Mordred (traitorously) wrote in mythologs, @ 2012-04-04 19:18:00 |
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Current mood: | awake |
Entry tags: | !event #018, famine, mordred |
hard days made me, hard nights shaped me... [closed/complete]
Characters: Famine (appetentia and Mordred (traitorously)
Date/Time: 04/04, mid-morning
Location: Right side, South, Maze
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: n/a
Summary: Famine sets a trap.
The most likely candidate for boredom in a forested maze was limited to a select few: Famine was one of these people. He'd spent the last half hour being utterly lazy and picking at his nails with the tip of his knife, waiting patiently for something to run into the snare he'd devised with vines and branches. Experience from Zurvan and his life as a vagrant meant that, all this? It was nothing to him; he'd already lived it before.
That didn't mean it was any less boring.
Juice from the mango-looking fruit he'd demolished lingered in the back of his throat, and he was looking forward to something tripping into the vines. He had his knife ready to throw at a moment's notice.
Even if what ended up in his trap wasn't an animal.
~*~
It wasn't boredom that was making Mordred feel on edge, more like that creeping unease of knowing he (and countless others) were being fucked with yet again. He'd spent the past half hour attempting to find his bearings in the maze the powers that be apparently whisked them off to, and he was getting annoyed. All he could think of was the last time he'd been magically ported somewhere he ended up dead.
You would think he might have been paying better attention.
Instead, ripping a fruit that seemed vaguely peach-like off a tree, he bit into it with the type of gusto one usually reserved for less-juicy foods. He glanced down at the compass in his other hand, not noticing the snare on the ground until he set it off.
"Bloody fucking hell," he snarled out as he felt himself get caught.
~*~
A knife whizzed past Mordred's head, missing by a clear foot only because its owner hadn't been watching the snare as well as he should've. A shame, as he rarely ever missed a target that large. Still, it appeared he'd snatched something rather... English.
The Horseman made his appearance with arms crossed, leaning against the closest tree. No move was made to come undo the vines from Mordred's ankles. "You're a bigger rabbit than I was expecting," he deadpanned, amusement all too clear in his eyes.
~*~
A glare was aimed in the direction the projectile came from, mingled with annoyance when he saw that it was Famine who had thrown the sharp weapon. Had he known that the Horseman was the one who set the trap he might have laughed, instead he was just pissed.
The knight would have crossed his arms if could, and instead had to settle for wishing he could shoot daggers out of his eyes at Famine's smirk. "Yes, I suppose I am. You can let me down anytime, now," he snarked, clearly unamused.
~*~
"I could," Famine began with mock thoughtfulness as he edged closer, eyes not leaving the knight's for a moment. "But then..." Once he was close enough, he touched the back of long fingers to Mordred's cheek. At least the trap wasn't too high, but he wasn't a short person.
"I might have to eat you."
~*~
"You should know I don't go down easily," Mordred snarled out as he continued to fix Famine with an angry glare. "I'm sure there are far more edible things here than me." His voice was softer as he felt Famine's fingers brush his cheek.
"It's a good trap, I'll admit."
~*~
A snort. "Of course it is, I made it," the younger man pointed out matter-of-factly, withdrawing to fetch the knife he'd lodged into the tree. Famine peered up at the knight hanging upside down so nicely. He tilted his head almost as if in thought, until he stepped away to reach for a vine.
"If you don't go down easily, tell me that this doesn't hurt," he warned just before slicing through the vine with his blade.
~*~
The knight would have sneered if he wasn't partway convinced that the younger man might leave him dangling there. "Your humility is astounding," Mordred said in a deadpan tone instead, continuing to watch his captor.
Falling swiftly as the vine was cut, Mordred let out a soft grunt before rolling to his feet. "It was more jarring than hurtful," he conceded after catching his breath.
~*~
Famine flipped the knife and tucked it into the back of his jeans. His manner of dress wasn't particularly suitable for bed, but he'd snagged one of Pestilence's t-shirts to complete his wardrobe. In a loose tee and too tight jeans, he probably looked more ready to face the maze than most others were.
"You're the one who walked into my trap." The Horseman spied a leaf on Mordred that annoyed him, but he didn't make a comment. "So what now?"
~*~
Mordred took a moment to swipe at any debris that he felt clinging to him. He was shirtless, as per his bedtime norm, but his grey and blue plaid sleep pants had pockets big enough for his phone, compass, and knife. While he wished he'd has something on his feet he wasn't complaining.
"Yes, an unfortunate side effect of being in unfamiliar surroundings." The knight surveyed the area before shrugging. "Work together or go our separate ways?"
~*~
e was stared at for a couple of seconds, as if all it took to make a decision was to look into Mordred's eyes, and then Famine gave a brief nod. "But if you trip into one of my traps again," he began as he pivoted on a heel.
"I'm really going to eat you."
He wasn't serious, but Mordred didn't need to know that.
~*~
A single eyebrow was arched elegantly as he fell into step beside the shorter man, one hand coming up to ruffle Famine's hair as though Mordred did things like that all the time. "Fair enough, mate," he agreed, jovially.
"I'll warn you, I'm probably not as tasty as I look."
He couldn't help but joke with Famine.
~*~
The hand was snatched soon after he finished speaking, held tight as they continued to walk back in the direction of Famine's camping place. "And if you keep that up, your hand goes first."
Even if it wasn't very fleshy at all. Like a chicken wing.
~*~
He had to chuckle at that, even though he knew that he'd most likely annoyed his companion. "Could you at least go with the right one first? I'm not as good with it."
If he was going to lose a hand, he wanted a choice in the matter.
~*~
"We'll see," muttered the younger man, who hadn't released Mordred's hand yet, instead tightening his grip on it. Whether it was out of distrust or possession, he didn't quite know, but he also didn't care. They were in the middle of fucking nowhere, and he had no shits to give.
Soon Famine would need to contact his siblings, but he knew they would watch out for themselves. They always did.
~*~
'Hmm'ing softly, the older man didn't bother glancing down at where Famine's hand was linked with his. Instead, he lightly squeezed his fingers around the Horsemans', as if to confirm that he wasn't going anywhere. It had been far too long, and this was needed.
Once things were more settled Mordred would want to assure his mother and brothers that he was alright, but for now he wasn't all that concerned.