(Untitled)

[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

Comments

[wolflord_andain]

And it is the Light that pricks at the corners of Galadan's mind, that sends his hackles up more than they are already.

His snarl this time is wordless and far, far more wolf than man.

His teeth are very white as he bares them one final time at Bran, free hand coming up to rest over his heart, twisting in a well-remembered gesture.

He lunges toward Bran, growling low and deep in his throat, but the Light is stronger here, now, and he cannot stand against it.

With one last howl, sharp and vicious, he turns away, black shape fading to shadow as he runs.

Leaving Bran, son of the Pendragon and temporary linchpin of this country outside Time, behind him.

Alive.

[creator_raven]

And as he runs, a swift winged shape begins to pace him, shadow covering the wolflord as he moves along the ground.

There is a sensation much like a very large hand shaking Galadan by the scruff of his neck, and the Summer Country fades away around him.

He tries once more to howl, rage, and despair, and defiance, but in the space between there is no air at all.

It is a pity.

But Raven's eardrums are happy.

And when the vertigo of passage fades, Galadan is running toward Milliways.

Hopefully he stops before he dunks himself in the lake.

It is still very cold, after all.

It would not do for the lord of the andain to catch a chill.

Really.