[pfsb] on the edge of the abyss

[blue_ajah]

There is only so much that can be done to prepare in advance of a visit to Glastonbury Grove, but Moiraine is determined to accomplish every single possible nuance of it.

A cup of tea sits cooling on the table beside her, almost forgotten, as she pores over a map and a few sketched diagrams arranged in front of her. Occasionally, she taps her pen to the page or scribbles a note on a bit of scrap paper.

Comments

[for_tradition]

"Moiraine Sedai." The trim woman standing by her table is smiling, pink of cheek and glossy of hair, her brown dress gleaming in the firelight with the sheen of understated luxury.

"How lovely to see you again."

[blue_ajah]

"Lady Abigail," she returns, with warmth, and gestures to a seat in clear invitation. "I might say the same. How have you been?"

[for_tradition]

"Still dead," Abigail says, cheerfully. She takes the offered seat and arranges her skirts around herself. "But it's giving me ever so much time for study and thought. The library her really is something remarkable."

[blue_ajah]

"It certainly is," she agrees. "With quite an array of resources from various worlds. Many of my sisters would be greatly envious of the opportunity."

[for_tradition]

"I imagine they would," Abigail agrees, smiling. "Aside from the 'being dead' bit. What is it you're working on, there?"

[bialy_wilk]

It took him longer than he wanted to find the ingredients Reinald had used for his philter, but the recipe is more potent than Petri's philter and he wants as much power as he can get behind his Signs... especially if he'll have to once again deal with a possessed human.

But find it he had, and he'd taken the opportunity to stop by one of the better armorers and blacksmiths in Oxenfurt to put a keen edge to his swords and make sure his armor – light, flexible boiled leather so as not to hamper his agility – is in good repair. He's as prepared as he can be by the time he opens the door to the inn between worlds and steps inside.

The witcher goes to the bar and scrawls a note informing the sorceress of his arrival, then hands it to waitrat to deliver to Moiraine. As the rat scurries off, he goes to lounge in a chair by the fire, long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him. May as well relax while he can.

[blue_ajah]

She has studied Abigail’s ward until she is certain she can create it as easily and automatically as any familiar weave, practicing it with the other woman until it had met with her approval. Abigail had offered to come, but Moiraine had declined, if reluctantly. Neither of them had been entirely certain of the effect the pool might have on someone who is essentially an embodied ghost, and in the end Moiraine had decided it was better not to risk it.

She is reviewing the other wards she wishes to place when the sound of squeaking outside alerts her. Moiraine channels long enough to clear the weaves she has secured the door with, and opens it to the rat.

It takes only a moment to read the note, and a mere few more to gather the things she has already prepared. Moiraine glides downstairs and glances around the room. She spots the witcher by the fire and goes to join him.

“Light illumine.”

[bialy_wilk]

"Moiraine." He looks up at her, relaxed in much the way a large predator might lounge on a branch or in the shade, conserving energy for the hunt. "Got everything I needed."

And hopefully some he won't need, but optimism doesn't come naturally to witchers.

[blue_ajah]

"I am pleased to hear it." She sinks gracefully down on a chair across from him. "Matters are well with you and in your world? Or well enough for the moment, at least, I may hope?"

[bialy_wilk]

"Sure. Could be worse."

Things could always be worse. He shrugs against the back of the chair. "You? Got everything you need, too?"

[bialy_wilk]

Moiraine doesn't yell, and once he's cleaned his armor and sword and set them away for the night, he sleeps like the dead, dreaming occasionally of an ashen-haired girl, laughing with friends around a fire.

It's a little after dawn when he wakes, but there's no sound from the adjoining room. Geralt rises, splashes water on his face, then dresses in the same light clothing as the night before, then silently opens the door and walks, cat-footed, into the other room to check on her.

[blue_ajah]

She had waited until he had left to weave a quick ward for the hallway entrance to her chamber, but had not felt it necessary to do the same for the door between their rooms. Trust is a complicated thing for the Aes Sedai, but under these circumstances she feels it is warranted.

It does not take her long to fall asleep, and when she does, she does not dream. Nor does she wake early. When the door opens and the witcher steps inside, he will find her curled up on her uninjured side under the covers, quiet and unmoving.

[bialy_wilk]

He studies her quiet form for just long enough to be sure she's sleeping deeply, then backs out of the room and quietly closes the door between them before he heads into the hall.

When he comes back, it's with a tray of hot tea and some food – whatever the Bar had thought she'd like – and he sets it down on a small table in the lounge area before settling onto a couch to wait.

[blue_ajah]

She is not sure what wakes her; some small sound, a stirring in the air, some quiet awareness, or none of these.

Moiraine stirs, then pushes herself carefully up in bed and glances around.

[bialy_wilk]

A sound from the other room comes to his sensitive ears, and Geralt pushes himself up to his feet, then goes to quietly knock before he opens the door.

"No need for you to get up yet."

[ to Kaer Morhen ]

[bialy_wilk]

The two days pass.

He doesn't stay with her past that first night, but he makes himself available during the days, helping as he can with her preparations. On the morning of the third day, he dresses in his armor, sheathes his swords on his back, and makes his way to her study, knocking on the door once he arrives.

[blue_ajah]

"Come in," she calls. She has left the wards undone this morning to await his arrival. Everything she plans to take with her fits in a small, neat leather pack of the sort that she traveled with for years while seeking the Dragon Reborn.

Her clothing is of similar style - she has chosen a riding dress that is simple but well-made, in midnight blue. As he enters, she catches up her pack and slings it neatly over her shoulder, wanting to give no doubts either about her readiness or her ability to manage now that she is recovered.

[bialy_wilk]

He enters, as bid, and stands near the door, watching as she slings her pack over her shoulder. The color's back in her face and she's moving well enough, but the trip itself will tell better than words how she's healed. "All right."

Geralt shifts aside, opening the door for her. "When we go through the door, we'll be in a part of my world called Velen. Nowhere near Kaer Morhen. You think you'll be able to weave a portal to bring us there?"

If not, there are other options. But they'll try this, first.

[blue_ajah]

"I will need to spend a brief time learning the land around us, and you will need to describe Kaer Morhen very, very clearly," she tells him. "But after those things, yes, I should be able to."

[bialy_wilk]

He nods, almost wishing he had one of Dandelion's poems or songs around. Descriptive imagery just doesn't come naturally to him. "Think you can hold it well enough to bring a horse through?"

[bialy_wilk]

The witcher rises the next morning before the dawn, making arrangements. He pads, cat-footed, to the kitchen to fill saddlebags with water and other supplies, then makes his way to the stables. By the time the sun has crested over the mountain behind the keep and the thin dawn has begun to seep into the world, he's leading Roach and another mare, pale gray and well-mannered, to the yard.

He hadn't, after all, made more potions and oils the night before, but Vesemir is always well-stocked. He'd refreshed his supplies from the keep's stores, tucking the fragile bottles into Roach's saddle bag as he waits.

[blue_ajah]

She had said that she would be ready to leave early, and the Aes Sedai may speak no word that is not true. Just after dawn brightens the sky, Moiraine makes her way downstairs, dressed in practical riding wear and with a small travel pack.

"Light illumine," she greets him as she approaches.

[bialy_wilk]

"Morning." He finishes cinching the girth on the gray mare, then turns to her, holding out his hand for her pack. "Manage to get some sleep, I hope."

[blue_ajah]

"I did," she confirms. Moiraine passes over the pack without hesitation. "And you?"

[bialy_wilk]

"Well enough." He lashes the pack onto the back of her saddle, then turns again to offer her help up into the saddle. He doesn't just lift her up this time, but he does offer her a gloved hand. "Figure we'll break mid-morning for food and a rest. Should be at the Bastion by noon."