milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

"I would not disagree," she says, calmly.

Dark eyes narrow, just a fraction.

"Does it disturb you?"

He looks up. "Not really. Not in itself? Just ... what you had to use it for, it's ... pretty heavy."

"I do not disagree with that either," Moiraine tells him.

Dryly.

"As I think you know."

A beat.

"Does it disturb you?" he asks in turn. "In itself?"

She tilts her head slightly, studying him.

"I have had time to get used to the idea, as it happens."

Steady: "So is that a 'no' or a 'not anymore'?"

Moiraine continues to study him in silence for several seconds, then inclines her head slightly.

"It did not bother me for long," she tells him. "I have found it necessary to accept difficult things before, you see."

"Yeah." Softly, and with respect. "You do what you have to. Every time."

"Someone must," the Aes Sedai replies.

He nods -- although the inclination of his head is deep enough, and held for long enough, it might almost approximate a bow.

"But you're the one who does."

"Not the only one," she says, quietly. "But yes."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only