(no subject)

[fay_morgan]

Sometimes, when, for example, sitting near a pure, untouched stream, it was easy to forget the untold horrors Morgan could see ready to unfold. She could forget she'd bound her milpreve to her forehead to show her commitment to sorcery and the fey.

She could forget that, in the darkening skies of the dusky twilight, her eyes wouldn't glint and reflect the dim lighting like a cat's, one dark violet and one dark green, revealing her presence and her nature.

In a rare moment of silly amusement, Morgan tugged on a blade of grass until it blossomed into a lily, with absurd pink colors for a wildflower. Let whoever stumbled across it think it some sort of omen.

Rustling on the wind around her clued Morgan in to who it would be that would find her gift. A girl, by the sounds of it. But there was something off... Oh, this would be an entertaining encounter. Morgan grinned even as she backed away from the flower and disguised herself among the fauna.

Comments

[fay_morgan]

She was expecting that glimmer of recognition on Helen's face and was not disappointed. So the stories did still manage to spread around, despite the passing of Arthur's court.

"You were expecting a crone," Morgan stated. It wasn't a question. Those who had faced the darker side of her magic often liked to paint her in the harshest light possible. "A withered, hunched old woman with a wart-covered hooked nose was much harder to trust than a gleaming, beautiful young woman with a wicked gleam in her unnatural eyes." She batted her eyelashes for greater effect.

The crone had her uses, of course, much as the raven or snake or Morrigan. Morgan simply found her own form the most comfortable to wear for long periods. It was much more familiar.

[audacieux_et_beau]

"No, actually." Helen said, folding her arms across her chest, staring at Morgan. "I don't assume anything about meeting people, you know. I've learned making assumptions often gets one in worse situations than intended in the beginning. I simply wasn't expecting you to be alive."

"But, you are beautiful for being such a told-about witch." Helen added, smiling faintly. "I mean it as the best way possible. I can only imagine the power you must still hold."

[fay_morgan]

The sense that Helen was mearly trying to flatter her was strong, but Morgan decided to allow her ego to be stroked instead. "I am no longer mortal," she gloated. "Your laws do not apply, especially not those that say I should be no more than dust long scattered by the wind."

She had the urge to dance, sing, fly, anything to shout her victories and announce her glorious existence. She wouldn't, though. Oh no. Her supposed return should be more subtle, to allow the old legend to blend with the new. Let them remember how she brought Camelot to its knees and destroyed the prophetized kingdom.

Perhaps her chance run-in with this not-mortal could be twisted to her benefit in this regard. But first, Morgan wanted to know how she - a mortal - had the strands of fate so twisted that not even the great Morgan le Fay could see through the knots to her end.

"You should know much about those who wield great power." She winked mischievously. "You do not posses power, but power runs through your veins. I can see it, bright, something ancient."

[audacieux_et_beau]

Helen tilted her head at the woman, then nodded, silently accepting this answer. "Welcome to the present, then." Helen said quietly, reaching up to readjust the flower in her hair.

"I do know." Helen replied evenly. "I'm not mortal either. Immortal, unable to be touched by time. Of course, I hold no magical abiltiies, but I find this to be an ability that comes in handy quite often anymore."

[fay_morgan]

Morgan laughed, tossing her hair around. "Present, future, past, they are all the same to me. Time has not welcomed my presence since I left the fay." But she shouldn't say too much too soon.

She abruptly paused, thinking that perhaps the statement was intended as a positive sentiment toward her long life and successful avoidance of the public eye for much of it. She furrowed her brow a moment, staring at the magicked lily resting in the woman's hair. Instead of coming up with a way to express her gratitude, which may be unfounded, Morgan chose to ignore the comment any further.

"What sort of magic caused immortality in one so...." She fished for the right word. "Ordinary?"

[audacieux_et_beau]

"I can mirror the sentiment." Helen murmured, drumming her fingers lightly against her thigh before she folded her arms across her chest, resuming the action on her opposite arm. This woman was odd indeed, but for someone meant to be long gone, Helen was indeed curious about her. And her abilities.

"Science. Not magic. Vampire blood." Helen said, fingers pausing, thumb resting across an invisible place in her arm where a needle had once pierced her skin to turn her into the immortal she was. "A long story, in the end."

[fay_morgan]

She gave a manic giggle, clapping her hands in glee. Vampire blood! Injected into a human! Oh, how she enjoyed the antics of the so-called scientists who toyed with magic while calling it science. How Morgan used to love alchemical experiments, particularly those that tried to turn lead into gold. Alchemists were easy to fool, and they were so eager to share their "findings" to each other. She let out a wistful sigh just thinking about the old days.

If Morgan closed her eyes and concentrated, she could see the moment Helen altered her fate - or perhaps embraced it; Morgan could never be quite sure which actually happened. "Your hair was much fairer then," she noted in a dreamy sort of voice. Almost trance-like, she gently tugged at a lock of Helen's hair, as if expecting it to suddenly revert to a blonde ringlet.

She blinked once, hard, and the vision faded behind her eyes. The smirk returned, taunting. "Uh, uh, uh," she half-sang. "You can call it science all you want, you can discover all the properties as you wish, but you can never fully remove the magic from your transformation." She could practically hear the magic singing through Helen's veins, that distinctive high-pitched note that was a cross between a squeal of absolute delight and a scream of absolute terror.

[audacieux_et_beau]

Helen glanced at the hand wrapped around a lock of hair, unmoving, but still slightly unnerved by this fact. Morgan knew more than she let on, apparently, through magic or visions or something - Helen didn't care to consider that at the moment. "Yes. I was blonde then. I've since coloured my hair red and now brown." She much preferred those colours, rather than the fair blonde she'd been born with.

"But it's science. It can be proven. Facts and theories and chemical alteration." Helen insisted, furrowing her brows briefly. "Magic is magic. There's no explanation behind it. It simply exists and occurs, whether in nature or controlled by those with the abilities to wield it, such as yourself and the rest of the fae, like the faerie folk."

[fay_morgan]

She raised an eyebrow, delighting even further in this discussion. Morgan could clearly see she'd unnerved the woman by peering into her past, just a glimpse to gain a tiny, insignificant fact. "You like the brown," she said. "You've kept it this way much longer than the others." With another playful pull, Morgan released the hair, content to find other ways with which to unnerve and/or confuse.

"Because you can explain and see the process, it is not magic?" she asked. She knelt down to pluck a single blade of grass, running her finger down the strand. She pulled at the tip until it blossomed into another lily. "You can explain how the flowers grow, but you cannot explain how it feels as it does. You cannot sense that the grass longs for the beauty of the flower but fears the sting of the bee." She tucked it behind her own ear, so that they matched.

"The fay control the magic that makes nature act as it does, you know." Morgan gave a sage nod. "I've seen them at Avalon; I've ridden in the chariot that brings the cloak of night over the sun. Does the sky darken because the chariot passes, or does the world turn and face away from the sun? Or does the chariot cause the world to turn? Is it magic? Is it science?"