Well, I'm not a huge fan of debts or anything, so it won't be a favor to you if I do. But who can argue with results, right?
[ Apparently satisfied with having pacified(!?) Mordred for the time being, Magilou leans against the doorframe, crossing her legs. Her arms are thrown behind her head, her expression truly without a care in the world. It would almost be callous, but underneath it all is a perceptive eye with a soft, sly smile. There's a lot she could say to Mordred, a lot she could caution her against with her own experiences, but that's for later. They'll be stuck together for the time being, it seems.
For now, she merely closes her eyes and hums softly. ]
I'm not the best at happiness, but just so you don't have to run around town and expend the energy to kill me, I'll try my best.
[ Mordred goes quiet for a moment, staring Magilou up and down, but in a less confrontational way than before. It's like she's appraising her fully as a Master for the first time, rather than looking for any flaw to seize upon.
Their conversation here puts a few things in perspective. Saber's attempts at humour, lame as they were. Her tolerance of Mordred (to an extent), as if she felt less bound by her duties as a king. Magilou says she's not the best at happiness, but she's better than she thinks. ]
You know... the other day, I actually saw father smile for a moment. It was 'cause of some shitty joke she made, but... it reminded me that I never saw her smile in all those years as king. There's no way in hell she'd joke around back then, either. ... Well, it's more like she couldn't, even if she wanted to.
To be human was to be weak. The people cried out for such a flawless king, but condemned her for it in the very next breath. Father's rule was beautiful, elegant, and pure... but I always thought the burden she carried was unfair.
[ If things had been different, maybe the people could have seen the humanity buried deep within the king — that she killed her own emotions for the sake of everyone around her being able to smile instead. If the king had been able to smile along with them, then maybe... maybe they would never have turned against her. Maybe Britain would have met its end quietly, instead of within a bloody nightmare brought about by Mordred herself.
Maybe she's already happier here than she knows. Mordred feels something vaguely like satisfaction in her chest, but turns around before her face can reflect it. ]
Anyway, I'm going before she shows up again. See ya, witch. [ Then: ] No... Magilou.
[ The entire time Mordred speaks, Magilou listens, keeping her weight against the house. It's a surprisingly heartfelt speech, one that she hadn't assumed that Mordred would be capable of from her initial hostility and impulsiveness.
"The other day, I saw father smile for a moment."
She knows, as much as most, that being human is a weakness. Living is the hardest affliction. Having a wavering human heart with wanton desires and whims can hurt more than the most deadly poison. Regardless of the Magilou's Menagerie hijinks she forces others into, regardless of the mirth she claims to spread - Mordred is giving Magilou more credit for easing the burden of leadership and life than Magilou thinks she deserves. What happiness could her miserable, frozen heart ever offer someone? (Maybe it's just the carefree way that she's decided to go about life - but in her case, it's a destructive coping mechanism rather than a healthy way to relieve stress. Maybe she and Saber might have a complete person between them.)
She doesn't stop Mordred as she turns away. Anything she could say feels too much like admitting a weakness, or more specifically, just admitting that she cares. Mordred is here because Magilou cares too much, but maybe for once, it's not the worst thing to come of it, even if it's hard to admit to herself that it's okay. That it's okay to just say that she cares about Saber's well-being right back.
That's something she's keeping buried. All that she says when Mordred turns is a curt, though not cold: ]
I plan on it, Mordred.
[ It's a goodbye, but a surprisingly familiar one. Not to an enemy, nor to a friend - to someone who cares more than she thinks she does, or would ever admit. Perhaps they're more similar than it seems. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Apparently satisfied with having pacified(!?) Mordred for the time being, Magilou leans against the doorframe, crossing her legs. Her arms are thrown behind her head, her expression truly without a care in the world. It would almost be callous, but underneath it all is a perceptive eye with a soft, sly smile. There's a lot she could say to Mordred, a lot she could caution her against with her own experiences, but that's for later. They'll be stuck together for the time being, it seems.
For now, she merely closes her eyes and hums softly. ]
I'm not the best at happiness, but just so you don't have to run around town and expend the energy to kill me, I'll try my best.
no subject
Their conversation here puts a few things in perspective. Saber's attempts at humour, lame as they were. Her tolerance of Mordred (to an extent), as if she felt less bound by her duties as a king. Magilou says she's not the best at happiness, but she's better than she thinks. ]
You know... the other day, I actually saw father smile for a moment. It was 'cause of some shitty joke she made, but... it reminded me that I never saw her smile in all those years as king. There's no way in hell she'd joke around back then, either. ... Well, it's more like she couldn't, even if she wanted to.
To be human was to be weak. The people cried out for such a flawless king, but condemned her for it in the very next breath. Father's rule was beautiful, elegant, and pure... but I always thought the burden she carried was unfair.
[ If things had been different, maybe the people could have seen the humanity buried deep within the king — that she killed her own emotions for the sake of everyone around her being able to smile instead. If the king had been able to smile along with them, then maybe... maybe they would never have turned against her. Maybe Britain would have met its end quietly, instead of within a bloody nightmare brought about by Mordred herself.
Maybe she's already happier here than she knows. Mordred feels something vaguely like satisfaction in her chest, but turns around before her face can reflect it. ]
Anyway, I'm going before she shows up again. See ya, witch. [ Then: ] No... Magilou.
no subject
"The other day, I saw father smile for a moment."
She knows, as much as most, that being human is a weakness. Living is the hardest affliction. Having a wavering human heart with wanton desires and whims can hurt more than the most deadly poison. Regardless of the Magilou's Menagerie hijinks she forces others into, regardless of the mirth she claims to spread - Mordred is giving Magilou more credit for easing the burden of leadership and life than Magilou thinks she deserves. What happiness could her miserable, frozen heart ever offer someone? (Maybe it's just the carefree way that she's decided to go about life - but in her case, it's a destructive coping mechanism rather than a healthy way to relieve stress. Maybe she and Saber might have a complete person between them.)
She doesn't stop Mordred as she turns away. Anything she could say feels too much like admitting a weakness, or more specifically, just admitting that she cares. Mordred is here because Magilou cares too much, but maybe for once, it's not the worst thing to come of it, even if it's hard to admit to herself that it's okay. That it's okay to just say that she cares about Saber's well-being right back.
That's something she's keeping buried. All that she says when Mordred turns is a curt, though not cold: ]
I plan on it, Mordred.
[ It's a goodbye, but a surprisingly familiar one. Not to an enemy, nor to a friend - to someone who cares more than she thinks she does, or would ever admit. Perhaps they're more similar than it seems. ]