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thedruidboy 2011-07-13 10:47 am UTC (link)

Mordred was wandering back from the park. If he'd thought staying with Neria rather than Morgana was going to be a free holiday, he was sorely mistaken. Not that he minded - Mordred was the kind of little boy who drank in knowledge like a sponge, and a particulary large and dry one at that, so he didn't mind staying with his teacher. Even if it meant that doing his homework over the breakfast table wasn't exactly approved of. But he had been allowed to visit a lot of people, and he'd spent most of the time between school and dinner playing with the local children in the park when he wandered past the man sat on the grass. It was the markings he noticed first. The coiling patterns etched onto his skin that closely resembled the mark Mordred himself bore, stamped just below his collarbone on his right hand side. His Father had had some like the man currently spread across the grass, on his arm and shoulder rather than hand and foot, but the resemblance was still there. Mordred hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip, before his eyes alighted on the dog and his young mind was made up. The young boy wandered over, curling his hands nervously in his jean pockets, biting down awkwardly on his bottom lip. There was a moment of silence, where Mordred had to fight to find his voice, and when it came out it was small and soft. "My Father had marks like yours," he commented, then felt his cheeks blush and looked down, embarrassed, at his own muddy converse in the grass. They'd been chewed by Keller - Morgana's sabertooth - at one point, and were falling apart a little. Mordred glanced back up, feeling a bit more confident. "Can I pet the dog?" There was a heartbeat of silence, before Mordred hurriedly added, "Please." (Reply to this) (Thread)

irondruid 2011-07-13 08:48 pm UTC (link)

One eye peeked open a little to catch the small boy inching closer, and looking him over curiously. His gaze eventually settling on Mordred with a pleasant smile when he finally spoke. Atticus had to bite back a little chuckle at how nervous Mordred was just to speak with him. "Did he now? Ah well, mine are for more then just looks." He was tattooed back when he was still an apprentice to an elder druid, they were a part of him permanently now. Even if he were to be injured, and the knots disrupted, the tattoo would return on the healed flesh. The only trouble is it would interfere with his being able to speak to or draw power from the earth a little while. "I'm sure he would like that. Right, Oberon?" Atticus said, glancing back to the great dog who barked in return. The wolfhound closed the gap in two large leaps forward, rolling on his back, legs in the air, and tail wagging excitedly. Oberon sniffed and looked to Atticus, commenting in ways only the elder druid could hear that Mordred smelled strange. "He'd like you to rub his belly." The red head suggested before using the magic he called 'faerie specs' briefly to look at the stranger. It was a little alarming. The faint outline of white present in the auras of magic users was much brighter around Mordred, with a familiar green knotted together. Very rarely did he such magically powerful children, and his magic was a part of his very being, like old magic not these modern witches. It was interesting. Not much surprised him these days. "My name is Atticus." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

thedruidboy 2011-07-13 09:31 pm UTC (link)

Mordred was about to open his mouth to tell the man about his Father's markings, and perhaps about the one he carried himself, but he was nine years old and if you shove a dog at a boy that age you're pretty much guaranteed they'll forget anything they were thinking about in the ten seconds before. Mordred's lips quirked in a shy smile as the dog rolled onto its back before him, and trod quietly forward to pet him, kneeling beside the large animal. Mordred was small for his age, and the wolfhound nearly dwarfed him as he ran small, bony fingers through the thick fur and onto the hot skin on the animals stomach. Mordred glanced up, pulled back to human company when the man introduced himself. "I'm Mordred," he replied, feeling his underused voice catch in his throat a little. Then he remembered his manners again and quickly added a "Nice to meet you," onto the end. Mordred gave a light cough to clear it, sitting back from the dog for a moment, settling back on his heels and scrubbing his fingers through his hair so it stood up on one side, trying to remember what he was going to say. "I have one," he finally remembered, and tugged at his collar a little to reveal the swirling navy blue mark that decorated the skin just below his collarbone. "I got it when I showed my first magic," he announced proudly, his voice lifting a little along with his confidence. "It hurt, but I didn't cry or anything. And then I was allowed to go to some of the festivals and stuff. Back home, I mean. We don't do them here..." Mordred's voice trailed off, and his sharp blue gaze dropped back to the dog as he reached out to press his fingers into the warm fur once again. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

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thedruidboy 2011-07-13 11:58 pm UTC (link)

Mordred glanced at the same mark that decorated Atticus' hand, and a shy smile broke out over his young face as he felt a little bit better. Mordred was a lot better with talking to people than he had been when he'd arrived - he'd never mixed with other children as much as he had done these last few months, simply because there hadn't been many others in his age range back in his clan. Not to mention they kept having to scatter when Uther and his Knights came visiting. He looked up from the tattoo when the festival was mentioned, the tentative smile still in place. "First of August," he agreed, ducking his head again to the reassuring distraction of the dog. "We did do Alban Hefin, but I had to do it with other people and..." He ducked his voice a little, to talk in confidence. "They didn't do it completely properly." He gave Atticus the look Morgana sometimes gave Morgause when they didn't think Mordred understood what they were talking about and then turned back to the animal as it nuzzled against his chest, a small chuckle bubbling up from his narrow chest. A moment later, Mordred was looking up with his young brow crumpled in a slowly dawning question. People didn't have tattoos like his and talk about their old festivals without having some kind of connection. "Are you a Druid?" he asked. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

irondruid 2011-07-14 01:35 am UTC (link)

He grinned, laughing at the small critique of holiday traditions. Still he gave a nod in understanding. "Not many know how to do anything properly these days. I can celebrate properly with you from now on if you like. Very rarely do I get the chance for company." The laughter Oberon pulled from Mordred made him grin just a little bit more. One that didn't fade immediately despite the question. Atticus was naturally more then a little paranoid. It tends to happen after being hunted by a god for ages. Especially now that he was in a place where there was no where else to run. Not that he suspected Mordred. It was actually nice to think that none of this had to do with him, he just randomly got selected like everyone else. It wasn't some plot by the Norse gods to get back at him or something. He'd even tried divination, and saw only that he would have to endure, but no particular danger. "Are you?" He asked right back, ignoring Oberon's happy thoughts of I sure hope so. He can be your friend since Granuaile isn't here. Atticus wasn't sure how he would react to the answer. Being the last for so long, it would be strange. Granuaile was his apprentice, but it wasn't the same as growing up as a Druid. He wondered if Mordred was the only one as well, surely he had family here or someone looking out for him since the father had been past tense. "Where are you from, Mordred?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

thedruidboy 2011-07-14 05:01 pm UTC (link)

Mordred looked up again sharply from where Oberon had been pressing his cold nose into his palm. He was still a little paranoid about these things - he'd grown up in hiding after all, where admitting to being a druid was as good as a death sentence. It was all he'd ever known, and it was a big thing to learn to let go of. But this man had tattoos and seemed to know about the way of life, and Mordred hadn't seen another druid since Camelot so he couldn't be blamed for hoping, could he really? Anyway, he honestly believed that while he was here there were people to stop him getting hurt. And if they weren't around, he was more than capable of doing it himself. "Yes," he replied quietly. Mordred's tongue flickered out to wet suddenly dry lips, and his small, bony body tensed as he seemed to get ready to run if the situation called. "Albion," he replied quietly. "We moved around. But we were in Camelot since I was very little and I stayed there since." He hesitated, sharp blue eyes fixed on Atticus to try and predict his reaction. "Where're you from?" he finally asked, his voice quiet again. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

irondruid 2011-07-14 06:23 pm UTC (link)

If he had any doubts, they vanished when he'd turned the question back on Mordred. The boy almost perfectly mirrored his own hesitation at admitting what he was, and looked like he would be quick to run if Atticus didn't respond the right way. His expression softened and he nodded slightly. "I am too. I take it there aren't others here." Albion caught his attention. That wasn't something he'd heard in ages, and then Camelot followed. He restrained himself from laughing. Who would've thought - it was the original Mordred, not just a kid named after him. How exciting. "I'm from Iwernia originally, called Ireland now, but I have moved a lot as well since then." Iwernia and Albion. It brought back memories of his old grove, before they became hunted people. He had to admit it did warm his heart a little. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

thedruidboy 2011-07-19 02:13 pm UTC (link)

Mordred let a wider, genuine smile creep slowly over his face as he visibly relaxed, falling with a gentle thump to sit cross-legged on the grass, still occupied mostly with the dog, although it was mostly an act. Mordred was good at keeping people in his radar without making it too obvious - you had to be, if you wanted to survive in Uther's kingdom. Be alert, but not obviously so. The last thing you wanted was to draw attention for yourself. He shook his head enthusiastically, dark hair falling into his eyes and needing to be pushed back. Neria had tried to give him a hair cut, but Mordred hadn't liked it and had just grown it back. Another druid! It had been so long that Mordred had been able to speak to someone like him, who really understood everything, that his barely-used voice started to run away with him a little. "Nope. It was just me for aaages. Morgana and Morgause are here and they look after me but they weren't druids. Morgana was Uther's ward and Morgause..." he hesitated, his young mind struggling to remember. "I'm not sure what she did," he admitted. "Magic and stuff probably. But I was the only druid and I didn't even see everyone back at home for ages because we all got split up and I was supposed to leave it a while before I joined back up but then I got brought here and they're not supposed to miss me though, so it's alright." The little boy stopped, pulling in a breath and shooting the man a bright smile. "We met some people from across the water before. Where you're from. They stayed for a while but then they had to move on. I liked them." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

irondruid 2011-07-21 12:50 am UTC (link)

Atticus listened quietly as the boy finally sat down and relaxed, playing with Oberon absently while he explained. He connected names, Morgan Le Fay, Morgause, Mordred - He remembered that list someone had given him when he arrived saying something about people from Camelot being here, he hadn't actually expected it. Mordred wasn't what you'd expect either, but he supposed stories often colored people differently, and he was still just a boy. He smiled as Mordred chattered on, stopping only to take a breath. "They aren't supposed to miss you?" The red head asked, thinking that seemed odd, curious why the others back home wouldn't miss him if he got separated from them. Surely his family would miss him at the very least? He seemed to like his guardians here though all the same, aside from the fact that they didn't understand certain things about being a druid. "I like to think we had more fun on our side. We weren't hunted to the same extreme as you lot across the water." He shrugged a little. "You can celebrate with me, depending how long I'm kept here. Have you been continuing your studies on your own too?" Mordred had been tattooed earlier then a druid of his sort would have, but with the talk of magic and Camelot - the traditions were likely different. He didn't expect the idea of study to change all that much though. Druids were wise men, story tellers, scholars - Much of their lives were spent in study, and using that knowledge to protect the earth. Falling behind was never much of an option, even at a young age, if not especially - You learned best as a child. (Reply to this) (Parent)

Was the response I accidentally deleted cause i'm dumb. irondruid 2011-07-14 01:41 am UTC (link)

Atticus smiled at the boy being overwhelmed by the massive hound. Oberon rested his head expectantly in Mordred's lap once he stopped petting him. When the two were finished, he quirked a brow at the name. Certainly one he recognized, mostly from Mallory stories these days, and not exactly common. Not many people wanted to name their child after a king killer, and Mordred was shy and not what you'd expect. Granted, Atticus knew very well not to judge by appearances. "The triskelion. Your first magic, hmm?" Lifting his hand, Atticus showed Mordred the same symbol tattooed on the top of it encircled by the Celtic knots. "You don't celebrate any of them here? Lughnasadh is coming up soon." Atticus expected Mordred to look at him blankly, and not recognize the old Irish word. It was just a shot in the dark - a very long shot - despite the boy's name and tattoo. He'd heard of people being here from different times, he was still looking forward to potentially meeting Van Gogh again, but couldn't help but doubt that one of his kind were here. Not when he hadn't seen another Druid in centuries. Oberon rolled over a little and nuzzled his head against Mordred's chest. (Reply to this) (Parent)