A shovel? [Morgana asks, only half listening now, having entirely lost interest in anything but the young man sleeping before her.]
Little cub, [she calls again, her voice cooing softly as you would to a child having nightmares.] It's 'gana, you won.
[And as she speaks Arthur does, finally, draw himself out of his dream. There is something warm and soothing about it. It was like he could hear Morgana talking to him. Had they been playing hide and seek? She always let him win when he was sad or father was angry. But then they hadn't played that since the day she was taken by the tree man...
Only when he wakes, he can still hear her. She is talking to him. Her voice is different, now, no longer the voice of a little girl pretending to be a mother but a warmer voice, a woman's voice, no longer troubled by having to carry burdens she was too young to bear.
And then there was Josh's voice... he couldn't be actually hearing her, could he?
Little cub, look at me.
No one, not even his mother, not his mates, no one called him little cub like Morgana had once upon a time.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, oblivious to the orange leaves caught in his hair. He blinked, his vision blurry from sleep and there she loomed as he had so often imagined her, except here she was grown and herself, but not.]
I knew you would come, [Arthur said, not really believing it himself as he stumbles to his feet, overwhelmed and blindingly happy and terrified all at once. Where Morgana seemed to hesitate over some border, real or perceived, Arthur had no such concerns and bound over, swooping her up in a hug and spinning around with her.] I knew I saw you go..
[It was strange for Morgana to watch him come to life and realise she was speaking to him. She worried he might think her an apparition, she certainly looked like one, but in true Pendragon fashion, he barely thought at all before leaping to her and picking her up. He had grown so big. He was barely at her hip last she saw him and now here he was picking her up and spinning her around as if she weight nought more than a feather. The revelation that he had seen her go off into faerie, though, shakes her a little and when she speaks again her voice is cracked.]
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Little cub, [she calls again, her voice cooing softly as you would to a child having nightmares.] It's 'gana, you won.
[And as she speaks Arthur does, finally, draw himself out of his dream. There is something warm and soothing about it. It was like he could hear Morgana talking to him. Had they been playing hide and seek? She always let him win when he was sad or father was angry. But then they hadn't played that since the day she was taken by the tree man...
Only when he wakes, he can still hear her. She is talking to him. Her voice is different, now, no longer the voice of a little girl pretending to be a mother but a warmer voice, a woman's voice, no longer troubled by having to carry burdens she was too young to bear.
And then there was Josh's voice... he couldn't be actually hearing her, could he?
Little cub, look at me.
No one, not even his mother, not his mates, no one called him little cub like Morgana had once upon a time.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, oblivious to the orange leaves caught in his hair. He blinked, his vision blurry from sleep and there she loomed as he had so often imagined her, except here she was grown and herself, but not.]
I knew you would come, [Arthur said, not really believing it himself as he stumbles to his feet, overwhelmed and blindingly happy and terrified all at once. Where Morgana seemed to hesitate over some border, real or perceived, Arthur had no such concerns and bound over, swooping her up in a hug and spinning around with her.] I knew I saw you go..
[It was strange for Morgana to watch him come to life and realise she was speaking to him. She worried he might think her an apparition, she certainly looked like one, but in true Pendragon fashion, he barely thought at all before leaping to her and picking her up. He had grown so big. He was barely at her hip last she saw him and now here he was picking her up and spinning her around as if she weight nought more than a feather. The revelation that he had seen her go off into faerie, though, shakes her a little and when she speaks again her voice is cracked.]
You are so grown, Arthur. I am so sorry.