mother_lost: (Default)
[personal profile] mother_lost
[Millitimed to June 13.]

*Guinevere's response was left with the Bar yesterday, and she still awaits some acknowledgement.

A seat by the fire, then, and a harp to give her hands something to do.*

Date: 2006-06-15 02:24 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
He had conveyed the letter to the king -- and had not even needed to ask if there would be a reply, because the look on his lord's face after reading the letter was reply enough in and of itself.

So at the sight of Guinevere seated by the fire, he heads over to her. His hands are empty, but he has a message all the same.

'Madam.' Quietly, as always. 'Good evening.'

Date: 2006-06-15 02:35 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
'Your missive was received,' he says simply. 'I have no note to convey in return, but I do have a message. And that is to inform you that whenever you are prepared to leave this place...my lord bids you welcome.'

Date: 2006-06-15 02:52 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
He returns her smile, and if it is smaller than hers it is by no means less sincere.

'You are welcome, madam,' he replies. 'In every sense of the word.'

Date: 2006-06-15 03:00 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
He nods. 'Of course I will. You have as much time as you need, truly. And I will not be far if you have need of me, for whatever reason.'

Date: 2006-06-15 04:06 am (UTC)
gramarye1971: a lone figure in silhouette against a blaze of white light (liht mec heht gewyrcan)
From: [personal profile] gramarye1971
They may never fully understand each other, he and she. Perhaps they are never really meant to, considering who they are. But they do have one thing in common, the most important thing in common -- and he is waiting, in the summerlands, just beyond an open door.

A momentary pause, before he inclines his head to her.

'At your service, madam.'

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Guinevere

January 2007

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