milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Back at Clwyd Farm, Bran warns Owen Davies and John Rowlands about some dangers of Milliways.]

Only twice, since the day a year and more ago when Bran and Will pulled the golden harp from the pleasant lake, has Bran Davies come to the bar without it. Always, when he enters the bar, Bran plays a strange high aching melody that sounds almost, but not quite, familiar. He plays that song tonight, as he pushes the front door open.

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John Rowlands. In Milliways.

As if things could not get better for all involved.

'And what was her response to that?'

"She was furious," Bran replies evenly. "If she did not before, she hates me now."

He pauses, and when he speaks again, some of the worry leaks into Bran's proud face. "I have warned my da, and John, that Milliways is dangerous for them now, and I am looking for my mother, to tell her that she is at risk."

'There are others at risk as well.'

He folds his arms across his chest, with a soft rustle of cloth upon cloth.

'She has been at work here. Enchanted one person -- one that I know of, at least, for there may well be others -- and attempted to ensnare another. Tampered with the memory of yet another who defied her or challenged her in some way. And she has sworn a new liege-man into her service.'

John Rowlands, were he here, would have past observations confirmed by the light that burns in the depths of Merriman's eyes.

'Remarkably busy, for a very short span of time.'

The answering glitter in Bran's eyes is the hot fury of the Wild Magic, not the deep cold of the Light. "Then it is time, and more than time, to do something about the so-busy White Rider."

'I have spoken to the lady Moiraine already -- she is aware of what is going on. It will take more than the Light to untangle the Rider's work, I fear.' Merriman shakes his head, a rather weary gesture that does not quite match up with the power in his gaze. 'The one she has enchanted is known as Puck. Robin Goodfellow, as I have known him in other times. And by our world's standard's he is of the Wild Magic.'

Bran stares, shocked off-balance at last. " 'That merry wanderer of the night'? She has him? Then it will take everything all of us have, and more."

He nods slowly. 'I sincerely hope he is the strongest of those she has taken. The Wild Magic, in whatever form, does not take well to being caught in the struggle between the Light and Dark. There is no small amount of risk involved in whatever we may attempt to do.'

"There is risk now, before we act," Bran counters.

'True enough,' he says, though the exasperation in his voice also says 'thank you for pointing out the patently obvious'. 'But confronting her here will not be a simple matter. Even if the security staff are alerted to the situation, it will still require the Light's power to break the spells she has cast without doing irreparable damage to her victims. At this time of year, it will be more complicated than usual.'

His gaze flickers in the direction of the door leading out of the bar, toward the lake.

'And will require a suitable location from which to act.'

[OOC: Many thanks for the correction. *kicks self*]

Bran follows Merriman's gaze.

"I heard a wren singing by the lake, once."

Half a year ago, it was, when the Light's power was at its peak.

'Outside the bar itself, we may deal with her as we see fit. With less risk of harming others, and without making ourselves personae non gratae to Bar security and staff.'

Bran nods.

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