Cover for Ray Bradbury's : 'The Autumn People' by Frank Frazetta, 1975.
Knight, naked and dirty from running in the woods for several months talking to a local hermit: so yeah, therapy has been going really well for me recently
Okay but what if I snap and write a full-fledged fic of Arthur becoming king in s1 and how it could have changed the entire course of the show.
there is scratching in the woods. they tell you it is the questing beast. you’ve never seen the questing beast. you don’t even know what it is.
a knight introduces himself. he is a cousin of gawain. you have never heard of him, but no one thinks anything of it.
there is something wrong with the lake. everyone whispers that there is something wrong with the lake. no one will say what.
everyone keeps telling you the queen is the most beautiful woman in the world, but you can’t get past her eyes. they are dead.
there are footsteps in the hall. there are always footsteps in the hall. there are not always people.
you have never seen the king. some say he is the man in velvet. some say he is a war hero. some say he is a sad old man. he is a roman, someone tells you. another one insists angrily that he is a knight. a third says he is gone.
no one sits in one of the chairs at the round table. you ask if you can sit down. a knight crosses himself.
you are on a horse. you can’t remember how long you’ve been riding. “where are we going?” you ask. “on a quest.” it is always a quest.
the queen is no longer the most beautiful woman in the world. there is another girl, under the pavilion in the forest. her eyes are black.
the red coat of arms on the back of a chair has been removed. there is a different coat of arms, now, and a new knight sits. no one remembers the old one.
castle carbonek is beautiful, they tell you, but be careful. you see a door cracked open. the light that streams through blinds you.
you are speaking with a woman who insists she is elaine, but you know better. elaine was a different woman yesterday. all the women are elaine.
you see a telescope in the castle. you are confused. you have never seen anything like it, but they insist it has been here since the time of the romans.
one of the knights is missing. you ask what has happened, but all anyone will tell you is that it was a fit of madness. he is back the next day.
there is blood on the rose bushes outside the queen’s window. they are trampled.
everyone wears black in may. you ask why everyone is wearing black. no one answers.
Turned Mary Oliver's poem, Wild Geese, into a picture book!
A personal project for the summer.
pendragon siblings yet again
the author's barely disguised open wound splattered livid and filthy across everything they create
Thanks @liviapeleia for tagging me, your wip excerpts made me very curious to know what's next :D!
Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!
Tagging @breadkween, @achillesuwu and @futurepastme if you're interested! Your word should you choose to accept it is FISH!
Livia you gave me 'myth.'
M
“Merlin is a-”
But he knew, he had known for a long time.
Across from him his servant looked like a startled hare, wide-eyed, gaunt in the dim light. The thing they had not been saying had almost been said. Did Merlin think that just because it was said aloud that suddenly Arthur would change his mind, have him executed?
Instead he made a show of sagging in relief and Merlin hesitated and then sagged with him.
Y
“You’re lying. You have something you must do, something that might help me. Maybe it'll turn the tide of this battle.”
“Arthur-”
“Whatever you're about to say, let it be the truth for once. I need to hear it, finally hear it. How many years has it been? We never spoke about your magic, not once, not really, not like we should have.”
“My-?”
“It’s said now, I don't care, not anymore. I can't go into this battle without you, not unless I know it’s for a good cause and not unless I know that you’ll be safe.”
T
“The spitting, what's that then?”
“To ward off curses! Anyone can do it!”
“The asphodel?”
“The dead need appeasing!” Merlin threw his hands in the air and then towards Arthur. “You’ve seen the ghost of your father, you've fought the undead!”
Arthur was throwing his hands too now. “The cabbage leaves? Prophetic dreams have to be sorcerery?!”
“Yes but not the kind you get from cabbage leaves!”
H
He is the custodian of our stories, the golden age we brought about together and he’ll be the custodian of the stories after I’m gone, learn them from him, help him to hold them and share them, I think some days he might find them too heavy to carry.
He’s the most powerful and the most precious thing to ever walk this Earth, it would be a tragedy too immense to imagine or bear thinking about if he lost what made him human. But more than that, I ask you to do this, to pass on this message to those who come after you because I love him and I cannot do all of these things myself.
She/Her | 31 | Herbal Tea EnthusiastInterested in: hurt/comfort, fairytale retellings and folkloreCurrently down an Arthurian rabbitholeLeMightyWorrier on Ao3
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