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[blue_ajah]

Moiraine's chambers in the House of Arch are well appointed and tasteful.

Still, to a discerning eye, it is apparent from the lack of personal touches that they are a guest residence and not a place where she stays enough to have become truly comfortable.

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[creator_raven]

That lack of personal affectations is possibly why, shortly after Raven arrives, there is a pair of fuzzy blue leopard-print bunny slippers on the floor by one of the armchairs.

What?

He did not put them there.

[blue_ajah]

She gives him a suspicious look at the sight of the slippers, and then gestures at the armchair.

"Wait there, if you would."

Moiraine's already heading for the door that leads to the bathroom.

[creator_raven]

Raven grins, settling himself in a comfortable sprawl.

He can wait.





The slippers, however, cannot.

Somehow they make their way into the bathroom while she performs her ablutions.

They are tricky things, apparently.

Who knew?

[blue_ajah]

It does not take all that long, really. Soon, Moiraine makes her way from the other room, hair still damp and looking small and slightly fragile in a quilted blue dressing gown.

(The slippers, it seems, have been left behind once more.)

She considers the room, and sinks down into a corner of the small, loveseat-like sofa to one side, looking at Raven.

"So."

[creator_raven]

Raven looks back at her, black eyes wide and almost dark.

"So. The Powers are hard things, I think."

One corner of his mouth quirks wryly.

"For all that they are Bright."

Beat.

"Most of them."

Raven, himself, is much the same. Except for the Bright part.

[blue_ajah]

Moiraine stills, and then curls into the corner of the sofa, tucking her bare feet up beneath the edge of her gown.

"I would not disagree," she says, eventually.

[creator_raven]

Raven tilts his head, studying her.

"That, I think, is not a thing that means so much."

Except when it does, of course.

"The Whisperer is possibly not so bad as some."

Most times.

"We have, I think, met before. So."

[blue_ajah]

"Have you?"

It is quietly asked, and she is studying him in turn.

[creator_raven]

Raven makes a face at her, almost shrugging.

"It is much the same with Peach. So."

He blinks once.

"Only mostly she is not a bird."

[blue_ajah]

"Save in the shape that she currently holds, I know."

A pause.

"Not unlike you, in a sense-- is it not so?"

[creator_raven]

Raven nods once, mouth quirking in a grin.

"Only I am always myself, yes?"

He leans back farther in his seat, stretching out.

His eyes, however, never leave Moiraine.

"We have, I think, known each other a long time."

He frowns, then.

"Though mostly it is not all at one time, I do not think. Some things are complicated."

[blue_ajah]

"Many things often are," she murmurs, very softly.

Moiraine's tone is as weary as her manner, now.

[creator_raven]

"Some were made so, I think."

He studies her carefully, now, waiting.

"It is the trouble with beginnings."

Beat.

"And, perhaps, with things that are fond of endings."

[taishar_malkier]

Lan does not like using rats as messengers, still. But he's a practical man, and not inclined to let emotion stand in the way of doing a job efficiently.

Which is to say that a short time ago, one of the House's rats, as requested, stopped by Lan and Nynaeve's room to indicate (a squeak, a scrap of blue paper, and an exaggerated nod at Nynaeve's sharp question) that Moiraine was back.

They don't speak rat. No way to know what condition she's in.

This is one of several reasons that there's a chime, now, from the painting that serves as Moiraine's door.

[blue_ajah]

She had finally succumbed to her exhaustion and lain down on her bed to sleep. At the sound of the chime, she startles abruptly awake.

Moiraine pulls her dressing gown more tightly around herself and glides from the bedchamber-- past a curious Raven, who is currently lounging in the armchair before her bedroom dresser-- and into the sitting room of the suite.

Upon seeing who it is, she gives a very quiet sigh before touching the frame to admit her visitors.

"Lan. Nynaeve."

[not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com]

Nynaeve sweeps in and past Moiraine, glaring at the bloody fool woman.

"You're not hurt, are you?"

She narrows her eyes, studying the other woman carefully.

It is not to say she doesn't trust Moiraine to take care of herself, but--

Moiraine is a woolheaded idiot when it comes to that kind of thing.

Light save Nynaeve from martyrs.

And Blues.

[taishar_malkier]

Deep and impassive: "Moiraine Sedai."

Lan doesn't say another word. Just studies her.

Mostly because he doesn't need to.

[blue_ajah]

"I am not wounded, no," she says quietly, in answer to Nynaeve. "Merely tired."

There is something far too bleak about her eyes, but her words are steady and sure.

[creator_raven]

Raven does not quite snort.

It is a great struggle to suppress it, really.

"That part, I am thinking, is not so difficult to change."

Mostly.

"Except that you are, I think, very stubborn. So."

[taishar_malkier]

Lan's eyebrows lift infinitesimally at Moiraine.

[blue_ajah]

She gives Lan a level look in return, and turns to Raven as she says,

"It is not as though I am exactly resisting."

[not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com]

While Raven forbore snorting, Nynaeve indulges herself.

"No one would put it past you, Moiraine."

She tilts her chin up.

"You might do better at convincing us if you would at least sit yourself down somewhere."

She pauses, scanning the room.

"And if you have the makings of tea, I'll put some on."

She gives the other woman a narrow-eyed glance, waiting.

[blue_ajah]

"Perhaps you might all join me, then," she says dryly, and takes the few steps necessary in order to allow herself to sink gracefully into a corner of the loveseat.

Moiraine catches Nynaeve's eye and nods to a kitchenette, off to one side of the suite.

"It is there." A pause. "And thank you."

[not-only-wisdom.livejournal.com]

Nynaeve meets Moiraine's gaze for a moment, holds it, then nods.

"You're welcome. Of course."

And then she bustles off to the kitchenette, busying herself with the makings for tea.

[creator_raven]

Raven, meanwhile, seems to take Moiraine's words as invitation, and drops himself comfortably on the loveseat next to her.

He does take up rather a lot of space.

It is almost unfortunate.

"Possibly she will be bringing milk, as well?"

He does not sound very hopeful about that.

Moiraine is a crappy host.