bakerstreet | Baby, you’re perfect

[Goodbye, peace and quiet~]

Yeah? You've certainly got your qualities.

[ ............?

She hasn't asked him. ]

If you are idle, you could look after your State, Lot.

[ Remember the one near the Pit from that poor fae who ran his mouth in the middle of a royal audience and ended up being flogged to death by her orders. ]

You misunderstand, Your Majesty.

[Ever since she'd stabilized him, his voice sounded quite a lot more like Urien's.

He'd taken off one of his gauntlets, reaching into a pack at his side to withdraw a set of cards.]

It's a game being played in Gloucester that he used to help even out the wrinkles with Tristan. He was too embarrassed to show it so you, so I thought I'd pull it out while he's busy with his training. [Gently, he rapped his knuckles on his temple. Urien was busy in that city doing who knew what.]

I see.

[ A game... Morgan stares blankly, but what she truly registers is that her daughter was involved, too. The spear she always wields is resting on her lap. It is simply a show she is relaxing in her own way. She might not leave her throne, but she sometimes shows signs of rest. Her free hand beckons him to approach and show her this set. ]

...It sounds like they are finally starting to smooth their relationship. [ It probably wasn't very easy for either Urien or Tristan. Not when they have their differing opinions regarding Beryl Gutt. ] How do you get along with your niece, Lot?

You could say it's a toss-up, depending on the day. Sometimes she likes him more. Sometimes she likes me more. [Shuffling the cards in both hands, he approached the throne and Morgan.]

Pretty sure she likes getting to answer all his dumb questions. It's advertised as a 'get to know somebody' game. You pull from the top of the deck after shuffling and ask whichever question you get. Course... Urien made sure to pry the less-than-savory questions out when he played with Tristan.

[He held out the shuffled deck for Morgan to take. Before entering the throne room, naturally, Lot added those discarded cards right back in.]

[ Morgan wonders what causes the swing. There are still things she misses in how to make her daughter happy. Their feelings do not always align despite the great affection they can share.

As Lot approaches, her grave gaze flicks to the guards outside the throne room. She doesn't need to give any signal; they close the doors and won't admit any guests unless they belong to the "royal" family.

"Family'" is such an outlandish concept to grasp, yet it applies. ]

And you say Tristan enjoyed this game...?

[ She mumbles. Maybe she should borrow it to...play it with her daughter one day. She reaches out to choose one of the middle cards from the offered selection. ]

Is there any penalty? I am not familiar with the rules.

['It's a big brother's responsibility to make sure his sisters are happy.'

Urien's reasoning had been sound and, thankfully, he hadn't questioned where he accumulated that line of thinking. Rather, Lot was happy to leave it as a mystery.]

Hm. [A thought came to mind. Morgan's incredulity... had she not realized Tristan hadn't been that difficult to entertain? Perhaps he and Urien had understood her simply because they shared the same kinds of instincts.

Well--he could reserve information for a special occasion, then. He didn't have much of a mind for gifts but some were just obvious. At her question, he smiled just a little and spread his hands in a half-hearted shrug.]

Neat thing is there aren't any rules except you having to shuffle the deck and take turns. You could make up rules if you wanted but those two answered everything that came up.

[ It shouldn't be so difficult to grasp that Morgan faces challenges in properly bonding with her daughter. As a monarch, she's efficient in her own ruthless way (who else would have organized such a chaotic world during two thousand years?), but when it comes to approaching Tristan, she is paralyzed about her methods.

Partly, she carries the guilt of the times she could not save that child from her grisly fate. ]

I see. I'll go first— [ the queen announces as if she hasn't retrieved a card already. She lowers her gaze to read the contents. ] "Can you describe your own taste in interior and design?"

[ Her eyebrow raises at the specific topic. No matter. This might be a good way to know if he has made changes in his inherited State. ] What do you say, Lot?

[He'd furrowed his brows when posed with that card. Tristan had given a pretty straight-forward answer to the question--one that could have been picked apart simply by glancing over the interior of her suite in the castle.

Lot, on the other hand--Morgan had already seen his real home, though he knew better than to say as much. Sighing, he drilled his fingers upon his chin, sitting cross-legged beside Morgan's throne as a hound might.]

I'm not saying I'll pass but I don't think it applies to me. 'Four walls and a roof' aren't in my taste to begin with.

[Suffice to say that his mansion was collecting dust.]

[ Morgan looks down at him; his manners are similar to Urien's, plopping down on the steps of her dais and staying there under the shadow of her throne. She might have to sacrifice the tasteful minimalism of her throne to bring chairs for them if this continued. ]

You have a State.

[ She reminds him with a dry voice. She will have to order him to at least spend a day per week in that place. Otherwise, the staff will never become familiar with him. Urien could accompany him, too. Perhaps they could take Tristan with them. She might have ideas to redecorate that manor to her liking.

.......................

She will consult with Urien first. Morgan extends her hand to return her card into the shuffle. ]

It should be your turn to choose.

[Really, he might have been content with a cushion. There was no opportunity to chat with her at the kotatsu and, even if there had been, he could imagine she would be unhappy to try it.

Had he known she was considering the option of throwing Tristan his way once more, he might have blanched. That girl would turn those quaint farmsteads into something that would put the other lords to shame.

Lot, made weary by the prospect, offered her a dry look in return, rather pointedly.]

You have thousands of acres of fields to frolic in.

[Picking up the deck, he placed Morgan's card at the bottom and drew one from the top of the deck. He read it while shuffling it once again.]

'What's your favorite leisurely activity?' [Though, his brow wrinkled. It seemed an unfair question to pose her as well.]

Edited 2024-03-11 18:58 (UTC)

[ Her plans to appoint Tristan as assistant to run his state is all but decided. His words that she tolerates his presence have only encouraged her. It might keep her daughter busy and happy, with less idle time to sulk about Beryl Gutt.

It would also take that burden off his shoulders some of the Lord's duties when he doesn't have the heart for that role. Unfortunately, the personnel needs to understand the presence of the owner switch. She could ease the transition yet still expect him to at least show his face.

She returns his gaze, unfilinchingly. ]

My place is on this throne.

[ She cannot move as freely as she used to. But she has known and explored every inch of the isles in the past. This also limits the things she can do. Fortunately, there is one thing she has always liked, even before she left the Rain Clan. ]

Reading. [ She asnwers quickly, meeting his gaze serenely. She suspects he will pass this information to Urien. ] I like reading.

Is it? I guess one could get that impression, Your Majesty.

[One could say that it was unlikely that those who entered Camelot would see her anywhere else. He could make plenty of comments on that matter but Lot preferred the benefits of tactical silence over Urien's endless inquisitiveness. She was right to suspect Urien and his antiquated perspective when it came to marriage and union.

It was quite like his growing suspicion that he'd be waking up to a fully re-furnished mansion the next time he took a nap on the estate roof. There was no more potent threat than Morgan patiently remaining silent about any particular topic. The less she spoke of it--the more likely it was that she had plans for it.

Shuffling for Morgan, he'd held out the deck for her to take a card for her turn.]

I guess you and I know you'll be getting a visit from your consort with all kinds of annoying questions.

I am the queen. Here is where I must remain.

[ She says with a note of finality. Sometimes, she watches the landscape stretching beyond her balcony behind the throne with her mirrors. She wishes her gaze got lost in the orange skies and green grasslands, but inevitably, it falls on that ominous Pit.

So long as her silence acts as a warning, she does not need to announce it until Tristan interrupts them. It is good. An uncle-niece bonding activity that (hopefully) shall not involve severed limbs or dead fairies.

This topic reminds her she has not touched a book in a while unless it involved the kingdom's reports and related workload. There is no time for leisure. But she used to love it, in another life. The life of the adopted princess of the Rain Clan. Luckily, she doesn't need to speak of this further. She leans over to snatch her card and asks. ]

Tell me. Is Urien in possession of a different deck of cards?

[ She appreciates the warning. If he is as discreet as Lot, there shouldn't be a problem. Speaking of queries, she reads the card. ]

Are you a "dog" or a "cat" person?

Hm.

[His brows wrinkled at the thought. He lacked imagination and Tristan's own was fairly narrowed by her want to be Morgan's ideal daughter. Urien, though--he'd be so open to ideas from strangers that he stood the better chance of finding something interesting to bring to tackle Morgan's restrictions.

If she wouldn't move, then someone would simply have to accommodate her--someone who had every excuse to be around so often. When Morgan took her next card, he'd placed a finger on top of the pile and begun to straighten them.

A momentary confusion crossed him.] Yes, actually. I hadn't thought much about it since I don't overthink games of chance but he bought quite a lot of those custom decks for 52 cards and games like these.

[As he'd tapped the top of the deck for emphasis, he'd shut one eye to continue his thought. Cats or dogs? That house was barren of pets for generations as neither parent felt a desire to have either but he could distantly recall two old faces. Their annoying qualities swung his inclination close to his father.

Woodwose's canine features and honest disposition had somehow endeared him more than those annoying past influences. It was an unfair contest.]

Dogs. I don't believe I've had luck with cats.

[ Her gaze is on Lot's face, flickering back only to see the reflection of what lies behind her outside her overlooking balcony, deliberating what he is planning. No. What does he know of Urien's plan? He has asked permission to exchange gifts. Souvenirs for a pin. Then he brought her a rose. She has something to give him and has prepared it for the next opportune meeting.

Nevertheless, the question about her refusal to leave the throne has caught her attention. It cannot be Lot's concern. It must be Urien who has plans that might involve outdoor activities.

..............................

It is impossible in the present circumstances with unrest and the great calamity. The queen cannot make even the slightest opening. ]

Flotsam Games from Proper Human History? They must have been expensive.

[ She twirls the card between her fingers. Where else would he spend his royal allowance? She has given him a decent budget. His answer is not unexpected. Woodwose's fur is the softest of all Britain. Though she has a secret preference for birds, she nods in agreement. ]

It is your turn to ask.

[ She notes as she leans down again to offer him that card so he can place it at the bottom of the deck. ]

[At times, he'd wondered if Morgan would entertain Urien a bit more. He saw their exchanges for what they were--Urien reaching out for someone he thought was like him and Morgan seeking to placate a troublesome element. There had been underpinnings to the both of them but those would be the answers he assumed they told themselves to pass the time. When it seemed as if she'd been concerned once more for the pit, Lot offered her a little shrug as if to show he wasn't interested in looking.

He understood what kept her without rest and had no interest in it... so long as that thing never stirred. If she wanted to play warden to the dead, he'd offer her a bit of a reprieve.]

Yeah. He and Tristan are no good at haggling, so they've gotten fleeced a bunch looking for collectible sets. Aside from that...

[Taking the offered card, he slipped it beneath the deck and plucked one from the top.]

...He's gotten more into calligraphy and bought a few more inkwells and pens. [It was an annoyance. Flotsam that came from different historical nations weren't as much a mystery to him as most when he could speak so many languages. That much must have come over with the rest of his muscle memory. Lot turned over the card in his hand, frowning just slightly.]

Guess this one slipped past his filter. 'What kind of person do you like most?'

[Without hesitation, he turned the card over in his hand for Morgan to see that he wasn't just teasing her. He didn't really want to hear the answer--not when there was a chance he'd let it slip to Urien inadvertently.]

[ Morgan is too occupied with keeping Britain from crumbling to humor others. Even her daughter faces dismissal during the most turbulent days when she detects the Pit's cursed miasma about to spill. A bottomless cursed lid of even a deadlier end.

She appreciates Urien's company. Even more so if she hears Tristan is happier with a shopping companion. She can't provide her daughter with any of this. Perhaps if his arrival had not been close to the advent of the great calamity, the gap could have been closer. But it is what it is. She is the queen. She wishes to keep this kingdom the most. ]

She is good at winning Muryan's auctions. [ Morgan notes with her voice carrying pride. However, she has supplied her daughter with an endless budget. That makes her competition unfairly stacked in Tristan's favor. Card delivered, Morgan straightens back on her seat, gazing down at him as he continues, describing her consort's routine. ]

I see. If...Urien is idle, or his days dull— he could annotate the court assemblies.

[ There is a pause before she makes her suggestion. She trusts Urien, but she is not convinced that spending time with those governors and ambassadors will be good for him. She needs to carry on her duty as the monarch, but she has wanted him and Tristan to opt for more carefree activities.

The Filter? Her eyebrow raises. She assumes the last question isn't about the affection she can hold for her heir. He is asking the "type" she would fancy in a hypothetical romantic scenario. ]

There is no need to show me. I believe you. [ Does she need to answer this question? Does she know how to answer it? Morgan decides that skipping a response will show a weakness of her character. ] I appreciate those with strong convictions and ideals. [ A broad answer perhaps, where there are many other specifics she may never divulge. ]

Mm. True, she hardly let anything pass. [As much as he wanted to tease Morgan for it--the shreds of Urien that carried into him regularly made it impossible for him to see fault in those displays of affection. Morgan was more than allowed her chances to show affection for her daughter, however slight.

It made the heart he shouldn't have had at all--hurt.

He was happy to talk about Urien again if only to distance himself from that thought. He'd quickly assembled thoughts of stationary and all the tools he'd need to annotate officially for Morgan. Anything to shred apart the memory of that boy's face. Lot agreed quietly, offering hardly no objection at all to Morgan's suggestion--a far cry from his usual press to glean more information from her decisions.

It was more than enough to give him a moment to accept her answer without further prying as well. With the card set back in the deck, he'd offered her a risen brow and mused aloud:]

That's it, huh? I suppose you'd hold no respect for cowards who bow relentlessly to you.

[Was that all it took to ruin him? No wonder Ichigo gouged those thoughts out of himself, graceless and desperate. If he'd swam in that sea for so many centuries with that smile plaguing his thoughts there would be nothing left of him at all. Slowly, he'd fed the top card back into the deck and offered the next to Morgan.]

There's nothing to like about them.

Good. That is good. As my heir, she should proudly claim her spoils. [ Morgan says with the same calm, aloof voice yet she doesn't notice she unconsciously puffs her chest in maternal pride. Hearing that Sith has asserted herself above those fairies that would tear her apart if they knew her truth has somehow taken a weight off her shoulders. Perhaps she will be fine. Her actions have indeed prevented the last encore of that girl's tragedy.

She knows that Urien wants to help, keeping himself useful and prominent in his role, but she would rather not have him or Tristan near the Court for a while. She has accepted because of his persistence.

It was more than enough to give him a moment to accept her answer without further prying as well. With the card set back in the deck, he'd offered her a risen brow and mused aloud:]

I do not invite nor do I appreciate insolence and disloyalty, Lot.

[ Morgan's mood sours to hear this as a sobering reminder of her circumstances. Indeed, a wicked witch she is must be incompatible with the splendor of the holy sword-wielders. Hmph. Even so. She allows that bitterness to dissolve within her as she continues, offering an innocuous example. ] Gawain...

Despite the unsavory gossip against her, Tam Lin Gawain is the very polished image of a chivalrous knight full of convictions. [ Loyal as well. ] Those are the type of people I appreciate.

[ She will take the offered card once that is clear. ]

Edited 2024-04-07 23:11 (UTC)

[Lot wasn't certain where Morgan's maternal instincts had come from. She was a strange fairy with complexity that simply didn't show in any of the rest and it made their first meeting all the more daunting. She could be reasoned with and her mind could change rather than stubbornly sticking in a single direction. She had her ideals and purpose in mind but among them, he didn't think her affection for Tristan fit in that schema.

Despite the mystery shrouding it, he didn't dislike it. Being a part of Urien, he had every instinct to keep that girl safe as well. She was delicate and vulnerable in ways that others wouldn't notice right away and in need of support and adoration despite her twisted sensibilities. If there was anyone in Fairy Britain who would stir Ichigo's old instincts to protect his sisters, Tristan was easily the closest example.

Lot drew up a sigh, offering Morgan a shrug. There was nothing kind he could say of her court. It was a near constant battle to not dig his teeth into them. It was all too satisfying already to be handed the excuse to turn their servants to dust the moment they ventured into the zone he was designated to guard. Each complaint lodged his way when he did his job well was music to his ears.] Can you blame me for voicing it? If not for your stern guidance, those overly-enhanced things that cling to your heels would be lawless beasts. The only thing they've got going is an understanding of the food chain.

[Though, they were in quick agreement on the matter of Gawain's image for two wholly different reasons. When that woman came to mind, he hadn't admired her for her chivalrous convictions but for what she was fighting beneath it all. Even if her name was hidden behind a multitude of restraints, he'd been far too acquainted with the traits of a predator to disregard their shadows cast.

Lot--he was much too popular with the Fang Clan.]

But, Gawain... I like her.

[He'd kept the card outstretched for Morgan, wondering to himself if she'd mind his unspoken appraisal.] That girl's got heaps of charm.

Edited (too soon!) 2024-04-09 02:32 (UTC)

[ The feelings might be unnatural in a world without children, but Morgan has the will of her counterpart of Proper Human History was very much a mother of several of King Arthur's knights. Perhaps that is why she is inclined to develop them. That infamous witch might have ruined the country and used the forbidden homunculus she concocted as a pawn, but a side of her has been a just and nurturing mother to Sir Gawain and the twins.

That might have been an explanation of her role. But the truth is that her choice to save Baobhan Sith is the leftover of the late Messiah of this doomed land. Aesc perished, and those cooling embers became Morgan. Someone who will save the kingdom and never the despicable fairies. Even so, an oath remains in her heart to protect the misfortunate child who has thanked her from the bottom of her heart and whose limbless body has nudged her to take the water she offered to quench her thirst. If she has to be her mother to save her, the queen will. Even if her actions contradict her cherished goal, she will not forsake her. That is the will of the fairy who came to this cursed soil from the distant Avalon and not the time-traveling visitor who sent her grudge and her desire to color her present actions.

Her eyelids momentarily flutter shut when she hears him say that. It is probably the first time somebody has noticed what transpires in Court. She will not confirm or deny his observation. Her silence is an answer, nonetheless. ]

.............................

[ Her oppressing order is what pacifies this land. Of course, it would be against their inherent nature. Although, the faithful Fang Clan is attempting to fight against it. Vegetarian diet. Mandatory schooling in courtesy and table manners. All part of this gamble. What a fortune that he brings a different subject so she can leave that one behind. ]

Oh? [ She sounds amused as she takes the card, glancing down at the question before her eyes drift back at him. ] She presently has a lover. [ She knows because she asked for some time off to look after him in Manchester. A sickly human boy. ] But if you wait—

[ The human will only last a few years, even without Gawain's cursed hunger to worry about. Their lives are naturally short in Fairy Britain, and this one is more fragile than the standard. ]

What is your favorite "music genre"?

Edited 2024-04-10 21:07 (UTC)

[Morgan hardly needed to guide Lot in the right direction when her expression said plenty. There were times to reprimand him when he stepped out of line but nothing spoke more clearly than silent acknowledgement. She would have chided him otherwise, had he been off the mark.

Still, he was more curious about her teasing mention of Gawain.]

I've heard but I thought it was curious. Some fairies really love their humans, don't they?

[It might have been more concerning a thought coming from Urien but there was no argument in Lot's mind that it was simply a matter of possessiveness. Gawain? She could take whatever was in her power.

Though, he snorted at the idea, turning his hand over to set down the deck, taking Morgan's card after she'd asked.] That woman would just kill me outright if I made a move, you know. I'm only just more competition.

[Though, there was a happy sort of bristling, his teeth more exposed in the smile that came. Pure excitement at the thought that there would be attrition between the two of them was more entertaining than vain notions of love.

Putting a lid on that excitement briefly, he'd rolled his neck and shut his eyes to think. There was a genre that hadn't existed anywhere in Fairy Britain that wouldn't fit into a label that fairies would understand. Right--the genre of rebels.]

My favorite? Well, it's a whole other world away but I'm a fan of 'punk'. [Ichigo was, at least.] None of it would ever survive as flotsam, unfortunately, so I'll just have to settle for old memories.

[ She does not think he let her switch the topic out of any kindness. Lot must truly be interested in Gawain. ]

Some do. There is no law forbidding such a union, but it is not too common. [ Although all fae do enjoy human company for one reason or another. Woodwose would probably try to remove the tongue of anyone suggesting he should take a human spouse. ] Other than Gawain, I heard that the traitor of Sheffield had several human wives. [ The tales before the Queen's Era will remain a fantasy, and she will not address them. ] And, of course, you must remember my former husband, Beryl.

[ She would not have broken a law she wants to enforce if it existed. She had never truly written any legal jurisdiction regarding humans, leaving their handling to each Clan and city lord.

She silently regards him, glancing above her card to acknowledge his claim. ]

She is more than just a ravenous beast. [ But the queen will not persist if he has no interest in Gawain as a woman. It is safer to stay out of her attention range. ]

"Punk"? [ Her nose scrunches at the unsavority name. ] How did it sound like?

[The Lord of Sheffield. Had he heard about him? Perhaps, as Woodwose made certain to carefully carve his cake into equal sections, there were snipes and complaints registered regarding the traitor but the finer details always seemed nebulous.

Lot grimaced at the thought of such clean eating more than the prospect of marriage. He lifted his chin, opening his hand palm pointed up to accept the card when she was ready, somewhat uninterested in the prospect of wining and dining Gawain.]

I hate to disappoint but I prefer the side of her that shows in battle. In terms of taking her as a a partner? [He wrinkled his nose, frowning more deeply.] Don't share it with her but my guess is she's gentle as a lamb with her lovers.

[Though, he gave pause--knowing the transition to answering her question meant a massive departure.] Oh, and... Well--punk is disorganized. There's usually a guitar and drums but the instruments don't matter so much as it being violent and rough matters. It's off-beat, sometimes, too. Lots of yelling and heavy sounds.

Baby, you’re perfect

au

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