Post by Deleted on Dec 2, 2012 15:02:04 GMT -5
Being one of the few females out fighting on the battlefield, Morgana knew that eventually, she would be called to speak with Hermes. Some of the other knights and warriors had spoken with the Headmaster, and it was all battle strategies, nevertheless. Morgana was more than pleased to be asked of her opinion, in fact, especially if she could deliver Trenale right into the hands of Wayron. It couldn't be more than splendid, in fact. She hadn't used magic until now (except, of course, to defend herself in battle, but inconspicuously), and there was no need to use it yet. Her secret was still a secret, and it would be better if Arthur did not know of what she was capable. Not yet. She needed him to find out her powers....with a big bang. Something that would literally slap him in the face (and then hopefully kill him, but those were just menial details).
It served him right, for thinking that he could continue on his father's legacy. The way Camelot is slowly crumbling, with fear and with hatred toward those who have been born with certain abilities. It wasn't like she had chosen this path. Magic had chosen her. And perhaps it was her destiny to use her powers for a greater good rather than the road which Uther and Arthur were paving. They were only digging graves for themselves. The Old Religion would win in the end, surely. And the land would soon accept these deeds. If someone would just listen to Morgana, perhaps she wouldn't have to force them to notice her. To hear her cries of desperation. But they turned a blind eye, like nothing was wrong. How could they know something was wrong? She was the perfect, smiling, innocent little ward of Uther Pendragon. Nothing was ever wrong.
But thinking about it only brought her anger and frustration. And when her emotions weren't controlled, neither could her magic be. Therefore, Morgana decided to take a dee breath before she entered the building, and could only figure out a smart strategy to discuss with Hermes. The god was an idiot. He couldn't keep his own employees under a microscope, and they all ended up allying themselves with the enemy. Serves him right. And Morgana could not blame Erik, that stranger in the woods, at all. What good was there in Trenale anyway?
Morgana checked her hair for any straying pieces, tapped the sword at her side, and puffed out her chest with pride, content with the chainmail hanging around her torso, and the fact that it practically looked untouched. Nobody had managed to get too near to her yet. Her fighting skills were like none other's. Morgana made a mental note to not think too many things, because she'd heard rumors about these Greeks and their many talents. Taking a risk was not on her to-do list. At last, she knocked, and didn't even wait for an answer, for she walked right in.
A smile was on her face (with as much worry as she could feign, of course), but she strolled confidently to the desk. "Sir," she acknowledged, bowing her head slightly to him. It was actually a good thing that Morgana wasn't royal here at Tintagel. Nobody noticed the woman sneaking out every night.
It served him right, for thinking that he could continue on his father's legacy. The way Camelot is slowly crumbling, with fear and with hatred toward those who have been born with certain abilities. It wasn't like she had chosen this path. Magic had chosen her. And perhaps it was her destiny to use her powers for a greater good rather than the road which Uther and Arthur were paving. They were only digging graves for themselves. The Old Religion would win in the end, surely. And the land would soon accept these deeds. If someone would just listen to Morgana, perhaps she wouldn't have to force them to notice her. To hear her cries of desperation. But they turned a blind eye, like nothing was wrong. How could they know something was wrong? She was the perfect, smiling, innocent little ward of Uther Pendragon. Nothing was ever wrong.
But thinking about it only brought her anger and frustration. And when her emotions weren't controlled, neither could her magic be. Therefore, Morgana decided to take a dee breath before she entered the building, and could only figure out a smart strategy to discuss with Hermes. The god was an idiot. He couldn't keep his own employees under a microscope, and they all ended up allying themselves with the enemy. Serves him right. And Morgana could not blame Erik, that stranger in the woods, at all. What good was there in Trenale anyway?
Morgana checked her hair for any straying pieces, tapped the sword at her side, and puffed out her chest with pride, content with the chainmail hanging around her torso, and the fact that it practically looked untouched. Nobody had managed to get too near to her yet. Her fighting skills were like none other's. Morgana made a mental note to not think too many things, because she'd heard rumors about these Greeks and their many talents. Taking a risk was not on her to-do list. At last, she knocked, and didn't even wait for an answer, for she walked right in.
A smile was on her face (with as much worry as she could feign, of course), but she strolled confidently to the desk. "Sir," she acknowledged, bowing her head slightly to him. It was actually a good thing that Morgana wasn't royal here at Tintagel. Nobody noticed the woman sneaking out every night.