[pfsb] the tipping point
Oct. 20th, 2020 11:14 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_ajahHawk is waiting for her in Upper Twin Park when she arrives in response to his phone call, standing beside the lakeshore bench and looking out at the water, two styrofoam cups of coffee in hand. He hands one to her with a nod as she reaches him, and turns his attention back to the lake while she opens the small plastic flap and takes a polite sip.
"It's stirring," he says.
He sounds calm; her hands tighten around the coffee cup all the same.
"Is it so?"
"Yeah." He slants a look at her. "Don't blame yourself. Would have happened sometime. It always does. We all knew that. Talked it over, before I agreed to help."
She draws a slow, careful breath, and nods. The Wheel weaves, and what is done likely cannot now be undone. What remains is to deal with the matter at hand.
(It has been some time since she thought of Vandene, and the sense of foreboding she had confessed in a letter, never sent.)
"I can set wards," she offers, quietly. "Subtle ones, to discourage wanderers from stumbling on the grove; hikers and the like. I would be glad to do so, if you and the others who guard would find it useful."
Hawk nods. "Appreciate it. I'll take you around the observation points."
Later that evening, the Aes Sedai is settled at her usual table in the bar. Tea is at hand, as is also usual, although the service appears to be entirely untouched, which is not.
The artist's sketch pad that she has been using recently lies to the side, closed. A few sheets have been ripped out of it, with some force, and are arranged on the table immediately in front of her, evidently serving as scratch paper for cryptic notes and for the work she is focused on, which appears to be practicing to duplicate something from the pages of her journal. The journal in question lies open flat on the table as well, displaying two talismans that have been carefully attached inside, one to each otherwise-empty page.
To maintain composure even under extreme duress, despite whatever one may be feeling, is an essential part of training in the White Tower.
Moiraine is very carefully composed right now... and very intently focused.
"It's stirring," he says.
He sounds calm; her hands tighten around the coffee cup all the same.
"Is it so?"
"Yeah." He slants a look at her. "Don't blame yourself. Would have happened sometime. It always does. We all knew that. Talked it over, before I agreed to help."
She draws a slow, careful breath, and nods. The Wheel weaves, and what is done likely cannot now be undone. What remains is to deal with the matter at hand.
(It has been some time since she thought of Vandene, and the sense of foreboding she had confessed in a letter, never sent.)
"I can set wards," she offers, quietly. "Subtle ones, to discourage wanderers from stumbling on the grove; hikers and the like. I would be glad to do so, if you and the others who guard would find it useful."
Hawk nods. "Appreciate it. I'll take you around the observation points."
Later that evening, the Aes Sedai is settled at her usual table in the bar. Tea is at hand, as is also usual, although the service appears to be entirely untouched, which is not.
The artist's sketch pad that she has been using recently lies to the side, closed. A few sheets have been ripped out of it, with some force, and are arranged on the table immediately in front of her, evidently serving as scratch paper for cryptic notes and for the work she is focused on, which appears to be practicing to duplicate something from the pages of her journal. The journal in question lies open flat on the table as well, displaying two talismans that have been carefully attached inside, one to each otherwise-empty page.
To maintain composure even under extreme duress, despite whatever one may be feeling, is an essential part of training in the White Tower.
Moiraine is very carefully composed right now... and very intently focused.
