tw: I want to feel my feet on the ground, Aura

Warning: this post contains references to death and the afterlife.

"Thank you," Morgana said with a wry smile. "It's amazing how nice you can keep a place when you have other people to tidy up after you." She glanced in the mirror and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear where it curled becomingly against the paleness of her neck. "You should see my other place. It's a mess." She thought of her little cottage and the bedroom where she and Mace had spent long blissful nights together. In her little living room there was a small stove which kept the whole place warm, filling the space with the spitting sound of burning kindling. The last time she had been there had been to take all of her bows down off the wall. Mordred had given her a dedicated room in the castle to store them in with glass display cases to keep them safe. He had been nothing but kind to her. He'd left thoughtful little gifts in innocuous places, but he'd also had people follow her. Or, at least, she thought he had. Sometimes she was sure, and at other times she thought she was losing her mind.

Morgana poured herself a glass of wine, another gift from her brother, and then stopped herself just short of pouring another for her guest. She turned back to Bohdi as she set the decanter back down on the cabinet.
"Oh," she smiled, "congratulations!" Morgana picked up the carafe instead and poured clear water into the waiting glass. She had never really considered motherhood. It had always seemed so much like a trap, robbing you of your time and independence. The thought had pricked at her mind once when baby Loholt had been pushed into her arms, but she'd been left with the uncanny feeling that she should have felt more. Morgana handed Bohdi the glass as she walked past her place on the couch, and settled herself on the chaise lounge. Kraar flew down and landed beside her on the rolling arm. Morgana began to stroke him with one hand, her other lifting her goblet to her lips.

"I'm not sure," she replied honestly, "I've reached out to loved ones for people before, but that's different. Sometimes a personal object can be helpful in those cases, or a particularly strong memory, but I've honestly never tried to summon the reaper before. I'm a little unclear on the rules." Morgana remembered Aura appearing at their family dinner not long after her miraculous return. Perhaps that memory alone would be enough. "I think we probably have to find her first. Which means...we're probably looking for new ghosts." She set her glass down on the coffee table between them and sat back, closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she reached out into the other place, allowing the door in her mind to swing ajar.

There were ghosts waiting for her on the other side, there always were. They turned their faces towards her as she stepped through into their greying world.
"Which of you passed most recently?" Morgana asked, looking between them. There was a moment of silence, and then a young man pushed his way through. He looked like he had been crying. She reached out and took his hand.
"What's your name?" Morgana asked gently.
"Morrison," the boy replied. He couldn't have been much older than Tristan, she realised sadly.
"Hello Morrison," she smiled, "I'm Morgana."
"I know," Morrison said, "I saw you once, on a big white horse...you were..." He trailed off, his gaze slipping off into the middle distance. Morgana gave his hand a squeeze to pull him back.
"I'm afraid I need to ask you for a very big favour," she told him. "Do you remember the lady who came to fetch you before I came? She wore blue robes, had the palest blonde hair." Morrison nodded slowly in reply.
"I think so, lady." Morgana smiled in encouragement and picked up his other hand. "Let's think about her together, okay? Just close your eyes and remember her face."

Morgana felt their minds connect, their thoughts converging upon a single point.

"Aura," Morgana called into the abyss. She caught a flurry of movement. "Aura, its Morgana. Could I have a moment?"

photo by darian wong at flickr.com


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