Ominous lack of foreshadowing is ominous

[wolflord_andain]

While teleporting between worlds is not along the lines of something Galadan would describe as 'difficult', sometimes the simplest means of meeting are the best.

Which is why, he presumes, he will be joining the Tams for dinner in a location that belongs to neither of their worlds.

It seems sensible enough, at least at the moment.

Comments

[river_meimei]

Her father's message was affectionate -- he always is -- but terse. It's hard to read, though, over a screen; even with family, there are fewer tells. River gets less. He was stressed, but -- it's hard to be sure of details.

So when she comes into Milliways, she's looking thoughtful, and maybe a little worried. But not yet upset, as such.

[wolflord_andain]

"River," Galadan says, falling into step beside her.

His eyebrows are remarkably under control today, level and perhaps very slightly furrowed.

He makes no other comment.

[river_meimei]

River glances up at him.

It's a greeting in return, of sorts.

[wolflord_andain]

It is at this point that he arches one eyebrow.

Fractionally.

Perhaps River knows aught about this summons.

[river_meimei]

"He's worried," River says, softly.

Pronouns are ambiguous! But probably clear anyway.

"The antecedents are obscure. Smiles for the camera."

[wolflord_andain]

"He does tend to prefer that," Galadan acknowledges.

But as it is often a successful tactic, he is less inclined to quibble than he might be.

[river_meimei]

It is useful! It's a tactic River respects, despite being terrible at it herself. (These days, anyway.)

It's more useful when you're talking to the media than when you're talking to your kids, admittedly.

River shrugs, one-shouldered and small. She's not disagreeing; she just doesn't have any more details, either.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan merely inclines his head in a faint nod.

There is no real point in speculating without information.

And that lack may be soonest mended by finding the man that summoned them both here today.

[gabriel_tam]

It doesn't appear that they'll have to wait much longer, however.

Gabriel Tam walks through the front door, already glancing around the room. Despite his effort to appear calm, strain is clear in his expression to those who know him well.

[river_meimei]

It's hard for River to pick up extra details over a wave -- and before, her father was on home ground, having taken time to compose himself for the conversation.

In a room, in person, that's not the case.

Her attention snaps to the door as it opens, and as Gabriel steps through, her face sharpens with her sudden focus.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan's gaze follows River's, at least superficially.

Then he begins moving in Gabriel's direction, fairly sure that they'll end up meeting somewhere in the middle.

(And if they don't, that will tell him something, as well.)

[gabriel_tam]

Stressed or not, there's no hesitation; Gabriel starts toward them immediately.

"Galadan," he says, in quiet greeting, even as his glance moves past the other man toward his daughter.

"River."

Something complex shades his tone as he speaks her name, old sorrow sharpened again by something new.

[river_meimei]

River's gaze flicks in small jitters from Gabriel's eyes to the air around his face, and back again -- always focused on him, but not quite on the him everyone else sees.

Her shoulders are tense, her back a straight line.

Low, and a little sharp, "He can say it."

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan does not bother looking over at River's sharpness.

Instead he keeps his gaze fixed on Gabriel, eyebrows arching in a way that suggests getting on with it would be the best course of action.

But, for form's sake --

"Gabriel."

[gabriel_tam]

The implicit demand is quite obvious on both their parts, and he nods in response.

"It's Mary Lennox," he says, without further preamble. "She's missing."

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan's temper usually burns cold. He is a creature of long-range planning, delicate threads, and a cruelty so vicious and precise that even the rumor of it cuts.

Which is why, when he feels one corner of his mouth twitch into a snarl that belongs on a far more canine face than his own, his shields slam up so hard they would leave bruises on actual flesh, were they at all corporeal.

It only takes a few seconds to bring the blood-red rage under control, but those are a few seconds too long for one so old as he.

It is --

Vexing.