milliways_bar | (no subject)

Blodwen smiles at Mordred and then looks at Will.

"Goodness yes, the things we learn. So many, there are."

She turns to Bran, and the soft musical voice is warmly amused.

"Perhaps you might even introduce some of this music to my John at one of your lessons, cariad."

*For just a moment, perhaps a moment too short for Paul or Mordred to notice, Bran's eyes are icy.* He knows all the music he needs, I think.

*Paul notices, and wonders, silently.*

He can feel the tension rising from everyone, and just rubs the bridge of his nose. Too much history, evidently. He'll ask later.

Getting to his feet, he gives them all a charming, boyish smile; a smile that turn slightly concerned when he glances at his brother.

"I really do apologize, but I must be off. Goodnight, all." And then, softer and to Bran, " Mi wela't ti'n hwyrach, bachgen." With that, Mordred walks away.

Blodwen blinks, once, and her gaze turns again to Bran. Her smile remains warm and her voice gentle.

"Such closeness between you, cariad. A good thing, I think, and hopeful as well."

*cheerfully* Oh, yes. Many people have formed bonds of friendship, here.

*A flicker of hardness in his eyes, there and gone.*

"Oh, goodness yes, of course. And strong, such things are; loving bonds, is it not?"

The light soft voice is very clear.

"Strong indeed, and very important I have learned, whether between friends or family."

Blodwen smiles warmly at Paul. "Would you not agree, Paul bach?"

*Paul has gone quiet, listening and watching, and now he frowns a little. He eyes go from Blodwen to Will, and back again.*

Yes, of course.

Very important indeed, loving bonds. *slowly, looking directly at Blodwen* It's always a sad thing when one breaks them.

*Will's face is mild.*

*Will's eyes are not, quite, and there is a faint hint of something waiting, in his posture and his stillness. He had cast a quick almost-smile at Paul when he had answered Blodwen, a brief gesture of perhaps apology, perhaps a shrugging "I'm confused too," but now his attention is back on Mrs Rowlands, and on Bran though he is not looking at him.*

Blodwen sighs, and the cheerful warmth seems to fade from her, leaving her quiet and sad.

"It is, cariad. A great loss, indeed."

She turns to Paul and says, "It is not fair, that you should sit here unknowing while we talk before you in veiled secrets. I am sorry for it."

"Bran is angry with me for a mistake that I have made, you see, and Will supports his dear friend, of course. All my fault, it is, and I would change it if I could."

Blodwen spreads her hands helplessly wide. "But I cannot change it, and so."

*quickly, and with some pity* It's all right, really. I don't want to intrude.

*There is no hint of pity in Bran's face.* Not fair is a strange phrase. Not fair, not fair, the universe is not fair.

You have made all your choices.

*Paul glances at Bran, clearly surprised.* Aren't you being a bit hard on her?

*briefly* No.

*Will's face is expressionless. He does not look at Paul, and his eyes on Blodwen are unreadable.*

*Though she can probably guess something of what he is thinking.*

She touches Paul's arm in a quick gesture of gratitude, and smiles at him.

"It is kind of you to defend me, dear. But it is true that I have made a mistake, and I do understand Bran's anger. And I am sorry that you have been dragged, now, into a family quarrel."

*Bran stands, eyes blazing.* Family? Family, what is that? You have forfeit any right you may ever have had to speak of family.

*In other circumstances, Will would stand with Bran, grave certainty to match Bran's blazing anger. But Paul is here, looking increasingly bewildered and uncomfortable, and in his eyes Bran's reaction is only increasing his pity for soft sweet Mrs Rowlands.*

*quietly* Bran.

*His eyes flick up to meet the other boy's golden ones, and hold them.*

*Bran nods and bows his head to Will in silent apology. He does not make any concession to Blodwen, however.*

She looks up at the proud young man standing so tall and arrogant before her, and the look in Blodwen Rowlands' eyes is one of desolation. She is no longer smiling, and her voice is soft and sad as she says, "I know far better than you what I have lost, Bran, cariad."

*Paul drains his teacup and focuses on something across the room, looking deeply uncomfortable.*

*Blodwen's anguish is genuine, and Bran recognizes it at last. For a few moments, he bends under the weight of her eyes. Then, with an effort, he stands again.* I am unkind, then, to remind you. I'll go. Nos da, Paul, Will. *Bran lifts his harp and begins walking towards the door.*

*Will's eyes stay on Bran, for a moment.

*quietly* We should be getting back, too, probably.

*He stands, glancing at Paul.*

*Paul stands as well, smiling apologetically at Blodwen, and picks up his flute.* Yes, it's -- ah. The same time.