milliways_bar | (no subject)

Hotaru glances at him, and does a bit of a double-take, as if she should recognize him, perhaps. But she doesn't, and looks away again, passing through the bar on her way upstairs.

He watches the retreating child with an neutral expression and fathomless eyes.

*Alerted by the familar swirling of Tel'aran'rhiod, Moiraine turns and crosses the room. She is smiling, but the smile fades just slightly as she takes note of Dream's manner, and slight concern can be seen in her eyes.*

Good evening, my lord.

"Moiraine."

He stands, and offers her his hands, explaining slightly;

"My elder sister is having a crises of identity."

*She places her hands in his, and looks up at him with swift concern.*

Not Delirium -- your older sister? Death is having trouble?

"Yes."

Which, after all, explains pensive. Del having a crises of identity would be fairly par for course. A moment, and then,

"I have two younger sisters. Despair does not venture here often."

*Moiraine nods.*

I have only seen her here a couple of times, I believe.

I am truly sorry to hear that Death is troubled. Is there anything that can be done to help her?

"I do not know."

His natural inclination is to say nothing. Instead, he draws her to a seat with him, and gathers his thoughts as tea appears on the table.

*She is quiet as she moves gracefully through the familiar ritual and then presents him with a cup, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. Moiraine looks at him calmly, then.*

If it bothers you to speak of it, Morpheus, I would not press you. But if it would help you to do so, I would willingly listen.

"Of course, my dear. I am attempting to order my thoughts.

Death loves everyone. It is what she is, and what she does. She has, however, come to look at everything except here as 'work'.

She says that this is more important."

He glances outside the window briefly, then resolutely looks away.

*She frowns, and picks her words very carefully.*

She ... is Death, though, as you are Dream, and your sibling is Desire, is she not?

"Yes."

He raises her hands to his lips,

"Which is why it has me,"

Scared

"worried."

*She moves one hand to lay it alongside his face, and brushes a finger over his cheek.*

I can see that it would, at that.

*Moiraine bites her lip, and cannot think of a way to help.*

He dips, and brushes her hair back slowly;

"I do not mean for you to take this burden up, Moiraine. Simply be here when I need someone to speak with, if you can."

*Her gaze meets his, and her tone carries absolute sincerity.*

I shall.

*She chooses not to qualify the statement further. He has already done so for her, in any case.*

He smiles, slightly, down at her and brushes her hair back again;

"And how have you been?"

Fairly well, I think. *She smiles, seemingly pleased at something.*

I have been introduced to Christmas music, and some of the traditions that go with this celebration. *Moiraine nods at the decorations adorning the bar.*

And I have met a rat named Holly.

He smiles softly,

"It sounds as though you have been enjoying yourself. I am very glad."

He nods, slightly, to Holly the Rat, and then resumes watching Moiraine,

"Do you like the caroling?"

I do, what I have heard of it.

*She pauses for a moment.*

Will and Bran sang together, the other evening.

"How are they doing?"

He's been out of touch for a while, and regrets it in a distant way. Being, however, Dream he is not sure how to change matters.

Better, I think, than they had been for some time.

*The look in her eyes is thoughtful, and somehow distantly sad.*

Bran did not react well to the experience of magic in the Tower, it seems.

"It was not easy on anyone."

He squeezes her hand, gently, and touches the back of her neck in silent offer of a hug.

"With time, he may grow to accept it. Or, at the least, to accept Will."

*She arches her neck slightly into the touch, and moves closer to him.*

No, I suppose it was not, at that. I must speak to Tom, soon, I think.

*Moiraine looks up at him.*

It is an adaptation to make, to become used to Power. I expect Bran shall do so, with time.

He massages the back of her neck with soft, firm circles of his fingers and smiles slightly.

"He has at least one very good friend to help him."

He does, at that.

*Moiraine smiles.*

And I am certain that Will would be quite pleased to do so.

"Exactly."

With a slightly distant tone, one that says he's remembering his own time spent within something more-or-less tower like, and the people who came to his aid.

*She reaches up and brushes her hand over his cheek again, seeking to distract him from dark thoughts.*

Do you enjoy carols, then? Or anything of this upcoming holiday?

He rests his face against her hand.

"Human holidays mean little to me. If you wish, however, I would have no reason not to participate in whatever rituals comfort you."

*A faint smile touches her face.*

It is not a holiday from my world, Morpheus. We have something near the same time, called the Feast of Lights, but it is not quite the same. I am learning about this one myself, you see, as it seems the bar intends to celebrate it, and as many of those here do. *She looks again at the decorations.*

He nods again, and then tilts her head back toward his face with a gentle hand;

"Would you like me to assist you in celebrating your Feast of Lights?"

*For some reason, this stains Moiraine's cheek with crimson, and she laughs softly, shaking her head.*

No, please. It is an exceptionally ... boisterous holiday in Cairhien. I preferred the celebration in Tar Valon, but still-- there will be no singing and dancing in the streets here, nor will the White Tower be lit at every window, so it would not be anything like there. I am not distressed to miss it.

Although I do thank you for the offer.

*She is still blushing slightly, but is clearly amused at the thought.*

He raises a brow at her blush, but nods and allows the subject to drop. Being Dream, he doesn't feel the need to find out the details of why she blushed.

"It is late, my dear. May I take you to your room?"

*Moiraine smiles up at him.*

I should be pleased for your escort.

He offers her his hands, and then they depart.