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[theravenboy]

Bran Davies, Moiraine Sedai, and Will Stanton are spending the evening sharing a pot of tea and a pleasant conversation.

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[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

"You," Will informs Bran firmly, "have no appreciation for color. That's all."

[theravenboy]

"I do like colour," Bran protests. "Moiraine looks very well in blue. You, on the other hand, should never wear navy."

[blue_ajah]

Diplomatically, she refrains from mentioning anything in particular about either of the sweaters that the two young men have chosen to wear this evening.

Moiraine takes a sip of tea and then says serenely,

"Thank you, Bran." A pause. "There are a variety of colors and shades and styles that might suit you both, I believe. Perhaps I should arrange for you to visit a seamstress or tailor of the sort that young men in my homeland would attend upon, to be fitted for suitable attire."

[theravenboy]

"With, what was it that your friends were wearing, embroidered coats?" Bran grins. "Thank you, I shall pass."

[gramarye1971]

The door to the bar opens -- or is flung open, rather, for the action is a fairly violent one.

Merriman (or Merlion, rather) had hoped against hope that this is precisely the scene he would find when he entered Milliways. Most anyone else would take it as a sign that all will be well, but he is not entertaining any particularly hopeful thoughts at the moment. A few long, determined strides brings him over to them.

'It happens now.' Tension is written in every line of his face. 'Will you come?'

The question is addressed to Bran, but it might well be directed to all three of them.

[theravenboy]

Bran stands at once, all laughter disappearing from his face. He gathers his harp in his arms and nods sharply to a waitrat; Holly returns within moments, carrying the brass horn. "I am ready." Bran's voice is calm, but harpstrings vibrate under his shaking hands.

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

Will is on his feet, all Old One in an instant, his face sober and body taut.

He nods once. It's all that's needed; it's unnecessary, really.

The question isn't a question, except for formality's sake. This must be clear and willing, for all of them.

[blue_ajah]

In contrast, Moiraine remains seated, while her dark-eyed gaze meets Merriman's and holds it.

"You know my answer. I have already given it to you."

Her tone is calm, even now, and her manner remains composed. The Aes Sedai inclines her head, then, and rises gracefully to her feet. As she does, one small hand goes to rest on Bran's shoulder, just for a moment.

"Lead the way, Merriman. It seems we shall all be accompanying you."

[gramarye1971]

He nods briskly, and turns on his heel in a heavy flutter of dark robes.

When he puts his hand on the door, there is a brief but terrible moment in which he more than half expects it to not open at his touch, but the handle turns easily enough.

A whistle of high, faint music is just barely audible, fading fast, as the door opens onto a dimly-lit stone corridor.

[theravenboy]

Bran Davies crosses the threshold quickly, only to drop to his knees as soon as he has passed over. There is a whirling and rushing in his ears, and he can hardly breathe. The kingdom beyond the North Wind knows his name -- Bran ap Arthur Pendragon -- but Bran has surrendered that name and the powers that go with it, and the High Magic knows him as an interloper.

[sign-seeker.livejournal.com]

Will is on his heels, stepping through into the bright summer country he had not expected to see for years and centuries yet. His heel touches worn flagstones, and--

the ground drops away, the world is spinning, he is falling and pressed down by the weight of the magic of this world and their spells and--

The Circle is here, and he is caught; the stone is steady under him, and for a moment the world is strange and half-solid. Then as his other foot lands everything snaps into place around him, and he knows he only stumbled for a moment; Merriman is through the door, and the Circle of Old Ones is complete.

[blue_ajah]

She had slipped through the door just ahead of Merriman, moving quickly to the side and watching the others with intensity in her dark-eyed glance.

Whatever is happening to them leaves her untouched, although there is a part of her deep within that shivers for a moment, as though someone has plucked a harpstring, somewhere.

This castle is outside Time, she thinks, and then, I have been here before-- no.

Moiraine shakes her head once, sharply, as if to clear it of stray thoughts, and looks to the others in silence.

[gramarye1971]

Merriman -- Merlion, here and now -- staggers as he steps through as well, one hand just catching the wall for support. He recovers more quickly than Will had, for even as the spell that will allow Bran to assume the regency settles into place, the joining of the Circle provides its own kind of lasting reassurance and support.

The door has fallen shut behind them, and with the solid wood at his back and solid stone under his hand and beneath his feet, he is able to draw a deep breath and stand properly straight. He moves away from the wall, and turns to look at the three of them with a sharp, glittering gaze.

'We are expected,' is all he says, and without further preamble he begins to walk down the corridor in the direction from which he had come.

[theravenboy]

With Merriman's entrance and the Circle's completion, the roar of power about Bran subsides to a lower hum. He rearranges the harp in his arms and draws himself to his feet, breathing carefully and lightly, as if the air in the Summer Country might be dangerous.

Bran is standing in the silver-circled castle that his father promised him long ago, and he is not sure whether he belongs in it. Stupid. There is no time, now, to worry about silly things. Bran sets the thoughts aside and walks quickly after Merlion.