[ One day, one day, Ozymandias may attempt to sweet talk her. That day is not now — he’s far too weary to even begin contemplating the possibility. Once she’s yelling after a knight that definitely is not not coming, who is also apparently become her father, he reaches forward to plant an affectionate kiss on her cheek. The feeling of his lips is warm, but ultimately fleeting. At the corner of her eye, Mordred can definitely see him victorious, fully proud that his elementary tactics had paid off.
As soon as the vines wrapped around his ankles loosen, he retreats, hand releasing her shoulder. The flat of his palm collides with the grass below, but he’s not prepared enough for a completely graceful landing, and settles on the ground with his body sprawled flat on the ground. ]
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As soon as the vines wrapped around his ankles loosen, he retreats, hand releasing her shoulder. The flat of his palm collides with the grass below, but he’s not prepared enough for a completely graceful landing, and settles on the ground with his body sprawled flat on the ground. ]