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[we_bring_hell]

Harrowhark is in the bar, wearing the style of facepaint known as the Vanitas, with no lower teeth and sharp angular edges. It's good to be back in her makeup, even if the consecration was a greater undertaking than anticipated.

Although she is formally painted from the neck up, she is wearing some of the more informal clothes her room had supplied; soft trousers and a hoodie all in black. She is not wearing gloves today, because her palms are wrapped in bandages, but it is the kind of wound she is used to dealing with and it is healing quickly. The pinpricks of pain around her lips are worse, if only because it's been a very long time since she underwent the ritual of the Sewn Tongue.

She is diagramming spirals on paper, working in ink rather than blood right now. She can't spare any blood currently. She has refreshments to share, if you like faintly cucumber-flavored water and very bland, crumbly biscuits.

Comments

[blue_ajah]

The front door opens and Moiraine glides into the bar, moving with her customary grace.

She is carrying an artist's sketch pad and a box of colored pencils, which is not usual for the Aes Sedai.

A flicker of motion catches her eye, and she changes direction in order to approach Harrow.

"Lady Ninth. Light illumine."

[we_bring_hell]

She inclines her head in greeting. "Hello, Moiraine Sedai. How are you?"

[blue_ajah]

"As well as may be expected," she replies, as she draws out a chair to sit.

"And you?"

Dark eyes flicker to the bandages on Harrow's hands and back to her painted face.

[we_bring_hell]

"I am well," she says calmly. "We were able to complete the ritual to consecrate some makeup for the Effigial Rites, so I should be able to stay some time."

"I do need to decide a penance for myself as a result, but otherwise it was successful." Some might say that!

[blue_ajah]

"I am pleased to hear it."

Moiraine arches an eyebrow at her.

"A penance?"

[we_bring_hell]

"Yes," she says neutrally. "I had undergone the ritual of the Sewn Tongue to fulfill my role in the ritual. However, one of the individuals assisting me became overwhelmed and I had to violate my silence to complete the consecration."

She runs her tongue along her gums and feels the holes in her upper lip.

"The consecration itself was not nullified, but I broke my vow. As the Reverend Daughter of our Order I could pardon myself, but I have always loathed the taste of hypocrisy."

[blue_ajah]

She inclines her head in acknowledgement.

"Are your apparent injuries part of your penance, or might I offer you Healing?"

Her glance flicks to Harrow's hands again. The makeup, however, hides the marks in her lip, rendering the Aes Sedai unaware.

[we_bring_hell]

"By no means," she says. "If anything, injuries interfere with the ability to carry out penance."

"I would appreciate it greatly." She lifts her hands.

[blue_ajah]

Moiraine takes Harrow's hands in her own as the faint golden light which marks her channeling appears around her.

Threads of Spirit spiral from her fingers like a spiderweb, covering Harrow's hands in gleaming silver gloves. Blue and golden-white ribbons appear, wrapping around the bandages and sinking through them, knitting flesh and sealing skin, chased by the feeling of wind rushing over water.

The Aes Sedai frowns slightly, and another flash of silver light dances up Harrow's arm and to her face, where it presses a gentle touch as of invisible fingers against her lips.

[we_bring_hell]

Harrow holds perfectly still as the magic presses against the nine holes divided above and below her mouth. Her eyes widen, vivid against the black paint that surround them, but she does not move or say anything.

(The delving of the magic may detect a slow build of scar tissue in these holes where the ritual has carried out before, many times.)

[blue_ajah]

When the younger woman does not protest, Moiraine sends the Healing weave to follow where she has Delved, filling the holes with the same rush of power. She cannot remove the scars, but she can soften the edges and repair nerves damaged by the needle.

The light fades as she finishes, first from the weave and then from around her. She opens her hands.

"I have done what I might."

[we_bring_hell]

"Thank you," she says. "It is not an unfamiliar set of wounds, but I admit waiting for them to pass is tiresome."

She begins to unwind the bandages so she can put her gloves on. "Would you like some water? Or we can order tea if you prefer."

[blue_ajah]

"Water would be pleasant, I think," Moiraine says.

"Wounds of any sort are very often tiresome."

[acrookedpath]

Look who's finally awake for the day! Bleary-eyed, disheveled, and toting a novelty mug reading RISE AND SHINE, BITCHES, Wei Wuxian shuffles over from the bar to the Ninth's table, drawing up a smile as he goes.

"Good morning, Ninth," he offers, along with his traditional bow. "...Afternoon? I think it may be afternoon."

How has he slept for an additional four or five hours and still woken up tired? This seems deeply unfair.

[we_bring_hell]

"Good afternoon," she observes blandly. Her eyes flicker over the mug, but she says nothing.

"How are you?"

[acrookedpath]

"I am well," he says. "Tired, but well."

He sinks into a free chair and sets down the mug with a thunk.

"And you? I am glad to see you were able to..." He gestures to his own face in an absent circle. "That it worked, in the end."

[we_bring_hell]

"Indeed, I was. Thank you for your assistance." She inclines her head in a subtle bow.

"I should have enough makeup for several months--far longer than I mean to remain."

[acrookedpath]

"Good. I am glad. -- But I repeat myself," he goes on with a small laugh, and fiddles with the handle of the mug. "Please forgive me. Madam Bar has given me some very strong tea, and I hope it will finish clearing my mind a little more. It would probably help if I drank it, wouldn't it?"

Suiting action to words, he downs a mouthful.

[we_bring_hell]

She studies him briefly. "Are you sure you are well? I am sorry the ritual ran out of control."

[acrookedpath]

He shakes his head, waving a hand dismissively. "Only tired," he says again. "And I should be the one apologizing, Ninth. I was not able to fulfill my part of the ritual as you asked."

As much as Lan Zhan insisted Wei Wuxian was not to blame, it still pricks at him, as if he cannot stop prodding a bruise on his arm. He should have done better. He should have succeeded in the help he offered.

"I am sorry."

[we_bring_hell]

"By no means," she says. "The ritual did not run as anticipated, and you completed the majority of what I requested."

She frowns. "Two of the spirit manifestations didn't originate with me. Did you recognize them?"

[acrookedpath]

The exhausted good humor fades to a blank mask.

It is right that she should be curious. She did not expect them to manifest any more than Wei Wuxian himself, and she has no reason whatsoever to recognize them. Of course she would ask for clarity. He should provide it, he thinks distantly, in case she needs his help again. In case they reappear.

"Yes." Quiet enough that one would have to strain to hear. "My shijie -- my sister. Her husband."

[we_bring_hell]

"I see," she says, in an equally low voice. "It was distressing, I imagine. I apologize."

Briskly: "I believe the key mistake was in using constructs to play the roles of the Houses--they were vulnerable to possession, especially once I was in the throes of the rite. Combined with some other unforeseen factors, the Ennumeration went beyond its normal boundaries."

[acrookedpath]

The quick shift toward the technicalities of the ritual grasps Wei Wuxian by the collar, gently steering him away from the yawning pit of his worst thoughts. He nods, unable to meet the Ninth's eye right away, as he gulps down more tea to loosen the knot in his throat.

"What were the other factors?" he asks. "I know Lan Zhan worried that Inquiry may have been one of them."

[we_bring_hell]

"I agree I may have underestimated the impact of his music," she says. "For one who does not consider himself a necromancer, his power over spirits is remarkable."