http://onperfectlips.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
onperfectlips.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
realityshifted2011-09-10 02:49 pm
onperfectlips.livejournal.com) wrote in realityshifted2011-09-10 02:49 pm
Entry tags:
003 [The Rumour Mill]
[There were always rumours in Camelot. People gossiped about their neighbours and servants gossiped about their employers and, of course, everyone gossiped about the royal family. Guinevere, working in the heart of the castle, could only shake her head as already tall tales grew taller still, but the rumours - even the rumours about Morgana and Arthur and their marriage - always burnt out as quickly as they started. In a way, it was nice to know that nothing changed. Although Uther's death had left the kingdom in a precarious position politically, life carried on.
These rumours, however, were different. People were going missing. There was no pattern and no apparent reason for it. They were simply gone. The cook's daughter, the boy who delivered the coal, the ostler's wife, the old man who lived next to the butcher and always gave Gwen a sprig of lavender if she wasn't smiling when they passed in the street. Perhaps there were others, too. People who did not have friends or family to mourn them and did not attract the attention of the gossips who held court in the markets and kitchens of Camelot.
Morgana and Arthur had concerns of their own. It was down to Gwen to find out what was going on. And, even if it hadn't occurred to her to connect the disappearances in Camelot to the Plane just yet, she would get to the bottom of things.
Turning a sprig of lavender - dry and brittle, a gift from a week previously - between her fingers, Gwen sat outside the library, wondering where to start.]
These rumours, however, were different. People were going missing. There was no pattern and no apparent reason for it. They were simply gone. The cook's daughter, the boy who delivered the coal, the ostler's wife, the old man who lived next to the butcher and always gave Gwen a sprig of lavender if she wasn't smiling when they passed in the street. Perhaps there were others, too. People who did not have friends or family to mourn them and did not attract the attention of the gossips who held court in the markets and kitchens of Camelot.
Morgana and Arthur had concerns of their own. It was down to Gwen to find out what was going on. And, even if it hadn't occurred to her to connect the disappearances in Camelot to the Plane just yet, she would get to the bottom of things.
Turning a sprig of lavender - dry and brittle, a gift from a week previously - between her fingers, Gwen sat outside the library, wondering where to start.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Page 1 of 5