Mordred, Vortigern and Faolan
Mordred rolled over slightly, curling in more around the tiny warm body tucked into his chest. Faolan. Wonder what it meant? Probably had a meaning. Nyx was the type that if she named something, it was named for a reason. Which was why he very carefully didn't ask why her bike's name was Sasha. The little furred body stirred, and he opened his eyes to look into the mismatched ones. "Morning, little one." Faolan, wolven for the moment, eyed him fuzzily then licked his nose, yawned and went back to sleep. Mordred chuckled. Obviously, a genetic trait. Neither him nor Nyx were ones for early mornings. Feeling strangely calm now that the initial shock had worn off, Mordred slithered out of bed, leaving Faolan in the warm spot. He needed a shower.
Shower over, Mordred came back out again, scrubbing at his head with a towel. He eyed the fuzzy bundle in the middle of his bed.
"I bet you need a shower, Faolan." A green eye opened, eyed him, then closed again. Mordred sighed as he looked at him. "You'll dry faster if you have skin instead of fur." Faolan opened his eyes, sat up and shifted into his human form. Mordred picked him up. "Up you get."
Faolan snuggled into Mordred's chest and sighed, before nuzzling at his neck and biting softly. Mordred's eyebrows went up slightly, but he forbore comment. Nyx was a cat... He walked into the bathroom and sat Faolan on the toiletseat. The little boy looked back solemnly, slightly tanned skin brown against the little white kilt he was wearing, black hair loose against his shoulders. Mordred crouched in front of him, noticing the wadjet eye lying against his bare chest, as blue as his own eyes and the one of Faolan's.
"Here, get yer kit off and we'll give ya a bit of a wash, then we'll go see about breakfast?" Mordred said gently. Faolan thought about it, then nodded. The little white square came off and Faolan dipped his head to take the wadjet off over his head. After a short amount of time, the little boy was washed and reclothed. Mordred sighed. The little kilt might be alright for Egypt, or wherever Nyx had been but it was colder in America. Vort?
I got clothes for the kid. They're in the wardrobe.
Thanks, Pack. Mordred thought thankfully.
I'm just glad you're out of bed.
Yeah, I was getting a bit high. Mordred grinned ruefully as he deposited Faolan on the bed and went to the wardrobe.
Yeah. You could say that. A chuckle reverberated through the link. Suddenly, Mordred could feel someone poking at it and almost seamlessly cutting into it. He cocked his head slightly, then turned to stare at the small child sitting docilely on the bed.
Have some manners, Faolan. Mordred told the boy quietly. The eyes went round and glimmery, before the lip quivered and the tears started to spill.
Only wanted to talk...
"Talk with your mouth then, whelp," Mordred said softly as he made his way back over and scooped Faolan into his arms. He sat on the bed and rocked back and forth, holding his silently weeping son. "I'm not mad at you, wolfling. Don't cry. Shh, now, don't cry..."
After a while, the hiccuping sobs, still silent, came to a halt. Not mad? The pitiful little mindvoice came in as Faolan raised his head.
"'M not mad at you. C'mon, let's get you dressed into something a bit warmer, Faolan." Mordred hefted Faolan onto his hip. "And then we'll get some breakfast."
Yes please.
Dressing accomplished, Mordred took Faolan into his arms and prepared to meet the mansion. The little boy hid his face against Mordred's neck as he walked into the cafeteria, calmly ignoring the whispered rise of exclaimations.
Dawn, Kitty and Theresa
Dawn, Kitty and Theresa were chatting quietly, and giggling quite loudly, when Mordred came in with a little boy. Theresa aproached slowly.
"Hullo, cutie," she said, the Irish lilt in her voice apparent. "My name's Tracy, what's yours?" she asked the tot.
Mordred and Faolan
Faolan eyed her, then hid his face back in Mordred's shoulder. Don't like her. Make her go way, please?
"Be polite," Mordred chided gently. "This is Faolan," he told Theresa.
Julie
Julie had arrived in the cafeteria with her twins fast asleep in their pram. She was looking forward to breakfast.
"Huh," she thought, "I didn't know there were other kids here."
Theresa
"Oh, boyo, I won't hurt you," she promised. She spoke to him quietly in Gaelic, thinking he couldn't understand her, but hoping he'd get her intent.
Mordred and Faolan
Faolan didn't move his face from Mordred's neck. He didn't like this place, and he wanted his mama, and they were all too loud. Mordred moved his shields to include his son behind them.
"I don't think he speaks Gaelic, but thanks for trying, Theresa." Mordred smiled slightly at her. "C'mon, whelp, let's get you some breakfast."
Theresa
Theresa nodded, "We shall have to teach him, when he's bigger," she said, gently, and then went back to Dawn and Kitty, who were laughing loudly with Dem.
Mordred and Faolan
Mordred went over to the caf and started getting the two of them some breakfast, balancing Faolan on his hip. Soon, he was seated at a table by himself, with Faolan on his lap. He fed bits of his breakfast to Faolan, sipping on his mug of black coffee and giving Faolan a small glass of milk. Big green and blue eyes watched everyone in the room. So far, Faolan hadn't said a word to anyone in the mansion. Not with his mouth.