| An estate located an hours walk due south of the town (Morgana typically jogs to save time). It's made entirely of wood and complements the nearby forest well. Due to Morgana establishing a pact with the nearby spirits, her home is protected from all manner of shall we say "uninvited guests" The pact is simply an agreement to respect each others property, so long as she doesn't disrespect the sanctity of the forest, the denizens won't disrespect the sanctity of her home, along with agreeing to protect one another. A most convenient deal for quite possibly the laziest of the masters. The residents are Morgana, Mircea, and the occasional forest critter. |
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| Deep within the bowels of the villa, which isn't all that deep really, Morgana and Mircea were fighting a war all their own! "E!" Morgana shouts. Mircea shakes his head and draws the first leg on the board. "Oh come on! It is unfair if you only pick Romanian vords! You cheat!" Mircea finds himself chuckling while Morgana pouts. Many games are laid about the floor, already having been played. A score in ally marks, written by Morgana, covers the corner of a white board. Morgana was in the lead by two games, but Mircea was unrelenting. She's the one who challenged him, after all. They had played Monopoly "Who's got AAAAALL the property! Zis bitch right here~!" Morgana laughed. They played Go Fish "Got any srees?" "Go Fish." *incoherent and most likely vulgar mumbling* They even played chutes and ladders. "It looks like you landed on yet another chute, my little lady~" Mircea smirks. Morgana kicks the game. "Next game!" And chess. "Vell vell...ve're down to our kings, but I vill sti-...Damn! It's a draw by default!" Mircea applauds her sarcastically with a straight face. And now it was Hangman. "May I remind you, my little lady, that this is the last game that counts and you will still be ahead of me by a single game." "Oh yes, zat's right..." Of course, they made no such agreement. Mircea simply found it prudent to quit while he was ahead and accept a loss. |
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| Rheasviel and Mordred appeared at the doorstep of the new master's villa without trouble. The Berserker servant set her down on the ground gently, arranging her ruffled appearance with quick movements before straightening like a guard and standing idle behind her. The lady seemed to be in a dilemma. Should she knock? Shout? Ring the doorbell? Hm. She chose the former option. Someone yelled "COMING!!" from inside, and then a ruckus seemed to take place. After some impossible to decipher murmurs-shouts, a defeated sigh resounded near the door. It soon enough swung open after a lock was twisted thrice. Rheasviel's owlish blink met the gaze of a tan, lean-muscled man with flowing white hair dressed in a lax suit and barefoot; his mismatched eyes, one red, one blue, stared directly into hers. She titled her head, giving a shy smile and twirling a strand of her fluffy white hair. "Hello, sir..." A woman's voice yelled something from inside, and a tall woman came forth, sporting a soft-looking bedhead. "Who is it?" she seemed to inquire. Mircea blinked at her to show he did not know, before returning his eyes to the strange, scantily-clad visitor. The albino homunculus burst in laughter. She did a small bow. "I am sorry for coming to visit this late - my name is Rheasviel von Einzbern...the name might be known to you," she says, smiling. "May I and my Servant step in?" |
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| Morgana had a doughnut hanging from her mouth and was clad in her sea green pajamas. After the Einzbern girl introduced herself, she grew quiet and suddenly the door was shut rather forcefully, but opened again after a second. "Ahh...just hold on for a second, ok?" She asks and shuts the door again. "Mircea...do you have any idea vat they are doing here!? Ze'yre here to kill me, aren't zey." She was flustered and worried. "I did not expect them to be so direct and I'm no good vith people...You do the talking!" She then bolted for her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. What Mircea does with this is entirely up to him... Meanwhile, on the other side of the door. "I'll take that as a no..." Mordred said in a nonchalant manner. |
TamoballOct 14, 2013 3:33 PM
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| Mircea stared after her. Well, they were here...and he had a gut feeling the two people weren't here with bad intentions. Plus, it was rude to let guests in the cold. Especially if said guests comprise a woman who is barely properly dressed for indoors, let alone outdoors. He opened the door with an owlish blink. He stepped aside, "Ladies first." Rheasviel gave him a brilliant smile, tightening her hold on her coat some more, before entering. She removed her shoes, placing them near the door. After the woman's Servant entered grumbling something, the former Wallachian king closed the door. "You will have to excuse my Master - she is quite an...ah, original, individual." Rhea chuckled. "It is quite alright. I am here simply to talk. I don't value useless bloodshed." |
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| "She's probably just a coward..." Mordred grumbles into Rhea's mind. Morgana held her ear to her door, trying to listen to what they're saying. Ja right...just want to talk. I'll believe zat...OVER MY DEAD BODY!" She starts shaking and wondering how long it will be before they attack when she suddenly realizes something of immense importance."Vait just a moment. If zey vere here to kill me, zee land itself vould have attacked zem!" Steeling herself, she opens the door and comes out. "My my. Pardon my rudeness, Rhea~ May I call you Rhea? Anyvay...I am usually not such a horrid host." She clears her throat and stands tall and proud. "Mein nahme ist Morgana Blake!" It takes her a moment to realize she spoke in German, which she only speaks for three reasons. When she's angry, when she's talking to another German, and when she's nervous. "Ahh! My name is Morgana Blake!" Her face flushes in embarrassment. Mordred finds himself swallowing his own words and nearly feeling bad for her now. |
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| Rhea extends her hand for the strange woman to shake. She chuckles; "Yes, yes you may. And worry not - I speak German fairly well," she says with a smile. Meanwhile, Mircea ties his long, white locks of hair into a loose, low ponytail with a plum-colored ribbon that matched his slightly unbuttoned shirt. He fixes his glasses, smiling at the two women. "May I ask why you are here, Lady Einzbern?" Rheasviel wiggles her finger at him. She has already gotten the gist that he is the other woman's Servant. "Just Rhea, please, sir," she corrects almost reflexively. "I am here to discuss with Ms. Morgana about the war. I was wondering, if, perhaps, you two would like to ally with me." |
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| "Call me Miss again and I'll kick your pale ass right out the door." Morgana replied. She hated being called Miss. "It makes me feel old, you see. I am only 22." She grumbles for a bit while gesturing for Rhea to follow her into the living room, where she sits down and enjoys another doughnut washed down with what was probably hard liquor judging from the flask. "So...vhy do you vish to become allies? Only one can win ze var, you know." Mordred stands quietly, not sure of what to think. "I am certain that I will never understand women..." |
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| "Tell me about it," Mircea mutters in understanding to Mordred, quiet enough so only the armor-clad man could understand. "I am quite certain women were made to be admired, not to be understood." Meanwhile, Rhea laughs softly, and gives a soft okay to Morgana. "Pardon me. I have been taught to use honorifics; it is almost a habit," she responds, following the woman into the living room. She looks around for a place to sit, and after removing a cardboard box of pizza from an armchair and squatting crumbs away from the cushion, she settles down, not before she shrugs out of her coat. Her attire is quite provocative, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Because a war without allies is far too hard to fight. I, to be frank, don't want to be alone in it. Acht would scold me, and say it's weakness, but..." she trails off for a second, sighing. Then, she continues. "Alliances can be formed, you see. And then just fights like between friends can be fought once we reach the end of the journey." Mircea observes the exchange quietly. His interest isn't taken by the amount of inviting exposed skin as it is held by her words. Wars fought alone, huh? He knows a thing or two about that (much more than just two, but he's being modest). |
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| Mordred makes a sound that's hard to say whether it's a scoff, a huff of approval, a guffaw, or some combination of the three. "As though there's a whole lot to admire." Morgana laughs wholeheartedly, as she often does. "Well aren't you lucky, zen? I never intended on being a contestant in the first place." She laughs harder, holding her sides. "You see...I actually tried to fail at the summoning, zat vay I could look my family in ze face and say hey...at least I tried. I mean come on. I drew ze circle on a dry erase board and used scented candles! Ahh...grandfazer...vhy did you have to be so good vith contracts?" She rambles on for a moment, clearly at least a little bit on the drunk side. "Alright...I accept your proposal. Vhy don't you stay here for ze night? It's getting late and I'm sure you have aaaaaall sorts of questions for me. Oh...and you probably vant to get out of zat....vatever you are vearing...anyvay. Ask avay. Don't be shy. I am like an open book." Mordred stands there quietly...letting the women talk. "I change my mind. You ended up with quite the mistress~" He says to Mircea in a sarcastic tone of voice. |
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| Rheasviel smiles softly. "Gladly," she agrees with a soft chuckle. "I don't have that many questions, though...hm...Maybe you do, though?" Mircea gives Mordred a slight smile and a shrug. "Different opinions for different people. I for one enjoy my mistress' quirks," he says simply. Then, he speaks louder for the two women to hear; "Should I prepare a snack?" |
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| "FUCK. YES!" Morgana shouts to Mircea. "I'm outta doughnuts and I'm sure our guests are famished..." Mordred wonders what Mircea sees in this woman. She was crude and most impolite. "Actually...I do have a question. How did you know vhere to look? This place is quite out of ze vay. I made sure of it." |
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| Mircea complies. Extremely agile, he whisks himself out and off to the kitchen. A tray full of sweets (doughnuts, truffles, different types of chocolate batons, and pieces of cake) are arranged on a tray. For good measure, he whisks away three bottle of whiskey (Jack). By the time he is back, Rhea is speaking to his Master. "Someone gave us a tip," she says with a wink, and picks a truffle when presented with the tray. "As for my attire...it is rather comfortable...but if it bugs you, I shall comply." |
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| "Vell...it isn't like I vas trying to remain hidden anyvay. I didn't use a bounded field for a reason, after all. I mentioned that my Grandfazer vas good vith contracts? Ze Blake family prides itself in being good at everyzing, and I inherited all of zat knowledge. I made a contract vith ze spirits of ze land itself. If you two had come here to harm me or my home, ze land and ze forest vould have attacked you first~" She laughs and accepts the baked goods and boozahol. "Who needs a bounded field ven ze land vill kill everyone for you as long as you treat it vith respect!?" "Vould you like a drink? I drink only ze finest and strongest of alcohol. Maybe not fit for a lady vith such refined tastes~" Mordred facepalms...or helmetpalms. "Oh she did it now..." "Can you handle ze booze, Liebchen!? Can you!? I zink not!" Morgana had been drinking from her flask the whole time and it's not that time was being friendly to her to begin with. It was safe to assume that she was more than a little buzzed by now. |
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| Rheasviel smirks. She reaches for a bottle and unscrews the cap. "Is it a challenge, Morgie~?" she wonders, chugging down the contents of the glass container in one smooth swallow. Mircea pales. He is gone and back with more alcohol bottles. He doesn't like where this is going... |
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| Morgana grins. "A contest it is then!" What was most worrying about Morgana in this case was her 'never surrender' attitude. She drinks down an entire bottle without hesitating. "Your move, Liebchen~" It goes without saying but...Mordred did not like where this was going. |
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| Rheasviel shrugs, effortlessly chugging down a new bottle. She's pretty sure that under his armor, Mordred's paler than a corpse. She can't be bothered to care. ... The next morning, Mircea is patiently waiting for his Master to wake up so he can nurse her. The guest, Lady Einzbern - Rhea, she insists - is seemingly perfectly fine with having drunk a lot of whiskey. The lady can hold her drinks, okay. "Would you like a light breakfast, miss?" he politely inquires. The albino homunculus shakes her head with a slight smile. "Right now, just water. Or I might feel under the weather. Thank you, though, sir," she replies softly. |
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| Morgana slept soundly, mumbling angrily about ninja bunnies and nachos. Suddenly, she wakes up bursting into laughter, which is only stopped by a sudden pain in her head. "I am starting to think that I should not have had so much to drink..." She burps. "Ugh...'scuse me..." Her body slumps onto the nearest surface, a coffee table, and rests there. |
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| Rheasviel bursts into a string of feminine, soft giggles, drawing her feet up to her chest and hugging her knees close to herself. "Good morning, Morgie~" she chants slowly, before smirking devilishly. "Slept well?" Mircea shakes his head. He is back to and fro the kitchen with a large glass of water, a cartoon of orange juice, a pill for the headache and an apple. "Little lady~ Here, drink this," he gently suggests, kneeling by her side. At the grunt she makes, he rolls his mismatched eyes. "Be thankful we're not in Romania, or you would have had to drink sour cabbage juice." |
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| Morgana groans, tilting her head so her face wasn't on the coffee table. She manages to flip Rhea the bird before Mircea came by with medicine. She grunts, disliking medicine in general but the thought of sour cabbage juice does not particularly appeal to her. "You von't make me drink zat cabbage juice, vill you?" She asks her servant, flashing him her eyes for a moment. "Ooh~ Orange juice~" She takes the carton and holds it like it's a sacred treasure before drinking out of it. The headache is still very much there as she looks at Rhea. "So...partners in crime?" Mordred is confused! |
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| Rhea had laughed even harder at Morgana's gesture. After the Servant's little lady took her medicine, the homunculus grinned widely. "Partners in crime." Mircea shakes his head, muttering things about cabbages and scary women. Rhea musses up her already tousled hair. "We should go exploring, later. And I insist you two come by for at least dinner~" she hums, ending her sentence with a yawn. |
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| "Agreed. I admit I'm getting a little tired of ordering pizza." Morgana stands and yawns. "Just let me change out of these night clothes and I'll be ready to go at anytime." Mordred stood up as quietly as a large man in armor could manage. "Princess, I will come back with suitable clothes." He says to Rhea before taking on spirit form. |
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| "Alright," Rhea says to both Morgana and Mordred as they whisk off and away. Once left alone with Mircea, she takes a grateful sip of water. She feels slightly fidgety. The man watches her intently, mismatched eyes giving a curious gleam. "I didn't expect another Master to be so...nice." She laughs. "I didn't, either," she responds. The man smiles, shaking his head. "Your little lady is quite the character, sir. Do take great care of her." "I always will, ma'am." Their discussion is cut short when Mordred comes back with a change of clothes on hand, and Morgana emerges from her bedroom. |
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| Morgana emerges wearing a tube top, a hoodie, a plaid miniskirt, and a pair of thigh high boots. Mordred returns with denim jeans (classic blue), functional but totally pimpin' tennis shoes, a white button up blouse, and a thin black jacket to enhance the entire thing. However, he nearly drops them when he witnesses Morgana's attire and reacts as though she had a committed a sin against the gods of all that is fashionable. That or he thought she wasn't dressed modestly enough. It's hard to tell with Mordred. "What? I like to be comfortable when I go out...Bah. Fine. I'll get a t-shirt." Mordred sighs in relief. |
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| Rhea laughs. She takes the clothes from Mordred with a grateful smile, and asks Mircea for directions to the bathroom. She changes quickly, pulling her long hair in a ponytail as she emerges. Mircea, for his part, puts on shoes. He's dressed casual enough in his wine-colored dress shirt, unbuttoned to seem carefree, and black suit pants. He fixes his glasses, arranging for his red eye to look blue just like the other. "Ready~?" he inquires of them. |
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| Morgana comes out of her room now wearing a white t-shirt with more casual shoes rather than her stripper boots. "I am ready~" Mordred nods and takes on spirit form. "I will remain in spirit form for the time being." Morgana seems to be plotting now. "First order of business! Clothes for Rhea's servant~!" |
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| Rhea laughs. Mircea shakes his head. //everyone exits?// |
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