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[blue_ajah]

The letters are finished, finally; all of the letters, those both expected and which will likely be less so. All that yet remains is for them to be delivered. Timing is essential, especially in this sort of matter; Moiraine knows this all too well.

She will see to it soon enough. For now, the Aes Sedai is seated in the bar at the table she prefers, with a cup of tea at hand. A light repast of fruit, bread, and cheese sits untouched on a plate nearby, as most of her attention is given over to watching the room.

(And if her regard is occasionally more lingering than usual, almost as if she is trying to commit something to memory, what of it?)

All things are part of the Pattern. Some more so than others.

Comments

[creator_raven]

Likely there comes a point where someone's hand reaches out and swipes a few pieces of cheese.

And a piece of fruit.

It is even more likely that this same hand attempts to shove said fruit into Moiraine's mouth.

Mostly because it is funny.

Really.

[blue_ajah]

Some things are almost automatic, by now; this may well be one of them.

Moiraine's own hand flies up quickly as she attempts to prevent having a slice of pear forced upon her.

"Raven." It is not quite a sigh. "How are matters with you?"

[creator_raven]

"Mostly boring, yes?"

He tilts his head, grinning.

He is also still attempting to shove the pear in her mouth.

"Also hungry. It is useful, that."

The cheese is already gone. Raven is good at multi-tasking. Especially when it involves food.

[blue_ajah]

"Then if you are hungry, perhaps you should have the pear as well, rather than attempting to feed it to me," she returns. "I will eat later."

She lifts her tea instead, almost in self-defense.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

She wears her thermal lance (known by Ace as 'my shiny' in private moments) openly now, just in case her mate gets himself stuck again. She gets the feeling he isn't about to lay off the gravity-well deployer, and the weapon is at least distracting while she tries to get them both free.

That, and it's badass. It really is. Just so no one knows that over the long term, she's a really lousy shot.

The Daleks will never know. She does her damnedest to only employ sniper warfare against them.

So, one pyro rather enjoying herself as she argues with the Bar about the relative nutritional benefits of a chocolate shake, ahoy.

[blue_ajah]

The faint smile that curves her lips as she observes this is warmer than that which most people might receive.

"Good evening, Ace." A pause. "Are you having any success in convincing her of your point?"

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

"No." Ace admits cheerfully. "But s'not the point. It's more the principle of the thing, y'see." The right to eat sugar, sadly, has never been put in any constitution anywhere. Ace feels this is a tragedy that needs rectifying.

[mogget_cat]

Watching the room, Moiraine?

It's hardly a threat.

The room, at least, won't dare to wrap suddenly around your ankles!

Or purr.

[blue_ajah]

A quick peal of laughter ripples out, and Moiraine leans to one side and holds out her hand.

"Good evening, Yrael."

[mogget_cat]

There is handnudging being committed by a scritch-needy kitty.

"Good evening, Moiraine. How are you?"

How well can she be expected to be?

[badinlatin]

Mal's never been one for timing.

Much.

Moiraine's definitely going to see him coming from the staircase down from the party, way she's sitting. And the party would do well as explanation for why he's actually dressed up for once.

"Wei," he offers in passing.

[blue_ajah]

"Good evening, Mal."

One eyebrow arches very slightly as she takes in his appearance.

"You look well, as it happens."

[badinlatin]

"Oh." Looking down to examine himself, "Xiexie. Birthday party for Inara goin' on upstairs and all, wanted to make myself out presentable. Didn't interrupt food, did I?"

1. He did, obviously. There's food on the table.
2. To interrupt something implies that something has commenced, which...also obviously, it looks like the food just arrived, for all Moiraine's consumed of it.

[uquars_gadget]

She's being watched, too, by a young teenage girl with hair masking her face. It's not so much that the woman doesn't look like anyone Helen has seen before--very few people in Milliways do. It is just that she hasn't seen anyone but some of the eldest Hands pull off that sort of dignified gracefulness.

It's enough to make her Homesick, a little.

[blue_ajah]

It does not take her long to become aware of the scrutiny, and when she does, Moiraine inclines her head to the girl in greeting.

A small gesture of her hand indicates an empty chair at her table in what is very clearly an invitation.

[uquars_gadget]

Helen looks uncertain for a moment, then lifts her head and gives the woman a sideways nod of acknowedgement in return. She picks up her large textbook, and goes to join her.

She stands stiffly, for a moment, and bows slightly (but formally), before she sits. "Helen, of the House of Uquar."

[lordgoldeneyes.livejournal.com]

The one good thing about Milliways is the dreams that had been haunting Rand, Mat, and himself did not follow here. No touch of the Dark One to ruin his first chance to see a real city. It was bad enough that Mat was making fun of him for not leaving first light, and he knew Rand would be convinced of it to, but why return when there was a chance of peace here?

Thus the reason that Perrin is seated a couple tables away (younger than when Moiraine last saw him) staring at the door with arms crossed and an expression of sulking pondering upon his face. Perhaps it is the feeling of eyes. Those eyes that causes him to take a quick look about and...falls on the Aes Sedai, eyes growing wide and jaw slack.

So much for being rid of going to Tar Valon.

[blue_ajah]

Moiraine returns his gaze and arches an eyebrow at him. To all outward appearances, she is perfectly calm and unruffled by this encounter, but the mind behind the dark eyes is racing.

The Wheel weaves, she thinks. To see him here, like this... I must move quickly, and take care not to reveal what must not yet be known.

[lordgoldeneyes.livejournal.com]

[ooc: *FLAILS AT WORK*]

Swallowing hard the youth from the Two Rivers, without his characteristic eyes, or axe at his side, moves away from the table he had been sitting at and slowly toward where Moiraine is. His mind is racing also quite unaware of who else from his world, Light!, could be lurking in Milliways.

Or of there were Fades along in the darkest corners.

"Mistress Alys? I...did not know that you came here.."

[tibetanmethod]

Two hands fall on the back of an empty chair at that table, and tense a little as he rolls his weight forward.

Dale Cooper's smile is pleased, and a little rueful.

[blue_ajah]

She glances up at him, smiling in return.

"Good evening, Dale."

[tibetanmethod]

"Hello, Moiraine." He glances at the stairs, and back. "It's good to see you down here."

[aj_crawley]

You get all sorts in Milliways. The nature of the beast, and all that. There's nowhere else at all you'd find the same sort of mix - gods and monsters, witches and wizards, humans and mutants. Part of the beauty of it, right?

Still, though. Still. If you're a certain sort of perceptive, if there are certain things you've been trained to sense in the air, like the hound tuned to a scent (or the fox tuned to the baying) - well. Then a certain class of people tend to stand out.

Some more so than others.

Crowley's over near the fire, twirling a half-eaten apple by the stem, and paying attention to nothing in particular. The bar's about as busy as usual, which is fairly busy, but that's no obstacle; Crowley looks up (of course), as the crowd parts briefly between them, and (of course) catches Moiraine's eye.

After a moment, he gives her an awkward sort of nod, a small half-grin.

(The nature of the beast.)

[blue_ajah]

She does not smile in return-- not at first.

The Aes Sedai holds his gaze for a long moment, then indicates a seat at her table with a graceful gesture and a tilt of her head.

It is an invitation, of sorts; unmistakably so.

[aj_crawley]

Equally unmistakable is the demon's response, which is, in the universally recognisable language of stupid facial expressions, Huh? Huh.

After a moment's hesitation - which isn't the same, quite, as indecision - Crowley levers himself out of the plush depths of the armchair and wanders over, apple still dangling by the stem from his hand.

"Hi," he says.

Eloquently.

There's a strange note of wariness in his voice, in his movements as he sits down - not the usual sort, the inevitable sort, that tends to appear when they talk, made up of equal parts awkwardness and an inherent distrust of those dedicated to furthering the cause of Light, Goodness, and All That. It's there too, of course, but it has now an odd, added flavour of - fear, perhaps, is too strong a word. Call it instead a nervous sort of... alertness. Well-hidden, naturally, behind his sunglasses and his usual air of indefinable (and annoying) smugness, but there nonetheless.

If you're a certain sort of perceptive.