milliways_bar | (no subject)

Walking by with drink in one hand and book in the other the Amberite doesn't notice his old teacher at first. It's a good handful of paces past that he pauses, turning his head around to glance in the old man's direction before his eyes go wide.

Please pardon Bleys for staring- he thought Dworkin was still somewhere in Chaos.

"About time," Dworkin mutters, and picks up a glass of wine that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"Come, come, sit down."

"Dworkin.." Bleys breaths out, shutting the boom and moving back toward the table where the man was sitting at. "I did not know that you were a visitor here as well! How have you been fairing?"

Of course the man had to smile- he mightnot have been the best student ever but he had enjoyed what times he had, uh, paid attention.

"I'm bored," says Dworkin, petulently, "I miss Fiona. She used to be here, but she's gone. It's a good thing you're here now. Otherwise the sheer dimwittedness abounding might sink the ship."

"I have seen my dead sister recently as much of the family. We have lost a few along the way but..well..that is how the family works is it not?" A small little smile creeped across his face almost sheepishly as he sat down at the table. "When is it for you outside your door?"

"I don't know, I don't know."

Dworkin shakes his head.

"Who can? Who does?"

This was...awkward. He had just been discussing the old man with Random and, well, there he was. Inwardly Brand cursed himself for even coming into the bar today because there he was. His old master.

Taking a deep breath he strolled forward in a rather nonchalant sort of fashion letting his path take him closer to where Dworkin sat. He didn't say anything as well simply stopping beside of the table and watching.

"Little one," Dworkin says, at length.

"Master Dworkin."

Bowing his head a little in greeting the mad Prince of Amber stood still beside the table. He knew better than just to sit without permission or speak when not spoken to. Of course times had changed and he had changed with them.

"Get me a drink, Brand? I'd like some wine. Then sit with me a little?"

Dworkin is still staring at nothing.

Again he bowed his head before reaching out through Shadow. He knew exactly what sort of wine it was that Dworkin liked and it was quite easy to find. Picking the bottle and the glasses out he sat them down upon the table, pouring the chilled drink for each. "Should you wish the company then I shall do so."

Smiling he offered the glass to Dworkin to take should he wish it still.

It's lifted out of his hand by invisible fingers, and set down on the table next to the old man.

"You drove me mad, little one. My brightest pupil, and look what you did."

Brand slid into one of the seats, ignoring his own glass of wine for the moment. He was smiling one of those little wry smile of his. "And it was not you who drove me mad? Of course, it depends upon how you define madness." Raising his right hand he picked the glass up, the spikard ring he wore catching the light for a moment. "Here's to yours and mine."

"I won't drink to that," he shakes his head, "you can embrace it if you want, Brand, but I won't drink to that. Not until I'm out of the darkness. I will be soon."

And Brand did drink.

"And what about me dear Grandfather? Who shall I share it with? Fiona perhaps or Bleys? No..to easily suspected. Random or Corwin? To obvious.."

Then, pausing, he let the smile grow behind the rim of his glass. "What about one from here?"

"I miss Fiona," observes Dworkin, sadly, "she was always a very sweet girl."

Good with an axe.

"Sweet as a sour apple." Smirking a little he sighed again. "She and Bleys tried to kill me. It is the one thing I do have to thank Corwin for, getting me out and free again." Raising the glass one more time he took another sip. "I'll see her head on a pike yet."

"No," he replies, "I don't think that's how it goes this time."

He makes a motion resembling a shrug.

"Then how do you predict that it shall go? Maybe we can make a game of this." For an instant he seems to smile brightly, the glass sitting upon the table top with a little click. "Come on- lets set up the rules and the bet."

"I don't play with this sort of thing, Brand. I just know fractals. Archetypes. I just know patterns."

They're there for a reason.

Brand sat there quietly for a good minute or two, looking into glass of wine that sat infront of him. Slowly his fingers started to strum across the tabletop. "Fate," he says after a moment before looking back up at Dworkin. "Have you heard the saying about the pale horse?"

Out of the same nowhere as always, he flips up a card. A tarot card; the Rider-Waite variety, death. (http://z.about.com/d/paganwiccan/1/0/Z/0/-/-/13DeathRiderWaite.jpg)

"I do miss my white mount. Bleys killed him as they took me to the Tower." Picking up the glass of wine again he swirled the dark liquid around a little. "You do know it was you who set me on this path. You and father..my wonderful, dear siblings. Should you wish to point fingers then look amongst the family?"

The card, though, gets a smile. "I always liked that card."

"Death holds no death, is no omen."

He can't quite make sense of it enough to say what he means, but maybe Brand understands anyways.

It was a matter of how it could be viewed.

"You've killed me, grandfather. All of you. I simply wish in a sense to spread that love amongst the family." Then he started to laugh for no reason before takng another drink of wine. "And the rest of the fucking world with it. To Emperor Brand, lord of all in its darker and lighter sides." With that he raised his glass yet again in toast as he laughed.

"Poor Brand," Dworkin murmurs, and finally sips his wine.

"Be careful, poor Brand. You're forgetting how to see."

"And what is it that I have forgotten to see, old man? What the family thinks of me? No. I have seen it all and it shall change or be wiped out." He was trying his best not to scream, not to lose his cool. It was hard.

In his hand the glass started to crack a little. "You always liked Fiona better. Fiona this, Fiona that. Bleys even was more favored and he did hardly anything." Swallowing hard he stared at the old man with a near pleading look shining in his eyes. "What did I ever do, Grandfather. What?"

"This."

He frowns.

"You put me mad, Brand, and you don't see the beauty in the order, the horror in the chaos."

"No I saw it." Looking away from Dworkin he scrunched his face up. "I saw it and I saw what the plan was. Someone helped me see that." Without even thinking the spikard ring on his right hand was twisted about with his thumb. "I'll make things right. They way they should be."

He shakes his head, in mute denial.

Random would be disappointed in this first meeting.

Setting the glass down the Prince started to stand. "I assume this will be our last meeting till the end, Grandfather, and there will be an end. Out with the old..in with the new is the proper saying I believe."

Then with the slight movement of a finger the bottle moved closer to where Dworkin sat. "Consider it a late birthday present."

"Wrong again. I'll see you again, Brand."

He takes another sip of his wine.

"Until I remember what time I'm from, I'm a guest here. Oh well."

Brand....actually hesitates for a moment. He licks his lips torn between wanting to leave and wanting to get one thing out. When he does manage it, it's almost like a fight between mind and mouth. "There is..a youth here. Look for him. Lucas."

Then throwing his hand up in disgust he turns on his heel intent on stalking away.