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mother_lost

(Untitled)

Jun 14, 2006 18:09

[Millitimed to June 13.]

*Guinevere's response was left with the Bar yesterday, and she still awaits some acknowledgement.

A seat by the fire, then, and a harp to give her hands something to do.*

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merrimanlyon June 15 2006, 02:24:15 UTC

He had conveyed the letter to the king -- and had not even needed to ask if there would be a reply, because the look on his lord's face after reading the letter was reply enough in and of itself.

So at the sight of Guinevere seated by the fire, he heads over to her. His hands are empty, but he has a message all the same.

'Madam.' Quietly, as always. 'Good evening.'

mother_lost June 15 2006, 02:28:48 UTC

*looking up* Merlion. Good evening.

*She stills the strings of her harp.*

merrimanlyon June 15 2006, 02:35:13 UTC

'Your missive was received,' he says simply. 'I have no note to convey in return, but I do have a message. And that is to inform you that whenever you are prepared to leave this place...my lord bids you welcome.'

mother_lost June 15 2006, 02:44:47 UTC

*To her surprise, Guinevere finds herself momentarily speechless. Suddenly, it feels real.*

I -- I thank you, Merlion.

*And then she smiles, true and full.*

Thank you.

merrimanlyon June 15 2006, 02:52:22 UTC

He returns her smile, and if it is smaller than hers it is by no means less sincere.

'You are welcome, madam,' he replies. 'In every sense of the word.'

mother_lost June 15 2006, 02:57:26 UTC

Will you tell him -- there are few here I need say farewell to, and I am sure I shall find Bran . . .

Will you tell him that I should be ready tomorrow?

merrimanlyon June 15 2006, 03:00:21 UTC

He nods. 'Of course I will. You have as much time as you need, truly. And I will not be far if you have need of me, for whatever reason.'

mother_lost June 15 2006, 03:36:49 UTC

Thank you. *catching and holding his gaze* Truly.

merrimanlyon June 15 2006, 04:06:56 UTC

They may never fully understand each other, he and she. Perhaps they are never really meant to, considering who they are. But they do have one thing in common, the most important thing in common -- and he is waiting, in the summerlands, just beyond an open door.

A momentary pause, before he inclines his head to her.

'At your service, madam.'

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