versigny: ๐•“๐•’๐•Ÿ๐•˜๐•ก๐•’๐•ฃ๐•ฅ๐•ช (pic#17636059)
tyrell ([personal profile] versigny) wrote2025-01-15 02:10 pm

open post & overflow




texts เฑจเงŽ starters เฑจเงŽ prompts
[ open to random pms if you'd like to plot beforehand! otherwise, feel free to throw something up. (: ]
eternalmagic: (pic#12594959)

[personal profile] eternalmagic 2025-03-04 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[He grins at her again, his attention drawn back to her from casting round at the contents of the clearing once again.]

You never asked.

[He leads her by the hand over to one of the tables where there is seating, so that they both have a chance to get their bearings. Another young girl twirls over and offers them a bowl with different slices of freshly baked bread, which Mordred once again politely declines. He leans close to Margaery again once the girl has happily danced away.]

It's generally good practice to be wary of accepting food from strangers, but strangers in the middle of the woods in particular can be tricky. If you accidentally accept food from fairies, you won't be able to leave their world.

[He says it to her as if it's meant to be common knowledge, and not the sort of thing that an ordinary person would never consider. Mordred turns behind them and picks up a winter plum and a nearby knife, and cuts a slice out of it; in full view of Margaery, he whispers a soft spell, and a shimmer goes over the plum as if it became transparent for only a moment.]

Ah. This, however, appears to be fine; we're not in fairy company tonight. You can eat if they offer it to you again.
eternalmagic: (Default)

[personal profile] eternalmagic 2025-03-05 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
[Mordred looks at her, and for a moment he's simply overcome with his affection for her, hinted by the trace of a smile at the corners of his mouth and the light in his eyes that belongs to her alone. Faced with the most unusual things she must ever have seen before, Margaery's decorum still doesn't fail her. This woman is endlessly graceful, and although he can hear the question that she doesn't ask, he can't help but be charmed by the polite one that makes it out of her mouth.

He offers her the knife - to cut the fruit, if she wants, but also as a gesture of goodwill. Don't be alarmed. You're still in control.]


I'm not. But my aunt is.

[It feels strange to be telling her, almost as strange as she must feel to be experiencing it, but Mordred simply cannot bring himself to imagine that she would take all this in and then run out to tell the world. That simply isn't who she is, and if anyone knows how to keep things out of the public eye, it's Margaery Tyrell. (He refuses to think of her with her husbands' name.)]

I've told you I spent most of my adolescence in various boarding schools. That's true, but it isn't the whole truth. I stayed with my aunt Morgana for several years, and learned... well, magic.

[As a demonstration, he holds up a hand and turns a little toward the food spread across the table. At a beckon, a fresh persimmon leaves its bowl and floats to his palm.]

I wouldn't be telling you, but we're surrounded by it now. I suspect this is a coven, celebrating the approach of spring.