dawdle | open post | reincarnation

open post | reincarnation

❝Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we’re bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, rebirth our future.❞

Your characters keep meeting across time and space, dying and being born again. Every lifetime is an adventure. For reference / inspiration: the Cloud Atlas trailer

how to:
♛ tag in with your characters: write about who they were in the past, give them alternate names, make up alternate history: there are no hard and fast rules.
♛ tag others: is it a love story for the ages? a rivalry that spans centuries? is there something that draws them to another, something they can't quite pin down? an overwhelming sense of deja vu? or was it just someone you saw in a dream?
♛ have fun, and be excellent.

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The sound of a horse walking through the woods, would be instantly recognizable. Morgana does not fear the woods. She fears others knowing of her nightmares, but the woods give her nothing but peace.

The path is there, but it isn't well trodden. She likes it like that. Usually, it means she's alone, except now.

"Who are you?"

At first he ignores the sound of hooves, assuming it to be someone travelling on a road or path a little ways through the forest, and by the time he realises how close they're getting, he can see the horse coming. The whole point of coming out into the woods was to keep himself out of trouble, but he doesn't have time to hide and the rider has almost certainly seen him (unless they were the type to ignore peasants, in which case it wouldn't matter).

"Sorry m'lady," he takes care to look down, not wanting to draw attention to himself and hoping she wasn't easily offended. "I live in the village, just over that way," he motions back through the woods "I didn't mean to intrude..."

It's just lip service really, he doesn't care if he's on land he shouldn't be on, he's only collecting kindling and he doesn't see why that should be a problem to people who own enough land to gather a thousand fires' worth.

Morgana doesn't care about the kindling. Beyond the surprise of finding another, with rampant paranoia can't help but spook easily.

"I know many from that village." From her position, and him hiding his face, she can't tell if she recognizes him or not. He could easily be lying. "It is part of my father's lands."

Is he one of the witchfinders? She cannot be too careful.

His eyes widened in surprise and he looked up at her quickly before ducking his head again. Just his luck, her father owned the land? He hoped she wasn't the kind to be easily annoyed or hold a grudge or he'd be in serious trouble.

"I'm sorry," he apologised again, even though he hated to do it, hoping he'd get himself out of this without any problems.

"Whose son are you?" Morgana demands. Her horse, sensing her discomfort, nervously dances in place.

She's easily annoyed, and does hold grudges, but there's too much fear in the air now to bother with either. Strangers have to be identified.

If he gives the wrong answer, she's returning as quickly as possible back to the manor house.

He winced at the question, it being his least favourite. He didn't know who his father was, but his mother didn't like to talk about it and he could only assume that something bad had happened. He could see her horse shifting nervously but couldn't make any sense of it, what did she, the landowner's daughter, have to be nervous of?

"Don't know, m'lady," he replied politely as he could, still hating having to be so cowed "Never met him. My name's Emrys, Merlin Emrys."

Peasants have little power, but when it comes to the power of accusation, everyone shares in it. Having to shush her horse, Morgana waits until Del stands still.

Morgana, of any time, is slightly more progressive. "Are you to say you have no mother either? I do not know you and you have yet to prove to me you belong here."

Her hand reaches towards her dagger. She would rather kill the man if he is one of the many spies the witchfinders have.

"I have a mother," he replies, perhaps a little more harshly than he ought to, because he objects to her words when he was only answering the question she asked, though at the same time he was somewhat relieved - though he had no idea if his father's reputation was good or bad, he knew his mother was well thought of.

"Hunith is my mother's name. I told you, I live in the village, I didn't mean to stray so far..." he tried to reign in his annoyance, to stay sounding polite, but a little of it slipped into his town.

Morgana's silent for a few seconds. Hunith is a name she knows. Her father thinks very well of the woman, though Morgana's only met her once in passing.

The tone though, is not appreciated. Hunting on her father's lands is a problem. He does not mind his tenants doing so, but Uther's men tend to take liberties with the friendship between the two landowners.

Nor will she admit her harshness is a fear of accusation.

"No, you are allowed here. My father does not limit access to his lands. If one lives here. There have been too many strangers."

Her voice, unlike the annoyance in his, is quieter, less reticent.

He relaxes somewhat when she seems to finally accept his words, and his right to be there, and almost breathes a sigh of relief. He realises he needs to be polite now though, as he wouldn't want to bring any harm to his mother's reputation. Forcing himself to smile politely - a little easier now that he doesn't feel as threatened - he bows his head respectfully.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for interrupting your ride."

He hopes she'll dismiss him, or move on, and let him get back to the relative safety of the village. More importantly, it would limit the chance of him saying something accidentally offensive and getting into trouble.

"You could say I interrupted your walk." She tries to lighten things up. As he doesn't want to mar his mother's reputation, Morgana doesn't want to mar her father's by being rude to the tenants. Under most circumstances, she would never consider it.

Her reasons for wariness are not yet gone. "Are there many strangers in the village over the last fortnight?"

She doesn't know if the spies are still around.

Merlin was pleasantly surprised, usually the higher born lot tended to, well, act it, there weren't many who would condescend to joke with a peasant. It endeared her to him immediately.

The mention of strangers made him tense again, though this time it wasn't so much directed at her as the strangers themselves. He nodded, pulling a face.

"There's been a few passing through, only one still there now, but there have been more than usual in the past couple of weeks."

Without any brothers or sisters, Morgana would often play with the servants' children. Her father encouraged it. Being an only child also means he wanted her to be able to relate to those for whom the estate provides.

"I do not know why they insist on staying. There is nothing to be found."

"But if they have been bothering your mother," a single woman, unmarried, with a son: prime bait for a witch hunter. "I could speak with my father."

She's so careful how she phrases it; she has to be.

"You're telling me," Merlin scowled slightly before remembering himself yet again and forcing his features into something more neutral. "They haven't found anything yet and I don't think they're going to."

At least, he hoped they weren't going to, he'd been extra careful every time there was a strange around, but sometimes he was a little more lax than he really should be, the longer they hung around, the more likely he was to slip up.

"They ...are somewhat suspicious of my mother, though most of the villagers come to her defence." They're less defensive of Merlin himself, but Hunith definitely has their support, she's just too nice to let anything bad happen to her.

"No, if there are those practicing magic, I am sure Uther's men would have ferreted them out long before the witch hunters' arrival." Unless, of course, her father was protecting them, which, in truth, he is.

Not that this Merlin would know that. Then again, what girl knows all her father's secrets. Perhaps there is a reason Hunith stays here.

"I shall speak to Father then. We have been inconvenienced enough by them. How is anyone expected to make a living, if all they are is scrutinized." She offers a little smile.

"My father's word should be enough to vouch for your mother."

"I'm sure they would." Merlin agreed as firmly as he could, because of course he knew that they wouldn't, that they hadn't, and he feverently hoped that they would continue to not do so. He was quietly confident that any other magic users in the area were as harmless as he was, anybody truly wishing anyone harm would have been caught by now, at least that's how he sees it.

"I'm sure that would be appreciated," he nodded, much more earnestly this time, he knew that they were being a nuisance to everybody in the village, not just him and his mother, they were so determined to catch somebody out and find a witch that they were driving everybody crazy.

"...Thank you."

"They have even called upon the house, to ask about the live in servants." These people are family to Morgana, much more than servants. Unfortunately, she couldn't put herself in front of the witch finders, and thus her father had to send them away.

Perhaps it was the vehemence of her father who kept them here. Morgana can't help but wonder. What a prize it would be to take the daughter of a laird.

"They want something for their pains but it will not be here." There's a risk she has to take. "If anyone in the village feels as though they are to be accused, tell them to come to the house, immediately, at the bequest of Lady Morgana."

Merlin tried hard to keep the suspicion out of his gaze as he thought about her words. Was she really willing to protect them? He knew his mother only had nice things to say about her father, that he was a good laird who took care of his lands and his people, so should he trust the man's daughter as well? Or was this some kind of test?

"I'll tell the villagers that," he nodded slightly. Would admitting the potential for an accusation delay it or speed it up? He had no idea, he hoped for the former, but her words up until now could simply be an act. "In confidence." he added, in case she was genuinely trying to help, the last thing they'd need was for the witch finders to go after her.

Her protection can be explained away easily to the witch finders: concern for those of the lands she will one day inherit. Suspicion may be raised, but she trusts her father.

Protect those here, and they will all be safe.

It's the feeling the man doesn't trust her. Then again, she may be projecting her own feelings. As much as she knows of the estate, she's had to stay distant. It makes her an unknown.

"The land here is nothing without its people. To lose one to this madness would be a tragedy. I thank you for your help, and caution."

Merlin isn't sure whether she means those words or not, though he hopes desperately that she does. A landowner should think like that, because it was the truth, and both the people and the land would thrive if more people knew it.

"Of course, my lady, I care as much for those people as you clearly do," they were his family, of a sorts, and even though he didn't always get along with a lot of them, he would never want to see any of them hurt.

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open post | reincarnation

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