(Untitled)

[taishar_malkier]

One day ago, in the world outside, Lan and Nynaeve returned from Milliways to the bloody aftermath of the Last Battle

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[blue_ajah]

He will, perhaps, recognize the small, slender figure clad in blue who stands so pale and still beside the bar, a note crumpled in her hand.

Dark eyes flicker to him, tracking the movement as the door opens, and Moiraine goes paler yet as her lips shape a single word.

"Lan."

Barely a whisper, if even that.

[taishar_malkier]

Perhaps.

Yes.

Which is to say: Lan's cold blue gaze skims across the room, and catches, and holds.

[blue_ajah]

One step.

Then another, and another.

The note goes fluttering to the floor unregarded as Moiraine begins to run, across the room, toward him.

[taishar_malkier]

Very few things can startle this much expression out of Lan. It's restrained, still, but it's visible: relief.

He steps sideways and forward, out of the doorway and towards her.

"Moiraine," he says, and that's all.

It's as expressionless as ever -- unless you know him, and you know how to listen.

[creator_raven]

That stillness is just enough time for Raven to make his move.

Hopefully Lan does not mind silver glitter?

(It will go easier if he remembers not to inhale.)

And just maybe it will distract him from the tiny figure in black hurling itself at his knees.

[taishar_malkier]

Lan is... not so much a fan.

Especially when he's just stepped in, and there's a sparkling cloud descending from nowhere at his face, and something small hurtling towards him. He steps back, fast, Wind Blows the Barley flowing into Leopard Among Rocks, and--

It's a child--

Just barely in time to stop the automatic counterattack, he recognizes (with immense annoyance) who, and what, just descended upon him.

[creator_raven]

Raven is completely uncowed by the sword that -- until a moment ago -- was headed straight for him.

He just latches on to Lan's knees and beams up at him.

His teeth are very white. And sharp.

"You, I think, are not so much dead, yes?"

[taishar_malkier]

Lan resheathes his sword in a sharp, efficient movement.

(An irritated movement.

Breathe in, breathe out -- burn the emotion away.)

Flatly, "You have a strange way with greetings, bird."

[lil_bunny_ronin]

Over at the table the waitrats lowered for him, Usagi is composing a letter to Lady Tomoe. Beside him is a clay jar with a pinched spout, his katana and a steaming pot of tea.

His thoughts are interrupted by the breeze from Lan's entrance and his eyes flick toward the warrior. The armor and weapons are strange but the way the man carries himself clearly, to Usagi's eyes, mark him as Samurai or near enough.

If he catches the warrior's attention he will nod a greeting.

[taishar_malkier]

His sword is not unlike a katana, in fact; not precisely the same, but the the general principle is similar. Much of Lan's culture has traits randomly pilfered from bears occasional superficial similarities to what Usagi might find familiar.

Lan is currently doing a pretty good job of paying attention to the entire room at once. So it's entirely possible that his gaze will cross Usagi's. And, in that case, he will return a slight nod, politely.

(After a year and a half at Milliways, Lan doesn't turn a hair at things like human-sized samurai bunny rabbits. Of course, Lan makes a policy of not turning a hair at anything, no matter how disconcerted he is on the inside.)

[lil_bunny_ronin]

Usagi notes all these things and also notes the warrior seems to have come straight from a battle or near enough.

He picks up his katana and, as he stands, places it in his belt. He next walks to the warrior and stops, standing just outside of sword reach. He offers a bow and says, "I am called Usagi. Are you hurt or in need of assistance?"