nexus_crossings | Finally, a place stranger than his office!

Finally, a place stranger than his office!

Strange things happening around an office filled with magical beings is the norm in Mordred's life. Every day he deals with with magic users, vampires, and landlines in a bag (that call God, no less), so opening a door and finding something unexpected on the other side isn't really a shock. Or it shouldn't be, but a multi-dimensional hub is far outside even the young man's definition of "normal".

Instead of stepping into an unused office supposedly filled with the missing supplies he needs, he finds himself stepping out onto a chilly street along the Plaza. Mordred blinks a few times as he takes in his surroundings (including a-- Captain America PSA?), silently thanks the Goddess he's actually wearing a sweater while he looks around the area, and then makes his way over to the pamphlets to check one out. It's not the most helpful reading material, but it's enough that he looks slightly less nervous once he's worked up the nerve to ask a question as instructed.

"So, I-- This might not be the best first question to ask of strangers, but..." The druid's cheeks flush as he tugs at the bottom of his sweater, his fingers worrying the hem as he gathers his thoughts. "My fiancé and I are getting married soon, and a-a friend of ours-- his sister, actually... Well, she's planning everything-- for us, but I feel like I should contribute something." He frowns thoughtfully for a moment, then sighs heavily. "If you could add-- anything you wanted to a wedding, what would it be? Anything I should-- avoid, at the very least?"

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Mordred knows from experience today that more than one person can exist with the same face. But he wasn't-- expecting to see his own doppelgänger on the same day as finding this place? Especially after just having met his fiancé's. This is very... weird? Against nature? No, it's got to be fine, because this isn't his... universe... right now??

Goddess help him, his head is spinning right now. ~~He's really hoping he doesn't faint again.~~

"Ah, know-- who they are...?" That's probably good advice coming out of this other person's mouth, but it doesn't fully register in the druid's brain. He's a bit stuck on the whole "same face" thing, because that is really someone with his own features, hair, and relative build standing in front of him with crossed arms and a searching gaze. He blinks a few times, his mouth hanging open, and then quietly asks, "Wh-who might you be...?"

"Dorian Gray. And no, before you ask, you haven't lost your mind. I don't know how much you've taken in about this place yet, but it's normal for people who share the same face to run into each other. In fact, the last time I checked, there were something like five versions of one resident all running around in the plaza at once. It's like a Mary Shelley to the head, but you get used to it.

And as for me, as long as you don't say you're me or that we're from the same Earth, it's fine." Dorian straightens slightly, tilting his head as he takes Mordred's entire form in through a quick, searching glance. Fluffy sweater, cutesy style. What does this man do, he wonders? Something professional, he's guessing, but he wants to hear it from Mordred's own mouth. "Who are you, then?"

"D-Dorian Gray? Like the-- story?" Is this really happening? Did he just meet someone who both has his face and is extremely infamous? But also... fictional? Or at least... that's what Mordred thought. He puts a hand to his forehead in an attempt to steady himself, though it doesn't help or prevent him from stumbling a bit.

The question getting turned back on him is unexpected. "Me? I-I'm Mordred- le Fey." It feels important to give his full name in this particular case. He gulps down a breath of air, his face becoming a few shades paler the longer he's confronted with the reality that is standing in front of him and staring back at him with his own face. "I-- I-I'm, uh... It's nice...? To meet you?"

This is getting more awkward by the second and Mordred would very much like it to stop so he doesn't end up fainting again. Twice in one day is excessive, even for him.

"Like the story, yes." The irony of two people with their names meeting is so genuinely entertaining and unique to the immortal that it earns Mordred a smile that's almost cheerful. "Fancy that. Dorian Gray meeting Sir Mordred, dark knight of the round table." Although if he had guess, this Mordred looks more likely to usurp extra candy from a communal bowl at a bank before he starts usurping the thrones of great and storied kingdoms. But you never do know in the Nexus, do you? It'll be fascinating (and flattering, frankly) if this man really is associated with Mordred in some form. "Any relation?"

It's at this point, though, that Mordred's state of frazzled nerves becomes very clear. There's only so much pink either of their faces can lose before they're rocking a very poltergeist look. "--Before you answer that, I'd consider having a seat." Dorian looks around, and then gestures to whatever's closest that can serve as a place to settle. "You look like you're about to lose your legs."

It's a good thing Dorian's looking out for Mordred's body, because the druid is indeed very close to falling over at this point. He nods and shuffles over to a nearby bench, falling onto it with a loud thunk and a heavy sigh. A few deep breaths, and he's finally able to really take in Dorian's words and associated question. It's a good one, considering how niche his name is, and as Dorian answered the question about his name, there's no reason not to offer an answer in return.

"Y-yes, I'm-- a reincarnation, of the Mordred of-- Avalon from my... world, I guess I should call it." He pauses to take a few more breaths, then slumps down into the bench a little more. He might not have fainted, but he's still a bit woozy from both the shock and having locked his knees beneath himself. It's going to be a few more minutes until he's completely well again.

"I didn't expect to meet someone-- who looked like me today," he admits softly, a blush coloring his cheeks. "I met someone who looks like my fiancé already, so I thought-- I figured I'd be safe from anything else really weird for a bit." Guess there will be multiple pieces of ultra weird news to tell Galeas tonight aside from 'I found a multidimensional hub in one of the unused offices in the depths of The Agency this afternoon'.

Really. Dorian makes a mental note to shoot Toby a quick text about this later once he's alone again. A reincarnated version of King Arthur's shadow has his face. Plenty of Nexus shenanigans could have happened here once he noticed Mordred and approached him, but this is something interesting. Something worthwhile.

"Have a sip of this. It'll put the breath back in your lungs," Dorian says, producing a small, rather lovely and very full flask. Inside it is a brightly-colored and sweet-smelling potion; A revitalizing hangover cure, courtesy of Alistair. Whether Mordred receives it or not, Dorian will move to sit in an iron chair a few feet from the bench.

"It is strange, but as I said, if you come back often enough you'll get used to it. I've met another person with our face who didn't seem much younger than you, but he was a dangerously powerful psychic. Those are the kinds of people you'll want to take care around, similar face or not." Once he has the shining flask back in his hands, Dorian pauses to flip open the top and take a short draft of potion, before tucking it away. "Not all of us are pleasant like me," he adds, with a note of irony that probably only Toby would ever pick up on.

Ironic commentary aside, this is probably the most helpful he remembers trying to be to anyone in the Nexus in some time. It's that face, he supposes.

Without really thinking about it, Mordred takes the flask from Dorian and opens it. From the smell of it, it could be one of any number of potions he or the other magical members of The Agency have created during his time there. It doesn't smell dangerous, so he takes a sip, at once feeling his head clear up and any lingering pain dissipate. He blinks at it a few times before offering it back to Dorian with a soft 'thanks'. Whatever that was, it was exactly what he needed right now.

"A psychic who looked like us?" Given his own abilities and the fact that Dorian exists, it's logical that there would be others with their face who can do various things. Mordred frowns thoughtfully, and instinctively worries the hem of his sweater between his fingers. "Did he have any other abilities? I have some amount of magic myself, but it's fairly limited. I'm good with growing and preserving plants, and some amount of minor spells, but I don't have anything so powerful as to hurt others." That he's familiar with, at least. He could do something like cast a fire spell, but it would take serious effort and someone giving him the words for a spell to make it work.

He appreciates the warning, though. Smiling softly, he nods to the immortal. "I appreciate the warning. I don't-- I know I wouldn't have been prepared if I'd run into someone like this psychic you've described first. My fiancé would be very unhappy if I went home-- to him after being hurt in any way."

"Your powers changed with your reincarnation, then?" Dorian reasons. Isn't Mordred supposed to be a powerful, battle-ready dark wizard? Not that there's exactly reliable information around regarding a person who doesn't even exist in many of the worlds where people know about him. Perhaps different Mordreds experienced the same things he did when he became infamous through Oscar's book-- exaggerations of his own abilities, or even underestimations regarding his ability to die, were rampant. There's no way to know for sure, but it does interest Dorian. He doesn't often meet other people so closely tied to stories as he is.

When Mordred brings up Corey again, Dorian frowns thoughtfully, carding through memories. "I only met him once. His first question was regarding how to keep his abilities contained and from hurting the people around him; It sounded like some kind of invasive and rampant empathy or mind control." He offers a thoughtful hum. "This," he points to his face. "face has a habit of being followed by curses, and that boy wasn't any different."

"I-I don't-- know? There are a lot of stories about my past self, and I've no idea which are true. I'm a druid like I was-- back then, but I... have no way of knowing how powerful he-- I was. I've never cared to ask, either." He shrugs, continuing to worry his sweater between his fingers. "Nothing I've needed or been asked to do is outside my abilities, and that's enough for me. If a time comes where I need to know more, I trust the Goddess to tell me."

...oh, that sounds awful. The druid frowns deeply as Dorian explains the abilities this other person with their face has. What the man ends his comments with is concerning. "You mean to say-- I-I mean you really think--" His frown deepens and he drops his voice to a whisper, "Does that make me cursed, too?" He truly hopes he's not. If he's cursed, that could prevent him from getting married or becoming the Goddess' envoy after that. His life is going in a direction he really likes, and he doesn't want to lose any part of it if at all possible.

"You aren't curious?" That is a little disappointing, but helped somewhat by the fact that he doesn't know Mordred well enough to be overly invested. "You could be sitting on power you haven't realized yet. If that were true, wouldn't you benefit from it?"

Dorian offers a small amused huff when Mordred turns to him with open and trusting concern. "How should I know? But you are the reincarnation of a man who was doomed to a terrible twist of fate. I'd say that counts in its own right."

"No? I don't have any reason to use my abilities outside of helping my plants or getting silverware from the kitchen while I'm sitting on the couch." Other people may be interested in having more power, but Mordred isn't one of them. He shrugs. "Maybe if I had another outlet for more abilities or a higher calling," which... he will soon, but that's another topic entirely, "I might think differently, but I like my life as it is. If the Goddess didn't want to give me my memories of my past, there must be a reason for that, and I'm content without digging them up."

That's a fair answer. Mordred sighs softly. "I hope any curse I had in the past died with me then. I-- don't want any further disruptions to my life." One major fight that resulted in his fiancé absolutely breaking down is more than enough for him, thanks. He doesn't need to get cursed right before his wedding or becoming an envoy to the Goddess. "I hope whatever you're dealing with doesn't cause-- you much harm," he adds earnestly. "No one deserves to be cursed or struggling their entire life."

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Finally, a place stranger than his office!

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