morgan macdougal eats your kind for breakfast. (bangupjob) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2009-09-16 22:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | angus macdougal, morgan macdougal |
RP Log: Angus & Morgan MacDougal
Who: Angus & Morgan MacDougal
When: This evening
Where: practise yard at Caer Dubh
What: Morgan goes to tell Angus about what happened with her and Nick
Rating: R for Morgan's mouth, of course
There was only one thing Mad Angus MacDougal did this time of night, and Morgan really thought she'd gone completely fucking mental if this was when she ought to track her grandfather down and tell him what happened two nights previous. She might have worked up the courage the previous evening, but when Madog showed up during "lunch," she thought she ought to spend some time with her brother. Time that didn't involve the pair of them having to dodge swords or hear Gus's roar. All that Morgan had to count on was that she was Angus's favourite at the moment, and she wasn't quite sure that would be enough for the news she needed to tell him. She'd never really been scared before, not really. Death Eaters and secret identities had nothing on her grandfather's temper. Hands shoved deep in her pockets, she strode across the castle lawn to the practice yard where she could see the pale vampire cutting the night sky with his beloved claymore. Clear of the weapon's arc, Morgan put herself in his line of sight. He'd probably heard (or smelled) her coming before she even caught sight of him. "Hard to practice without a sword," he called to her, the six foot blade slamming with incredible force into the practice dummy. Its skull made a deeply satisfying crunch sound as the blade smashed through it. The nice thing about a golem for a sparring partner was that he didn't have to hold back or rebuild it after destroying it. Every time, it just got right back up and reassembled. The magic to build them was very rare nowadays - he had received the dummy as a gift from his youngest son back in the mid-18th century, and promptly named it Edward after his least favourite king of England. Since then, Angus MacDougal had taken a sword to the golem nearly every day of his life. There wasn't much call for battle with a sword in most places, but it was different with vampires. You could shoot them or magic them all day with no affect, but a wooden stake and a slice to the neck could make a very bad day indeed: the bad day to end all bad days (and all good ones,too) in fact. Besides, he liked his sword practice. Swinging six feet of steel through the air was good exercise, and remarkably cathartic. Catching him in the middle of it was nearly always sure to find him in a good mood. Morgan snorted out loud at that, leaning against a post with her elbow. "Are you fucking kidding? Already got penis envy, don't need sword envy. Anything I pick up is going to look so fucking pathetic next to that thing." Angus liked his stories, but not when he was waited for a sucker punch-line. Maybe he didn't know there was one to be had at the moment, but anything she started off with would likely send that blasted sword through his good mood. Later, she'd tell herself that it was this reason that she suddenly blurted out. "I kissed Nick the other night when we went out dancing." As if it were some kind of punctuation, the sword crashed through the golem's shoulder. The crushing sound was somehow more awful this time. That was perhaps because it was followed by Angus drawing up to his full height, pulling the sword up along with him as he leveled a measuring look at his granddaughter. "Sorry, what was that?" he asked, certain that he must not have been listening right. The six-foot blade had been whirring through the air, and then there had been the shattering golem...there was plenty of room for misinterpretation. That had to have been what happened, because it was simply impossible that he actually heard what he thought he heard. Okay, there. Morgan just experienced her first jolt of true fear. Ice felt like it was trickling down her hair to her toes. It was funny, then, that she didn't flinch back or even pull herself off the pole. She didn't feel weak-kneed, but there was a first for everything. "Er... I snogged Nick?" Morgan told him again, her voice sounding a lot stronger than she felt. Mentally, she'd given up; if Angus was going to be furious -- and she was leaning in that direction fast and, heh, furiously -- there wasn't any way she was going to outrun him. Besides, she wasn't going to run. What the fuck? Of all the things she knew she was, a coward was not one of them. "Mouth to mouth, you know." Oh. So she had said what he thought she said. Exactly what he thought she said, in fact. And, as predicted, Angus took an instant dislike to the notion. Normally, Angus kept himself out of Morgan's romantic affairs. Morgan was a grown woman, she could take care of herself, and she had a good head on her shoulders. He didn't worry about her the way he worried about Gwendolyn, because he knew that Morgan could easily give a punch in the face to any man who did her wrong, and such a man was obviously deserving of the humiliation of having his arse kicked by a woman. Angus would of course step in on her behalf if he ever thought it necessary, but most of the time he considered that Morgan knew what she was doing and would do what made her happy. But this...this was different. This was Nick, his oldest still-living friend. The two of them had been carousing together for eight generations of MacDougals now, almost three hundred years. And Morgan. Morgan was one of the grandchildren, his favorite, who would give him shite about whatever suited her but still came to him when problems got serious. The three of them operated as a little family of sorts, especially since Nick had come to stay at the castle again. Snogging between Morgan and Nick blurred the lines of relationships that were comfortable and set, and Angus did not like it. One dark eyebrow lifted. "He kiss ye back?" "No, he just stood there. Yeah, he kissed back." Morgan resisted the urge to tell him there had been tongue and roaming hands. So the hands had been on her back, but that was damn near obscene for the otherwise prude Nicholas Harrow. "Wouldn't have bothered you with it if it didn't cause a big fuck-off bump in the road." Sure, Nick confessed he was interested in dating her, and Angus knew about her old crush on his friend. That didn't mean things were daisies and puppies and frolicking in the moonlight. She was terrified -- there was that feeling again -- of fucking up the friendship she had with him, that things would crumble with her grandfather. "You're unhappy with me. Him. It. I can tell by the way you're not talking much." So much for the hope that she was coming to him because she'd kissed Nick and his lack of response had broken her heart. Something like that he could've worked with. That was just ordinary romantic misery that everybody went through here and there. It would've been a touch awkward, but they were all three family. They'd get over it, Morgan would find somebody else, and everyone would live happily ever after. But no, no, it had to be a mutual thing. That was, as his granddaughter had so eloquently put it, a big fuck-off bump in the road. That was everybody coming out of their assigned places and taking a fancy allemande-left, swing-your-corner, ladies-roll-back, hey-for-four until he had no idea where any of them were supposed to stand anymore. Usually Angus thrived on change. He loved new technology and shifting borders. New friends and new homes and new ideas...these were the stuff that made an extremely long life worth living. He did not, however, like changes in relationships, unless it was the change of an attractive woman going from not shagging him to shagging him. This was a decidedly different sort of change, and what he would never admit was that it made him feel left out. What had once been him and Nick and Morgan was going to be Nick and Morgan, now. After all, Angus knew Nick better than to think that this would be anything other than a serious, life-altering relationship. Nick only did serious, life-altering relationships. He'd probably make Morgan very happy. The trouble was that Morgan was his favorite granddaughter, and Nick was his best friend, and now nothing was going to fit as it ought to anymore. "Do as ye like," Angus said, and he turned to face the golem again, sword raised. "God knows ye always do anyhow." The sword went up, whistled through the air, and knocked off the crown of the golem's skull. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The short answers were killing her, and she had the sudden urge to tell Nick to take a flying leap, that whatever it was between them was not worth the way she was feeling now, watching her grandfather's back as he turned away from her. This was worse than those first few minutes, when she wasn't sure she could stop the bleeding in Moody's stump. This was worse than Madog telling everyone she was really a boy underneath it all when she was fourteen. "GusGus..." Morgan wasn't in the habit of pouting or crying, but right then she felt like doing both. She felt like being a fucking teenager and throwing herself on her bed for a good crying jag. Or writing in her journal about the world was unfair, and she didn't know what to do. Maybe accompanied by bad poetry and woe-is-me, god-awful song lyrics. "I know it doesn't mean a fucking thing, but... I'm sorry." What was the use? He heard her, she knew, but going back to his sword play was a terrible, awful sign, and now she just had the urge to go yank up all the winter roses and stomp all over them. Or track Madog down and punch the living shit out of him, just because she knew he'd eventually ask her what was wrong. "I'm going into the city. We're nearly out of NuBlood, and you two will need it on your trip this weekend, so... If there's anything else, now would be a good time to speak up." "Carton o' Winstons," he said, and then another half of the golem's head was shattered by the blade of the sword. Angus could see she felt terrible, but right now he felt bloody well terrible, too. If he talked to her now, it would degenerate into yelling, and rash words on both their parts that they wouldn't be able to take back later. He needed time, and he needed to bash this clay dummy into smithereens so tiny it'd take hours to put itself back together. Then maybe he could talk to her. Unfortunately, his usual method of dealing with issues of conscience and emotion wasn't available - he sure as hell couldn't talk this one out with Nick. "Got it," she affirmed with a nod. Just as she was about to shove her hands back in her pockets to trudge back to the castle, Morgan realised she hadn't been idle out here long enough to even drudge them out. With a sigh, she tucked her arms at her side and shuffled down one of the paths, but eventually decided not to head directly back to the castle. Nick was in there, and with her sour mood, she'd likely try to start a fight. She headed off toward the gun range. Shooting things always made her feel better, except this time, it just made her realise that she was definitely her Grandfather's Granddaughter. |