Morgan was realizing how easily he'd fallen into the role of the father. There was a certain pleasant feeling that came from making those thousand little connections with the growing children, Thessa and her million whispered secrets and Corein's rambling half-word, half-gesture stories. But his horse was restless even though it was fed copious amounts of raw meat.

And, well, so was he.

Far away from wars and long away from warriors. He even caught himself leaving the house without his sword. Fuck, he'd managed to forget today, even. Morgan heaved a sigh as he jogged along the shoreline. A body needed to keep in shape, after all.

Morgan skidded a little on the sand as he came to a stop, regarding the ersatz net and its maker with a certain incredulous curiosity before a chuckle escaped him and he pulled the shawl off and walked toward the woman. "Excuse me. I think you dropped this. Or maybe mistook me for someone else."

He tried not to reflect on how long it had been since he'd had lovely young women throwing lacy garments at him. And was not entirely successful.

Morgan looked down at the decaying shawl-net and chuckled a bit, running a little magic through the strands to help them hold together a bit longer. He watched the woman and noted that beyond the pale hair, she did seem to tend toward single colours. Either an order or...

Well, she knew his name and he hadn't pissed anyone off lately (that he knew of) so there were safe assumptions to be made. Especially when they talked about purposes.

"Do you need a purpose?" asked the mage with a chuckle as he stepped into the pavilion, fingers idly messing about with the shawl. "I mean, why not just come down and talk with a body, eh?"

Huh.

Morgan chuckled a little and watched the shawl unknit itself and ran a hand over his head. Nice to be reminded that there were bigger things now and again.

"Well, there's worse things than stability," stated Morgan as he took a seat, chuckling. "Nemosine... Yeah, I think I will stick with 'Indigo'." A smile and he looked up at her, "So what's your function, then? Something about memories?" he asked before looking at the self-rolling thread, "Or are you the one who keeps all the plot threads nice and tidy?"

"Tell me about it. Damn near got eaten last time one of you lot told me where to go," the smile on his face as he spoke was a little wistful, "but I came out okay and with a few good stories. So it wasn't too terribly awful." Looking to her, he grinned, "So, all kinds of vague but important functions. Glad I'm just a mere mortal or however you lot look at us. Makes it a whole mess easier to deal with things in the concrete instead of having to pluck the strings of the abstract." He chuckled once before adding, "Of course, I imagine you're not bored too often."