milliways_bar | (no subject)

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She cannot see Raven, exactly, not in his current state. It does not matter. If he is present, he will make himself known; if not, well, the Wheel weaves.

It is not as though Moiraine does not have other matters with which to occupy herself. Currently, she is settled at her old familiar table, studying the open sentences she has written in a new journal, tapping pen absently against page as she considers the notes she is making.

Whatever is occupying her, it seems to be holding a great deal of her attention, but not all of it.

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A slow nod.

"But ... you still remember your life in the timeline you grew up in? What you did there, and everything?"

Moiraine nods assent, but quickly cautions,

"That is not unexpected, however, as I recalled those things when I first came here."

She gives a very small shrug.

"I have given this much thought, as you might expect, and I believe I have reasoned out how it must have happened."

A pause.

"Of course, if you have other insight to offer, I should be interested in hearing it."

The remark is made as if from one colleague to another, as it happens.

"..."

He blinks at that, a little, and then recovers. "Um, first -- how do you think it happened?"

"It would be easier with string," she murmurs, and looks around for a waitrat.

Andrew digs experimentally in his pockets, but fails to turn up any string.

The waitrat's happy to bring some from Bar, though.

She takes the small skein of yarn with a word of thanks, sets it on the table, and pulls one end free so that Andrew can easily see.

"I suspect it was something like this," Moiraine tells him, as she begins to unravel one strand from the rest of the woolen thread. "See how this smaller piece is part of the whole, from the same source, and yet separate from it?"

He nods, studying the yarn as she unravels it.

"Consider this the full extent of the life I once lived," she tells him, indicating the more complete thread, "and this the existence that began here--"

With a snap, she breaks the smaller thread free and lets it flutter to the table.

"--even so."

Andrew considers the severed thread, and the fuller one.

"So ... formerly part of the life you had before," he says, "but now existing independently."

The Aes Sedai nods.

"Insofar as I can discern, in any case. It seems the most likely explanation."

He chews his lip thoughtfully. "I've got no other ideas. I mean, you could represent it as a forked timeline too, if you wanted to."

"Is it so?"

She arches an eyebrow at him, clearly inviting him to elaborate.

"Yeah, like -- hang on."

This time he knows he's got the materials on him; the ubiquitous notepad appears from one pocket, and a pen from another. He quickly flips to a blank page, and starts to sketch.

Moiraine leans forward slightly, watching.

He draws a single line, hesitates, then draws several more, running parallel.

"So these represent all the different personal timelines of all the different versions of you. One from each of the Mirrors."

She nods, silently indicating that he should continue.

"And one of them, this you --" He presses a little harder, darkening that line. "-- is the one that went to reseal the Dark One's prison."

A pause, and a faint look of uncertainty.

"Unless all of you did."

Moiraine considers, and then shakes her head slightly.

"Not all at once, no; it was not like that. Besides, if it had been, there would have been nothing left upon which to draw."

He nods. (Not without an even fainter look of regret; it would've been fascinating if all of them had gone.)

"Anyway. This line --" He draws it sharply downward, in a swooping tangle that engulfs the other lines at their far ends. "-- drew all the others together, and wove them into the seal, along with itself. But then part of it forked --"

A new line, branching off of the first darker line. He taps it with the pencil.

"And that one's where you are now."

She studies the full diagram and nods.

"It makes sense, I think."

Moiraine glances up at Andrew with a slight smile.

He smiles back, pleased.

"And I guess it also makes sense that the you who's here would have the memories of the you who did the reweaving. Or at least it's lucky." He considers that. "Or fated."

"All things are part of the Pattern," she reminds him. "I am not sure how else it could have been, in that sense, given how the technique for this particular weave was learned in the first place."

He nods. "From Raven, you said?"

She had not said it exactly, not in so many words, but she had left the implication clear -- and as expected, Andrew had made the connection.

Moiraine nods confirmation.

"Not the kind of skill you pick up casually," he murmurs, with a barely perceptible shiver.