27, 2015 17:58:22 GMT
Humming the Byssan Lull, as she did quite often, Brynhild's stride carried her through the room she called her living quarters in a fluent motion, akin to water running downstream. In her hands a stash of shirts and underwear, both hers and that of another person, which she swiftly carried to the large, black dresser at the end of the room. Putting the clothing away, Brynhild quickly moved over to the mirror, uncertain whether her appearance was appropriate, or perhaps a little too casual, she took a look over herself. A short black skirt, a purple, sleeveless top that tied into a triangle behind her neck, yet left her upper back open, accompanied by dark tights... she did not wear shoes in her own home of course. It would do... probably.
Instead of wating any more time on checking her appearance, Brynhild moved to the large velvet covered couch, held in a dusty, rather dark shade of grey, before bending over the back of the couch to pull forward a bottle of white wine, specifically a green Valtellina, which she then prompty poured in two glasses. It had become a bit of a habit that she was the one to arrange their little trysts. So, while they had not actually consumed wine together before, this day would mark a first. Of course, with their 'jobs' in Chaldea separating them for certain durations at times, they tried to use the opportunitites they got to spend time together. Well... if they wanted their relationship to truly blossom, they would have to continue to do so one way or the other. Hopefully without feeling bothersome for the other.
It was almost ridiculous... it had started quite innocently, when they'd met within Chaldea's confines. Merely two spirits that got along due to having suffered a comparable fate. But alas, it was rare enough to actually find sympathy and hope for future days, despite the horrors of the past. In this sense, this casual, almost banal get-together was something Brynhild considered to be quite valuable in its own right. In fact, she welcomed the notion of making it something habitual, such as a weekly, or... monthly perhaps, pattern to their life-style within Chaldea. Of course, it was largely an idealistic principle which caused her to think that way, one that assured her that their life here would actually bear fruit in some way or another. A second chance at life, at least to her, was truly the only thing she could hope for... anything else would shatter the bonds she'd held so long.
Yet today was not about the shadows that kept chasing her, today was for Sir Mordred. She would listen, he would speak... and she would comfort where it was due, remain silent where appropriate and just offer the hopeful gratitude of her presence. The wine was, of course, merely something to set the mood. Perhaps she, or rather they if she could convince Mordred to aid her cooking efforts, would throw something together later on, but as it was the only real intention was to spend some leisure time with the man that had granted her a new perspective onto the future. The very person whose presence, in its raw, direct and unrefined nature, brought her a comfort that distracted her from the insecurities of her future goals within Chaldea. Her dreams were ultimately such in nature, that they sang of her own end, brought to her by ending another, most dear to her heart. That she would have to live with, yet she would not have to bear it alone anymore.
When she finally heard a loud knocking sound from the door, Brynhild quickly sat down onto the couch, the fabric creaking softly below her weight, before bringing her skirt and legs into a position she considered elegant enough, finally raising her gaze up to the wonderful person that entered into her quarters. The sadness in her eyes, shifting to soft melancholia, Brynhild smiled, brushing her long, glistening hair behind her ear. "Good evening... Sir Mordred." Her voice chimed softly, carrying with it a faint warmth, not too different from an ember, glimmering below piles and piles of cold ashes. "...it is good to see you."
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Post by Mordred on Oct 27, 2015 19:10:19 GMT
Mordred had her whole world turned upside down since the last time she had seen Brynhild, down in the burning hellhole that was Fuyuki City. That experience had left her sour and bitter, ignored and disregarded despite taking some of the most immediate action to resolve it favorably and in the greatest danger, though that was to be expected from Merlin. She certainly didn’t hold it against Brynhild, her Master, or even Berserker, mad beast that he was. Still, there was absolutely nothing that could dampen her good spirits.
Her father had accepted her. As his son. As a true knight. What was frustration instilled by an uncooperative jester compared to that!
She couldn’t wait to share the good news with Brynhild, though she witheld herself slightly due to just how soon their arranged meeting was. She would have torn Chaldea from the ground up to try and find her otherwise, because she was all but bursting at the seams. Hastily throwing on some casual clothes she found lying around, She runs out to the door to Brynhild’s room, where they met at when they had free time.
Knocking before entering the room as they had grown accustomed to, the usual sentiments of their meetings entered into her mind. Happiness that they were able to spend time together. Resentment that they didn’t have more. Guilt at the obvious huge difference of effort spent on Brynhild’s preparations. And regret at the fact that Brynhild seemed to always have that hint of sadness in her eyes, even when they were together. That last thing in particular always caused a bit of grumbling to Mordred...it made her feel inadequate, when until today, their meetings were the one thing that could put a real smile on her face, she wasn't able to return the favor.
Still, now wasn’t a time for such bittersweet feelings. Pressing herself forward, she crashes down on the couch next to her, and pulls Brynhild into a big, tight hug. “Evening, Brynhild!” Laughing, she gives a squeeze, resting her head on her arm. “It’s been way too long.”
Pulling away slightly, she dips her head. “I’m sorry if I’m particularly...forward, today. It’s just, well...the best thing possible happened for me, so I’m in a very good mood.” Grinning wide, she leans back on the couch, arm wrapped easily around the larger woman’s shoulders. “I...I talked to Father! Really talked to him! And…things went well!”
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Post by Brynhild on Nov 2, 2015 17:16:01 GMT
The appearance Mordred made today was something almost completely new to her. Smiling widely, with a cheerful expression that almost made her heart skip a beat, not only in how glad it made her feel, yet also in how much it surprised her, Brynhild's own face reflected little but confusion, with hints of shared happiness seeping through her rather insecure visage. This confusiong turned into complete bewilderment, when Mordred just crashed onto the couch next to her and pulled her into a hug, causing her to tense up a little bit, letting out a cut-off gasp, before finally relaxing, her calm laugh ringing softly as she looked down at Mordred's head with a smile.
Reaching over to his head with her left hand, she caressed it softly, while leaning her own head against it, the blonde hair gently tickling her cheek in the process. "...too long indeed." Brynhild spoke softly, barely audible as she just sat there, enjoying Mordred's presence and warmth. When he then finally retreated a little bit, Brynhild just turned to him properly, her left hand running down his arm, to get a last feeling of Mordred's silky skin, before they finally seperated their bodies once more. "The best thing possible, is it...?" She let out, her head slightly lowered, as she looked at Mordred with an almost sarcastic smile at first. Then however, she raised her head again, her warm expression lacking any hint of malice or malevolent intentions as she added:"No need to be sorry, I would never mind your touch, especially not when you look so happy." Her own smile widening, her eyes sparkled with something like amusement, before falling back into a melancholic shimmer.
When he however mentioned that he had talked to his father, Brynhild's expression froze. This was... incredibly important. Instantly stopping her jesting antics, Brynhild extended her hands to grasp Mordred's her expression serious, yet... hard to define. On one hand she definitely wanted Mordred to get along well with his father and to erase his pain... yet on the other hand, it was hard to deduce how it would influence how they dealt with each other. Regardless of how they twisted and turned it, their comparable pasts of betrayal had given them a mutual understanding of each other. So, despite feeling happy for Sir Mordred, she could not help but feel a little afraid of his next words.
"I am glad you got to talk to him properly... you really were in need of having a proper conversation that... well ended... well. That's good... so, what did you talk about?" a little flustered by this immense information, Brynhild stumbled a little over her own words, glancing over to the wine, as if contemplating whether she should just gulp one glass down to calm her own nerves. So as she realized how hold her question was, she quickly added with a defensive handmovement and apologetic expression:"Ah- If you do not mind my asking. I don't want to intrude that far into your father's and your private conversations..." Almost dodging his gaze for a bit, Brynhild soon looked into Mordred's eyes again, a hint of worry, visible in her distraught, yet oddly torn, gaze.
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Post by Mordred on Nov 2, 2015 18:56:08 GMT
Mordred soon found that pulling away was unnecessary as Brynhild reciprocated the contact, and is rather disappointed that Brynhild simply allows it to end. It’s not something to be surprised about, she imagines, but it feels somewhat awkward to move back in after being the one to initiate the first contact. Her words were a comfort as always. She was still unused to being able to feel the touch of another person’s skin, her body usually covered up by heavy armor in public. It was a good thing Brynhild was so accepting, because she was at a stage where rejection could be harsh.
She did, though, notice a somewhat remarkable change in Brynhild as soon as she mentioned her conversation with Arturia. Blinking as Brynhild takes her hands, she gives them a squeeze. One of the things that Mordred found somewhat difficult about Brynhild was her lack of expression. It was almost as if she was wearing a helmet at all times, one that case her in a sad light. The fact that she was being as obviously concerned meant something serious had happened.
Equally odd, was Brynhild clearly stumbling over her words. In the time that she’d known the former queen, she’d been so serene, so clearly confident in every action she took, that it was hard for her to imagine her so out of sorts. “Bryn, is something the matter?” Concern took over almost immediately, her question wasn’t something she cared about keeping private anyway, she was happy to share it. But the fact that Brynhild was getting distraught over it was something to be worried about.
Mordred smiles wide, letting her left hand pull out from Brynhild’s, moving up to cup her cheek, stroking Brynhild’s skin softly and smoothly. “Of course I don’t mind you asking, Brynhild. I am always happy to share my joys with you, and am forever grateful you allow me to share my sorrows in addition.” She was a very important person to Mordred, someone that encouraged her to act like a knight when rage and anger compelled her to lash out and be wild...and it paid off. To shake her loyalty at this point would be nearly impossible.
“Father came upon me training, recognizing me and confirming that we would be working together. He...no, she...changed quite a lot since I last saw her, new experiences tempering her view, and was able to recognize the difference in circumstances from what they were in our time. She...she acknowledged me as her son, forgave me for my inexcusable actions, and praised me for the knight I was.” Tears began to well up in her eyes again, but she blinked them out. “She gave me all I could have dreamed of from her.”
Moving back into a close hug with Brynhild, Mordred holds her tight. “Thank you for helping to keep myself together. Without you, I doubt I would have ever seen a day such as this dawn..”
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Post by Brynhild on Nov 3, 2015 20:44:10 GMT
Mordred being so alert at her reaction, caused Brynhild to automatically soften her expression a little, waving the issue off for now with a slightly dismissive gesture. She could address it later, for now it was best to just listen to Mordred and hear how the meeting with his... father had gone. Her hand squeezing his in return, she mildly shook her head with a faint smile, accompanying the dismissive gesture to imply that it was nothing. She really should not bother Mordred with her selfishness right this instant, it would just ruin the moment for him.
Instead she closed her eyes when his hand cupped her cheek, leaning her head against its warm touch. Moments like this always calmed her, so this time too Brynhild felt her heartbeat slow down, her breath relaxing, as she first shock wore off. "I would not have it any other way. Your sorrows and your joys, they are all mine after all." Grabbing and kissing his hand softly in reponse, her expression brightened up a little bit, as she smiled at the person so dear to her heart that it would cause her grief.
"So he... she, changed? In what regard?" Brynhild had to intersect, as the entire thing went over a little too fast for her. She did not possess extensive knowledge on Mordred's father or his... or her, apparently, usual demeanour. In any case, the important part followed right away. Brynhild eyes widened, otherwise however her expression remained quite calm, when Mordred informed her about having been accepted by his father. Her voice was quite silent when she finally spoke, with a clear hint of melancholia, if not to say sadness:"I am glad... so you finally could make and fulfill your wish." The information weighed on her shoulders heavily, throwing the glimmer in her eyes into a deep abyss as she suddenly felt as if a chiasm seperated them.
Mordred had found what he wanted, what he needed and his father would be there to aid him, to direct him. Her presence here... was it now obsolete? She had helped him as much as she could and in turn had taken the comfort of his presence, no matter how little she deserved it. Her hands clutching Mordred's closer she then simply let herself be pulled into the hug, closing her arms tightly around Mordred, clutching him as a drowning man would cling to a halm, she could not lie and say that she did not feel happy for Mordred, she absolutely did. In fact it was because she felt so glad, that it made her own pain ever more intense. She had not even heard of Sigurd in the time she had spent here so far, yet Mordred, out of the blue had finally had his wish come true.
Hugging Mordred even tighter to her chest, she kissed his hair brusqly, whispering to him:"I told you... I said that you could never be anything less but a great knight and a son worthy of this King Arthur of yours... your father. You deserve every single bit of this praise, all of it and most of all... you deserve to be finally recognized by this... fool. I can say this now... he was foolish for not seeing it sooner and you will not sway me from thinking otherwise." Saying the last phrase with an almost pouty tone of her melodic voice, Brynhild finally just remained in this hug, sweighing Mordred in her arms as she held him close. She then finally whispered:"It was nothing... that was all your doing, your strength. I just made you aware of it in the first place." then she closed her eyes and faintly, almost inaudibly added:"...but please don't leave me alone now that you have found your happiness."
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Post by Mordred on Nov 3, 2015 21:12:19 GMT
Mordred was satisfied as Brynhild began to calm down, resting her head in her hand. The kiss planted on her hand was another reassurance, and she couldn’t help but smile wide as Brynhild echoed her statement. Nothing felt more right when they were like this, and it was perfect in it’s simplicity. They shared with each other. They trusted each other. And...they cared for each other.
Her question had been somewhat lost in the haste of her answer, Mordred’s emotions were spilling fast and loose, like a teakettle boiling after gathering steam for hours. She hadn’t thought of the implications of them, though she was beginning to. She simply took things for granted. She didn’t think Brynhild would question Mordred’s desire to have her close or Brynhild’s own relevance in the relationship. To her, those things came without saying.
Pulled back in the hug, Mordred was happy to be so close to the woman she cared so much for, that she could not help but honor as much as she could. The praise was welcome, and while she didn’t completely appreciate her father being called a fool, defending Arturia’s honor could wait until after the moment. Then, because of Mordred being out of touch, she found herself wrenched out of the happiness by Brynhild’s last sentence.
“...Leave you alone?” Mordred repeats the words. The melancholy in her words, the very thought of them, causes Mordred to look through things in a different light. However, the effect was not contemplative in nature: to Mordred, it was as if she had been insulted, a slap in the face that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Bryn...do you think I am such a person?” Her words were uncharacteristically quiet, softspoken. But beneath it, there was a hint of outrage that was only growing more intense. “Do you think I would betray you so utterly?”
Hurt was increasingly clear in Mordred’s voice. To her, the very belief that she could take such an action...was that not the same as labeling her as a Knight of Treachery? That infernal, intolerable title that she finally thought she could escape...was it really being thrown back at her? “Did I do something for you to cause you to doubt me so? I...I would ask for an explanation.” At this point, outrage gave way to desperation. She wanted, no, needed for Brynhild to trust her. To have her honor called into question just as she thought she’d put her cursed past behind her...it was tearing open wounds that just recently began to heal. "I...I would never do that. Please, have some faith in me..."
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Post by Brynhild on Nov 3, 2015 22:11:14 GMT
Hearing his words Brynhild could do naught but chide herself an idiot internally, for having made such a stupid mistake as to let that sentence slip. Yet as she further listened to Mordred's words, struck by absolute silence, she could not help but feel that he had misunderstood her even then. There was no way that she could consider his actions or even his leave to be betrayal. He owed nothing to her, so how would be betray her? That was... so foolish... "...idiot... there is no betrayal to be committed by you." Her voice was slightly irritated, yet mostly specked with hints of confused sadness. "You have every right to walk away from me... you owe me nothing, nor would you betray me in doing so." Her hand slapping the small of Mordred's back in frustration, she just kept on going.
"You did nothing to make me doubt your honour. I do not doubt it. Yet I did nothing to have you honour me with your presence either, quite the contrary. You know how I am, you know what I am and what I did... there is nothing that binds you to staying with me, other than your own free will. I have no right to hold you... unless you wish me to." Pausing shortly before continuing, her words once again softened, her hug however never losened around Mordred. "I have the utmost faith in you... but not in myself..." Shaking her head absentmindedly, her voice turning into little more than a hushed breath, "...no, not in myself..." Falling silent once again, Brynhild just rocked back and forth, pulling Mordred with herself as she kept clinging to him like a leech.
Finally stopping her movement she then said with a monotonous, almost completely void tone in her voice:"Alas, it appears my worries were unfounded. You appear to wish to stay with me, regardless of whether or not I deserve it, despite... me availing you nothing at this point." Her voice cracked as she reached 'nothing', yet she picked it up almost right away once more saying:"I shall keep trying... trying to be better than I was before... so you will not have to feel ashamed of me before your King Father." With this her voice turned slightly sweeter, yet ever more insecure as she asked:"Will that be alright...?" Then she seperated herself from Mordred's hug once again, looking into her dear one's eyes, with her own amethyst's glistening, slightly wet, up from a downcast gaze. Her hands were still resting on Mordred's shoulders, her thumbs gently caressing his skin, unsure of what else to do in this situation. Then she shook her head lightly, with an embarassed expression adorning her features, before she bent over to grab one of the glasses.
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Post by Mordred on Nov 3, 2015 22:49:25 GMT
“...Now I’m mad.”
Mordred grumbles into the hug, but does not break it. She couldn’t. Not so long as the person she loved seemed to think her inconstant...and worse! That she deserves people to be inconstant towards her! All of this was wrong, wrong, wrong! “You’re the idiot, damn it! You think I don’t owe you anything, when I owe you everything!”
She honestly should have been used to Brynhild’s lack of self-esteem by now, but it still felt inconceivable to see anyone she deeply respects be subject to insults, both by others and by themselves. Just as much as she hated hearing her father being talked down on, so too did that feeling extend to the woman held in her arms. She couldn’t maintain her anger well, her voice drops to a low murmur as she holds her tight. “It’s because I know you and what you are that me leaving would be a betrayal. I would not be acting in good faith...and you deserve so much more than what you have received, and even what I can give.” Rocking along with her, Mordred pauses, allowing the moment to simply extend.
As Brynhild speaks, Mordred can’t even work up the anger to argue. She sounds so tired, so empty...she hates it, but there’s a kind of resolution that manages to intimidate her. Once she stops talking, though, it’s as if a spell is lifted. “...Idiot. As if I could ever be ashamed of you.” When Brynhild breaks off the hug, she sighs. “I don’t want to encourage your depressive outlook, but I can’t say that self-improvement is a bad thing.” She shakes her head. “If you’re going to work on something, try and work on your vision. To be unable see all the beautiful things about you, it's inconceivable.”
Taking one of the previously abandoned glasses of wine that Brynhild set out for her, she takes a sip, smiling to see that Brynhild had the same idea. Eager to change the subject, especially to something beneficial to her viewpoint, she grins. “The wine you picked is very sweet. I like it.” Normally she was not one to drink unless required by circumstance, but that was another habit being broken by life in Chaldea. Especially when Brynhild was so effective at appealing to her tastes.
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Post by Brynhild on Dec 1, 2015 14:10:25 GMT
Brynhild could do naught but listen, listen to her loved one talking about her as if she was some sort of saint... or at least saintly in his eyes. It was inconcievable, incomprehensible for her... even so she did appreciate the sentiment, if just because it assured her that Mordred treasured her beyond her own expectations. There was nothing wrong with unfounded admiration, childish as it was, as it just implied Mordred's own latent purity. A slayer he might have been, but not one without aim or intention... he used to be a child, a child driven into desperation by bad communication and horrible circumstances.
And here she was complaining about nothing at all, submerging herself in self-pity whilst hoping for the one she admired and treasured to reassure her. "You give me all I need Mordred..." she finally whispered, gently running her hand over Mordred's back, gracing the small of her back, before retreating her hands as the two of them reached for the glasses. "Well... if I should ever find something beautiful about a butcher's knife, I may be able to find something appealing in myself as well, however I fear that at this point I might be too warped for it to matter." Smiling awkwardly, Brynhild took a sip, looking at Mordred as he praised the wine's fruity taste. "I assumed you'd prefer it to be a little sweeter, rather than dry. After all you have a bit of a sensitive tongue.~" Teasingly brushing Mordred's lower lip with her index-finger, Brynhild's smile grew warm for a second, her body visibly relaxed at her own words and the small action.
"Still, I am not sure how your father would think of me... I am not exactly the most admirable person, least of all good company for somebody aspiring to be king. I lead my emotions drive me, while retaining the functionality of a machine... I let myself be turned into walking wanton-slaughter." Sighing deeply once again she then added:"...but I think you might have found the look appealing. I never fight as well as when I am single-mindedly pursuing the slaughter of an enemy." The faintest, cocky smile hardened her features as a cool gleam shone through her eyes for a moment, her posture becoming significantly straighter, harder... only to soften at a moment's notice... "Ah... I apologize, I should not flaunt my abilities like this, bragging is unbecoming of me." Shaking her head softly, she pulled her legs under, rubbing her left thigh with a hand in embarassment over her silly antics.
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Post by Mordred on Dec 1, 2015 19:37:30 GMT
Mordred pointedly ignores the comments about comparing herself to a warped butcher's knife aside from a curt grunt of dismissal. It wasn't something that should even be considered, and yet she still felt black anger seeping into her good mood. It wasn't right. She shouldn't talk about herself like that. If anyone but her had said that, there'd probably be one less person in Chaldea.
Mordred shakes her head. She wasn't going to lose her good mood, not when time to simply spend with Brynhild came as rarely as it did. She was going to have fun, whether Brynhild wanted to or not. At the very least, it could be good patience practice. It helped that Bryn helped get her mind off it almost immediately. Laughing, she shifts slightly and licks the finger pressed against her lips. This was something she was much more comfortable with, especially in her current levity. "You know me well. But you're making yourself sound even better than you are. I think we both know you don't like it dry either." She moves away so slightly from Brynhild, just enough to drink more wine.
Setting the glass down soon after, an arm pulls around Brynhild, squeezing her to Mordred's side. "Shhh." Brynhild's somber commentary about how she got when she let her emotions drive her in combat was -just a bit- too close to her self-pity for Mordred. Still, a smirk twitches on her face. "I love wanton-slaughter as much as the next, but it's a bit early for dirty talk, isn't it?" Joking isn't her strongest suit, but if it can help lift Brynhild's mood, then sure, she'll give it a shot. Couldn't hurt...
She laughs, but it subsides when she notices Bryn's quiet, confident bragging, becoming just a big, wide smile. Pulling her into a bigger hug, she shakes her head. "No. No, I think it suits you just fine." She looks up at her, grinning wide. "Almost makes me sad that I'm going to have to defeat you utterly. Might make you less likely to brag later."
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