(no subject)

[theravenboy]

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.

Comments

[wolflord_andain]

Bran's scent is on the wind in this place, the very feel of him somehow imprinted on the earth.

Galadan follows the call, heedless of the imprint of his own passing, the burning, writhing Wild that follows him wherever he goes, the tang of his own power that even the strongest shielding will not entirely hide.

He is hunting, and there is little on his mind but his target.

Such are the hazards of wolf-shape, at least when his blood is high, body yearning for the kill.

[gramarye1971]

Only when the intruder is well and truly gone does the power of the Light fade from around the Old Ones. The urge to find something to lean against, some measure of outside support, is nearly overpowering.

Merlion rakes a hand through his hair, an impatient gesture masking both exhaustion and tightly-controlled fury. All clear, is the silent message he sends to the others of the Circle. For the present. Hold fast for now.

When he finally speaks aloud, addressing Bran, his voice is quiet and rough. 'Are you unharmed?'