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[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

Gwion is at the bar with a cup of tea in front of him. His head is bowed, his shoulders hunched. His thumb runs over the end of the harp string on his right wrist, worrying it.

The soundboard of his new harp, he has decided, is going to be made of cedar.

It's a start.

Comments

[blue_ajah]

It is not yet time for her to return to her world once more, although the weight of days is beginning to press on her in warning that it will be soon.

The Aes Sedai is sitting at a corner table instead of her usual one, with a cup of tea before her. Nynaeve would recognize it, although it is likely that no one else in the bar would know the blend of foxtail and marisin-- or the reason for it.

Occasionally, her glance drifts to the harper as she looks over the room, but Moiraine does not approach him, nor even watch him long.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

Sunlit roofs and white stone at daybreak, and always the old man from the river working away with his colored chalks on the stone cobbles --

'This, too, is a Making,' he'd told Gwion as the harper passed, craning his neck to see the day's work.

The words were enough to stop his footsteps. 'Why, of course,' he said, lightly. 'Though it does not last; the rain washes it away. I'm very sorry for that.'

'Everything ends, Gwion harper,' the old man said as he went back to work. 'And is not craft a part of life, and should it not pass into death?'

His head rises, nearly sharply; his hands tighten on his cup. It is time -- past time -- to return

(home)

to the Castle outside Time.

Seeing Moiraine, though, as he turns on the stool --

Well. It's no matter. And he might as well let her know that it's no matter.

He can always find Merlion, later, if what happened last time happens again -- not to tattle, but for companionship...as silent and cantankerous as it might be.

It's far better than being alone.

Approaching, then, with a warm smile. "A good evening to you, Moiraine."

He looks tired.

[blue_ajah]

"And to you as well, Gwion." Serenely said, although dark eyes do not miss the weariness evident.

A moment's hesitation, and then,

"I am glad to see you here."

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

"I -- thought I'd come in for a cup of tea." Beat. "All is well with you, I hope?"

It's courtesy; it's sincerity.

[blue_ajah]

"As well as may be expected," she returns. Moiraine looks down at her own cup, and the pot nearby, and there is something of very faint amusement visible, just for a second.

"I do not suppose that you would care to accept a cup of this blend?"

Subtle invitation, as well as something more, given the reason she had requested it in the first place.

The Wheel weaves.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

It would be rude to refuse.

"I would. Thank you very much."

[blue_ajah]

Gracefully, she pours a cup and sets it on the table before him.

A whisper of saidar, to ensure that it's properly heated, and then the instant's glow about her is gone.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

It takes him aback for a moment.

But only a moment. He reaches for the cup, and sips, slowly. "Excellent."

[river_meimei]

River's in a booth, back against the wall. Huddled and restless. Her fingers twist in her skirt and the air, and her eyes dart around the room; her too-large fedora is knocked back on her head and a little squished against the wall, giving her a childlike look at odds with her sharp wary glances.

Her gaze slides over Gwion, past him, and then returns, her brow furrowing.

A long moment, and then she slips out of the booth and approaches. From behind; her bare feet are silent, though the duster whispers against her legs.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

He's got his eyes on his tea, and his back to her, and the noise in the bar is unfortunately loud enough to cover any sound made by fabric, even heavy fabric.

[river_meimei]

When she's fairly close, River shifts course, heading for the barstool next to Gwion.

A shape in his peripheral vision, slim and dark-haired, and then a hand emerging from a pocket to set a foil-wrapped candy on the bar next to him as she settles on the stool and tucks her toes under a rung.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

His head turns.

He looks at the foil-wrapped thing, and at her.

And, with a small, quiet smile, "River Tam. Yes?"

[river_meimei]

"It's candy," she informs him.

Beat.

"Yes."

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

"Thank you."

He looks back down at the piece of candy, and picks it up, experimentally.

"It's been...a very long time since we have spoken, you and I."

Three hundred and sixty-four days. But Time's funny, once you're beyond it.

[river_meimei]

"Only in linear time," she informs him. A faint smile tugs at one corner of her mouth, and vanishes again.

Glance at the rafter, then the bar, then back. "I've been here."

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

...she sounds like an Old One.

Half a smile; it's a little wan.

"And what has come to pass for you, then?"

[theravenboy]

"Something light to eat, please?" Bran asks the bar. Bar produces a loaf of hot, fresh bread, with a pat of golden butter, and another cup of tea.

"I think she wants to feed both of us," Bran says to Gwion.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

"Or perhaps she is of the opinion that you are capable of eating an entire loaf of bread." Beat. "Have you eaten today?"

Amused, certainly, if not deeply so. Bran's presence has made him sit up, raise his head, smile. Put on a face for the outside world.

It's part of why he came tonight -- because he knew that if he did, he would have to.

Shutting yourself away is not good. Not at all.

[theravenboy]

Bran saw Gwion straighten up, of course, but he does not comment on it. Instead, he smiles back at Gwion.

"Dinner, but that was two hours ago," Bran says, spreading butter on his bread. "I cannot eat the whole loaf. Do have some."

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

He does -- a small amount; he has never eaten very much.

"And how do things progress with you, Bran Davies?"

[theravenboy]

"All right," Bran says. "I am preparing for university, mostly. Lots of work, all the time."

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

"But with time enough for playing, I hope?"

[theravenboy]

Bran touches the golden harp, which he has set on the counter. "Always time for that."

[kitchen_maid]

A quite battered, somewhat soggy, and now frosting-besmeared paper airplane somehow manages to make it across the bar and land near Gwion's tea.

Not in his tea, of course. That would be mean.

[gwion-bach.livejournal.com]

Gwion is delighted by this -- or at the very least it makes him sit up, and take notice, and smile.

He picks it up and investigates it closely before sending it on (http://community.livejournal.com/milliways_bar/10692080.html?thread=442710512#t442710512).