NaNoWriMo - Cymru 14

Excerpts are becoming weird, now: there's so much story going on, since I've reached the point where everything's really kicking off, but I can't include it here because I've been carefully avoiding pasting plot. Anyway, here's more inconsequential stuff.


AWEN

"I'm coming with you."

Awen sighed, exasperated, running her hands through her hair.

"For the millionth time," she snapped through gritted teeth, "you are not. You are staying here and enjoying your holiday with your family. Now stop bothering me, Owain, I need to go."

The Landing Tower bustled, some stable hands trying their hardest not to overhear the two Riders shouting at each other and others trying very hard to overhear unobtrusively. Except the small boy standing in Brân's now-empty stable. He was openly staring. His mouth was even open. Brân pushed at Awen's back, impatiently.

"Whatever this is," Owain said seriously, stepping closer. "Whatever Lord Flyn has you doing in Aberystwyth, it doesn't matter. If you don't want me involved, that's fine, I won't be around for those bits. But you don't have to do this alone, Awen. I'm here for you."

"Owain," Awen said. "Either construct your own sentences when you talk to me or don't bother, but this isn't some kind of play. Stop using the most clichéd phrases this side of the Wars."

"Stop avoiding the issue," Owain countered, undaunted. "Anyway, I've already saddled up Cefin, and he'll sulk if he doesn't get to go out."

"So fly him around the city a few times," Awen said irritably; but her heart wasn't in this fight. Having come back to Casnewydd she was reminded just how much she wanted to go and collapse somewhere, so even though the situation remained laughably unresolved she'd been nonetheless profoundly disappointed to be told by Lord Flyn to go back to Aberystwyth barely three hours after Lord Gwilym and Prince Lorcan to ask Lord Gwilym directly for his help. Especially since Lord Flyn could have just done it while they were still in Casnewydd, and saved Awen a lot of bother.

At the end of this, Awen swore, she was taking a year off. Or a Half at the very least.

Having Owain around would actually be unfathomably comforting, even if she didn't want him knowing what was going on. It certainly fit the bill of him behaving naturally, anyway, especially since most of the stable hands in Casnewydd were now witness to her trying to keep Owain firmly in the City.

And Lord Flyn had a living shadow. This was rather preventing Awen from making clear decisions.

"Fine," she said wearily, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes. "Fine. But you are doing exactly what I say throughout, understand?"

Owain grinned, and Saluted.

"Understood, Leader," he said, and vanished in the direction of Cefin's stall. And really, Awen thought as she sprang onto Brân's back, who in the name of the gods called a meraden Cefin? It was like Owain was incapable of ever making any kind of good decision. Stable hands slunk forward and buckled her harness in place for her as she tightened her reins, Brân almost dancing on the spot, and behind her she heard Cefin's hooves clipping flatly on the floor. It was an odd sound; Awen was still used to hearing the sound of battle shoes on the merod.

She trotted to the runway, although she was aiming for a walk. Bân compromised by trotting at walking speed. As she reached the start of the runway Awen glanced down at the stable hands backing away.

"When you tell everyone you've ever spoken to in your life about this argument make sure you mention how suave and attractive I was," Awen said conversationally. They had the good grace to look embarrassed at that, and slunk away again. The second they were clear, Awen loosened her grip on the reins and allowed Brân to canter and fling himself off the edge of the runway as fast as he liked. She ignored Owain's shout behind her. If he wanted to come he could bloody well keep up.