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Entry tags:
TDIR: Spiderwebs
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Owen/Guinevere, John/Blodwen
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Owen still has the note, if he has nothing else. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
over_look.
Owen still has the note, if he has nothing else. Nothing of Bran, because his obsession with religion, his foolish rigidity, drove his son not-son away, drove him to leave and erase himself completely. He has no photographs of Bran, because Bran's strangeness seemed to deny being captured on film, and most photos ended up blurred and over-exposed. Those that did not, Owen cannot bear to look at.
All he has of Guinevere now is a memory, blurred by time and things he could never hope to understand -- and the note. He stares at it, sometimes, just pulls it out from the pocket next to his heart and stares at it, tasting the bitterness one more time. When he hears harp playing, he remembers her best, her quiet smile, and the way she held Bran. He remembers Bran, too, the way he'd caress a harp like a loved one, the way he devoted himself to his harp in an effort to win approval, the way even the harps came between them.
John Rowlands comes by, sometimes, but he's a half-man now too, since his Blodwen died. The two of them sit together, and do not make a whole, and John goes away leaving Owen sadder than when he came. David Evans does not visit.
He writes to Bran, sometimes. Rhys Evans sends the letters to Will Stanton, who sends them to Bran. There has not been any reply. Owen does not expect one.
The note is so battered, so fragile, now, that he's almost afraid to touch it, afraid that it will collapse, too, like everything else, a memory as insubstantial as the spiderweb in Bran's window.
Pairing: Owen/Guinevere, John/Blodwen
Warnings: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Owen still has the note, if he has nothing else. For
over_look.Owen still has the note, if he has nothing else. Nothing of Bran, because his obsession with religion, his foolish rigidity, drove his son not-son away, drove him to leave and erase himself completely. He has no photographs of Bran, because Bran's strangeness seemed to deny being captured on film, and most photos ended up blurred and over-exposed. Those that did not, Owen cannot bear to look at.
All he has of Guinevere now is a memory, blurred by time and things he could never hope to understand -- and the note. He stares at it, sometimes, just pulls it out from the pocket next to his heart and stares at it, tasting the bitterness one more time. When he hears harp playing, he remembers her best, her quiet smile, and the way she held Bran. He remembers Bran, too, the way he'd caress a harp like a loved one, the way he devoted himself to his harp in an effort to win approval, the way even the harps came between them.
John Rowlands comes by, sometimes, but he's a half-man now too, since his Blodwen died. The two of them sit together, and do not make a whole, and John goes away leaving Owen sadder than when he came. David Evans does not visit.
He writes to Bran, sometimes. Rhys Evans sends the letters to Will Stanton, who sends them to Bran. There has not been any reply. Owen does not expect one.
The note is so battered, so fragile, now, that he's almost afraid to touch it, afraid that it will collapse, too, like everything else, a memory as insubstantial as the spiderweb in Bran's window.