creator_raven | (no subject)

(no subject)

It has been some time since he has seen at least one of his sisters.

Given this one's tendency to get lost in her own head, Raven is likely not best pleased.

Possibly that is why Moiraine will find her study door tugged open, and her couch full of obnoxiously cheerful Bird.

Also cookies.

More cookies than even Raven can eat in a day.

There is no tea.

"You are not so much for hermiting, yes?"

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"In several ways, perhaps," she admits, after a moment.

"Although I suspect there are those who might be surprised by such a thing."

For a fleeting moment there is more affection than cheer in Raven's smile.

Then he sits back, looking smug again.

"That, I think, is often because people are stupid."

Beat.

"Also you are not so bad at faking, yes?"

Raven himself is entirely genuine. Always.

Really.

She is silent for several seconds, considering him.

"I am the person that I am, Raven."

Very quietly said, and Moiraine is very, very still.

He watches her, head tilted, black eyes wide and bright.

"That is not so much a surprise, Moiraine."

His smile is crooked.

"I am not so stupid."

"I do not think that I have ever said that you were," she returns, with perfect serenity.

"No."

He makes a face at her.

"You are also not that stupid."

"I should hope not," the Aes Sedai returns.

"Else I would not have survived this long."

There is a flicker of darkness in the dark eyes, although she makes no mention of it.

Raven snorts.

Then, because he can, and because they are both there, he bumps her shoulder with his.

It is only a little awkward, because she is tiny.

"It will be longer yet, I think."

Her lips curve in a very faint smile, although there is no humor in it.

"The Wheel weaves."

He snorts, flicking her forehead lightly.

"Also there is me, yes? So."

"So it would seem."

It says much, really, that Moiraine does not withdraw or pull away from Raven's casual action. Instead, she lets out a faint sigh and asks,

"Would you like tea?"

Raven considers this.

Then he considers Moiraine.

Then, grinning more than a little, he shoves her toward the couch.

"I am not so bad at making things, I do not think. So."

He promises not to overload her cup with sugar.

Really.

Both eyebrows rise in startled surprise, but Moiraine allows herself to be pushed, and settles on the sofa with more grace than Raven's push would seem to allow for.

"If you insist," she says, tranquilly.

Raven just snorts, fingers toying idly with the trailing threads of his sleeve.

This would be the point at which Moiraine finds her lap festooned with blue leopard-print bunny slippers.

Well, just one pair of them. Still.

Now. Where were Moiraine's tea things?

Without hesitation, she embraces saidar and channels.

Bare seconds later, the slippers are neatly placed beneath the couch.

Moiraine folds her hands in her lap and waits, perfectly composed.

Raven appears not to notice, very carefully paying attention to the boiling water.

There is still a pair of slippers in Moiraine's lap, however.

In addition to the pair under the couch.

"Do not think that it will work, Raven."

Calmly spoken, as Moiraine sets this second pair to the side.

It is entirely possible that the slippers no longer have anything to do with Moiraine's feet.

Or possibly Raven is just bored.

Regardless, there is another pair dropping down into her lap even as Raven sets the tea to steeping.

See the trouble he goes to for his sister?

This time, she makes no comment at all.

In fact, the Aes Sedai appears to ignore them entirely.

This would be the point at which they attack her face.

Fuzzily.

Raven has nothing to do with it.

Golden light leaps into being around her again, and the slippers vanish in a flash.

"Enough."

There's audible tension in her voice. Moiraine stands up and stalks across the room to her desk, where she stands with her back to him and her hands pressed flat against the wood.

Raven refrains from rolling his eyes.

Barely.

Then he sets her teacup on the desk, right between her hands.

It takes maneuvering.

His voice, when he speaks, is soft.

"It is not so much a game, I do not think."

She does not move.

"Is it not? What, then?"

He watches her, head tilted.

"You are for remembering Maggie, yes?"

"It is not likely that I would forget her."

She glances sideways at him.