theravenboy | (no subject)

Not long ago, the Circle of the Light took to a room in the west wing of the castle; night and day, in rotating shifts, the Old Ones focus on holding the damaged spells that guard the Summer Country. Half of the Circle, including Merriman and Will, is currently on duty, and the other half sleeps. Bran looked in on the Circle this afternoon, but there was nothing for him to see or do in that room; there were only Old Ones, hands linked in a closed chain, staring blankly into the air.

Bran has no other duties, for the moment, and he can hardly focus for the weight of the power pushing on his mind. He would seek out Moiraine, except that she has gone to Milliways. Instead, he crosses the castle courtyard to walk to his mother's chambers.

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Will breathes out in tired, wan amusement.

And inclines his head with a faint irony that is, nonetheless, not refusal.

'As you would have it,' Merlion replies, unavoidably formal, but his next words turn the formality into an irony of its own. 'Though I for one intend to seek out a suitable dosage of willowbark or the nearest approximation to aspirin before doing either, if that is agreeable to you?'

Bran's lip twitches. "Only if I can share it with you."