Mordred Lot (druid_boy) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2014-05-04 11:33:00 |
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Mordred sat curled at the end of the sofa, legs crossed, a graze on one knee from where he'd fallen on the street. A car had hurried past him, some metal cart which roared loudly like a creature in pain – was it any wonder he’d been startled? But now Gwen had him back at hers, and he was flicking through a book he had found on the side, but there was nothing there that managed to keep his interest for more than a few moments. With a sigh, he pushed it shut and let it fall onto the seat beside him... Although his hand never touched it.
Mordred frowned silently, propping his chin up in one small hand, his startling blue eyes falling onto his babysitter, watching her intently. He wasn’t happy about being here. He was angry and confused and, although he didn’t want to admit it, a little frightened. Magic was crackling underneath his skin, making him agitated and jumpy.
The young boy slipped from his seat, curling his toes up in his carpet before padding over to join Gwen, tugging irritably at his collar as he went. His old clothes had worked fine at home, but here they seemed itchy and uncomfortable. He just wanted to go back. The trees and the magic and the camp all seemed so far away here, where everything was so busy and bright.