mother_lost: (A quiet smile)
[personal profile] mother_lost
*The evening wears on, until Guinevere, Owen, and Bran are left at her table near the door. Sometimes they talk quietly.

Guinevere is sober.*

Date: 2006-06-11 02:40 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (sideways scholar)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
The door to the bar opens, and Merriman enters. A cursory glance at his clothing would indicate that he's entering from some point in the mid-twentieth century, but there's nothing else with him -- no newspaper or the like -- that would indicate the date.

A few steps into the bar, he catches sight of the small group at a table near the door...and he pauses in his tracks, hesitating.

Date: 2006-06-11 02:44 am (UTC)
theravenboy: (by the pleasant lake)
From: [personal profile] theravenboy
It is not a very private conversation, really. Glancing at his mother and his da for permission, Bran smiles and waves Merriman over.

Date: 2006-06-11 02:48 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (sideways scholar)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
A bit of a smile in return, and he crosses the few remaining paces to their table.

'Madam. Mr Davies. Bran Davies.' A nod to each in turn, cordial and polite but with warm sincerity. 'Good evening to you all.'

Date: 2006-06-11 02:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] owendavies.livejournal.com
Owen nods back to Merriman. "Dr Lyon." There is something distant and abstracted about him; he never quite looks at Guinevere but never quite looks away from her.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:08 am (UTC)
theravenboy: (Default)
From: [personal profile] theravenboy
Bran raises his head to glance at Owen, but there is nothing he can say. Instead he looks away. For that reason, he notices Will Stanton coming in and waves Will over. There is another flurry of greetings.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:21 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
Merriman's greeting to Will operates on two levels, really. There's the nod, smile and verbal 'good evening' -- and there's a very small flicker of uncertainty, on the deeper level.

This gathering has the potential to be many things. Terribly awkward, for instance. And Merriman is prepared to make his excuses and leave, should that be so...and he lets Will know it, from the start.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sign-seeker.livejournal.com
Will smiles at all the group, with polite hullos and good evenings, and if his nod to Merriman is a fraction deeper than the rest it's very nearly invisibly so.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:41 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
He meets her gaze steadily, and when he speaks his voice is equally soft, with a gentleness to it that she has likely never heard before.

'If you wish it to be so, madam.'

All of her choices are her own, after all.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] owendavies.livejournal.com
Owen holds one hand tightly in the other, waiting.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:46 am (UTC)
theravenboy: (emo - profile)
From: [personal profile] theravenboy
Bran touches his da's shoulder gently, but he is looking at his mother with unblinking tawny eyes.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sign-seeker.livejournal.com
Will is very still, and his face is unreadable.

His eyes flick to Bran, to Owen, and back to Guinevere, and he says nothing.

Date: 2006-06-11 03:58 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (servant of the Light)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
Merriman nods, in understanding. His gaze briefly flicks to Owen and Bran, then to Will, before he speaks.

'I will arrange matters, then. It should not take more than a few minutes.'

And with a small bow to the assembled group, he turns and crosses the short distance to the door. In the short span of time between its opening and closing, a faint thread of bell-like music cascades through the air, the notes fading as quickly as they are played.

Date: 2006-06-11 04:07 am (UTC)
theravenboy: (meditative)
From: [personal profile] theravenboy
Bran glances at Will (stay, if you like), but then turns his attention entirely to Guinevere. He is still standing a little away from her, harp curled in his left arm, right hand resting on Owen's shoulder. With a warm, deep smile, he says, "I am glad you came here. Mother."

Under Bran's hand, Owen's shoulder tightens.

Date: 2006-06-11 04:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] sign-seeker.livejournal.com
Will does, in fact, have tact sometimes, Old One or not.

This is why he inclines his head to the others -- more than a nod, not quite a bow -- and steps back. He stops at an empty table by the door, picking idly at the wood, apparently finding this task entirely distracting.

He could listen from here, of course, if he chose to. He doesn't.

Date: 2006-06-11 04:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] owendavies.livejournal.com
Owen pulls his chin up in a reflexive twitch, and manages a smile. "Be well, Guinevere. Gwen."

Date: 2006-06-11 04:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] owendavies.livejournal.com
Owen draws in a sharp breath. He does not remember the last time Guinevere touched him. Then he does, all at once. It was in the cottage, on the third day, with Caradog Prichard's blood barely washed from his skin. They'd sat in silence, hands loosely linked together. She had been cradling the infant in her other arm; he was sleeping again. The air had still smelt of the fight...

Strangely, it is that memory that gives him strength. Owen straightens, his jaw firming. His smile reaches his eyes. "You do not have to thank me. But you are welcome."

Date: 2006-06-11 04:59 am (UTC)
theravenboy: (suo gan)
From: [personal profile] theravenboy
Bran hesitates for a brief moment only before moving into his mother's embrace. Still holding the harp crooked in his left arm, he wraps his right arm gently around Guinevere's shoulders. Bran looks down at her head, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Date: 2006-06-11 05:11 am (UTC)
theravenboy: (thoughtful)
From: [personal profile] theravenboy
The muscles of Bran's arms and neck go taut and he bows his head. He cannot speak.

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Guinevere

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