blue_ajah | (no subject)

(no subject)

[After this.]

When Dale leaves, Moiraine sees him to the door and locks it after him, then returns to the sofa, where she curls up as she had been wont to do as a novice and sits quietly for a while, lost in her own thoughts.

Eventually, something occurs to her, and she glides down the hallway to her bedroom once more. This time, she retrieves Raven's feather from the pinewood box and holds it lightly in her hand, stroking it with the tips of her fingers.

How I wish I could speak with you.

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Raven in no way looks smug.

Unless someone is paying attention to him, that is.

Plus Moiraine's shoulder is comfortable.

Why would he move?

While the kettle heats, she opens a blue ceramic canister, and measures out tea for both cups.

"If you prefer otherwise," Moiraine tells him, calmly, "this is when you should tell me."

"Tea, perhaps, is not so much a thing I am picky about."

Cookies, however, are another matter.

Pie is so-so.

The Aes Sedai sniffs at that, but does not comment.

She places the prepared cups beside the small stove, and studies the steam now rising from the kettle with a critical eye.

Raven flutters his wings, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he does so.

The steam obligingly forms the shape of a bear.

An angry bear.

This angry bear is then eaten by a giant bird.

Surprise!

A soft breath of laughter escapes her.

"Oh, Raven."

Raven caws his own rough laugh, even as a second, larger bear attempts to devour the bird.

Where did the flock of cousins come from?

No one knows.

Except whatever vicious mind is controlling all that steam.

Clearly.

"Now you are showing off," she tells him, as the kettle begins to cry.

Moiraine lifts it from the burner, which she switches off, and pours both mugs full so that the tea may begin steeping.

Most in Milliways who observed this would wonder at the lack of a teapot from which to steep and pour, but she seems untroubled by it, at least outwardly.

"Not so much that, I do not think."

The steam above the mugs is not quite so exciting, it would appear.

For now.

"What, then?"

Even as she asks it, she absently strokes a soothing hand over his wingfeathers.

Raven caws another laugh.

"Possibly that should be for being obvious."

Hey, she laughed first.

For a given value of 'first'.

"And yet," she counters, "if one presumes to know all from observation without inquiry, one may often be wrong."

If Raven had a human face, he would be wrinkling his nose right about now.

As it is, he merely flutters his feathers, wingtips pressing down on Moiraine's shoulderblade.

Just for a second.

"Asking without listening may be much the same, yes?"

Then he laughs, dropping from her shoulder to stand at his full height.

"Also possibly guessing is more entertaining."

For some.

She gives him a sharp look, and forbears to say anything else at first. Instead, she busies herself with seeing to the tea, and presents him with a cup.

Raven takes it solemnly, holding out a cookie in exchange.

It is shaped like a bee.

A bee with immense blue eyes.

Just because.

She eyes the cookie, eyes him, then accepts it with only the slightest sigh.

"Thank you."

Raven beams.

Then, with his now free (if slightly crumb-enhanced) hand, ruffles her hair.

"You are always for being welcome, yes?"

It is a thing.

A small smile curves her lips.

"I know. As are you, brother."

"That, I think, I am not so much for forgetting."

Not now, at least.

Not anymore.

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