we_bring_hell | (no subject)

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You would need an advanced degree in Nonagesamics to realize that Harrowhark is ecstatically happy this morning, but even the layman can tell that her usual spikes are retracted somewhat. Not the spikes on her boots--Gideon liked these boots, and she has no intention of wearing anything else for a while. But the metaphorical spikes.

Aside from her boots she is back in her standard habit--black trousers, black long-sleeve shirt with the high collar. No gloves. Her hair is freshly cropped back to her scalp. Her face is painted with exceptional care, in what Harrow considers the sexiest pattern, because Harrowhark has opinions about things like that. This one is called The Chain and has considerable, immodest flourishes. She has edged the perimeter of the painted skull with midnight purples and deep blood reds, an even greater departure from propriety.

She is writing in her journal, and since she writes in code there is no way anyone can tell she has doodled One Flesh One End approximately one hundred times. She has been eating oatmeal, and by God she even ate the raisins.

Things are good. For now, for once, things are good.

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The Aes Sedai descends from upstairs, where she has spent the previous evening and overnight immured in her old study, planning things.

She pauses at the base of the steps, studying Harrow and taking in every nuance of her appearance, and then glides across the floor to her table.

"Harrow," she says. "Light illumine. How are matters with you?"

"Quite well," she says. "Quite well indeed. And yourself?"

Edited 2020-10-20 13:16 (UTC)

"I am pleased to hear it," she says, with a small, gentle smile.

"I myself am not unwell. I am considering reestablishing my study here."

She nods. "We have discussed its value as a retreat before."

"Gideon Nav has arrived at the bar," she says quietly. "I understand she made your acquaintance?"

"Indeed," she agrees, to both statements.

"I suspect she does not know quite what to make of me, at least not yet, but I was glad - if surprised - to meet her here."

"As was I," she admits. "When she first arrived here we were not synchronized in time and it was..." She ponders the correct word, and settles on. "Unsupportable."

Even through the morning-after haze, guilt for the Fourth can still bite down hard.

Dark eyes narrow slightly, at this, and Moiraine seats herself at Harrow's table without waiting for an invitation.

"When she first arrived," she repeats. "And now?"

"Now we are," she says, her smile obvious even through the paint. "And I have told her all."

And is, despite all expectations, still alive. "We are sworn to one another. One flesh, one end."

"Harrow."

Moiraine is smiling, now.

"Light be praised. I am very happy for you both."

"I was certain she would kill me," she confesses. "Had convinced myself of it. I had no plan for... forgiveness."

"It is sometimes easier to prepare for the worst than to allow oneself to believe in the best," she murmurs.

"We have agreed to remain here for some little while," she says. "I cannot deny myself the time to explore the information Palamedes shared, and to take advantage of the other lessons available; and for her part there is much she would like to learn from the warriors who frequent this place."

"Matters in Canaan House still stand on a knife's edge. We must be prepared." But it's we, now.

"I think that is wise of you," she agrees. "I hope you know that I would be glad to be of assistance where I may."

"We had spoken of practicing the portal weave," she says. "Do you have the time this morning?"

"I do, as it happens."

"Then shall we?" she says, then pauses. "I should inform my cavalier where I will be, however."

Try to look less giddy when you say that, Harrow.

Moiraine smiles, very slightly.

"I shall wait here for you," she says. "Bring her along, if you and she both wish."

Harrow returns, sans cavalier, but having added a jacket to her ensemble. It is leather, and as such, responsive to her powers, which is reassuring.

"She is still asleep," she says, with an indulgent rolling of her eyes. "But the last few days have been terrible for her. I have been here long enough to have recovered some of my equilibrium, but for her it was all only yesterday."

"Shall we?"

"Certainly."

She rises, graceful as always, and glides beside Harrow toward the lake door.

"If there is a particular area that you have spent time," she instructs, "then we might begin there."

"The inlet," she says immediately.

She does not say why, but to someone of Moiraine's perspicacity it's hardly necessary. It's salt water; and when they arrive, the sand is marked. Among the various marks are two sets of prints of bare feet, still quite fresh. One is notably larger than the other.

She glances at the footprints, then back at Harrow.

"To open a portal, a gateway, to another location is known as Traveling," the Aes Sedai says. "Although there are some shortcuts that may be possible, I think it is important for you to have fully mastered the process before trying them."

"The first thing is that you must know the location where you are attempting to open the gateway. The feel of the land, the air around you, the landscape itself -- all the things that make it distinctive to you, so that you would be able to identify the particular place itself as different from another."

She nods. "It is, at least, the most significant place in the outside of Milliways to me." Unfortunately, Harrow spends a lot of her time inside. "I have worked ritual magic of sacred geography here."

"All right. We will weave from here to a clearing on the other side of the stables, past the paddock and just inside the woods," Moiraine tells her.

"I will do so first, so that you may see how I do it. Do you think it would help you to see, if you were to link with me as you did before?"

"That could help," she agrees. "Are you prepared?"

A faint golden glow springs into existence around her as she embraces saidar, and Moiraine nods to her.