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[uproared]

placeholder for now bc my hands are fucking frozen

val stop peeing in here

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[gravings]

[ She was half-expecting Mordred to ignore her hand, so she smiles with relief before bracing to pull her up. Mordred is lighter than Lord El-Melloi II was, which only makes sense from height alone, but it still feels unexpected. It's easy to forget that Gray and Mordred share virtually the same body. With an application of magical energy, Gray has her pulled up with ease.

She pauses briefly at "weird sense of responsibility," nonplussed. ]

Well, I don't want to see you disappear... I don't think that's so weird.

[uproared]

[ Ew, don't smile... that makes her feel things. Positive things. Positive things that quickly become negative when Gray opens her mouth again. ]

Of course it's weird, [ she says, rudely shoving past Gray with her shoulder to go back inside. ] How. Many. Times. Do I have to remind you that we're enemies? Weren't you relieved when I disappeared before? I keep saying I'm going to kill you, so why don't you listen?

[ She already failed to save her once — isn't that no better than killing her with her own hands? ]

[gravings]

[ This insistence again. If it wouldn't be begging for retaliation, Gray might point out that Mordred is factually one of the safest people Gray could be around; only one person in Kenos now has a proven track record of successfully protecting her Shard. But it seems the less said, the better — at least when it comes to Mordred's hypocritical foibles. Gray shrugs off the shove and follows Mordred back into the house, her reply lagging as she discards responses she thinks Mordred would only be more frustrated with. ]

Would you prefer if I said I hated you?

[ Maybe Mordred prefers to be disliked in the same way Gray prefers her face to be disliked?? ]

[uproared]

[ Yes. No. No. Yes. No. Would it be easier if Gray did? Absolutely. Does Mordred truly want her to? She opens her mouth to say "yes", closes it again with a tch. Eventually, she mutters: ]

... Not really. [ Even though she's facing away, the tips of her ears are noticeably pink. ] B-but that's not the point! Listen to what I'm telling you!

[gravings]

[ Cute... Gray is still confused, but she's getting the sense that Mordred is too. ]

Alright...

[ She makes her way back to the kitchen to quickly clean up the mess of her dropped egg. Good thing there are plenty more chickens where that came from. Again she asks: ]

How do you like your eggs?

[uproared]

[ Mordred is always confused. She huffs at Gray's unsatisfying (to her) answer, mostly because there's no part of it she can latch onto and continue shouting about; which was probably the idea. ]

Poached if you can manage it. Otherwise, anything is fine. [ As Gray goes back to the kitchen, Mordred goes back to poking at the set of armour she'd briefly noticed before the attempted property destruction. ] What's with this armour? Don't tell me you're training to be an assassin... you know that class is full of people too lame to quality as a real Servant, right?

[ oof ]

[gravings]

[ Poached it is. Luckily even Gray can manage that much, and then some. She sets to cooking in earnest. ]

Um, I'm not a Servant...

[ Obviously!! Gray has nothing to do with Assassins and never will. Definitely. ]

That was given to me as payment for a job. It's actually very comfortable. I'd never worn armor before that, so I was surprised.

[ She'd worn Trimmau for a bit, but that was a little different. ]

What's wrong with Assassin Servants?

[uproared]

Isn't it obvious? They're just killers. Murderers; plain and simple. Not a single damn one of 'em is worthy of the title "Heroic Spirit".

[ Says the knight who killed thousands without blinking... ]

Anyway... when it comes to armour, defence is the most important thing. You should've asked for a set like mine. ... Well, assuming you could even move in it, that is.

[gravings]

[ Never having met an Assassin (unless that's what Ashiya Douman was), Gray can neither confirm nor deny Mordred's assessment. She'll just have to take Mordred for right and watch herself around any Assassins she happens to meet in the future... ]

I don't know if I could manage armor like yours. It seems like a lot... Doesn't it get in the way?

[ Very bulky and intimidating. She's sure Mordred can move around in it comfortably, but Gray isn't sure how her own fighting style would cope with all that metal. ]

[uproared]

Sure, sometimes. But more importantly, don't you think it's super cool? When it comes to intimidating the enemy, my armour is the best of the whole Round Table!

[ Technically true, if we're counting just the armour, and not the face the person wearing it was a womanlet. ]

Besides, it's not like you'd be wearing it all the time. Even I don't do that anymore.

[gravings]

It is very intimidating... [ To Gray, one of the extremely few on Mordred's eye level. ] Maybe one of the most in Kenos too.

[ Though that's a big maybe. Thinking back, Kay's armor seemed a lot less flashy than Mordred's. Strange to think they were all part of the same Round Table. How did Arthur's armor compare, she wonders? ]

I'm a little surprised you'd think I could have armor like that. I'd have thought you'd just find it funny.

[uproared]

Oh, it'd be funny. Hilarious, even. That's what makes it so good.

As long as you stood still and kept your mouth shut, you could probably trick a few people into being scared of you. Heh... but that's not what you want, is it? [ She doesn't think it's a bad thing anymore. Dangerous, infuriating, annoying... but not bad. ]

[gravings]

[ At least they can both agree that Gray's vibe is pathetic. But at least this time it doesn't feel like Mordred is berating her so much as teasing her, and Gray smiles a little in recognition. ]

I don't think anyone's been scared of me in my entire life.

[ Though they may have felt a little nervous about Rhongomyniad in the second before the blast reached them. ]

Sometimes I think it would be nice if people took me a little more seriously, though. I'm just not sure how... other than by fighting them.

[ She tacks on the last bit because it's Mordred she's talking to. ]

[uproared]

Don't knock it till you've tried it!

[ Yeah, fighting would have been her first suggestion... and usually her only one. But since it's Gray, she feels obligated to try a little harder than usual to come up with an alternative solution. ]

Just work on your scary face. If people think you might beat the crap out of 'em, that's usually enough.

[gravings]

Scary face...

[ Hm. That isn't the worst idea in the world. And it is true that Mordred is more than capable of putting out scary energy despite her/their small stature. ]

I suppose that if you can do it, I should be able to too. Um, would you be willing to show me an example?

[uproared]

Heh, no problem. Watch and learn!

[ It's far from the seething expression she wears when she's truly mad, but she still puts on a reasonably intimidating glare for Gray to study. ]

1/2

[gravings]

[ Gray peers over with enhanced vision. Though she's been fascinated in a morbid way about the way Mordred wields her face, she's never thought to imitate Mordred's expressions. She and Gray so rarely exist on the same emotional wavelength, if ever. But just by looking over, it's surprisingly easy for Gray's face to slip into a mirror image... ]

2/2

[gravings]

[ Kind of. ]

L-Like this?

[uproared]

[ To Mordred's rare credit, she tries not to laugh.

Keyword: tries. ]

Uh... like that, yeah. [ The edge of her mouth twitches a bit. ] Ever thought about getting a helmet? No reason, just wondering.

[gravings]

[ Gray is getting the funny feeling that Mordred isn't impressed. Her lukewarm glare wilts into a pink frown of mortification. ]

... I've considered a helmet, but I thought it would restrict my field of vision too much.

[uproared]

[ Dryly: ] Eh, you get used to it.

[ Especially if you don't have a choice. ]

Just keep on practicing that expression! And remember, it's okay if you fail! Not everyone can be awesome at everything like me!

[gravings]

[ The sad part is that Gray hasn't actually seen Mordred fail at anything other than social situations, so she's forced to accept that Mordred may in fact be awesome at most things. As for practicing her angry expression... staring into a mirror is off the table, but maybe she can work in a bit of self-suggestion to help her along.

Anyway time is a construct, so Gray sets down tea and a plate for Mordred: a trio of poached eggs on toasted, rustic-cut bread and seasoned cheese sauce. It's a version of Welsh rarebit, adjusted with liberty due to the slim grocery pickings nowadays. Gray thinks it's still decent, but her culinary standards have always been modest. ]

Please let me know what you think.

[uproared]

[ Watching Mordred eat is a like watching a train wreck in motion. She picks up the first piece of bread and starts tearing her way through it as if there's an invisible timer ticking down somewhere... and, of course, she talks with her mouth still half full. ]

Not bad, mouse. Not bad at all. I don't know why, but it tastes oddly cozy. [ She swallows and reaches for the tea; her eyebrows scrunched in thought as she sips. ]

Tch... if my father were here, he wouldn't care at all about the taste. He ate everything with the exact same look on his face, even though it was the dullest, most blandest shit imaginable! And we all lied like idiots and said it was good too, 'cause none of us wanted to disagree with the king! Damn! That place was really hell!

[ Having worked herself up, she slams the tea back down and rips into the next piece of toast, growling like an angry dog. ]

[gravings]

[ As with a proper trainwreck, Gray can't look away from the carnage. She's never watched herself eat, which is a normal thing even when you aren't averse to your own face, but she feels vaguely self-conscious now about how she must look if she has even a chance of appearing like Mordred. But she doesn't think it's a bad thing either for Mordred to have so little care for how she looks.

Gray blinks, jostled from her observation by the slam of the cup. Mordred is complaining about olden British food... It seems like a petty complaint, but then again Gray doesn't know anything about the medieval culinary condition. ]

So he wasn't the kind of king who demanded expensive ingredients...

[ A surprisingly likeable trait in a king. ]

The royal family of my Britain lived in luxury in every way, so it's strange to think of a king satisfied with poor cooking.

[uproared]

Strange? It. Freakin'. Suuuuuuuuuuucked!

[ It's rare for her to be so relatively light-hearted when talking about her past — sure, she's complaining, but in an (almost) normal way. ]

I don't care about cost, but food should be more than just nutrients, dammit! I'll die if I ever have to eat one of Gawain's potato dishes again! Just thinking of his smug face makes me wanna kill him a second time!