InsaneJournal

Who: Mordred
When: Evening
Where: Hawaii
What: On the run
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete; narrative

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Mordred had been away for about a week now, since that night the fire broke out. Since he had hurriedly left Nimue, Amy, and Merlin. He had briefly hoped one of them would have been impressed with his attempt at making fire move from him. But instead it was fear or confusion. And the accusatory glances and tones were more than enough to convince him to depart. There was also the thought that Nimue wouldn't have gone back for him; he was reminded of back in Camelot, when Merlin had sort taken quite a long time making sure he got out safely, and he'd been suspicious about the elder wizard then too. He knew with all certainty that he didn't cause the fire. And so, without fail, every day, he had called the fire department that had responded. Calling to ask if there were any leads and updates. Asking if they determined the cause. He would do this at first every hour. Then once every few hours.. he suspected they found it annoying by this time. Still, he thought it a valid inquiry. He swore he'd pester and keep asking til the answer was revealed. He also thought it a good idea to leave the country. So he had stowed away in the luggage department of a plane. He did not know where it was destined to. He just knew it was going somewhere.

He felt it land eventually. Unfortunately, one of the workers had caught him. He had stared eerily and used his power to make him fly against the wall, then ran out onto the runway. It was.. different. Not cold or raining like back in the UK. Some security guards were chasing him, but damn if he wasn't a fast little bugger. He shouted, causing them to fly back on their rumps, then used telekinesis to make their nightstick batons swing at them, just for good measure. He soon made his way to the beach and... odd. The signs depicted that he was somewhere in Hawaii. It was apparently a tropical place. He looked at his watch. Oh! Damn. Well, time to make his usual phone call once again. So he made his way to the payphone and made the call, asking the routine questions he always asked. "Why, yes, this is the umpteenth time I asked. And I will keep on asking too. Unless you prefer I speak with the media instead. Okay, then.. bye now. Talk to you later." He hung up then. That took a bit of change from his pockets. He'd have to find extra.

Mordred had stared at his surroundings, the water, the trees, warm sand. For a couple hours, he had ran around on the sand, and occasionally even got his feet wet. He hadn't yet seen anyone go into the water. He saw a large orange inflated ball resting near a palm tree. He bounced it on the sound a few times. Bounced it against the tree, noting how easy that was. He made it float for a moment before catching it again. He almost looked normal. But then.. a couple young teens approached and said, "Hey, give us our ball." He turned to look at them. They seemed native to this area. And rude too. Ahh, so much for Hawaiian hospitality. "I don't think this is yours. I found it." One of them said that it was theirs now, just because they said so. And then they made the mistake of poking fun at his green cloak. Then they made a few jabs about his "daddy and some barnyard animals." In detail. Mordred didn't really like that. Not at all. He turned and glared at him in the usual way he does when in a bad mood. One of them backed up a bit, but the others just laughed. Then one of them held a branch that had been on the ground. "For your information, my daddy as you buffoons put it, was executed on the orders of Uther Pendragon, just for simply existing as one of our people."

They looked at each other, then tried to take the ball, which Mordred held on to fiercely. He clearly ad seen it first. It probably belonged to some family that vacationed there a few weeks ago. One swung with the stick and hit him in the shoulder, knocking him down on the sand. That was unexpected. Might leave a tiny bruise, but it was the action of falling into the sand that angered him. He stared daggers at them as he slowly got up. The one with the stick.. the branch flew out of his hand, hovering in the air.. and swung at them as if on its own. Then he glared further and sent the three of them flying back, one of which hit against a tree. He grabbed for the ball then. At the same time as one of the others did. He seemed more irritated now, and had such an evil stare, holding it firmly. And then suddenly he felt heat from his hands, the ball felt like it was melting as it's surface wood under heat. But then it caught fire! Engulfed in flames, they both dropped it and stared in shock as it wilted away into ashes. Mordred seemed just as surprised as he honestly had not intended that.

But the young toughs were up again and about to grab the stick. A few very small pieces of it broke off into splinters, which then flew into two boy's thighs, causing them to yell out. The word "freak" was yelled out. Mordred yelled out in anger and frustration, staring at the water and pointing at it. A coolness gripped the air and began to freeze it over.. at least about fifty feet out. As they rushed, and shoving him, he yelled out again and they were all three sent flying back and landing on the icy surface of the ocean. It was then that he took off running. The young and troublesome trio didn't really feel inclined to go after them. Though, Mordred hadn't thought of any repercussions at all. He didn't know that the incident at the airport's runway with security would make reporters curious, or that CNN or its equivalent might take an interest in the reports (or that a sketch of him would be on the Hawaii evening news or nationally). Or that the security force would have composed a sketch and lent it to the authorities and media. Neither did he know that the weather forecast certainly didn't predict a shift in weather patterns for the beach's shoreline, certainly hadn't seemed like it would ever be cold enough to create ice, not even in winter. Or that the police would get a report of three bullies who attacked a minor and.. well, that their story sounded insane.

But what he did feel was that it was time to move on. Perhaps the next beach town on this island. Or Macau. Or maybe he could catch a ship and stow away on it to some other destination, such as the United States coast. He did feel quite disappointed. All he wanted was to relax at the beach and play. But then some ignorant fools had to mess that up. He probably could have killed them if he wished, and especially if they were a threat to his life. But they were not. He thought about it in his mind, though. No.. it was best that he keep moving and not stay in one place too long. Pity about the ball. He really liked that particular one. Ah well, he would probably try to find another one.