milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.

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"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.

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."

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

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

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

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

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

"Good." And he does sound pleased -- very pleased. And approving.

Bran cannot avoid talking to Gwion about music just because Gwion has no harp tonight.

"I have been learning a sonata in B flat major, from the nineteenth century. All neat patterns and precise movements."

That would hurt more than this does.

" -- let me see -- two flats. And it is the relative of...G minor." He's quizzing himself. Half a smile. "It has not been so very long since I have learned this system of yours."

"Exactly." Bran says, with an answering half-smile. "Was there a system you used before?"

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