milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Bran Davies knew he would have to come to Milliways sometime, to see that Blodwen was safely imprisoned. Tonight, he has finally given in.

The note he receives is not a surprise.

[ooc: Ping before posting, please, as I am tired and must limit threads for sake of coherence.]

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Mary's sitting in the bar as well, hands primly folded in her lap.

She's eyeing the door that leads to the office - and, hence, the cells - with a rather baleful expression.

Bran sees where Mary is looking.

Sadly, there is no lake of fire in the Milliways cells.

He nods at her without smiling. "Hallo, Mary."

It is a thing of great tragedy.

Mary looks about, a little startled.

"Bran," she says; and adds, "She has come back, but likely you knew that. She is locked up. In there."

"I know," Bran says without pleasure. He will have to go see her very soon now. "Are you all right, Mary?"

"I have not seen her yet," Mary says; which answers a different question, but they're not too far apart.

Then, quick and proud: "I am not afraid of her. Only I promised Duo I would not go alone; so I got someone to go with me, but I have not seen him yet tonight."

"No, you should not go alone," Bran agrees. The idea of going with her himself crosses his mind, but that will only put the child in more danger. "Who will you be going with, bachgennes?"

[little girl]

"An officer I met," Mary answers, carelessly.

"He is someone I only just met, so it does not matter as much as if it were someone I knew very well - then she would know she could hurt them and it would be very bad. But he is almost a stranger, so it ought to be all right.

It is only to keep my promise - and he said he was not afraid."

And so, Mary's tone implies, anything that happens hereafter is on his own head.

A little belatedly: "What is bachgennes?"

Absently, "It is 'girl,' in Welsh." Bran is thinking more about the first thing Mary said. "Are you sure you can trust the officer, now?"

"I do not think it matters much," Mary says, practically.

"I am going to take a knife with me from home, if I can get one - though the bar," she adds, with a quick scowl in its direction, "will not give me one - and I have my apple blossom, see?"

She touches the faintly shining flower pinned to the front of her dress.

"So I shall be well protected."

Bran cannot tell if there is any power in the blossom, but he suspects that the strength of Mary's belief in it will protect her better than the flower itself. "I do not know if it will help," Bran says, "but my harp is ... special. Will you let me play for you, now, as one more protection?"

It never hurts to be more prepared.

And besides - Mary has never heard a harp.

A small nod. "All right."

Bran pulls the harp into his lap and bends over it. He begins a serene piece in a minor key. Its slow measures in three-four time speak of spring evenings, fragrant with apple blossoms. When Bran begins the tune again for the second time, his fingers flicker rapidly across the strings, in quick arpeggios like birdsong beneath the melody. He plays the melody alone a third time, and then lets the music fade into silence.

Mary's full attention is engaged on the harp, throughout this; her eyes are fixed on Bran's fingers.

She's silent for a long moment, after it ends. Long enough that speaking won't feel like disturbing a spell.

When she does speak, it's quiet, but confident.

"That must have very strong Magic to it."

"Music always does," Bran says. "If done right, at least. Very powerful, all of the arts."

"I do not know much about music - or about art; only that we chanted to help the Magic in the garden."

Mary considers for a second.

"My mother played piano sometimes but I hardly ever heard her. And it was not like that."

Bran's smile goes deep and warm.

"When you were chanting, were you putting every thought you could think towards what you wanted to happen? Did you concentrate so hard on the chanting, and on the garden, that you forgot everything else?"

"Of course," Mary says, matter-of-factly.

"It should not have worked, else."

"Of course," Bran smiles. "That is music, Mary."

Mary considers this, solemnly, for a moment.

"What does it sound like when you are not trying to do Magic with it?"

"Not very different, I think," Bran says. "Would you like me to show you?"

Another small, serious nod.

This time, Bran plays Mary a Bach sonata for Mary, patterned, graceful and precise. He is still bent over the harp in absolute focus, although that focus is more turned inward towards the harp than outward towards Mary.

Again, the wait at the end, for the music to fade away.

"- it did sound different," Mary says, earnestly.

"But it was still very lovely."

"Diolch yn fawr. That is 'thank you very much' in Welsh."

Bran looks up, to see Will Stanton returning from the bar with a familiar note.

"Mary, there is a friend I have to speak with. Please take care of yourself, and let other people you trust take care of you. All right, bachgennes?"

"I already promised Duo," Mary says, patiently, already filing away the Welsh for further use.

Grown-ups can be so redundant.

"Tell Will Stanton," she adds, catching sight of Bran's friend, "that I have planted my tree."

A short pause; then, reaching the ultimate heights of sacrifice and generosity: "And that either of you may have a blossom if you wish, for protection.

"I have seen the tree," Bran says. "It is very beautiful, and I thank you, on his behalf and on mine."

Merriman catches sight of Bran, and heads over immediately.

'Your father,' he says, after a brief nod of greeting. 'He is well?'

"Well enough," Bran nods.

"I do not know what happened, but I think he must have been very lucky, this time."

'I must admit to having missed a portion of the chaos, but I think there were enough people around to prevent her from attempting anything open and deliberate on him, or even anything more subtle.' He runs a hand through his hair. 'But still. She is in the cells now, though her time of imprisonment is running short.'

"It could not be long enough, not ever," Bran says, suddenly fierce.

He takes a deep breath. "And you know I cannot hide from her this time, not twice, not when I may be needed. You gave me advice, once, on controlling my temper. Merlion, is there anything else you can do to help with this?"

'The only advice I seem to be giving lately, to which very few appear to be listening, is the advice to avoid confronting her if possible.' Said a little thinly, though stress and not anger is the driving force behind his words. 'She has come prepared this time, you see. Two gifts: the bracelet used against Henry Wellard, and a wishing-ring given to her by Tim Hunter. And a glass pendant, which she seems to cling to as some possible kind of influence over Raven. That is what I know of; I cannot say that that is all she has, or can use.'

Bran makes no promises about confronting Blodwen Rowlands. "All the more reason why we must be as prepared as we may."

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