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Morgana


Morgana had seen Aura in her reaper guise before, but it didn't make it any less unsettling. She couldn't recall ever finding Aura intimidating before. She stood there in her robes, holding her staff her expression as icy as her eyes. There was no little smile, nothing warm, just a veil of civility and good-manners. Unabashed, Morgana returned the stare without glancing away. She had done nothing to be ashamed of, even if half the world believed she had. Her stomach dropped a little as her thoughts strayed to her father. She hadn't heard from him since everything had happened. She supposed, as far as Mallos and Aura were concerned, she probably deserved it. Nevertheless, she remained straight-backed, her hands clasped neatly against the corset of her dress.
"Hello Aura," she replied. Morgana did smile, purposefully, holding the reaper's eye.

She reached out as rested a long-fingered hand on Bohdi's shoulder. She could feel an excited shiver running through the muscles beneath her hand, like the fluttering of a bird's heartbeat.
"This is Bohdi," Morgana explained, "she asked me to help her get in touch with you. It seems she has something important to ask you." It was not unusual nowadays for petitioners to try and approach her before they tried to official channels of the court. Mordred was always unyieldingly fair. He listened to cases carefully, he weighed them, and he delivered judgements that were difficult to argue with, but he lacked Arthur's manner. Her elder brother had been able to draw you in, to make you feel important, valued and welcome. Mordred was more aloof. Before she had seen the truth Morgana had always mistaken it for reserve, for shyness. You could still mistake it for either if you didn't know any better. Sometimes she still found herself drawn-in to the quiet charm. He was...hypnotic.

"Go on," Morgana said encouragingly to Bohdi, "you can ask her." She released the young woman's shoulder and crossed back to her dressing table, leaving the pair to it. Morgana looked at her reflection in the mirror, her back to Aura. She could see them reflected in the glass, neither one quite sure what to do with the other. Picking up her hairbrush Morgana began to brush her hair, slowly and rhythmically. Her attention flicked between Aura ad Bohdi, and her own face. It looked the same as she remembered it, and she felt no shame when she looked herself in the eye. It helped to strengthen her resolve. She was doing the right thing.


photo by Darian Wong at flickr.com


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