(no subject)

Who: Mordred and YOU.
What: CES makes a pretty forest.
Where: CES
When: Now? Now is good.
Warnings: None! Unless your character is allergic to pollen. In which case, stay back.

Mordred had been lucky during the recent events. The life he had lived, though unlike his own, was not one he longed for. It was relatively the same in some ways with challenges and difficulties of its own. But it had always felt off, those memories weren’t his and even while he had thought they were he found small oddities that painted that life strange to him.

When reality had returned everything felt like it had fit into place again. The only difference, perhaps, was a new underlying feeling of uncertainty. He had never seen another world before, and once he never thought it possible. Yet there he had been in someone else’s home living a life that wasn't his own, the setting was different yet the people felt the same. Somehow, he had just thought they would be different.

It was hardly a disappointment and he felt silly for thinking on matters in such a way that he wouldn’t voice them to others. The only disappointment at all was his return to the Barge. He had a duty here, of which there was no confusion. It was a worthy effort and to that there had been no change. But in his own right, he missed home. It was nice to be somewhere else, to not be surrounded by the metal frames of the ship. And during his daily walks about the ship he found himself going to the CES more and more.

Today was a quiet forest, one much like those he was familiar to as a child. Old, tall trees with a thick canopy overhead and saplings, small plants, brush, and ferns growing wherever sunlight made it through. Mordred stood in a small clearing, absorbing it all in as best he could. Nature had been an easy thing to appreciate, but overlook when he was home. Here, however, he was discovering just how much he had taken that for granted.

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The CES was, once again, a forest. Spock would huff if he could, he chooses to simply exit and re-enter, expecting it to change as it usually did. When nothing happened, he concludesd someone else must be enjoying the forest, and sets off to explore this new terrain, tricorder in hand. He enjoyed being amongst the flowers, as Stephen Grey had; he had not enjoyed politics, no matter how easily his father had navigated them. (However, everything from a child's eyes seemed wondrously easy.)

He spies a new plant and sets about cataloguing it, not realising he's come to a stop directly in Mordred's line of sight, but he's so still Spock doesn't hear him, and only sees him when he looks around.

'Are you waiting for someone?'

Even when Spock comes into his view, Mordred makes no effort to move. Instead he only smiles to see someone else enjoying the forest, or at the least taking an interest to it. Only the question disrupts his observation.

"No, am I disturbing you?"

'No; it is merely not usual for a passenger to stand here.' His gaze falls on the cloak, narrowing as he attempts to classify the fabric.

"Is it?" He asks looking around the clearing, when no reason pops out at him he continues, "why is that?"

'Do you usually stand around in clearings keeping to yourself?' he says, perfectly seriously.

He chuckles at himself, "I suppose it is strange to find."

'Not less strange than anything else that happens aboard, perhaps,' he concedes, genially. Any person with a sense of humor about this was, at this point, a plus. 'I'm Spock.'

Mordred holds out a hand, "Mordred. Well met."

Spock stares down at the hand, and returns the gesture with a simple Vulcan salute. 'Well met.' A beat, then he qualifies: 'I am a touch-telepath; physical contact is unadvisable.'

On any other occasion, the decline may have been seen as rude or at least concerning. With explanation, however, Mordred is only surprised and laughs despite himself, "oh...," he says as he curls back his hand with a timid smile. "I apologize, I didn't mean to offend."

'It is no trouble,' he replies, glad that Mordred's not pushing the issue. Humans back home did, sometimes, just to see a Vulcan in discomfort over having to shake hands. Even when they knew.

'Unless of course you intended for me to know your thoughts.'

The thick scent of greenery and soil washes over Alex like waves. He loves this, even though this kind of forest was never his; it feels so purely natural that he can't help but relax. This is better. It makes him feel less close, less trapped, less confused, and less lost. Being Rix was being a cog in a machine. It was unsettling, but at the same time it felt right. He's having trouble shaking off the purposeless drift in the face of reality.

He doesn't say anything at first when he sees Mordred in the clearing, wondering if he should leave him be. But he's Morgana's - something. Friend? Enemy? The lines blur so easily with her - and if he's not well, Alex should say something.

"Excuse me," he says quietly. "You okay?"

The interruption from thought to sound leaves Mordred searching for the origin. When he finds Alex he isn't so startled as relieved. He should have been at least a little more wary of his surroundings. But had he looked so sad to cause concern and draw others to him? It hadn't been his intention.

"Sorry, yes. I'm fine. I was just thinking." He says with a short smile.

He wants to ask you sure? but that's nosy and rude. So he just shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, tucking his chin.

"Don't think too much," he jokes. Probably jokes. "'S bad for you."

He laughs under his breath, appreciating the joke, before holding out a hand.

"I'm Mordred."

"Alex." He shakes Mordred's hand, grinning. "Alex Summers. I never think too much, so I can help you out if, you know. You need it."

Thinking wasn't always so bad, surely. But Mordred was curious. "Help me out?" Mordred tilts his head slightly to one side. Amused by the offer. "How would you do that?"

Kevin didn't hold as tightly to his dog's leash as he did in the rest of the Barge. There was always plenty of room here for him to run around. He picked up a stick and threw it a few yards away. "Go fetch."

The excited dog ran and picked up the stick. But instead of bringing it back to his master, he ran further into the forest. Kevin followed at a light jog and smiled when he saw his pet approach the other warden with the stick.

The dog was a pleasant surprise, and one Mordred would have mistaken for part of the CES had it not seemed so terribly out of place. Still, there was no harm in greeting the furry friend and he held out a hand for the dog to sniff before kneeling to pet it. The owner running toward them moments later only confirmed it his curiosity of the random dog. Or who he had assumed to be the owner.

"Is he yours?"

"Yeah." He shook his head at his pet. "His name's Slayer."

The dog pushed the stick at Mordred. Kevin laughed. "At least he's just asking to play this time. Usually he runs up to people and starts barking."

Not barking was a good thing, Mordred concluded, though a little surprised when the dog pushed the stick at him.

"Slayer, an interesting name. Did you pick it?" He said with a smile to the dog as he took the stick and threw it off and out of the clearing.

"Jesse suggested a bunch of names when he got him for me," he said, smiling as he watched the dog race after the stick. "That was the only one that felt right."