Who: Mordred and Nimue When: Evening Where: His house What: Getting a new home Rating: PG-13, maybe R Status: In progress Warnings: Profanity, bad language, violence, possibly death
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Mordred, or Johnathan Peterson as he was known here, found himself feeling a bit frustrated of late. Adults could just be so touchy. Hugs, kisses, cheek strokes. Mussing the hair. Embraces. Even pinching a cheek due to being so adorable. Which he didn't really mind all that much if done in moderation. He remembered having real parents once. These people? Were not any of them. They weren't even magical! Not Druid, Siddhe, or Old Religion.. nothing. Just normal people. But he could see in their eyes, how they looked at him, treated him, smiled when he was in the room, the kisses goodnight and tucking in. He acknowledged that they did love him. It was just.. he didn't feel the same. And that sort made him feel just a little bit guilty about it. But he knew the truth and couldn't change it if he wanted to. He knew he wasn't their real son, he had replaced the other boy. It was hard not doing magic in front of anyone. Especially when they were around all the time, and other times, he was in school.. and don't get him started there. There had been a sort of bully taking lunches and bossing around. But somehow when Mordred gave him a 'look', the boy had quickly backed off.
He had went with his false parents tonight for a dinner at a nice restaurant. These clothes were a bit uncomfortable. He much preferred his old ones, with the green Druid cloak. But he had played along. Smiled around them, speaking up occasionally (since he'd overheard talk about taking him to a specialist or psychiatrist if his non-speaking continued) when the opportunity presented itself. It.. did feel a little nice, he'd admit. But awkward too. However, it was when they had returned home that things took a bad turn. The front door was slightly open even though the father locked it. The lights were off but flashlight beams danced around from the window. "We aren't alone," Mordred said as he looked at the door, speaking as though he knew it as fact. "Danger has come."
The father didn't hear as he swung the door open, the mother following fast after him. The young Druid boy cautiously followed inside. There were indeed intruders. And they were none too happy about being interrupted. They said odd words, like "bitch" and "what the fuck", and things like that. He didn't know the words but they weren't good ones, of that he knew with certainty. One of the three men then backhanded the mother, sending her to the floor, while the others pulled guns and a knife while looking at the father. "I told you it was dangerous," Mordred mumbled as he moved in front of his parents.
"Hey mate," the second hoodlum spoke to his leader, "We got some good pearls and cash, what say we have a little fun, eh?" The other two laughed, and the one who must have led them spoke, "Train, yeah? Then we smoke them. No witnesses." The leader then smacked the father with a pistol, then glanced to the mother. Mordred had a good idea of what the thugs were planning. He instinctively knew they were evil. He knew if he didn't refrain from using magic right now, it would shock his parents. But they would at least be alive! And he could feel quiet anger building up in him. He had to act soon or it would be too late. And so.. he heaved, and let out a loud scream, an angry shrill yell that one his age could do when both mad and afraid. What happened next clearly defied science. All the windows in the current room shattered, shards flying outward. His parents were fine, but the three men were caught off guard and knocked on their backs as if by an invisible force. He was met by stares of confusion, and then.. fear? And now anger as the robbers moved to stand up and reach for the handguns they had dropped.
Not enough. It wasn't enough. The magical child had to make it permanent, it seemed. He had killed before out of necessity. When surrounded by knights that would kill him swiftly. So he stood there, staring firmly at the criminals. It was a fiery yet icy type stare. A type of, You screwed with me and now you will pay dearly type of stare. Suddenly, a series of knives that they had in one of their bags started to float up and hover in mid air. Then turned as with a will on their own and pointing right at the men. Before any protests, the blades then shot forth and embedded into the bodies of the evil men. And then, after a moment of gasp and shock, they fell down to the floor like a trio of bowling pins. Mordred was still silent as he stared down at them. He seemed lost. But then the sound of gasps amidst hushed sobs brought him out of it and he turned... seeing his mother stare while the father held one of the guns, shaking. "What? Father, Mother. I have saved us."
"How did you," the mother said, stammering, "how?? That.. how did.. what did you do?" She then stared, hand trembling as she held a knife close to herself. She then stared as though a new idea struck her. "WHO are you?" The father seemed on edge as well.
"Your son, of course," Mordred spoke sweetly, offering a slight smirk, a smile. "Johnathan Peterson. I'm sorry, but they'd have killed us. Killed my father, and raped you. And then killed you. Maybe made us watch and then kill us. I saved us. Does it really matter how? Maybe it was... God." A foreign concept, as he only remembered hearing of a few Christian influences back home.
"You're not our Johnny," the father said, gritting his teeth. "You're... something else. You are not our son." The mother slowly nodded, wondering what to do about this but the look on their eyes seemed to slowly give them an idea. A bad one. He'd either be banished from the home or killed. Either option wasn't very nice.
"But," Mordred started, starting to protest, then sighed. "Fine. I am not him. So what makes you think you CAN succeed here? I must say, it's really not good manners to not show gratitude to a child who saved both your lives. You saw what I did. Do you really want to end up down there with them? This is nothing. I can do SO much more." He stared, backing up, partly in fear, other part in apprehension. While observing, his mind reached out to Nimue in an attempt to show her where he was and to speak to her mind. [Nimue! Please, help me. I saved my family. In.. you know, our way of doing so. They are not taking it well. Hurry, please!]