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Mar. 9th, 2008 12:09 amMorgana never held any pretenses about being a normal person, but she fooled herself into thinking that she could at least have a normal life, but then stupid Arthur barges in with stupid speeches about ~*family*~, and aphorisms that sound like threats like, "You can't avoid this forever." But what is forever but a word anyway, when between one blink of an eye and the next, Nimueh is dead, stuck to the ceiling and burning, and between one blink and the next, Arthur breaks the bottle of holy water over a demon's head and yells "MORGANA, NOW" and she is chanting the old verses quicker than thought, as if she hasn't spent the last handful of years trying to forget them, as if she never left at all.
+
They drive down the interstate with the windows down and Led Zeppelin on the radio, and Morgana asleep in the passenger seat, snoring gently. Arthur will give her shit about that later, for the snoring. She always gives him shit for snoring (and for leaving the toilet seat up, and for not picking up after himself, whatever), and Arthur resists the urge to reach over and brush her hair from her face. The wind will just blow it around again anyway, and anyway he doesn't want to wake her. She's been out cold since Tulsa, sleeping the bone-dead sleep of the exhausted and drained, and Arthur can't help think about how Morgana four years ago wouldn't have gotten so tired after fighting some lame-ass ghouls, but she's out of practice. Still, even for someone who's out of practice, she was precise and brutal with her weapons. His weapons. Their weapons, now. The ghouls thought they would overpower Morgana, seeing the panic in her eyes, but instinct took her over and in the end she was the one still standing.
"You did good," Arthur had told her, and all she said was, "Let's clean up this mess."
+
[Morgana saw Uther die in her dreams, so isn't surprised when Arthur comes knocking a few weeks later. Maybe that's why Arthur seeks Morgana out, because it's just him alone now. He tells Morgana something else of course. Like, he's heard the Apocalypse is just around the corner, all the hunters are talking about it. He needs Morgana's help to fight it. He needs her abilities. He needs her visions, to find... clues, and shit, about the End Times.
And the first thing Morgana thinks is, How like Arthur to want to stop the Apocalypse on his own.
Not, not his own, he says. With her.
Like the way it used to be? she says.
Yeah.
Arthur, we never had a way we used to be.
He says, That's not true.
How Arthur can cling to the image of happy families after all these years is beyond her.
He thinks she's grown up a lot in four years, calmer, softer, but he can still see the thrum of energy that is dormant not gone in her eyes. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him now. (Morgana sees a tired man hiding behind insults and crude jokes. She sees Uther in him, and she thinks that's why she says yes in the end.)]
+
Morgana, do you remember when we were kids and Dad said he was going to take us on a vacation and you got really excited, do you remember? We had never been on a vacation before, but you were the kind of kid who insisted on dolls for Christmas and wanted Froot Loops all the time and cried when you couldn't watch your favorite shows, so this vacation was a welcome surprise. It was so weirdly normal-sounding, and before we were even halfway there you were telling us about the postcards you'd write back to Gwen.
For vacation we went to Acadia National Park in Maine, staying at a motel down the road, and we raced each other to the top of a rocky hill, and Dad followed behind us with this distant smile on his face, not caring whether we'd fall or hurt ourselves (he knew we wouldn't), casting an eye to the shadows, raising his head as if listening for some some hidden music, or a secret message. I knew then. I knew from that look on his face that this was no vacation, but you were too busy running up that hill to notice. You were too busy wanting to believe.
I won. I reached the top first and I teased you, and you tried not to cry about it. You used to be such a crybaby, you cried at everything. I guess we had a lot of things to cry about by some people's standards, but we always weathered it. We were always told we were different and tougher than most, being Uther Pendragon's kids, and I was proud of that, and I thought you were too.
We went to Acadia everyday for three days straight. Sometimes Dad would go off and tell me not to leave the area he's marked with eagle feathers and his own blood, and I'd make sure you don't. You'd always want to explore the forest but Dad was clear: don't go into the trees. Sometimes we'd come up with a picnic, which Dad would set up within his marked area, and then he'd leave us alone while we ate. I told you he was probably birdwatching and you believed me.
On the fourth day, while we were eating our sandwiches atop that hill, we heard howling and screams that weren't quite human, weren't quite animal.
Do you remember asking me if Dad lied to us?
Of course I said no. Lie about what? And you said About this vacation. And you said This isn't a vacation is it, and I said Of course it is. But we finished our sandwiches and our sodas in silence, and when Dad came back, he was covered in dark blood and his clothes were torn, and we scramble to our feet horrified and he said It's okay, I'm okay. It's not my blood.
Do you remember, he told me to go to the car and get his spare clothes from the trunk? He gave me the gun before I went.
Not gonna lie, I was relieved to get out from between you two. I know that game. You were looking at Dad like you were gonna tear him a new one, and you were pretty impressive at tearing people new ones for a little girl. I guess we gave you no choice. But you were looking at him like you couldn't believe he just did that, looking all betrayed and shit, and I left before I started taking Dad's side. I left before your anger could make me angry.
You didn't get it: you don't get a vacation from this life. You don't get to have a break from saving people and hunting things, and you have no idea how much I want to shake you sometimes and make you realize this. How much I want to call you names and make you cry all over again because you think this is only hard for you, Morgana, like you were the only one suffering. The sooner you get over your shit, the sooner we can fight, the sooner we can start being a family again, (the kind you've always wanted, the kind we've always wanted) and the sooner we can start rebuilding what that demon took away from us all those years ago, fire for fire and blood for blood.
+
Shapeshifter, ghoul, ghost, witch, werewolf: Morgana relearns them over the next several months, and sends them into that deeper darkness. At the end of the fight, she is the one blood-spattered with ichor ruining her boots, breathing hard and shaking just a little bit. With every hunt, she shakes a little less.
There is a hardness that settles into her that Arthur isn't sure what to make of. It is similar to the rough-edged panic she'd get whenever she'd try to leave this life, and whenever she found herself getting dragged back in. There is something reflexive about it, defensive, like a rechanneling of energy: if she is scared, she will make sure everything else is too.
Morgana grits her teeth and doesn't make a sound as Arthur sews up her shoulder and chatters inanely about the douchebaggery of vampires. In a way Morgana is becoming the sister he always wanted growing up, but on the other hand: Arthur doesn't know this Morgana very well. He realizes, he doesn't know a Morgana who isn't trying to leave.
He tries a joke, something about broken nails and torn dresses and other things he knows Morgana doesn't care about. Jokes about Morgana going back to law school because it's always sunny in Palo Alto.
She glares at him, and says, "Oh, and who'll keep you out of trouble?"
"I've managed without you," Arthur replies mildly, but there is something rumpled in her vitriol, something she is trying to keep hidden. He watches her, waiting to see if she will reveal more. She rolls her eyes and makes a scoffing noise, then reaches for the Jim Beam, which tells him more than words ever can.
+
They drive down the interstate with the windows down and Led Zeppelin on the radio, and Morgana asleep in the passenger seat, snoring gently. Arthur will give her shit about that later, for the snoring. She always gives him shit for snoring (and for leaving the toilet seat up, and for not picking up after himself, whatever), and Arthur resists the urge to reach over and brush her hair from her face. The wind will just blow it around again anyway, and anyway he doesn't want to wake her. She's been out cold since Tulsa, sleeping the bone-dead sleep of the exhausted and drained, and Arthur can't help think about how Morgana four years ago wouldn't have gotten so tired after fighting some lame-ass ghouls, but she's out of practice. Still, even for someone who's out of practice, she was precise and brutal with her weapons. His weapons. Their weapons, now. The ghouls thought they would overpower Morgana, seeing the panic in her eyes, but instinct took her over and in the end she was the one still standing.
"You did good," Arthur had told her, and all she said was, "Let's clean up this mess."
+
[Morgana saw Uther die in her dreams, so isn't surprised when Arthur comes knocking a few weeks later. Maybe that's why Arthur seeks Morgana out, because it's just him alone now. He tells Morgana something else of course. Like, he's heard the Apocalypse is just around the corner, all the hunters are talking about it. He needs Morgana's help to fight it. He needs her abilities. He needs her visions, to find... clues, and shit, about the End Times.
And the first thing Morgana thinks is, How like Arthur to want to stop the Apocalypse on his own.
Not, not his own, he says. With her.
Like the way it used to be? she says.
Yeah.
Arthur, we never had a way we used to be.
He says, That's not true.
How Arthur can cling to the image of happy families after all these years is beyond her.
He thinks she's grown up a lot in four years, calmer, softer, but he can still see the thrum of energy that is dormant not gone in her eyes. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him now. (Morgana sees a tired man hiding behind insults and crude jokes. She sees Uther in him, and she thinks that's why she says yes in the end.)]
+
Morgana, do you remember when we were kids and Dad said he was going to take us on a vacation and you got really excited, do you remember? We had never been on a vacation before, but you were the kind of kid who insisted on dolls for Christmas and wanted Froot Loops all the time and cried when you couldn't watch your favorite shows, so this vacation was a welcome surprise. It was so weirdly normal-sounding, and before we were even halfway there you were telling us about the postcards you'd write back to Gwen.
For vacation we went to Acadia National Park in Maine, staying at a motel down the road, and we raced each other to the top of a rocky hill, and Dad followed behind us with this distant smile on his face, not caring whether we'd fall or hurt ourselves (he knew we wouldn't), casting an eye to the shadows, raising his head as if listening for some some hidden music, or a secret message. I knew then. I knew from that look on his face that this was no vacation, but you were too busy running up that hill to notice. You were too busy wanting to believe.
I won. I reached the top first and I teased you, and you tried not to cry about it. You used to be such a crybaby, you cried at everything. I guess we had a lot of things to cry about by some people's standards, but we always weathered it. We were always told we were different and tougher than most, being Uther Pendragon's kids, and I was proud of that, and I thought you were too.
We went to Acadia everyday for three days straight. Sometimes Dad would go off and tell me not to leave the area he's marked with eagle feathers and his own blood, and I'd make sure you don't. You'd always want to explore the forest but Dad was clear: don't go into the trees. Sometimes we'd come up with a picnic, which Dad would set up within his marked area, and then he'd leave us alone while we ate. I told you he was probably birdwatching and you believed me.
On the fourth day, while we were eating our sandwiches atop that hill, we heard howling and screams that weren't quite human, weren't quite animal.
Do you remember asking me if Dad lied to us?
Of course I said no. Lie about what? And you said About this vacation. And you said This isn't a vacation is it, and I said Of course it is. But we finished our sandwiches and our sodas in silence, and when Dad came back, he was covered in dark blood and his clothes were torn, and we scramble to our feet horrified and he said It's okay, I'm okay. It's not my blood.
Do you remember, he told me to go to the car and get his spare clothes from the trunk? He gave me the gun before I went.
Not gonna lie, I was relieved to get out from between you two. I know that game. You were looking at Dad like you were gonna tear him a new one, and you were pretty impressive at tearing people new ones for a little girl. I guess we gave you no choice. But you were looking at him like you couldn't believe he just did that, looking all betrayed and shit, and I left before I started taking Dad's side. I left before your anger could make me angry.
You didn't get it: you don't get a vacation from this life. You don't get to have a break from saving people and hunting things, and you have no idea how much I want to shake you sometimes and make you realize this. How much I want to call you names and make you cry all over again because you think this is only hard for you, Morgana, like you were the only one suffering. The sooner you get over your shit, the sooner we can fight, the sooner we can start being a family again, (the kind you've always wanted, the kind we've always wanted) and the sooner we can start rebuilding what that demon took away from us all those years ago, fire for fire and blood for blood.
+
Shapeshifter, ghoul, ghost, witch, werewolf: Morgana relearns them over the next several months, and sends them into that deeper darkness. At the end of the fight, she is the one blood-spattered with ichor ruining her boots, breathing hard and shaking just a little bit. With every hunt, she shakes a little less.
There is a hardness that settles into her that Arthur isn't sure what to make of. It is similar to the rough-edged panic she'd get whenever she'd try to leave this life, and whenever she found herself getting dragged back in. There is something reflexive about it, defensive, like a rechanneling of energy: if she is scared, she will make sure everything else is too.
Morgana grits her teeth and doesn't make a sound as Arthur sews up her shoulder and chatters inanely about the douchebaggery of vampires. In a way Morgana is becoming the sister he always wanted growing up, but on the other hand: Arthur doesn't know this Morgana very well. He realizes, he doesn't know a Morgana who isn't trying to leave.
He tries a joke, something about broken nails and torn dresses and other things he knows Morgana doesn't care about. Jokes about Morgana going back to law school because it's always sunny in Palo Alto.
She glares at him, and says, "Oh, and who'll keep you out of trouble?"
"I've managed without you," Arthur replies mildly, but there is something rumpled in her vitriol, something she is trying to keep hidden. He watches her, waiting to see if she will reveal more. She rolls her eyes and makes a scoffing noise, then reaches for the Jim Beam, which tells him more than words ever can.