(no subject)

[mother_lost]

*Guinevere comes downstairs and takes a seat at a table. Though it's been a week since she arrived, she looks a little lost.*

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[theravenboy]

Bran sits. He has no words for what he wants to say now, though, so with a brief glance at Owen for permission, he pulls the harp onto his lap and begins to play a wordless song.

The music is strange as the Old Ones' bells, but more tied to the things of the earth. It sings of seawater and hawthorn blossoms, seven trees in a lowland clearing, a Dyfi salmon leaping, a silver-eyed dog in the hills. Bran's heard it in his dreams always, since he was a young boy, dreaming of black hair and blue eyes and a warm low place by the sea. He plays it now for Guinevere and Owen both, as a gift: This is who you are. This is who I am.

[mother_lost]

*A long time after the music fades away, Gwen speaks.*

Thank you.

You have a gift.

[owendavies.livejournal.com]

Owen's heard Bran play before, of course, at lessons with John Rowlands, and once at an eisteddfod, and just now when Bran took them both to Milliways. This is the first time that Owen has listened, though. The music reminds him of a black-haired girl with an infant and a harp. His eyes fill with open love, anguish, pride; it is not only Owen's love for Gwen, but sixteen years of love and pride Owen has for Bran, finally naked on his plain ordinary face.

[theravenboy]

Bran sets the harp down on the table and looks up. His hands tremble. He can bear his mother's gratitude, but the raw emotion in Owen's eyes is almost too much. Bran bows his head for a moment before lifting it again and gazing up at both of his parents.

His voice, clear and tenor, does not shake at all. "Croeso."

[mother_lost]

*She gazes at him for a long moment, then glances at Owen, and in both, she sees them as they were many years ago -- but now so much more.*

*softly* It grows late.

[owendavies.livejournal.com]

"Yes. Time to go home, now," Owen says matter-of-factly, with perhaps a touch of relief. The moment of vulnerability is past, but there is still some wonder in his face.

"Take care," Owen says to Gwen as he stands.

[theravenboy]

Bran, too, rises. Before he takes up his harp, though, he extends his hand to Guinevere. "Go with God," he says.

[mother_lost]

*She takes his hand and rises. She presses it between both of hers and smiles gently.* And you.

*Transferring her gaze to Owen* Take care.

[owendavies.livejournal.com]

Owen nods, and follows Bran out of the front door into a rainy Welsh evening.