(no subject)

[river_meimei]

The door opens, and River wanders in.

She looks to be in a reasonably good mood; at least, she's looking around the room, rather than staring at the floor or the air, even if her gaze doesn't quite settle quite normally. It's the tall boots today, rather than bare feet, under a loose floral skirt, and a couple of shirts in layers.

Comments

[lastgunslinger]

Roland looks up from his book and sees River by the door.

He watches her.

[river_meimei]

River walks through the room. It's hard to say if it's aimless or not.

It's also hard to say if she sees him watching her or not. She's coming more or less in his direction, though, looking now and then at the fire.

[lastgunslinger]

When she gets close enough, Roland says, "Long days and pleasant nights, River."

He puts his marker -- a napkin from the bar -- back in his book and closes it.

[river_meimei]

She looks at him solemnly. "Planetary measurement based on solar observations. Not relevant."

Beat.

"Hi."

[lastgunslinger]

"How do you fare this evening?"

He trades the book for his coffee cup.

[river_meimei]

She blows out a breath and sits down on the floor, her back against a nearby armchair.

There may have been a small shrug in there. She doesn't look upset, at any rate.

[lastgunslinger]

"And your brother?"

Sipping coffee.

[anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com]

Anthy looks up as River enters, and watches her for a moment with mild curiosity.

[river_meimei]

River does not notice.

[anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com]

Anthy takes a sip of tea and is contented to focus on her knitting, for a bit. The tiny sweater is coming along nicely. Over the clicking of the needles, she says, "Hello," and offers River a polite smile.

[river_meimei]

River looks at her and tenses a little.

After a moment, she says, "What are you making?"

It comes out as a statement. But it's probably a question.

[anthy-rosebride.livejournal.com]

"A sweater," Anthy says peacefully. She's used to people taking funny tones about her sweaters. Though this one has no black roses. "For the little elephant."

[river_meimei]

"Joanie," River mutters to the table. "Eats peanuts."

Pause. "Elephants have no fashion sense."

[grimy-brian.livejournal.com]

*Brian waves cheerfully*

[river_meimei]

River peers at him.

"Your clothing is unorthodox," she informs him gravely.

[grimy-brian.livejournal.com]

This is very true. Exceptions are made in the name of rugby, I reckon. Also, student. You should be glad I don't have a traffic cone on my head.

[river_meimei]

She ponders this.

"Okay."

No, she doesn't know what a traffic cone is. Or rugby.

[grimy-brian.livejournal.com]

So I don't think I've seen you before. You new?

[river_meimei]

"No."

A pause, rather too long for normal standards of conversation.

"I don't come in much."

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

Mordred watches her, curiously but not openly.

[river_meimei]

River wanders.

She stops, after a while, to look at an armchair.

No one's sitting there, or anything. She seems to find it interesting, though.

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

There was no one sitting there. Now there is a Mordred, just like that, as if he had always been there.

He doesn't say anything, just watches her with great golden eyes.

[river_meimei]

River doesn't jump. She just tilts her head a little and looks at him.

[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

He mimics her, tilting his head in a mirror image of her.

"You are alive, no?"

[river_meimei]

She nods.

"You're not." It's calm, and matter-of-fact.