Starlight & Revelry - White Tower Ball [OPEN]

[Sirayn]

“Will you taste the punch, Mother?”

 

It being improper for an Amyrlin to get her hands dirty, however much she might remember numerous kitchen chores as a novice, Sirayn had kept her involvement in organising the ball to a minimum; she had simply picked out a tremendous disused ballroom and adjacent dining room in the Tower’s heart and delegated the hard labour to the Mistress of the Kitchens. An army of kitchen servants had been marshalled in record time and set to work. They had swept floors, cleaned out cobwebs, polished the rich wood panels to a bright gleam and furnished the dining room with row upon row of fine oak tables.

 

Decorations had required at least her nominal oversight. Under her direction they had hung up half a hundred pretty coloured lanterns to cast light on the proceedings; in her memory every man invited to an occasion turned up in unrelieved black and she considered it wise to add at least a touch of colour in advance. The wide doors had been flung open to let cool early-evening air circulate from the sweetly scented gardens outside. Music they had brought in from Tar Valon. Drinks had been a somewhat delicate topic in comparison; without the stark uniform whites which marked the people not allowed to drink all year round, it was difficult to think how to prevent them all being rolling drunk before midnight. In the end she had just given up and relied on the threat of severe future punishment to discourage them from getting smashed.

 

The punch marked the high point of all their work, after which their kitchen helpers could sidle away to their ordinary duties and, if they were lucky, a long cool drink. Timeless old Laras held out an empty glass to her; Sirayn contemplated it gravely, surveyed the eager faces surrounding her in the bright ballroom, and stuffed her long-running war against alcohol away for a moment.

 

Nobody else was here. Briefly her innate and usually hidden love of showmanship woke up. She held up a finger for hush, then pushed back her sleeves ceremoniously, dipped her glass into the punch bowl and held it up. Bright lantern light lit through the liquid in shades of peach and gold, drops fell like diamonds back into the bowl. Maintaining a superbly serious expression, as if assessing the price of an old masterwork painting, Sirayn tasted the punch. The unaccustomed sting of alcohol startled her -- she hadn’t had so much as a sip in a very long time -- but the flavour suited her, light and not too sweet. Judgement time stretched out a moment longer until, solemnly, the Amyrlin gave her verdict. “It’ll do. Good work.”

 

They beamed; she permitted herself a small smile. The Mistress of the Kitchens clapped her hands. “Back to the kitchens!” In one corner the band were tuning up their instruments in a series of sliding sounds over the clatter as the kitchen servants trooped out. At first a screech, each sound gradually smoothed out into a low, sweet note. Less than an hour to go. A satisfied nod and Sirayn departed to get dressed up.

 

*

 

Master Danveer,

 

You are cordially invited to the upcoming White Tower Ball as my partner. You know the drill. I suggest you leave your usual tricks behind; should I hear that anyone left their drink unattended and inexplicably never woke in the morning, heads will roll, starting with yours.

 

Regards,

Sirayn Sedai

 

Formal, precise and occasionally sinister: the style she had done her best to put across in the tersely worded message. It at least covered up the multitude of doubts she had about the invitation, the Corin Danveer situation in general, and her own contagious idiocy. She even flattered herself to think that she had achieved the proper level of detachment suitable toward a Tower Guard.

 

The distance effect counted for one major reason why she preferred to conduct her business by letter. If she could have cut out all contact whatsoever, reduced daily life to a series of impersonal messages carried by courier, she did not doubt her work would be more efficient; not only that but she could cut out all the messy, unnecessary trappings of sentiment and stick to logic. Her feelings told her that she hated and feared the boy Danveer in equal measure, that she just couldn’t understand why he had turned on her so terrifyingly, that maybe she would never be able to see him again without remembering how he had touched her as she lay paralysed … that she had spared his life because she was a stupid soft fool, because she had liked him when she should have known better, because she was ashamed of herself, because she was too much of a coward to kill another child.

 

Logic told her that the boy was a liability and a possible Darkfriend, who had achieved nothing even backed up by forkroot and had no excuse for his failure, but one whom she might make use of yet. She preferred that version. It was colder, smarter, better. The quicker she learnt the Tower Guard philosophy trick the better for all her concerns.

 

Protocol dictated that she send her invitation early, to give her partner a week or two’s notice to prepare for the occasion, and thus she had had plenty of time to ponder the sheer lunacy of allowing a poisoner into an event full of young women too empty-headed to check who was putting what into their glass. In theory at least, she couldn’t be placing them in any more unnecessary danger than she already had by not having him thrown out of Tar Valon in the first place, since the red cloak gave him as much freedom as he needed to cut a swathe through the Tower. Besides, she could scarcely ban him from the ball without at least some public reason and Light only knew she had neither the desire nor the intention for that.

 

Yet all the same … it went against the grain to present such an enticing opportunity to an enemy. Certainly she was under no illusions about who would be ultimately at fault if anything happened tonight. Heads would roll, starting with his -- and then moving onto hers. Until then she could only limit the potential damage as much as possible. Keeping him closely at her side was one of the few ways she had in mind; she wasn’t exactly enthused by the prospect of an entire evening in the company of someone who had planned to keep her under forkroot until she went insane, but she wasn’t doing this for her own peace of mind, security considerations had to come first.

 

Anyway, it was all out of her hands now. She had sent the invitation, spent the intervening time preparing for the ball itself, and now she had no option but to rely on her own work and good judgement.

 

*

 

Prettiness had never been her field; she had long since given up on turning her plain looks into anything approaching the effortless glamour and beauty some Aes Sedai could summon at the snap of their fingers. Next to auburn-haired Jaydena Mckanthur she had always dimmed into obscurity -- a lesser light, out of place and overshadowed. Tonight she had intended primarily as a full formal trial for her Basic Etiquette students, so they could prove their competence in a proper occasion, but an Amyrlin was never off duty; it would also be an opportunity for her to make herself seen, to measure the mood, to check up on some of the underlying currents and, subtler still, to change them if she willed it. Anonymity was no longer an option.

 

Thanks to a discerning seamstress, she had acquired a new gown, which she was now with some difficulty lacing herself into one-handed. Mostly for numerous symbolic purposes -- for example that it was the colour of the Flame of Tar Valon on the ancient Aes Sedai banner, and a shade which would show up brighter as the evening went on and the lights dimmed, and emphatically not the colour of her former Ajah -- but also partly because with so many initiates finally allowed out of uniform probably nobody else would wear it … she had gone for white: a simple white gown, floor length, with long sweeping sleeves.

 

Once upon a time she had been coming to terms with the loss of her hand. Now the blackmailing memories were too vivid to face the thought of everyone staring at the crippled Amyrlin; how people ever got used to being marked so publicly, symbolic of her own bloody cowardice, she had no idea. Presumably some people did get over it. So she covered it up, good long sleeves so nobody would even notice, no opportunity to gossip or stare. It put a dent in her mood; to distract herself she arranged her dark hair, wound a narrow seven-striped sash about her waist, the only concession to her rank. Fortunately there wasn’t any time left to brood.

 

Outside the ballroom she met her partner. Any youngster with stars in her eyes would have been flattered to accompany Corin Danveer, with his fine good looks and his flawless record in the Tower Guard, but then again most youngsters were idiots; when she looked at him all dressed for the occasion she remembered the first ball they had gone to together, the Damodred occasion full of wit and beauty and poison, where she had talked politics with Cairhienin schemers while pretty young women turned on the charm for him … but she also remembered shame and fear and helplessness at his hands.

 

Maybe she should have granted his wish. He’d be less trouble dead. Sirayn took his arm like a well-mannered partner should, as if she didn’t remember how she had flinched from his touch, and put on a smile she didn’t feel. “Shall we begin, Master Danveer?”

 

ooc: Open to all members of the White Tower & Warders Divisions. Members of other Divisions please contact me before posting. Cheers and have fun everybody!

 

Sirayn Damodred

Watcher of the Seals

Flame of Tar Valon

The Amyrlin Seat

[Lavinya]

Pia Tovisen was well prepared for the ball, in a timely manner. As the Mistress of Novices, she would not be attending to enjoy herself, but rather to keep a sharp eye on the events. She took her role seriously, ensuring that nothing concerning the girls in her charge missed her notice. She had her own eyes and ears within the tower, to be sure, but where possible, Pia preferred to keep an eye on the girls herself.

 

The dress Pia wore was of a modest cut, made from delicate silver silk and embroidered with small blue forget-me-nots along the hem and bodice. Even after all her years, she would much prefer something simpler, but it was not proper for an Aes Sedai to wear rough woollens and stout boots, particularly when that Aes Sedai was charged with overseeing the new initiates and training them to be fine examples of Aes Sedai class. One small luxury she allowed herself was a necklace, silver flowers linked intricately, the centre of each being a small blue moonstone. It was a ball, after all.

 

None of the younglings were in attendance when Pia presented herself to the hall, but that was deliberate timing. The Amyrlin herself may have overseen preparations, but Pia would be there to watch over the girls and lads as they arrived. Servants scurried about, finalising the decorations and provisions. For once the novices were to be relieved of the serving tasks, allowed to instead enjoy the rare freedom given them this evening.

 

It was not long before the guests began to arrive. It was a strange sight, the girls who normally wore unrelenting white arriving in a vivid array of colours, enough to rival the brightest of the Tower gardens. Pia smiled, nodding her greeting to the bright faced youths, flushed with excitement. Collecting a glass of punch, Pia moved to a side wall where she could watch the proceedings without being intrusive. The event was also supposed to be a final test for the students of the Amyrlin's class.

 

Pia greeted the other Aes Sedai that had joined the affair, but her eyes were soon drawn to the Mother, a noble looking Tower Guard on her arm. The Mistress of Novices briefly wondered on the Amyrlin's choice of dress. While novices and accepted wore white, it was not common for any Aes Sedai to wear the colour, unless they were in mourning or a member of that particular Ajah. The young man came under her speculative gaze also, but she soon pushed her wonderings aside. It was not her place to assume anything about her Amyrlin. Instead she watched as the room erupted in a flurry of soft sounds as skirts were spread and knees were bent in deep curtsies, out of respect for the Mother.

 

It was like a wave of movement, as Sirayn Simeone walked through the room, the respectful bows following her. Pia added her own curtsey, before her eyes swept back over the growing crowd. She had other things to keep her mind on this evening. Wherever novices, accepted and trainees joined together, there always seemed to be trouble ensuing. Pia was determined not to miss a single stray bat of eyelash or inappropriate touch of hand.

 

 

Pia Tovisen

Mistress of Novices

Watching like a hawk

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa~

 

The dress she had been able to borrow was a masterpiece. Seawater silk fell in oceanic waves across her figure, emphasising how she had changed since becoming an Accepted as opposed to the girl she had been as a novice. A light frothing of lace at the neckline and petticoats made it look akin to the oceans she had seen on trips to the harbour in Ebou Dar itself. Rossa felt like the noble she was, rather than the Accepted she had become. It would be hard to remember her status, if she let the dress and her memories cloud her mind. Temptation to ask about Altara, and her family, suddenly danced in front of her like a honeyed cake to a child, and she stood staring at her dully reflected image with her mouth slightly open.

 

Stop staring at yourself like that. You look like a newly landed fish!

 

Her sister’s words had always been like that when they had been alone. Oh, in public it was a different matter, and of course whenever there was anyone to see her, she was the epitome of an Ebou Dari lady. As they had been dressing for whatever event it had been, her sister’s personality had began to exhibit itself. Rossa would never forget Bianca, in spite of her faults, but she could not afford to make mistakes tonight. Not in front of Sirayn Sedai. Not in front of her.

 

She closed her mouth, and lifted her chin slightly. There. She had to remember to be correct of posture and alignment, so that she would not look slovenly or lax. The usual trick of imagining a bird flying away from the top of her head and a sack on a string at the base of her spine to keep her back straight was useful too. The slender necklace that would never hold a marriage knife adorned her neck, but she wore no other jewellery other than her. And the hour was approaching fast.

 

She liked to be early. She liked to watch the other guests arrive, and study opening conversations and behaviour of those attending, and also to make sure she knew the layout and other little details, such as what beverages had been provided, and other little arrangements like that. How well a person knew a particular room could be viewed as how well they knew the person hosting whatever event it was, and so it paid to be diligent in paying attention to detail, particularly if there was something to gain…

 

Rossa wondered whether Nerome would put in an appearance at the ball. He had been present at the original Basic Etiquette class where Rossa had discovered the other novices gave him covert glances and laughed behind hands. She hoped he would be there, but she wouldn’t show that. Oh, no. A few Aes Sedai were unmistakable by their ageless faces and amazing grace, and already present, as were a few attendants and maids. Her mother had always taught her that a lady should make an entrance, but Rossa disagreed. She thought it better to be early, so if any plans needed to be changed, they could be with minimum degradation to your appearance or reputation.

 

The room would unfold as soon as she entered. Rossa paused on the threshold to gather her thoughts and posture, and she glided in. She looked around, trying to recognise any faces she knew, and saw one or two, but she was largely one of the first to arrive. Sampling the atmosphere, Rossa smiled.

[tismeb4u]

Silently Corin's hand slid down the length of the sleeve feeling the soft fine texture of the material. Only once had he spent as much on an outfit bound to be worn on the most rarest of occasions. It had cost him dearly for the the coat and trousers now adorning his frame; the shirt had been nothing in comparison but still more then he would normally pay for a white shirt. Then again it was not like he wore the finery often. Turning slightly his eyes watched the slightly warped figure reflected back at him searching the fabric. The seamstress had stated that it was not a true midnight black, only that it gave the impression of it. When hit with light at just the right angle to the eyes a slight whisper of the deepest green would shimmer across it's surface to enhance the color of his eyes. The smile she beamed at him with the comment made it easy for him to agree to the material and depart quickly; only too happy she had already done her measuring. He was not about to start out this second offering with that level of trouble attached to his name.

 

Concern swept over his face as his fingers collected the plain letter from the table and tapped it against the palm of his opposite hand. An invitation, well truth be told it was more of a summons and an order, to a ball in the Tower. A rather large and fanciful ball directed by none other then her own hand. Since her ascension to the seven striped stole it had become much harder at collecting information on one Sirayn Damodred. Information that had once slipped to him in infrequent trickles now dripped to him at almost the rate of water squeezed from a stone. His fingers traced over the seal once more as if trying to pull the memory of her touch from it. Folding open the parchment again his eyes scanned the invitation once more seeking anything else he might have missed in the past one hundred viewings. At one time her missives came to him with an almost regularity pace. But since the cabin this had been the first directed to him.

 

The letter held no warmth, nothing to mark fondness of even friendship. In fact, if one was to take it at face value it would have brought an air of hostility and a strong undercurrent of threat. But to Corin it was a start. If she was willing to pen him the invitation with her own hand, and as such have him at her side as an escort; then it mattered not the level of adversarial tone in the invitation. It lent to the flicker of hope that somewhere deep inside the cold and structured appearance of Sirayn Sedai a remembered emotion still lingered. If there was even a goat hairs chance that he might still find a way to her side in service and perhaps ... He dashed the idea forming in his head quickly, little steps Corin, soft simple little steps so as not to scare her off again. Indeed, too much chaos had come to his life since she had left it vacant, besides it would give him a chance to personally check up on one particular student of interest. One that by the very nature of the darkness Sirayn thought Corin part of; had come in to his service. Regardless of her present views; Sirayn's teaching and tricks had not fallen on deaf ears or blind eyes. Everything he had gleaned from her through lessons and observations had been rolled into a skill still in it's infancy compared to the mastery with which she wheeled. But like a child it was growing rapidly, and held a yearning hunger for praise.

 

Folding it once more Corin slipped it into an inner coat pocket in case it was needed for entry and scanned the room once more. His red cloak of position hung on a peg next to his sword. This was to be a celebration but not of service or duty; as such the ceremonial requirements of both would not be needed. Reactively a hand swept over the forearm of the other feeling the secreted blade; too many strange happenings had taken place inside the secure walls of the tower not to be cautious. A gathering such as this could easily become a target for who knew how many countless others seeking to further their own desires. No it was best to error on the side of caution, hence the reasoning behind several daggers secreted upon his person. Should anything go awry tonight, he would do everything to ensure she remained safe. With nothing left to do and no further reason for delay he slipped out the door heading to a chance reunion that perhaps would lead back to a righting of situations.

 

Knowing Sirayn to the level he did, Corin ensured he was at the ball entrance early and waited patiently for her arrival. If the Amyrlin was fashionably late that was fine, if however her escort was, there would be no end to the grief he would receive that night if she allowed him to accompany her at all. A risk he was certainly not willing to take, better to look to eager then be late. Her arrival was perfectly timed and indeed the information received had been correct in every detail as to her choice of gown and color. Rising from a deep formal bow he offered his arm and was elated when hers slipped around it. Her tone was still stand offish and flat but it was still early in this new game; besides he was at her side once more and he could feel the wonderful contact of her arm against his. He patted it lightly with his other hand as he offered her a warm smile, “it would be my pleasure mother.” Let the games begin anew my dear, the idea sent a small thrill up his spine as he turned and lead her on his arm into the hall.

 

The hall itself was amazing in sheer size and the simple yet brightly colored lights that covered it's vastness in varying pools. The announcer at the door bowed deeply to Sirayn as she passed, before turning and announcing them into the hall; his voice reverberating off the ceiling and walls. Pride swelled inside him as he heard her title run out and then the small addition of his simple name and placement in the hierarchy of the tower ranks. “I kind of rather like the sound of that,” his voice was a muffled whisper for her ears alone. Taking only a few short steps into the once bustling hall he came to a smooth stop at her side as all eyes turned toward them at the announcement and the room fell silent. When her arm slipped from his own he took her cue; bowing deeply with great formality before he stepped back leaving her the center of attention for her announcement.

 

It was a wonderful miracle that she had the need to address the room as it gave him a chance to truly take her in unobserved while she was preoccupied. The colored pools of light lite a shimmer to her white gown and picked the red highlights from her dark hair. Corin's mouth became dry as he drank in her hidden beauty and remember the softness of her skin that night at the cabin. Though her dress did not hug her form or accentuate curves; it did amplify the regality she displayed in queenly form and drew eyes to her. Clever Sirayn, indeed very clever of you, no one would be able to easily dismiss her presence.

 

 

Corin Danveer

Tower Guard

Testing renewed waters ;)

[Lih-Lyh]

It was said that when women style their hair differently it was a sign that they wanted change in themselves. Little did she know that it was curls that would have set off the cascade of events landing her in the Mistress of Novice’s office in the morning. Still, all things had a beginning, and the story of how Saline fared at the White Tower ball, her first formal in ages, would have to start several months earlier with a visitation.

 

Saline stared at the beads glittering on the table, obsolete. She had not believed she would do so until after it was done. One clip had folded her hair and tucked it in, while another pinned the blond strands up. I look like I'm being tortured, she grinned into the mirror at what would be curls. Dark eyes sparkled as she whirled to meet the opening door, and the priceless shock of her roommate's face.

 

Shoving the door to her room open Syara stopped with her mouth open, a loud shout to wake Saline frozen on her tongue. There stood her roommate, with a look of tortured horror on her face. Saline's hair was done in magnificent curls, primped to perfection. She would have looked almost like an Aes Sedai, had it not been for the white Novice dress.

 

She looked like a Lady, no! A Queen!

 

"How.......when.......bloody ashes Saline, you look beautiful! Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?"

 

Really? Her cheeks were heated afresh, and the flush crept to the back of her neck too, where the Taraboner was most sensitive. She was torn between doubts and pleasure in this, and for some reason the attention from Syara was more flattering than she reckoned for, and there was a moment when she was afraid of wanting to please her roommate, before putting it forth from her mind. Sincerity shone in the flames of her roommate’s tresses. The Taraboner inhaled, loving the soapy smell.

 

As she heard these words her vivacious roommate addressed her by she began to understand the power of believing in such words. Nodding, Saline wanted to be dignified, as she swallowed a silly smile. Her lips pressed hard, she said in a thin soft voice, "I think I deserve this." Tossing her honeyed curls at Syara, she murmured, "not an eyesore anymore, on the outside anyway." It reminded her of her past, something she repressed, yet could not be forgotten. The former heir of House Wastrel used to know how to deal with these accessories, but the Novice Saline was in dire need of her roommate's assistance. "Syara, dear, come here and help me with these." She beckoned, for her hair clips had gone astray, and she wanted nothing short of making herself look the best she could, just because it was possible. Making demands like this, that was the old her, but she knew her wonderful roommate would understand, and give her a hand in this, as she had in every scheme they shared.

 

She had roommates before Syara. They were lovely young women. Aevy dared speak the truth where everybody else would not. Sweet Zayna who could sooth the worse of worries with a well-placed gesture or soft spoken word. It was ironic that the ball was hosted for the Basic Etiquette classes to practice. She had known of this because her two previous roommates had dragged her to Basic Etiquette. Aevy had been her partner in Basic Etiquette, the course that Elyssa Sedai had taught a few years ago, but they had never proceeded to the ball together because Aevy started having her nightmares and ran away for the second time. Her roommates. They had come to pass.

~~~

 

"Vera Sedai I must speak with you." Approaching the Grey Sister Saline dipped into a deep curtsey for Syara’s Mentor. Vera Sedai was Saline’s Advisor for the independent project she decided to select, and after giving it much consideration she decided to take advantage of the upcoming ball for easier access to Novices and Accepted on a night of fun. Before she went on the trip to the outskirts with Lyssa the Tower Guard the idea was pending approval though. “I would like to ask Mina Daryl and a few others to help me.”

 

Anything else? She yearned to ask after Syara but did not want the questions. She left the study to make some arrangements. The preparation was up to her to design, and she was determined to make it the most exciting ball the initiates would have encountered. The experiment would be supervised directly by the eminent Vera Sedai, but the planning had Saline as the mastermind behind the scheme, one that Syara would not knowingly partake of.

 

She knocked on the Accepted’s door. “Rossa?” Closing the door behind her, she explained what she wanted in the drawings to her friend. In high details, she delineated the blackened banana in the drawing room to the cream pie in the kitchen of the inn, and the artist’s skills were such that rendered her visions unto parchment, actualised as masterpieces.

 

She reported to Vera Sedai for the second time.

 

“And the music?”

 

“One of the Accepted is phenomenal with the violin. Or there could be bards.”

 

Bards! She scurried to make contact…

 

Standing in front of the door to Syara’s room, not theirs, anymore, she tried to actualise the much owed visit but the shame that she was only going for the notes she missed in Daes Daemar lectures while she trained in the wilderness. Whence came such tension?

 

“I am going to town.” She had not gone into town since that disastrous panhandler incident with Estel Sedai. But it was time to move on. Shopping always made her feel better. Marginally.

 

The fabric she was shown would accentuate her curls, assured the seamstress. It was red, but a red so dark it was essentially black. It reminded Saline of her Mentor, more specifically the wilted rose they did not place a Keeping on in Intermediate. Perine Sedai had been sewing when they first met, and while waiting on the cushion for Miss Ino, Saline worked on her dress whenever she could between expectations.

 

Last night she brought up the subject of the ball with Ino. Her mentee was doing well, and Saline had been ultra pleased by the reports that Mina wrote. It was the first time they had seen each other since Saline went on the wilderness expedition.

 

~~~

Worrying her curls back with a brown ribbon, she ran from the verandah she went through her mind of the last minute arrangements. Back in the garden she had practiced her forms with the scimitar but it did not take the edges off her nerves. She had to take herself away, not desiring to harass the volunteers, but wanted to be certain of some level of success. Where was Mina?

 

Glancing at herself surreptitiously she permitted a smile. The fabric rubbed her back like water, and molded to a roundness she never knew she possessed, creating an unexpected softness to her eyes, revealing a younger image than she expected. She was slightly tanned from her trip abroad, and the darker complexion gave the Accepted a healthy shine.

 

Her feet wandered but this time deliberately. Saline knocked tentatively. “Dear?” Their room was alight. What if Syara had gotten another roommate? No, no, her mind combated the suspicions. Her heart plummeted.

 

Then the door opened; she was admitted. Her smile widened, she was elated though something in her heart turned over. Syara was magnificent in the pale red silk. “Ready to go?”

 

What a fine pair they would make as they entered, her roommate and her. It would be a night of many first’s. Linking arms they rounded the corner and who did they meet but the one she was searching for since yesterday - Mina Daryl, in her Accepted dress as usual.

 

Their eyes widened. “Have, have you changed, Mina?”

 

Mina placated. "Whatever the Tower puts on me, so I do wear, for I do be the Tower, and it do be Me."

 

Time passed.

 

And the group entered.

 

Seeing Pia Tovesin Sedai scan the room, she quickly curtseyed. As she rose she hoped she would not attract that sort of attention. It was no time to be flustered either, she had to find a musician later in the evening for a service, and she had a lady bard in mind who would be stunning.

 

~~~

Nerome had never quite liked evening balls. There was something about them that made him uncomfortable and shifty, nervous really. It would mean that his manners were never quite as spotless as they could’ve been, or that his smile not as endearing as he would’ve wished, or even that his wit would be reduced to a dull comment so glassy with effort, that when the tinkling laughs did tumble out, it was more out of amused pity than being just, well, amused. It would mean that Selandre would look at him out of the corner of her eye and click her tongue, ever so slightly, so that no one but he would know it for what it was…and that too was only because he could now link her face to every action. And so it meant that the aftermath of such nightly affairs were often disastrous, for he would often arrive back with knotted eyebrows and a sullen mouth, not only disappointed, but A disappointment to the Seshir name. Of course, things had changed, time had ticked on and so he was left with no name to live up to, but instead just a charming smile and the expectations of a keen eyed.

 

It did not take Nerome much to realise that he was in fact, late. Not too late, he hoped. Music was lilting out of slight openings and wide doorways in such a gentle manner that could only mean that it had been settled in the atmosphere for a while now. Laughter- slender, well mannered curls of it were sliding out comfortably, yet another sign. He could see the grand oak doors in the distance, appreciating how they gleamed and glinted. Breathtaking women, Aes Sedai and Accepted alike were adorned in jewelled beauties of garment, while the men, some Tower Trainees like himself were standing tall and polished. Smooth was really the word for all he saw. A little nervously, only a little mind you, Nerome looked down at his own garb. The money had come through unnatural means, true enough, he thought with a smile as he thought of Cairhien, but it had been well worth it. A lush shade of midnight blue, as befitted.

 

Smiling distractedly at an Accepted who looked somehow familiar, Nerome quickly slipped by the incoming groups of people. It was not just the fact that he was late, and there were impressions to make, or really, impressions to leave, but rather the fact that there could just be someone waiting for him at the other end of the room. She could just be there, right there with her face an impeccable work of control and grace, while she weaved in and out of little circles, her hand fitted around the tall stem of a wine glass. Rossa. He couldn't keep her waiting, if she was that is.

 

His partner in the most peculiar lessons he'd had in a while, Rossa Venye did not seem to think very highly of him anymore. 'Coolly acquainted', seemed to be the very best they could be described at, and it disturbed him. Not in voluminous amounts certainly, but instead a nagging sensation that some things were not supposed to stay the way they had fallen out to be.

 

~~~

She did not loom. Mina Daryl looked a shirking violet for all she professed to be a tower. Not to mention the Tower. Her declaration had been taken in without a rebounding wave, just as the girls accepted every statement she formulated with an ineffable calm that only indifference could have created when converged with time. Time – as a logician so aptly observed – was the only property a man could be deprived of, and Mina who was very taken with this truth, as she do be with all truths, not to be squandered on the frivolities. For those do be vanity, they do be the egoistical illusion of narcissism that her fellow initiates do be particularly prone to. She eyed those with disapproval in her watery cornflowers, and to a detached effect her judgement even crashed upon the ceremonies full Sisters indulged in as too time consuming. She knew that reason do be given often to emotions, but felt that no feelings do compare to passion, which transgressed the thresholds of the human psyche into a will that do be infinitely powerful, and do never be wrong, only misinterpreted.

 

A sprightly tune pervaded the floor with many tapping of heels and swishing of fabric as they muzzled nearer. But Mina, she concentrated on the significant objects that required observation and ignored the people. It would serve to encourage their self-absorbed obsessions otherwise.

 

Mina appraised the music. “The music do be passable. I fancy fiddling with strings do be most impressive. There do be singing later.” She felt little urge to actually dance, and lesser to join the congregation that had brought her here. Against the wall of waltzing pheromones she waited as if to passively immerse every detail of the ballroom only to criticize it. There was not much to critisize though, as the Tower servants had outdone themselves this event.

 

“The lights do be flattering.” Mina was looking up into the swirls of refractions that illumined the sea of revelers, when the unexpected occurred. A boy had distracted her from the contemplation of the lanterns directly overhead. Another might have fled in terror to salvage the immaculate status of her gown, or fought with tooth and nail to ensure the proper treatment of the said article once soiled with even a speck of unnatural colour. Plenty had swerved aside to avoid the unpleasant blooper, with seconds when the mind registered that the expensively clad body – unnecessary in Mina’s books - to attempt to steady the lad as he tumbled. But momentum once in motion did not wish to end. In the momentary impression, that transient blink she did not sway aside. On the contrary Mina stayed rooted square where she had planted herself, and latched on to the logic that do prevail above the emotions, such as fear or anger. As all things must end, the momentum perished, yet it did not die in vain.

 

Flabbergasted at the rich suit the lad wore that happened to be an exorbitant effrontery, Mina did not notice. Her standards made her blind to the punch that dribbled from the glass. The pale pink stain on her dress, the snow white that she had so cautiously ironed, was spreading to the Accepted hem.

 

Others were not at all impervious to this stain. “If I had known I would not have pushed Syara out of the way.” Saline was aghast. The juice would have scarcely been noticeable on either Syara’s or her own gown, but on Mina’s austere uniform the pink was simply awful. The irony what the Tower had placed on Mina the Tower was blatant, and she saw the twinkle in Syara’s gaze that reflected her terrible amusement at the catastrophe that unfolded, and they giggled, rather silly with mirth.

 

… The peacock group fluttered over to coo mournfully at her dress.

 

“It do provide relief.” Mina put the best face on the incident, and swept a critical eye on the girls before reaching a conclusion that it only supported her proof about the way the Tower worked. Her self-truths though few were significant.

 

Seven in all they were, and one for each of the Ajahs. Unfortunately before she could enlighten them by broaching the topic, she was distracted once more by the lad, whom she tried to wave aside.

 

~~~

"There are only two kinds of imbeciles in this world, my son. There's the dumb, and then, there's you."

 

It had been quite a while since Nerome had seen himself in such light- after all, he was in his way to reforming himself. Selandre had told him so after a particularly unpleasant occurring, and while he couldn’t remember the event itself clearly, he remembered these words as clear as glass. Not to mention every enunciation and expression she had twisted on while saying them. What had been worse was, had this been about someone else, it would have been amusing. What was worst was, that was that if this had not been him, but the Accepted the same, it would have been something Nerome would’ve smirked about all through the evening.

 

Of course, Lady luck had not delighted with him with her presence today, so he was stuck, and Light, was it awkward. Shiftily he looked around the scattered crowds, some of whom were eyeing the situation with the same smiles he would’ve liked to wear. Ashes. He knew half those men, and even a couple of the ladies who had their arms entwined with men he trained by day after day. Turning back to the Accepted, he stared at the mess in confusion. After all, he wasn’t the bloody Aes Sedai who could remove the stain with the slightest effort. Sighing inwardly, he began on what he knew as well as the two giggling beside the victim, that his efforts were rather…hopeless.

 

“I’m truly very sorry, Accepted. Is there anyway I could make this up to you? No? Well, every lovely lady needs a companion. May I have this dance?”

 

~~~

The very lovely lady felt very sorry for the boy. Indeed, that he should feel he had to make amends in this fashion. Even the corners of his mouth slacked down with remorse, and being near him was similar to reliving her Arches. It was odd that she should be here, bathed in the punch she had not even tasted yet, being distinctly brought out as the recipient of so much sympathetic murmuring when she was alright, a tad wet but probably more cooled off than all in this crowd.

 

Certainly she was more at home in the ballroom than the nervous boy in front of her. The cooing tapered off, carefully noting her word. It was “no.” The following exchange took place, according to the peacocks.

 

"What? What do you mean no?"

 

"I mean, I do be thinking it do not be appropriate for me to be dancing with you."

 

"What in the name of Light are you talking about?"

 

"I do be thinking you should know."

 

Then to make her point clear for the hard of understanding, she wagged a finger at him in admonishment. “I do be thinking you've done enough today. Go away.” She tried to smile kindly to take the sting from the request, but kindness was not one of the seven truths Mina Daryl harboured “Would you like to wash it then, boy?”

 

A pause.

 

“Whatever you say, lady. However, I do think refusing the dance was unnecessary.”

 

How she felt older than most in this Tower, when the boy would not desist asking her for a dance. Before her dress was ruined she had no inclination for the dance, and did the fool really believe she would wish to take a whirl with him now that he had spilled about half his punch which was now sluicing down her thigh?

 

Then it occurred to her. “If you must, I do be thirsty. A drink do be nice.”

 

Be kind enough to get her a drink. Indeed. Pah. Eyebrows knotted together, Nerome moved towards his destination with gritted teeth. He had had his fair share of experiences, both humiliating and endearing, but never, never had any ball gone so strangely. Light, he hadn't even had the chance to glance upon Rossa, because some Accepted thought it too great an honour to dance, and yet not great enough to not have him as her lady-in-waiting. Rejection, Nerome had always known, was the one thing he couldn't stand. Rejection, from a woman who was far duller than most, was almost unbearable.

 

Taking the glass carefully into his hands, Nerome thanked the man and turned to leave. Scanning the crowds, it took half a second for him to spot the Accepted, in her now stained white. Quickly he made his way to her, rapid thoughts flying through his mind as he did. Finally approaching her back, he touched her shoulder slightly. "My- I mean, here is your glass, Mina." Handing it to her politely, he watched her give back a bored smile before continuing on. "May I ask a question?"

 

Well that took him away, but the effect was only temporary, for he returned with a tap on the shoulder, a glass of punch, and his question.

 

Nodding in acknowledgement, Mina studied him. “Yes, Master…?”

 

~~~

Some minutes later.

 

“I do not be a lady.” She glimpse an elegant figure in aqua. A fellow Accepted, monstrously pretty. “Here do be a marvellous lady for you to dance with.”

 

"Well Mina, if you're not a lady, then I'm not-a aa Rossa."

 

Rossa, her name do be?

 

The peacock group dissipated only to reassemble further away, wary. Watchful. They’ve gone and left her to her devises. Finally. Her glance focused solely on the lights. Little did Mina know that she had set off a firecracker opening act that would involve much emotions, and very little – if any – reason for a more even distribution. She had in her logical routine, accomplished more than hours of tragedy would looming over the precipices, and the irony escaped her, as many tasteless things in life, excepting the passage of time, entirely. And everybody in the Tower accepted Mina Daryl as they must, for she do be who she do be, not who she was supposed to be.

 

Syara & Vera& Saline & Mina Daryl & Nerome

 

OOC: Alrighty, after talking to the Italics that be, it has been decided we should continue the thread in one of the empty rooms once we recruited our volunteers here. Come play. :D

[Winter Mist]

~Nadeann~

 

The air seemed to waver as the final chord rang melodically from the strings of her lute - nothing but the best for the company of the Amyrlin. Indeed, Nadeann had almost worn through the calluses on old fingers playing the well-maintained instrument in song after song. It was good to know she had not lost her touch. Here and there, ageless faces next to the young ones made her feel her age, and the lines around eyes and mouth felt deep. She felt old. Seeing her crowd’s interest wane a little as the poignant silence ran on for slightly too long, Nadeann began another song with nimble fingers plucking the opening chords and her clear voice arching above conversation.

 

Standing tall, proud and alone

A fair beacon unfairly shown

The eyes of the world agree renown

But few know how it struggles on.

 

Determination like the tide

My conscience like a new-made bride

And still the whitest walls confide

A rope against the steepest slide.

 

And through it all to hope I trust

To guide me back to where I rest

The beacon is a stately must

To prevent another darkened past.

 

Nadeann smiled. It was taking longer and longer to get her form into something resembling elegance these days, as old bones used to the comfort of leather breeches and a baggy coat that covered lots were not used to fine ball gowns much. The one she had finally settled on was in a dark shade of blue, with long sleeves and laced high at the neck so as to be modest – almost akin to a servant’s costume rather than the noted bard she was. Soft boots of comfortable leather and a simple silver clip holding her greying hair back were the only other adornments her costume held. She had travelled upriver and would be departing the same way, back down south and then to Tear or Illian.

 

Taking a cup of wine from a passing tray, Nadeann took a sip and looked around her at the opulence. There were so many faces awaiting entertainment, awaiting relief from the dark days around them. She set her cup down half-finished, and moved on to the next group already strumming something cheerful and elegant.

[Sirayn]

Her one-time apprentice still had the capacity to fascinate her. She had never put her finger on why: perhaps his intelligence, or the underhanded cunning she had built on with her Daes Dae’mar instruction, or maybe something about the strong planes of his face or the sound of his voice or the way he used to watch her … or something else she couldn’t quite define. Nor did she particularly want to know why. She had too many wretched memories of what happened when her private feelings clashed with standards of Aes Sedai behaviour to take that again. He was young enough to be her son ten times over, not to mention murderously evil, and somebody here had to place the Tower’s needs above their own.

 

Being in public, she thought it less than diplomatic to remove her hand as fast as she had offered it, and thus controlled the urge to pull away; but something about the way he patted her hand and smiled at her just then reminded her sharply of his fingertips against her cheek as she lay defenceless. She drew a slow breath, all composure on the outside, and crushed down the image. “I bet it would.” Her tone remained a shade on the barbed side. It had been a mistake to allow him too close to her when she didn’t know if or when she could get rid of him. So much for the Watcher of the Seals, the Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat: unnerved by having her arm held by a Darkfriend.

 

The sound of her new rank still rang foreign to her. It seemed beyond belief that a common child from nowhere special, and illegitimate at that, weak in the One Power and once disgracefully governed by her temper should ever come to wear this simple striped token about her waist and be announced as the Amyrlin. Nevertheless, it did not please her to hear her companion thinking the same. It took some effort not to point out that the obvious reason why Corin Danveer, Darkfriend poisoner, would like the sound of his Tower Guard rank was that he had come so close to losing it. Even now she didn’t know why she had spared him even that. It had been madness to let him go so freely … but when she thought of taking the Commander of the Tower Guard aside and explaining to him, a stranger of unproven loyalty, how shamefully weak and afraid she had been she went cold all over. She had never learnt a way to deal with fear and shame other than to hide it.

 

Doubt and self pity she put aside as silence and curtseying spread outward from her entrance. A long and politically challenging night lay ahead of her and, brevity being the soul of everything important, she had no intention of making any long speeches tonight. She pitched her voice cool and carrying: “Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the White Tower Ball. Tonight is primarily a field test for my Basic Etiquette students and I hope you’ll all help me keep an eye on them.” Briefly her gaze swept the crowd, finding dark Rossa in a beautiful shade of blue-green, a scattering of others. In a way the Danveer boy had been her pupil in this as in many other things. The difference was that she did not doubt his mastery of etiquette … and she also knew not to accept anything to drink from his poisoning Darkfriend hands.

 

Inauspicious as it would be for a drove of initiates to accept his tender ministrations and never wake again, or perhaps wake powerless in a strange place as she herself had done, she kept half her attention on the boy himself as she spoke. “They will be on their best behaviour. And fortunately for us all, should we need saving from a horde of ravening initiates, I spy the Mistress of Novices.” She spared a smile for Pia Sedai, a stranger to her still, but well spoken of by her young charges. “Far be it from me to keep you all from the drinking and the dancing. Have fun tonight.”

 

In a sweep of white skirts she vanished into the crowd. One imperious gesture summoned the boy Danveer to her side again; Light only knew what he might do if she let him out of her sight. “First dance, Master Danveer?” She only hoped that her performance as hostess was flawless enough to make up for the sudden petrifying flashes of memory … she forced the latest one away, face impassive, and ignored the crawling fear of his touch. It would be improper for the Amyrlin to hesitate in anything. The living personification of the Tower should be perfection itself.

 

Sirayn Damodred

Watcher of the Seals

Flame of Tar Valon

The Amyrlin Seat

[Guest Arie Ronshor]

Jaydena stared at her scared face in the mirror and wondered what she was doing going to a ball. Bloody ashes, a ball of all things. It had been years since she went to and that one had been with Seia, she had never accepted another inviation because it reminded her to much of woman she had loved and lost. She knew that Sirayn was running this one and she wondered how it would be, after all Sirayn wasn’t one to worry about drinks or fancy trimmings. Over the years of their friendship, the woman had often forgotten her nameday and then given her a gift days later. It was the way of her personality, she had one focus and it didn’t leave much room for anything else. Her fingers moved up and she touched the puckered skin, she didn’t often worry about it anymore, she had lost what little beauty she ever had and she had to go on and rely on what she still had, her brains, her political skill and her heart. Her passion hadn’t diminished after being burned, it had only gotten brighter, she wanted to find and hurt who had caused her this pain and she wanted to make the Greens the best ajah in the Tower. She stood up and regarded the dress that lay before her on the bed, she would need help getting into it she feared, the corset alone was something to marvel at. What she had been thinking when her seamstress suggested this design and she accepted, she just didn’t know. Picking up the black silk undertgarments she put them on and looked down at her body. Her body was still trimmed and tight, she still had managed to retain her hour glass figure despite all the years of living. Smoothing the black silk over her skin she picked up the corset and began putting it on, it was the strangest corset she had ever seen but the only kind that would work with this kind of dress, all of the pushing and elevating was done from the sides and back. She cinched it up by pulling the strings in front of her and managed to tighten it enough to push her breasts into her face almost. Turning around her surveyed the results in a the floor length mirror and chuckled. “Eat your heart out Sirayn Simeone.” She continued to laugh as she walked over and picked up the dress. The dress was a very deep green, almost a black, and in the right light it would ever appear to be black. The front opened all the way to the waist and was held together with thick threads crisscrossing to the opposite sides. Gold scrollwork ran up either of the sides around her breasts along with pale green scrollwork, this matched the sleeves as well. A white color stood up from the back and ran down under the strings, barely covering her rose colored nipples.

 

Her favorite part of the dress was the waist, with the golden belt, two parts with went of in v shapes on either side of the masterpiece at the center of her waists. A very large oval amber, inside stuck forever in animation was a butterfly. She had to admit she felt a lot like that butterfly, stuck in animation and not able to move on. The amber was rimmed by a thick oval of gold which was carved with the same swirlike pattern, however instead of the normal carving, this had butterflies every few swirls. Holding her breath she slid the mass of satin over her body and began to carefully hook it into place, the belt came next and she clasped together with the amber at the front. Once the dress was in place, she turned and looked in the mirror, she stared in shock. She looked younger than she had in many many years, it was amazing. With a grin she walked over to the her makeup vanity and began to apply her makeup, she went for gold, a very dramatic look with some light green added in. Her lips with a deep brown with some red mixed in when she was finished. She slipped her feet into the green dancing slippers with gold scrollwork on them and almost forgot her jewels. That wouldn’t do at all, as her seamstress had been very specific about this being included. A very large emerald had been carved into the shape of a buttefly, golden scrollwork surrounded it, it dangling from a necklace carved in a thin web, it’s many strands going off in different directions until they met at her neck. From her ears would dangle, several strands of gold with little tiny emerald butterflies, all of these going up to meet a larger emerald butterly which would actually sit on her earlobe. Bracelets completed the outfit, these were thick cuffs, leading up to a piece of amber with golden butterflies set inside. They would mostly be covered by the puffy sleeves and v ending cuffs but if she lifted her arm they would show to great effect. The beloveds ring graced one of her fingers, the water ring on her other hand, and her great serpant on the same hand. She checked the mirror and left her long auburn hair loose, it flowed to the curve of her rear, thick and wavy. With a grin she began to secure it into the hairstyle her seamstress had recommnded, she pulled her bangs all the way forward and then pulled them back, hooked them into twisting ropes at the middle of her head with a large amber butterly clip. She began pulling more from the sides and this she wrapped up with golden fabric as she had been told, she added butterflies to the fabric and glitter throughout the mass of curls. With that she walked from her room and left her shawl folded on the bed, she didn’t need it for this occasion. Just as she walked out she realized she had forgotten her mask, but before she got a chance to go get it, there was a knock at the door. With a shrug she walked over and opened the door, the person would just have to see her without her mask for a moment.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~8~@

 

 

There were two boxes that sat on her bed that she paused with a certain amount of reflection and reserve. A formal gown of any kind had never been part of her attire and in one box held a second such item that she would wear to the function of the night. Last was a Domani cut silk gown that Aran had picked out for her, a brilliant blue that made her feel naked and yet powerful at the same time, like she had truly been a woman that night and people watched her for more than the sword that she usually carried. It had been a wonderful night and had ended on a note that had been a twist of fate. It was quite possible that it had been the night that when she had denied to Aran that she did not want to ruin a friendship that she had truly wanted so much more then that. And now...

 

Now... Cairma rubbed a hand of her flat stomach with a ponderous thought. It could not be possible. It could not be...

 

The second box held something of anouther meaning. A gift for Jaydena. Although Cairma was bonded to her in a form of servitude, her relationship with the Aes Sedai was far from Aes Sedai and Warder, but of a deep friendship that only bloomed greater since they had bonded. They had an equal understanding and love for each-other, of which Cairma wouldn't trade for anything. Even Aran. Inside was a mask that she had commissioned only a week earlier to be created, using from memory the base of Jaydena's original mask. Instead of the striking white of the one she wore, Cairma wanted to see the full beauty of the Aes Sedai and had a mask made of a special glass that would echo her natural skin instead of the red scaring underneath, lined in a thin gold thread that would only look like a piece of decorative vines that would accent the woman's otherwise perfect face. The mask was meant to act as a second skin and give the illusion that there was no scaring but a perfect face, she was sure that Jaydena would love it.

 

The formal wear that she had purchased was far different than what she had worn to the dance those years back. This time she wore a simple white suit, long pant leg with fabric that came down like a skirt with slits on the side revealing the pants and also allowed her easy movement as she walked. Along with it was a light blouse of no significant design, but there was no pattern on the soft silk as it was not the blouse that she had wanted to draw attention to but the long coat that she had purchased to go with it. Dressing quickly, her hair already precariously dried and styled and a touch of paint on her cheeks, eyes and lips, Cairma paused as she fingered the jackets soft fabric.

 

The jacket was long with a high collar and loose fitting sleeves that allowed her to slip her well defined arms in without there being any slack or unnatural pull, although while fitting her form without appearing baggy or over done. The length of the jacket fit just past her knees with slits that went up the sides, echoing the slits in the skirt, ending just at her hips. Although it was solid white in colour, it was the embroidery along the collar, cuffs and hem of the jacket that gave it's most appeal. Cairma had known that Jaydena would wear gold, and Cairma was of firm belief that she would wear something that would compliment her without taking away from the woman's beauty. The gold slowly entwined a soft pattern barely riding along the edges without making any firm statement, but only accenting the edges and the soft buttons that trailed only down to her waist, allowing the fabric to fall much like her skirt. Formal, feminine, but functional and light. Peering into the small mirror in her room, she smiled. It would have to do.

 

Picking up the second box, and then strapping her Heron marked sword to her side (more for show than for function. Although a warder was never without a weapon, it would be foolish for any to attack a room full of Aes Sedai and trained Tower Guards), Cairma picked her way out of the Barracks, grinning at the jaw drops as she left. Yes, what she wore would do. Reaching Jaydena's door within the Tower, she knocked lightly only to have the woman answer.

 

If Cairma had any intentions of romance towards Jaydena, she would have fallen for her all over again,. The woman was breathtaking in the gown she wore, a perfect butterfly. The bond also echoed her awe as she grinned, words did not need to be exchanged as a blush rose to Jaydena's cheeks. Entering the room Cairma passed the box to Jaydena.

 

"This is for you."

 

She opened the door to see Cairma standing there, she gazed at the woman for a moment, she was wearing a long skirt, and a simple skirt, over the top was a long coat that reached partway down her thighs, the gold embroidery on the coat was intricate and dazzling against the white of the silk looking material. Her sword rested at her waist, always ready to defend a moments notice but this sword almost seemed to complete the outfit. Cairma looked her up and down and Jaydena could feel her approval through the bond, she found herself blushing as the other woman entered the room. She didn't really think of herself as lovely and she had lost most of her confidence in herself after the burns and the looks and horrfied expressions she had received. She shut the door behind her gaidar and blinked as Cairma handed her a box, it was made from dark wood with the Aes Sedai symbol carved onto it, scrolls that matched her dress and Cairma's jacket surrounded the symbol. She opened the box and gazed down at what lay inside, a mask unlike anything she had ever seen, laying on a bed of dark green satin, the mask was clear made of some kind of glass, gold veins worked into it. Shock ran through her body, Cairma wasn't much of a gift giver, though she could say the woman never missed her namedays or important holidays, she didn't know why Cairma would give her this mask. Her throat closed up and she worked at choking the tears back that gathered in her throat, she looked up with the tears in her eyes and said, "Why did you get me a mask Cairma?"

 

It was a soft smile the spread on her lips as she walked up and touched the skin on Jaydena's unscarred cheek. "Because, if at any time it would be now, that i would want people to see you as I see you." Holding out her arm, Cairma grinned as if to let the moment stay in that moment and to move past. She was not often compassionate and tender, and far be it from her to fall into that side of her now. "Shall we?"

 

Jaydena nodded and worked on getting her emotions under control, she smiled softly at the other woman and took the mask out of the box, she lifted it up and watched as the light shone and dazzled through the special glass. A part of her felt like she was getting another chance to not have people look at her like she was some sort of freak. She took a deep breath and calmed herself down, reaching for the source she embraced it and used the weave she had created to affix the mask to her face without strings or ribbons. With a grin she tied the weave off and took Cairma's arm, she followed the woman from the room and set the ward on her quarters with the power she still held within her. Tonight she wouldn't worry about anything that had happened over the years or the loses she had suffered, tonight she would enjoy her friends and her gaidars and not worry about that, but she would of course be ready to protect those around her and aware of the dangers. Cairma led the way to the Ballroom, the woman must have found out from someone else where it would be, as Jaydena surely hadn't told her about it. She saw several people staring at them and she hoped that her scars couldn't be seen through the glass on the mask, she didn't know if she could handle the looks of pity if it did. They reached the ballroom quickly and she looked around and saw that many people had already arrived, she gazed up at the lanterns hanging from the ceiling and nodded with approval. The room looked dazzling and it had been far to long since it had been opened, this had been so tense these last years that they hadn't taken the time to remember what they were fighting for...

 

 

 

 

 

Cairma & Jaydena

Bonded Beauties

[Swisstony]

Sasra had taken her best gown from the large wooden chest that it had been packed in since she left Saldaea, and hung it up in her room with the windows open for three days, so it'd be aired in time for the ball. It had smelled musty when she first took it out, but a few days hanging in her room had soon seen to that, and each day she'd woven threads of air around it just to make sure. She had an excellent dressmaker in Tar Valon who normally provided her with beautiful gowns, but this one was special. The Queen of Saldaea had it made for her, for the first ball which was held after she had taken power, and Sasra had stayed on as her advisor.

 

Balls in the Saldaean court had been frequent, at least every other week, and at times more often than that, and as the Royal Advisor and ambassador for the White Tower, it had been her duty to attend all of them. She had only seen a few such occasions at the White Tower, and so had enjoyed the formal events in the royal court tremendously to start with. The novelty soon wore off, and the constant stream of various semi-important people that she had to be polite to would've driven her mad had it not been for her Special Room. She'd set herself up a room in the palace, in a quiet wing that was hardly ever used, with a padded practise dummy and a collection of wooden swords, and she'd vented any anger and frustration on the dummy, which had to be repaired regularly. It helped her to remain calm, particularly after she'd spent a long evening smiling politely at people she disliked.

 

And the food! The seemingly endless procession of plates of tiny items, prepared in the palace kitchens with incredible skill and attention to detail. Some of them had been so beautiful it had been a shame to eat them, and it often made her seethe with anger to watch other guests take them from the silver plates carried by the servants and eat them without even looking at them. Such a waste. She often made a point of visiting the kitchens to thank the porters, servants, and cooks.

 

On one such visit, the head cook had puffed his chest out at her praise, proclaiming that tonight's food had not been his finest work, and that he could do much better.

"Tell me,", she asked him, "could you prepare a simple meat and vegetable stew? With mutton, parsnips, carrots and onions? And could you serve it with a crusty heel of bread?"

"I could, Aes Sedai.", he replied cautiously, "But why under the Light would I want to?"

"Because I should like it.", she said simply, "I should like it very much."

 

The following week, one of the servants had sidled up to her as she tried to melt into the background at yet another formal gathering of local alleged dignitaries, telling her that there was a messenger waiting for her in one of the private rooms with an urgent communication. On following the servant girl to the room, she found a table laid with a single place, and a large bowl of mutton stew, next to a good sized piece of freshly-baked crusty bread. The bowl was simple, and the spoon which accompanied it was wooden. She laughed out loud with surprise and pleasure, and then saw the head cook standing in the corner, a broad smile on his round rosy face.

"Should you like that, Aes Sedai?" he said as she sat down at the table.

Sasra picked up the wooden spoon, turning it around in her hand a few times. It felt strange after using silver for so long, thicker in her hand, but somehow more solid, and along with the smell of the mutton stew, it took her right back to her childhood. She scooped out a good spoonful and held it up to her face, breathing in the scent of herbs and mutton and vegetable, and then tasted it, savouring the delicious flavours for a long while before swallowing.

"I do like it. You work miracles in that kitchen. Thank you so very much."

"It's my pleasure, Aes Sedai.", the cook said quietly, and slid almost unnoticed through the servants' door, leaving Sasra alone with the stew.

 

- - - - - - - - -

 

She'd been back at the White Tower for nearly a year now, and hadn't seen a ball or formal dance since, and although when she came back from Saldaea she'd said that if she never went to another one again it'd be too soon, when she'd heard about the one which was to be held tonight she suddenly felt as though she'd missed them. She was already wearing the dress the Queen of Saldaea had given her when Urien knocked and entered, dressed in black moleskin breeches, and a jacket of dark grey thick wool. He looked more like a prince than a warder.

 

The dress she wore was one of a few she had that wasn't divided for riding, but despite that, she didn't find it difficult to walk in. It was all silk, in what had to be close to a dozen shades of grey, heavily embroidered and sewn with pearls on the bodice. She took Urien's hand and practised a few dance steps, smiling as he held her hand lightly, working through the steps of the dance as smoothly as he worked through the forms when he practised with his sword. He really was an excellent dancer, and she recalled now the jealous glances that she drew from women at the Saldaen court balls when he would dance with none but her.

 

She felt the excitement building inside her as they walked the long curving hallways and galleries of the Tower together, heading for the Great Hall. It wasn't a grand affair of state, this ball - it was being held as the culmination of some training on proper behaviour which was given to Accepted. Sasra herself had been to such a ball once, years ago, when she wore the white dress with the banded hem, but she had not been to one here since she was raised to the shawl.

 

She and Urien entered the room mostly unnoticed, and while Urien was sent in search of some wine, she remained on the fringe of the room, out of the way. A novice paused in her circuit of the room carrying a large silver tray of pastries. She dropped a careful curtsey and offered the tray, and as Sasra lifted a couple of small pastry which seemed to be topped with some kind of cheese, the girl cast her eyes jealously around the room.

"Your day will come, child.", she smiled, as the girl realised she had been caught and curtsied again, blushing as she hurried away with the tray.

 

She regarded the two pastries she had lifted from the tray. They were nothing like the works of art which she had experienced at the Saldaean balls, but if she knew the Tower's kitchens half as well as she thought she did they would be no less delicious. She bit into one and the pastry practically melted in her mouth. It had been wrapped around a piece of smoked bacon, and the cheese which was baked onto the top was the perfect companion to it. Urien returned then, with two finely blown glasses containing a deep golden wine, most likely of Tairen origin.

"Thank you.", her words were slightly muffled by the pastry in her mouth as she held up the other one for his perusal, "Pastry?"

He smiled, and raised one eyebrow. He wasn't a fan of pastry, but she was. She always made a point of collecting two - one for her, and one for him, on the grounds that he'd always refuse it, and she could eat it. That had backfired on her a couple of times. She'd once had to eat two pieces of a hard bread smothered with a paste made from tiny black fish-eggs - possibly the most vile thing she'd ever had in her mouth.

 

Sasra looked around the room. Many of the Aes Sedai who were here were known to her, but there were one or two fresh faces that she couldn't place. As she studied them harder, she realised why she didn't recognise them - they weren't Aes Sedai at all, they wore their Great Serpent rings on the wrong fingers. Accepted then, wearing borrowed dresses. That hadn't been allowed in her day, but she remembered how she'd come to her first ball in her white dress with the banded hem, how she'd tied a piece of ribbon that Tayline had given her into her hair, and how she'd felt like the most beautiful woman in the world until she entered the room, and saw all the Aes Sedai in their lovely dresses, and then she'd felt like the ugliest frog in the world. She still had the ribbon though, in a box in her room, with a keeping weave on it so it would never fade. Like your beauty, she thought to herself, wherever you are now my dear Tayline, I know you're still beautiful.

 

Looking around again, she spotted a girl, standing alone, shy, nervous, obviously feeling out of place in her white Accepted's dress. She had no ribbon in her hair, nothing to drink, nobody to talk to, but most importantly, nobody to dance with. The band seemed to be about ready to launch into one of the less formal dances, and Sasra nudged Urien.

"Remember how you danced with me at that first ball?", she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the lone girl.

"How could I forget?" he replied, grinning, "My foot was bruised for days!"

She elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

"You most certainly did NOT!"

"I remember.", he said, quietly, nodding slowly, "You danced well."

"Would you dance with that Accepted?"

"Are you asking me to?"

"I am.", she said, simply, taking a sip of her wine. She was right - Tairen, and not poor quality either.

"Then I shall.", he said, "But not for the formal dances. I dance those with you."

 

He smiled and gave her his wine, and just as he turned to walk away, she put a hand on his arm.

"Make her feel beautiful.", she said quietly, "Make her feel like the only girl in the room. Let her remember her first dance at a ball the way I remember mine."

"You know me.", he said simply, and he turned again, walking over to the girl in the white dress.

 

Sasra watched him walk up to the girl and lean over to speak to her. She looked as if she nearly jumped out of her skin when he did so, but after a Urien's flashing smile, she took his hand and let him lead her to join the other dancers. As they went, he glanced back at her and winked.

 

Sasra Cooper

Aes Sedai of the Grey Ajah

Bonded to Urien Santra.

[ashara]

When Nerome had pictured how he would address Rossa at the ball, many possibilities had strung up in his mind. It had mainly been while he had been making his way to the hall, hands carefully fingering a delicate locket, head in the clouds, right beside the stars. A rich voice, a graceful bow and then perhaps the slightest smile before he looked up at her. Or perhaps he could delight her by tapping her shoulder gently and ask her for a dance. At the very worst, he had decided that events would unravel so that he met her without expecting to and thus found himself caught off guard. At the worst, that meant an unexceptional, “Good Evening, Rossa.”

 

Thus, when Nerome Seshir turned to look upon the young lady Mina Darryl had suggestively inclined her head towards, Nerome had been midway through a sentence he was rather glad he didn’t finish. Instead, thoughts flew by unbidden, rocking to and fro in a mad shock. There was not much humour this time that flourished with it though, unless you counted the fact that he had involuntarily donned a face that now seemed far paler than usual, and his grip over Mina’s punch had turned dangerously strong. Rossa. Here. Etiquette. Dress. Mina. Punch. Punch? Blinking at the last thought, he stared down at the punch, now shimmering slightly under the light.

 

“Punch…?” he stammered out, wondering if that was what they both were awaiting. As if in a theatre, one of them shifted out of her dubious freeze and said something that he didn’t quite understand before stalking off. That was when it all came flooding back, and the panic attack that was Nerome slowly faded. Turning to face Rossa, he put on his best smile and straightened his back, reminding himself of the polished air he had promised himself he would, adhere to. However, Nerome quickly realised as his eyes rested on her that sometimes, spontaneity was all a person had.

 

Nerome felt his breath catch. Rossa… looked exquisite.

 

Ocean blue waves descended down her frame, curving in perfectly to reveal a slender figure. Cut just low enough to reveal her olive complexion clearly, the rich hue of the dress against her skin brought her face out, into the limelight. Eyes moving down slowly as if he was no longer in control of them, Nerome noticed how the ruffles sunk into the floor with appreciation. He was not one for art, but beauty was beauty. And that, Rossa certainly was. Even if you never quite noticed before, you fool…

 

But oh, he did notice now. He noticed how the dress highlighted her shoulder blades just the right amount. He noticed how the lace drifted off so that Rossa looked one with the sea. And oh Light. He noticed her face. He noticed the now expert control with which she kept it creaseless, like a fresh sheet. Like a blank fresh sheet. Her jaws were set straight though, which gave her an appearance harder than her true self. Her eyes though. Nerome knew those eyes. Stepping slightly forward, Nerome dipped into the deepest bow he knew. The one both Rossa and him knew was reserved for the grandest titles, for people of power and fame. For Queens.

 

“Good Evening to you, My Lady Rossa. I have been looking for you, and now I am gladdened. I trust you fare well?”

 

“Good Evening, My Lord Seshir.”

 

He had deigned to turn up? Well, Rossa might have guessed that he would make an appearance for a grand ball with lots of ladies, dancing and wine, but for something as trivial as her undertaking the test for the banded skirt - that was a different matter entirely. She did not even want to consider the fact he had missed her birthday… No. Rossa did not even want to think about that.

 

Yet…

 

He was here. He was here, and he looked … different. There was something about his eyes that she had missed and that also looked a little more mature. Maybe more than water had passed under the bridge since they had last seen each other. It did not excuse the fact that he had left without even a note! Had this not been a luxuriously veiled lesson in courtly manners and etiquette, Rossa would have turned on her heel and walked off. No, she could not do that. She was trying to make a good impression and Daes Dae’mar, ever present in her mind sometimes, would not let her appear to be a victim.

 

She suddenly remembered where she was. The ball was well underway now with Aes Sedai mingling with novices and accepted as though it was an every day occurrence. Trained to be adept in manners and etiquette almost from the cradle, Rossa could see some of the attempts to mimic the grace and poise of the Aes Sedai, painfully obvious in copied mannerisms, and in spite of everything, it made her smile. Her hands gently took hold of the aquamarine fabric and held it to the sides as she dropped a curtsey that was perfectly fitting of his rank, and looked into his eyes.

 

“I am well, my Lord. I thank you for your concern. I trust everything is in order with you?” Rossa kept her tone cool, regardless of how her heart was pulling at her mind. Light, she had missed him!

 

So then he had been right when he had noticed the slight hardness to her cheeks. They were still the same, she Accepted of the banded hem and him, mere Trainee. A pity that it was so easy to forget such things at a time like this, but if there was one thing Nerome had learnt about Rossa, it had been that she didn't forget. But could she forgive? With an inward sigh he looked straight at her while she spoke, glassy word after glassy word received with a smile that could match hers. He had hoped when he had caught that slight glimmer of hope in her eyes, that one sparkle as the grains passed down the hourglass that things had changed, and things that should be left behind, had been.

 

And yet, Nerome knew this was different. He knew it because of the locket he had clutched a little nervously as he had made his way, straightbacked and thoughtful. He knew it because of how he had looked for her face first of all, even though she had turned away cold faced and sculpted, for reasons he could only guess. Mostly though, he knew it because it was Rossa, not just his partner from lessons that had bridged over marked times of rapid change, but also the girl, the woman who had fire for her heart and ice for her mind and funnily enough, the strict schooling of a noblewoman in her past life. He knew most of all though, because seeing her again tugged at his heartstrings. He had missed her, without even knowing he had. It was this knowledge that gave him hope and made him let the words slip by. It was his fault he had not kept her aware, but how was he supp-No. Enough of the arguments. Fire was fire, and playing with it would only leave him burnt.

 

He noticed her slight study of his garb and smiled. After all, it had been for her. Then, it had been more to fulfil his duty as friend and partner- to look and seem his very best for the night. Now, he couldn't help feeling relieved he had dressed suitably. "It could be better, my Lady." Staring hard at her eyes, he continued. "Thank you for asking of course." Noticing suddenly that the music had become a notch louder than before, he tilted his head to find men and women pairing up and forming clusters. The dances had begun. "May I have this dance, my Lady?"

 

Her mind skittered back to the first time she had been asked for a dance at Court. Mother had been so proud of her, managing the complex steps in a Cairhienin pattern without a hitch, but then Rossa had always had to work hard for praise. Having sisters that were prettier and more likely to attract a suitable husband due to them having a streak of wilfulness to them as well as a tendency to go blindly where they were directed. She’d enjoyed herself though, but it did not feel like it did just now. She realised with a start that she very much did want to dance with Nerome: to hold his hand, and feel his arm around her. A rosy blush flashed on her cheeks that Rossa could not push away, so she covered it by saying that she would be honoured to have this dance, and holding her hand up for Nerome to lead her to the dancing.

 

The air was stately, elegant somehow, and it seemed very, very old. Rossa privately doubted it predated some of the Aes Sedai present, and allowed herself to move in the delicate pattern of steps in time with the beat. Nerome was a surprisingly good dancer, moving with a grace she would not have expected from someone that used a sword for their line of work, even Warder-trained. As graceful and lithe as the Warders and Tower Guards were purported to be, Rossa had never seen one dance before.

 

She felt like every snippet of every romance book she’d ever been subjected to. Rossa swished and twirled, his body strong against hers. Light! It was difficult to maintain composure under certain circumstances! It was also very difficult to maintain being angry with him now that he was here, and with her. The music moved into a slow section, where the footwork was not so complex and Rossa once again thanked the Light for dancing lessons. And for practical footwear! She matched his steps, and looked up into his eyes.

 

“Tell me, my Lord Seshir, was your journey fruitful?” The mahogany gaze held more than a tinge of question to it, and behind it her soul lay. “I have to admit I have found life as an Accepted rather difficult, but I know it will be worth it.”

 

The one rule his mother had always ensured he remembered and remembered well as a young boy, was that maintaining eye contact was an essential part of dance. He could picture it now; A lavish room, wide and flooded with light. Tapestries hanging delicately wall by wall, all looking at the centre of the room. He was eleven, his back as straight and his arms encased awkwardly around his sister Ruth, all the while being told to keep his eyes strictly on hers.

 

Hands linked, step matching step, Rossa must've been a young beginner as well, like most noble blood. The eyes-her eyes-he now had fastened his gaze on were rather different. Rather than green, these were an encompassing chocolate brown tucked beneath long eyelashes that he realized, he hadn’t seen flutter often. In truth, he hadn’t seen her struggling once since the night of their little reunion, upon his return. He knew little of what a Novice was made to course through to settle her way into the banded dress, but it was at times like this that Nerome could only wonder. He wouldn’t ask though. As tempting as the thought was, it would likely remind her of exactly what he was hoping she would forget. Light, it wasn’t like he had specifically intended to set off while she was being readied to be tested and advanced. If he had only known…

 

Thoughts snapping away like rusty chords, Nerome smiled as he heard her question, returning her gaze with a curious look as he gently lead her towards the right, along with the others. It was a question he’d asked himself, but as he heard the latter half of her sentence, he searched her face for any deeper effect of her words. All he found was her chin up and her jaw set in the determined fashion he was beginning to recognize as a habit in her. “I think my journey was something I badly needed, my Lady Rossa. What happened affected me in ways I hadn’t…quite expected.” Twirling her around, Nerome continued. “I guess, if I had to admit, that it was about time for me to wake up and see the world.” Pausing, Nerome slowed down in line with the fading melody. “Also, my Lady. About the topic of being Accepted. If there is any way I may help you through this phase…” Nerome trailed off, a little uncertain about what he was trying to say. Light, he really did not need to get tongue tied right now!

 

Light, he had grown. Or was it a serious ploy to try and divert her attention from the fact he had been away? When had Rossa become so cynical? She considered it as the twirls gently shook her hairstyle and the pressure holding her hand became slightly stronger. He had missed her. Nearly as much as Rossa had missed Nerome, unless she missed her guess. She dipped, as the music dictated, once again reminded of how they all danced to one tune or another. Was it the pattern or a freedom of choice? I’m starting to sound like a White.

 

He had a way with words. Rossa felt very hard pressed to keep her face smooth as memories of the Accepted test and those silvery arches flitted unbidden to mind. He had been a part of her arches, promising to be her Warder and then … Her mind hurt to think about it. Her child … leaving her child in Nerome’s arms…

 

“Nerome…”

 

The whisper through scarcely moving lips would have been lost in the music, she hoped. It was hard to be angry with someone like this.

 

“I’ll have to deal with it.” Rossa’s voice was carefully neutral so as not to betray her feelings further. She did tighten her grip on Nerome’s hand though, more for stability than a lack of confidence with the steps. She hoped that their dance would be acceptable to Sirayn Sedai, looking resplendent in white as the Amyrlin tonight. “I may take you up on the offer sometime, thank you for your gracious offer.” Her smile was deliberate now, the picture of an engaging young noblewoman enjoying a stately dance. “I offer the same services to you.”

 

“Thankyou.” Returning Rossa’s smile, Nerome felt his insides turn icy. Something had happened then. He knew her past just as well as she did his, and this …thing had been something worse. And he hadn’t been there. Oh Rossa. Tightening his grasp on her hand, Nerome resisted the temptation to draw her closer. Instead he let her flow around serenely once more, nodding to the beat as the dance grew to its lively best. The tempo quickened and thus they did too, adjusting into the revolving circle perfectly. What pathetic timing. Leaning ever so slightly backwards, Nerome tried to think of the right words to say. How was he to explain that he didn’t particularly like the thought of her having to deal with things? Or the fact that he felt awful about not having been there? Bygones may well be bygones, but the feelings that were left behind were a different matter.

 

As the pace slowed down again, Nerome took his chance and began to speak. “Rossa, I… I don’t seem to be able to voice my thoughts properly tonight. But, I need you to understand…” Breathing in, he glanced once towards the pair towards his right. A Sister and her Gaidin were smiling at each other, as he twirled her around. They were smiling at each other. Not wide beams, but rather simple upward curves. Knowing smiles. They both understood each other. “I need you to understand that I care about you, and your happiness. If there had been anyway for me to have known that you were to be Raised, that you were having a difficult time, I would’ve done quite a lot to make my way back. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” The trumpets let out a last note, and with that the dance ended. Bending into a bow as before, he held his arm out for her as a gesture for her to walk with him once more. “Would you walk with me for a little while? I have something for you.”

 

She curtsied to mark the end of the dance and straightened, her back an iron rod, her composure a pale mask, unfathomable, unreadable. It was all she could do to not throw her arms around him during their dance and let the ball go hang. His eyes were a little distance above her head, so Rossa tilted hers up to look into his green. And she accepted to walk with him for a little while, as long as they were not out of the Aes Sedai’s sight. The last thing she needed was to be accused of sneaking off with a trainee to smooch in some dark corner! Although it might be nice…

 

Rossa offered Nerome her arm for him to take. He could lead her on this occasion, even if her Arches would have it the other way around, bonded to him and directing him as her shield come flame, flood or foe. What would the Aes Sedai be thinking right now? She fell into step beside him, matching his orchestrated stride and licked her lips against dryness. The dance had been energetic, if stately, and truth be told, Rossa would like a drink. It could wait, though. He cared for her, and there was nothing more important than that right now. Appearances could be maintained in spite of the revelation, and as this was preparation for her own future, she doubted the Aes Sedai could complain about a lack of propriety. Their behaviour was immaculate.

 

“Where are we going, if I might ask?”

 

What he needed was a quiet corner. Someplace not right at the heart of the ball, where every eye wasn’t watching, waiting for them to cross that ever so delicate line of balance. It wasn’t that they were about to, but the idea of half the ball watching them while he tried to poured his heart out was something he couldn’t quite warm to. Her question came with eerie time; apparently she seemed to be thinking the same thing. Or well, something definitely along those lines. “Somewhere not quite the centre of the hall, I’m thinking. Like here.” He had found what he had been looking for. The music seemed just a little quieter here, and the people of a smaller number. Most around them seemed to be looking for the same thing as he: a little time away.

 

He had wondered about how he would present it to her. No ideas had come for this moment, unlike his planned ideas for greeting her. Taking out the long box of blue velvet Lillian had present it to him in, Nerome ignored the nervous lurch his stomach took. What would she think? Yes, it had taken effort, yes it had taken thought, but he personally didn’t know what Rossa liked and disliked. He hadn’t even had a chance to see what she saw fit to wear until today! Opening it, he glanced at it once. A thin silver chain lay on white silk, and bound in the very middle was the reason this locket was more special than any other he could’ve given her. The impression of a rose, glinting out in ruby red with chains wrapped around it. The crest of the House Venye.

 

“It was supposed to be a birthday present for you, something that I had asked your friend Lillian to aid me with.” Turning it around, he smiled weakly, the nervous pit inside him now a little hard to ignore.

 

Rossa looked up into Nerome's eyes, back to the gift and back to his eyes, and searched.

 

~Rossa Venye and Nerome Seshir~

[tismeb4u]

Her brief glance during her announcement of behavior left little doubt in Corin's mind that the reminder was meant for himself as much as it was the new graduates. It may yet turn out to be a long and arduous night if he was to accomplish half of what he hoped. The addition of Pia Sedai's name did not help his situation in the least. He would have to keep and eye out for her now as well as the one he escorted if he was to set his eyes to task without being tied to her. He knew Faile would be amongst those in attendance; but hope to get to her without their association being recorded by the wrong eye and there by creating questions where emptiness should be was going to be a task now.

 

With his mind already working to fit the pieces to the puzzle he almost missed Sirayn's gesture as she stepped out toward the crowd and had to stretch his first few steps to fall in at her side without a noticed hesitation. Ensuring that his etiquette and poise as her escort was maintained to perfect form meant he would have to stay very alert to Sirayn's movements. It would be less then respectable if the teachers own escort did not meet the high standards of her own class. Something Corin knew all to well from his own private lessons earlier in their relationship. He never realized how much he treasured those days in her presence until they had been taken away from him. Even when his nerves tried to crawl out from under his skin under the intensity of her scrutinizing gaze. The fact that he was alone and in her presence made the situation bearable.

 

As if the light itself placed it's blessing on the plans Corin had set out for tonight, Sirayn's steady light voice tickled his ear with her request of the first dance. He had hoped, though none could truly count on the matter, that she would be of mind to dance. That fact that she would have to keep a certain appearance at the ball helped those odds. But with Sirayn Sedai, now Amyrlin, there was never any true certainty other then the fact Sirayn would do what Sirayn felt moved to do. Collecting her hand lightly while ignoring the glances toward them he bowed formally once more. "I would be honored Mother to dance the first with you," his smile as he righted was as warm and genuine as his voice had sounded. But anticipation flared inside him with a heat second only by the sun itself. He had waited long for the opportunity to hold her and though it was not in an embrace of lovers it was still and embrace.

 

A picture of red cascading curls began to form in his head at the though of a lovers embrace and he quickly banished it to the dark confines of his mind. Even now he could still not bring himself to crush the emotions and feelings that strayed upon him from time to time in regards to Lavinya Sedia. That had been a fine kettle of silverpike he had created for himself. But here, now, he was with the one he had promised to shortly after there first meeting. She still did not know his intension's, even now she no doubt still believed him a dark friend to be watched and kept at arms distance. Stepping in to collect her his free hand slipped behind her; open palm coming to rest lightly on her back.

 

As night is to day so were her eyes and face to her back; two items at complete opposite states. Where schooling, centuries of practice, and determined will kept her face a perfect mask of serenity and her eyes bright and welcoming. Her back tensed slightly at his touch, held the slight rigidity of a person afraid but determined not to let it show. Anyone looking at her there in his arms would never had been able to piece together the odds at which his touch found in the small muscles of her back beneath the delicate white fabric. The tidal wave of elation that had swept over him as he first stepped in to collect her froze in mid buildup as the realization that she still feared him smashed it to tiny shards that pierced his heart. He worked to keep the sadness from his eyes, It would be so much easier if she would only see me in private where we could drop this facade and let her see the real person wanting to reacquaint with her.

 

The music strummed out from the dulcimer; light pressure to hand and back worked to guide her and they stepped out in unison. Floated across the small space that opened around them, her dark hair swaying slightly across her shoulders as it lifted and swept into movement to follow. An itch in his hand wanted to reach to that hair, stroke the soft sheen and tell her how much he had missed her presence. Pulling her lightly toward him he directed them around another couple, “Amyrlin, you have done well mother. They could not have found a stronger and more wise leader from the Tower.” He kept his voice warm and inviting, work to keep the edge of disappointment from it. He had thought perhaps her invitation would be the beginning of a new start but what he felt below the fine fabric was at odds with that hope.

 

“I must admit after all this time I was elated, and very honored to receive your invitation. My behavior in the infirmary was rather divergent of the careful advisement you had instructed me in. I was disheartened to believe that perhaps I had brought too much shame to your teachings. An outburst of such will not attend you again.” Her stormy gray eyes still pierced him with their intense gaze but he resisted the urge to fight them. He knew if there was to be any chance of the future he knew, dreamed, wanted. He would have to open himself to her stabs and cuts; weather the storms she would bring raging down on him. Perhaps then after trail and fire would she see the true man before her. Believe in what his soul presented and not the dark belief in a clandestine plan for her and the Tower. Remorse at the way he had left things after the cabin incident redoubled; hollow emptiness that she once occupied reached to strangle his words. His throat felt tight, lips dry, but he dare not moisten them with his tongue for fear of making the inner bedlam apparent to her. She was strong, the Amyrlin of the mighty White Tower, and could not afford to appear with a weak foolish man at her side. Even the servants that attended her would be able to hold strong and decisive under the calculating gaze she leveled. Surely his imagination created the illusion of something far harsher then what was there.

 

As the music slowed he lead her through a series of slow calculated spins; her hair floating lightly across the tops of her shoulders. What is it about this women that holds me so enthralled with her? the question seemed to hang between them as his eyes darted ahead of them again to verify the path the dance would carry them before returning to her own. The tenseness in her back had ebbed ever so slightly while they had been working the patterns of the dance across the floor. They increased once more with the slower pace and the closer set between them. Truly she must find me bitterly repulsive to still be so tense. “Your grace on the dance floor Mother is as always flawless in perfection. I find I am in need of further practice in some of the more intricate dance steps, but will endeavor to refrain from stepping on your toes.” He flashed a broad smile at his attempt at lightening the tense air between them, “have you been keeping well?” It was a simple shot in the dark, an attempt to ease her underlying animosity towards him, and he needed to find a way to be in her presence again. It was a large part of his plans for this night whether she figured it out before the festivities end or not.

[Arette]

Staring at her reflection, indecision made the woman with bright auburn haired writhe. The dress and the jewelry were gorgeous and accented Sahra perfectly. This was surely something no one had ever seen before as it was an original design. Mistress Tamore had admitted that it was one of her best works ever and she had been in the career for a long time. Still it didn't remove the fact that the dress was indecent for a ball dress for revealing something that was normally covered. The seamstress had claimed that she had waited for someone with her body to do the dress justice and she was used to getting her will done. Many Aes Sedai were her customers and she said that they yielded to her judgement so such a slip of a girl as Sahra should be just glad of her expertise. And she really was, she just didn't know if she was really ready for the attention. This was the first ball she would ever attend and even though she could behave herself, she was of common birth.

 

She turned to her room mate who had helped her to fit into the dress and tighten the laces at her back with oddly clumsy hands for an opinion. Conor cleared his throat a few times before declaring that she would be the queen of the party and that she would be crazy if she put on the old boring dress instead of this piece of art. He continued with flattery that made her laugh and in her amusement she missed the fact that he wasn't smiling. She really would have to do it. It would be cowardice if she wouldn't go through with it and such waste of effort after the fight she and Fior had had about who would actually pay the dress. She wasn't going to owe him for a dress she never once even wore and she would make him take the money too despite him thinking that he could just give the gown to her in such a sneaky way.

 

She and Fior had agreed to meet at the ball room because she had guarded the dress jealously and wanted to surprise him as much as anyone else. Conor would escort her there but after that she would be Fior's partner. Sahra felt actually a bit bad for Conor. He and Susa had broke up so now he didn't have a woman of his own to accompany him. But surely he would find some eager Accepted to dance with. The thought of Accepted and Aes Sedai with Fior made her frown. He wanted to bond after all and even though some Green sister or who ever could set their gazes on him on the Yards, surely the Aes Sedai appreciated certain refinement in their bonding partner which he had a plenty among many other awesome qualities. He was a fine pick for anyone and it was easier to strike conversation and get to know someone in a social event than in the Yards. And as much as he loved her and her him, it would change with a third one in his head and mind and in their bed pulling at his loyalty and service. She quickened her steps slightly.

 

The ball was held at the heart of the Tower and despite being inside the impressive structure once before, it still awed her. She was certain that it had been built with exactly that effect in mind. They almost got lost at the twisting corridors but they encountered a pair of young women in their best fineries and followed them. The music streamed out calling people to dance and as Conor and Sahra entered the ball room, they were charmed by the hundreds of lanterns and the excited bustle. Occasions like this were a rare treat to the inhabitants of the Tower still in training and likely something different for a change even for the Aes Sedai who had seen alot during their long lives. A few people turned to look at them and were about to turn away until they caught her dress. Sahra stood outwardly calm under their stares but inside she was elated and nervous. The dress really worked.

 

The rust coloured fabric hugged her athletic upper body snugly as a glove and began to spread slightly from her hips. The collar of the dress came to her chin covering her long neck so that almost no skin was visible save for the small diamond shaped cut between her breasts. The back side was quite unadorned, its only ornament being the bronze coloured string in the lacing. The punch of the dress was the lack of sleeves that displayed Sahra's shapely arms and the pieces of bronze jewerly snaking around the whole lenght of her well-muscled biceps. Her long red hair was gathered on a coil that was fastened to a crown shape on the top of her head and there were long earrings of the same metal framing her face.

 

She was already running her gaze over the crowd and trying to find Fior. Conor told her that he was off and she bid him fun night a tad absent-mindedly with a small peck to his cheek. He surprised her by embracing her lightly and patting his back in a friendly manner she disentangled with a bit confused smile. Then she saw him and Conor was all but forgotten. Light, but her Fior was handsome. She couldn't wait to have her hands over him while they danced. With Aran back and the... no, she would not even think that vile scene. Conor would just have to stay away until the curfew. Sahra had to temper her pace to not rush at him too eagerly but she was all smile as he took her hands.

 

"Mmm... I am the luckiest woman in the ball room tonight. Have you seen anything you like so far, Fior?" Alright, she was fishing for compliments but his opinion was really the only one that mattered to her.

[Los]

There was one problem with his reputation. For a young man who spends almost every day wrapped in fine silks the notion of dressing more formally is often hard to conceive. For such a young man, who looks so very fine even casually, the notion, let alone the expectations of others, of being able to better it during a single night of frivolity was almost incomprehensible. Almost. Calen had, however, accomplished this incomprehensible feat. The sheer amount of gold spent on his clothing was, too, incomprehensible. The sleek sky blue silk coat had a sheen of mother-of-pearl as the torchlight caught it and the gold scrollwork and embroidery traced around sparkling sapphires, glowing diamonds and the smoothest of champagne pearls. Calen wore his long golden locks twined elaborately around bright silver pins which held yet more sapphires and diamonds which would gleem as eyes were inevitably drawn to the ever-present hadori at his brow. His whitest of shirts was buttoned with creamy pearls and the cravat of dark blue silk was pinned at the collar by the golden crane of Malkier while his cuffs held the gold dawn of Cairhien. The grey breeches, of the finest cut, had actual silver thread woven into the stitch and were belted by another dark blue silken sash through which his sword, A’dore, held herself to his hip. The long white socks gathered his breeches just below the knee and fed into shining black shoes of which the buckles glistened with silver and diamonds. He wore no rings but white silk gloves adorned his hands.

 

The night was of far more then frivolity however. There were balls at the court of the Sun Palace that would be comparatively tame, like comparing a fish pond to a pool of sharks, and the political heart of Cairhien was considered tame only by the foolhardy but Tar Valon was the political heart of the known world and the White Tower provided the pulse. Tonight was more about networking, then anything else. It was as his father had once told him ‘Keep your enemies close, and if you give them enough rope, they’ll put themselves in the air then you simply kick away the chair.’ Also there were appearances to keep up, no one would believe he was the vainglorious young petulant popinjay he pretended to be if he missed the social event of the season. As he entered the hall he saw he was not wrong either; social butterflies had alighted from so many gossamer wings to land in their finest colours.

 

There were many ways to make an entrance but Calen favoured quietly moving in on his own accord. The eddies and flows around the room took him through a brief circuit but seeing no one with whom he was already acquainted he sequestered himself a corner from which he could admire both his own reflection and, more subtly, the space around him.

As he made one of his more subtle admirations the announcement of the Amyrlin Seat’s imminent arrival was issued. This, Calen turned to observe. The woman who entered was diminutive but she had the presence of one much taller. A white dress, he did not know if it was of mourning but it was interesting that she was announced as Damodred but did not wear the dark dress and coloured slashes of that house. Although he must admit he had been out of Cairhien too long to know if any of that house had dared to use a tie to the Amyrlin to advantage but if any would dare with such audacity it would be Damodred. The Damodreds were infamous for two things and one was the way they played the Great Game, the other was far darker. Another notable was that the Amyrlin entered upon the arm of a Tower Guard. That was, perhaps, a mistake as it suggested a need to be propped up by another and though the man moved aside quickly that first impression was lost. Also, knowing how young women think, for the Amyrlin Seat herself to enter on the arm of a handsome Tower Guard would give wing to dozens of romantic rumors. The Mistress of Novices would watch for anything untoward but it meant that the Amyrlin’s speech amounted to little more then ‘do as I say, not as I do.’ Typical of a Damodred. Still, if he could, Calen thought it would be rather opportunistic to make the acquaintance of this Corin Danveer. Once that had all passed Calen moved back to preening in his reflection.

 

As a serving girl moved past he caught her eye and motioned her over. She was pretty, if a little plump but not in unattractive way; and Calen gave her a cool smile. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you could help me, my lady.” Pretty she may be but she was no noble lady, it was, however, Calen found, always a good tactic to treat the serving staff kindly and despite being little more then, most likely, a simple, if attractive, Andoran farmgirl, this young woman would have access to many areas Calen could not go openly. “I bought this necklace,” Through sleight of hand the shining silver chain jumped from sleeve to palm. “Though I do believe it would look far prettier on you then me.” Stepping in close Calen quickly clasped the piece around her graceful neck. As he stepped back the girl admired the pale yellow jewel at its center then she made to remove it “Sir, I cannot…”

Stepping in once more Calen caught her hands behind her neck and whispered this time “But you must! Half the people around us have seen me give it to you. If you were to return it, it would shame me greatly…”He paused as though mulling something over. “Though perhaps, so as it is not seen as anything inappropriate, you could help me once more. I have not been able to find anything I can stomach drinking. Maybe a resourceful young woman such as you could find a way of getting a flute of the Tower’s finest champagne into my possession” As he let her hands fall and he slipped away from her this time Calen slid a hand slowly over her hip and subtly moved a heavy gold coin into her pocket. Calen found it endearing of simple folk that they were entertained by such cheap theatrics. Though some would think a gold coin a lot to lose, Calen knew that throughout the night this young woman would be firmly in his pocket, as firmly as the coin was in hers. Not to mention that the necklace was merely plated silver with a pretty coloured glass bauble. As he waited on his champagne Calen wondered what else of note this fine night of so called frivolity would bring.

[Death Incarnate]

OOC: As always my timing is, well... Late. Oops... :P

 

IC:

Moridin returned to the tailors shop as instructed and found that a few more alterations still needed to be made to his suit. After once again standing and letting the man jot down his notes and stick his pins in here and there he was instructed to finally come back and pick it up the morning of the ball. And that he did. When he returned he found it to be a perfect fit. The excellent forest green had a slight shine to it so the particular shade of green changed somewhat depending on angle and lighting. Not enough to really draw much attention but a minor detail that would be an addition to anyone who was looking a little more closely. The pants didn't have the same shine as the jacket did as they were simply a solid color to match one of the more darker shades. He was also provided a lighter green vest to go over his black shirt on his latest visit as the final touch. Standing back the tailor admired his work and applauded himself for a job well done. Moridin had to admit that it did look pretty good on him although he hoped it wasn't too much. The last thing he really wanted at this thing was to be paid much mind. All he had to do was pass Sirayn’s bloody test and he'd be fine. Unless she became more suspicious of him and called the bloody guard...

 

Later in the day found him trimming his goatee so that it was kept well in order for once. It had been quite a while since he'd done so and it was beginning to get a little to thick and he nearly had a full beard. After that and a proper bath he finally dressed himself for the ball. He spent most of his time here trying to avoid a majority of people and now here he was being forced into the middle of one of the largest groups of them he'd seen assembled since he arrived. What in the light had he been thinking when he signed up for that class? Why did he bloody well keep saying 'light'! He sunk back onto his bed, his mind a complete mess of thoughts. His hand surreptitiously rubbed the long scar across his neck which he suddenly realized was bare and open for people to see. Who was he? Getting up he strapped on the 'ceremonial' dagger he was permitted but for safety's sake slipped a smaller throwing knife into his boot. The last thing he needed was to be caught unprepared. With that he set out for the ball.

 

As he entered the magnificently decorated ball room he had to force his jaw not to drop. Something about fine decoration seemed familiar but this was something else entirely. He wondered how long it must have taken them to set all of this up but soon gave up unable to come to a conclusion. Instead he eyes began to examine those around him. But as most of the men were checking for how low cut the ladies dresses were or how much leg they showed through their skirt he was checking everyone for weapons. He wasn't sure why he did it and wasn't even aware he was for the first few minutes. It was just something he did instinctually and absent-mindedly. Though making it appear he was looking at how finely everyone was dressed, his eyes only saw skirts that could hide a dagger or two or jackets that could contain knives, wires, or toxins. He saw a few kids from the yards who had a hilt showing through their jacket as they tried to hide something in their trousers. Suddenly he stopped. Why was he doing this? Why was it instinct to check for weapons? Was it a threat to himself he'd been looking for? People who would hinder an escape if he needed to make one? Light, who had he bloody well been! These were all the things an assassin would look for. He shivered at the thought. He wanted so desperately to have been a good man in what ever other life he'd had but here he was looking for threats in a crowd and carrying a concealed knife of his own. The chill running down his back was only worsened as he saw Sirayn enter the room. So the test had officially begun and now he was being graded. He took note of the man who accompanied her. He recognized him from around the yard and had met him briefly. He was reasonably sure his name was Corin something, but he would rather not have to test his memory. Though they were around the same age the man outranked him and it seemed by his company and attire outclassed him as well. He didn't much mind the second part though. He almost chuckled, maybe there was a human aspect to Sirayn after all. Then he noticed the same mask she had worn when dealing with him still covered her face now. On second though, maybe not. It was then that she addressed the crowd. It made him wonder about her. If the etiquette teacher had the authority to address the entire ball then what did that mean? Had she been responsible for the whole thing? If so she certainly had outdone herself.

 

He listened as she mentioned her students and cursed inwardly as she asked everyone else to keep an eye on them. He also wondered how everyone would know who they were but that was an insignificant thought. What mattered was that now he had to worry about more then one pair of eyes. Just perfect... As she told them to go have fun he decided he might as well perform for this test. Glancing back at her once more to see if he’d been noticed he caught sight of the shawl she had at her waist. His breath caught and he froze up completely. Although he hadn’t been in Tar Valon very long he knew what the seven striped shawl meant. Amyrlin. He didn’t open his mouth or breath until he suddenly realized his lungs were burning. The woman he’d been dealing with and the woman who’s suspicion he’d aroused was the BLOODY AMYRLIN! He made his way towards the door slowly to try and avoid drawing attention but noticed Tower guard on either side. He wouldn’t get out without attracting attention.

 

He turned around to search for an alternate exit when a bright eyed girl came up and tugged his arm towards the dance floor. Putting on a smile then was one of the most difficult things he’d ever done but he couldn’t afford to offend her and draw attention to himself. Taking her hand he let himself be led out to the floor where she joined a few friends who also had boys with them. They were all younger then him but thankfully the girl who’d grabbed him was the oldest of the lot and no more then a few years younger then he was himself. The steps of the dance were familiar and his body moved without need of his mind to guide it. That left it free to wander the room as they turned through the dance and he glanced about for other exits. He noticed one which may have been a kitchen or servants door but wasn’t sure. He didn’t dare allow himself to appear distracted only glanced about briefly, pretending to look at the girl’s friends and their dates. He recognized one of the boys from the yards but he was a mere acquaintance and paid the child no mind. He made idle chatter with the girl whom he held, complimenting her on her dress asking her questions about herself and where she was from. Little tidbits out of Sirayn’s class that kept him polite and appearing interested. The thought of the Amyrlin sent another chill down his back which he hoped his partner didn’t notice. He had to maintain his dignity and composure or risk questions he most certainly did not want to answer. During their dance he noticed Sirayn with Corin a few time and each time hoped the dance wouldn’t bring them any closer. Thankfully they wound up drifting away as they had drifted nearer and he was saved being forced to a confrontation. Had the situation been different he might have enjoyed how things were playing out as the girl before him was quite beautiful and filled out her dress nicely. Unfortunately the thoughts looming over him were a detriment to that enjoyment. As they turned again he caught sight of the door he had spotted earlier, his only chance for escape. Now there was a crimson cloak standing in front of it. He was trapped. His only hope now was to put on a good performance and try and avoid the Amyrlin's eye.

[Guest Estel]

It hadn’t taken long for him to find the nearest servant with wine. He turned his nose up at the offer of a Tairen white, snapping instead that he’d have the Domani red instead. Throwing proper tasting etiquette to the dogs, he downed the wine in a single pull before shoving his glass towards the disapproving servant for a refill. Luckily for him, this was at the same time as Sirayn’s speech and so all “higher authorities’” attentions were elsewhere, allowing him to assuage his alcohol-deprived brain in peace. Of course, the irony of the situation was that as Sirayn was warning against abusing alcohol, she was providing the necessary distraction to allow him to finish his second... well, third now ... glass of wine.

 

By the time their hostess’ applause had died down, Faerthines was walking away from the servant with his fourth glass of wine in hand, the beginnings of a drunken wobble already visible. For the second time that evening, he made his way around the edges of the room, wine in hand, searching for his partner- not that he was eager to find her, but he had no intention of failing this class after the effort of putting up with her throughout the lessons. Despite his intoxicated state, however, he was not so far gone as to parade himself in front of the Aes Sedai and avoided them and in particular the Amyrlin as he made his way around.

 

However, Bethelynne wasn’t the only person he had his eyes out for. With all the Aes Sedai and Gaidin roaming the room, his mother was certain to make an appearance and despite trying to convince himself that he hated her, he could not escape the simple fact that she was his mother and he craved her approval. Light blind the woman, sixteen years and their first meeting she tells him she never wanted him!

 

Seeing no signs of her, his mother or even Orion, he found himself another servant to fill his glass and cursed the man when there was nothing stronger than wine. The one downside- there were actually multiple downsides, but in this state his mind did not have the capacity to keep track of multiple items- of being a raging alcoholic was that outside of his circle of fellow alcoholics he had no friends and few acquaintances. This left him standing, kicking his heels against the wall as he watched others carry out conversations.

 

Another cup of wine later, he pulled himself away from the wall with a very obvious stumble which earned him a few glances from nearby Tower initiates and Trainees. He answered with defiant sneer- probably not the best way to find good conversation. So he stumbled a little ways before a young man caught his curiousity. Actually, not so much the man as what he wore on his forehead: a hadori.

 

Immediately he remembered the whole painful reunion with his mother. His father had been Malkieri. He knew nothing about his father’s culture and was suddenly interesting- he wanted nothing to do with his mother anymore, and Arad Doman was part of her.

 

“Good evening.” Faerthines managed the correct bow with only a hint of wobble. “Faerthines Talcontar.” His diction as he introduced himself was actually surprisingly clear considering his alcohol intake. “Are you Malkieri, by any chance?”

 

Ooc: tell Faerthines to bugger off if you don’t want to talk to him Calen and please no one bust Faerthines for his drunkenness just yet, he’ll be busted in good time

 

 

Faerthines Talcontar

Retro Tower Trainee

Pissed out

[Los]

Most who knew of lost Malkier could tell by the planes and angles of his face that Calen was descendent from blood of the fallen the nation. He had been told he could be read like a haunting memoir, his ice blue eyes reminiscent of the old glory of the Thousand Lakes. It was the look of his mother; it had been her parents that had fled before the Shadow claimed the Golden Crane. His grandmother had been newly pregnant and their eagerness to start a new family had outweighed any patriotism that would have had them stay and stand, knowing their defeat inevitable, to let their blood wash the soil while the Seven Towers fell. Most who did not know of the now Blight-bound country knew enough and knew the reputation so as that when they saw the hadori at his brow curiosity would creep into their eyes but they would keep cautiously to themselves. The reputation of a man wearing the hadori being willing to kill at the drop of a pin had its uses.

 

Faerthines Talcontar. He seemed of an age with Calen, if anything he may have even been a few years his senior. The basic etiquette class must have been tough as the other young man had bowed; which was curious to Calen, he expected that for most functional etiquette a bow was normally reserved for royalty and perhaps the higher seats of high houses. In their particular case a salute was as much a show of respect that need be shown to like and higher ranked personnel, but then again he had not taught the class. He knew some young men did like to make flourishing bows to show that their particular sweetheart was a princess in their eyes but such young men were normally dunces in Calen’s eyes. He doubted Faerthines’ wobble had been meant as any form of flourish though. As he met the young man’s gaze Calen could see that his hazel eyes carried the kind of bloodshot malaise of one who had been drinking. Surprisingly the other young man’s voice had been clear though.

Since the other young man had begun with formalities it would be proper that Calen follow suit least he give insult. Despite the hadori’s reputation Calen was not much of one for dueling. Touching his heart and sword hilt Calen gave a formal greeting “May you know peace one day, Faerthines Talcontar. I am Calen Yvresse. I am Malkieri by the rights of my mother’s blood.”

As he finished speaking the serving girl arrived with his champagne in a fine crystal flute. Calen rewarded her a wining smile; not only had she come through for him but she had tried to impress him too. Ah but the common folk were dear-hearts. The champagne was splendid, not too sweet and perfectly dry. “You have surely out done yourself, my dear.” The girl positively beamed. Noticing that Faerthines was empty handed Calen offered the services of his newly made connection. “Perhaps you would care for another drink, Faerthines? What is your particular poison?”

As the girl moved off to acquisition Faerthines’ drink of choice Calen asked “Do you have a particular interest in Malkier, Faerthines?” He left the remainder of the sentence unfinished. The ‘or is it the same fascination that seems to have every crimson and fancloth cloaked individual screaming ‘Tai’Shar Malkier!’ at me?’ remained unsaid.

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa and Nerome~

 

She didn’t like it. Oh Ashes, Rossa didn’t like it.

 

Nerome blinked, and then felt himself redden below his tan. He knew it had been taking a risk to involve such a tricky thing as her past in tonight, but he had thought…Light, what had he thought?! She was looking at him now, searching him for an answer. Was she hurt? Please don’t let her think of this as some joke on my part…

 

This was probably the first time a gift had truly backfired on him so disastrously. This was also probably the first time he had really wanted the gift to mean something. Nervous as he had been when turning around the case, he had never quite thought she would’ve so openly shown her dislike for it. The thought made him redden further, until his skin was visibly flushed. Unable to look into her eyes Nerome looked towards lower, towards the tiles of the floor. Shifting unsteadily, Nerome took a hurried glance at her face before breaking the silence by speaking in hurried, flustered tones.

 

“I’m really sorry, Rossa. I had thought that perhaps this would…you would like…I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t offended you. I had when thinking of the right present for you wanted something that was connected to well, you.” Pausing, he looked up at her once more before looking away again. Was that a look of dismay? “I had wanted it to be special.” Breathing in, he stepped slightly away from her, aware that his ears were reddening slightly too. He couldn’t have her notice that! “I, I’ll be going now I think. Good Evening, My Lady Rossa.” What he needed was a good glass of wine. Maybe two.

 

She reached out and laid a gentle, but firm hand on his arm.

 

“Wait,” she said, a little louder than she had intended. “Wait, Nerome, it’s lovely… I honestly don’t know how to thank you enough.” The unexpected gesture had touched her heart, and made her remember her family, and her promise to them all over again. She would not let them be unremembered. The chains, symbolic of fidelity and honouring a promise, wrapped around the vulnerable, the transient, and the precious flower of the rose, had always held special meaning for Rossa, and now they held even more so.

 

“Thank you … it is the most precious thing anyone has ever given to me.” It truly was. Even the richest gifts from her parents while growing up had nothing on the sentimentality of this gesture. She took the locket out and held it to her neck, gently moving some carefully arranged pieces of her coiffure out of the way and hoping he would take the hint to fasten it around her neck.

 

“I love it. Thank you, my dear Nerome.”

 

It surprised him how much that slightest touch, nothing more than her hand on his shoulder affected him. Just as the red flush had sunk him down in quick seconds, he now felt as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt lighter, relieved. There could still be hope. Turning around, he looked straight into her eyes, his jaw set firm, his head angled a little cautiously. He found her smiling and her eyes….those lovely brown eyes were warm. Warm towards him, he realized with a sudden lurch. Her words flowed out mellifluous but strong, and Nerome at that moment couldn’t think of one person’s whose words had made his heart tighten and relax quite the way Rossa’s just had. Light, he had gone from walking away in a hasty blush to studying someone who could pull at his heartstrings like a puppeteer, without even realising it. Or did she realise it? Somehow, it didn’t matter to Nerome.

 

As Rossa continued to speak, it seemed as if time suddenly slowed down. Suddenly the lights were right, and suddenly everyone else seemed to fade. Everything was picture perfect. She was perfect. Her eyes were sparkling and her lips were turned upwards in the simplest, most likeable smile. He loved how a few strands had come astray, so that they curled around her face framing it perfectly. He loved how her eyes would change, from fervent and keen to those striking swirls of effulgent brown he couldn’t possibly look away from. He loved how straight her back was and especially how her shoulders wouldn’t settle into a slouch, not once! He loved most of all the person she was, Rossa Venye, Accepted and Noble, fiercely determined and unwaveringly so. Rossa Venye, fire and ice. Nerome’s breathing quickened.

 

It was in this same calm sway of time that he found himself taking the locket from her, smiling brightly as he did. Reaching for the locket ends he brushed her skin ever so slightly before clipping them together, the act finishing with a click as it came together. Turning her around by placing his hands on her shoulders, he swallowed as he took in the image. It looked lovely on her. For a moment he just stared, wanting to imprint the memory on his mind, so that tomorrow, when he rose, he wouldn’t wonder if it had been a dream. Then his smile widened, and he spoke. “It’s stunning on you. Almost like it was made for you, my Lady.” He said with a smirk, awaiting her verdict.

 

It looked like it had been made for her. The cool metal of the chain slipped around her neck and into the cleavage of her dress where the locket nestled. Candlelight flickered over the surface, changing the colour to a polished bronze before settling back to silver. It was so uniquely Rossa that she felt that Nerome had commissioned it, which made the gift all the more special. For a long time she did not know what to say, and stood mutely looking at Nerome’s face.

 

“Thank you, Nerome. This is a wonderful gift, truly.”

 

She admired how expressive his eyes were. Rossa didn’t think she had ever fully realised how deep his eyes were, how deep the feelings ran that lay behind the emerald gaze. Something else gnawed at her mind, and her soul … what was it? She had missed him. Rossa did not want him to go. How could she repay him? There was one thing she could do that would not broach propriety too much, and if she was bound for extra chores or hard work, then it was worth it. Besides, it was an appropriate gesture of thanks. Rossa leant up and brushed her lips lightly against his cheek, pausing to whisper something in his ear before dropping back down to her heels and looking up with vulnerable brown eyes.

 

She had whispered “Nerome, don’t leave me again…”

 

His cheek felt cool where she had kissed it, but Nerome’s insides were soaring. When had he ever felt like this before? He’d had his share of women, both in Cairhien and while he had been on the road, but never had any stirred him the way a kiss on the cheek from Rossa had. As he heard her words, Nerome felt his heart contract once more. She was not much shorter than him, but staring down into her eyes and drinking on every little contour of her face, it took effort for him to not take her into his arms, return her kiss with a kiss. “I won’t Rossa, never again.”

 

Never. A strong word, he knew, but one he would keep. One he wanted to keep. The need, the desire to keep her close was acutely vast. He wanted to be able to watch her, to be beside her at all times. The idea, the very thought of having to wait week upon week to meet her was unbearable. What if something happened in that time? What if something else, worse than even her Raising happened? He couldn’t- he wouldn’t let her be faced with such troubles again. And if she was in fact, he wanted to be right there to fight them with her. Together.

 

He didn’t need to think to know how to go about getting what he wanted. Taking Rossa’s hands into his own, he tightened his grip slightly as he began to speak. “Rossa, I can’t leave you. When I was in Caemlyn, I had wondered about how you were, what it is you were doing and well, not knowing wasn’t something I liked. I feel like....I need to know. I need to be able to be around you, beside you. I can’t really stand thinking that something could happen again, and I’m not there to help you. I need, and want to keep you safe. I want to be able protect you.” Looking down, he continued. “I know I’m no great, or half as brilliant and acknowledged as you are in the Tower Rossa, but I know I could be, and for you I will. I’ll work for it, and get there.” To think I once said I’d never see this day… Raising his eyes, Nerome lowered himself onto one knee. Still holding one hand, he spoke, calm and clearly.

 

“Rossa Venye, Accepted of the White Tower, I want to be there whenever it is you need me, that is if you’ll have me. Would you accept me as your Warder and Gaidin?”

[TaeaDawn]

It was her duty to attend and that was the only reason she was there. Ginae had better things to do then get dressed up and go to a ball, but her trainees were being judged tonight based on their ability to behave at this ball that Sirayn Sedai had set up and she was determined to be there and make sure that the boys and girls from her Yards were well behaved.

 

She wasn't the sort to forgo her training and her need to protect so she had on her best pair of pants. A silk shirt with a long jacket that acted almost as a dress would rounded her outfit out. All was embroidered with scroll work and finished in a manner that would impress even the Aes Sedai's standards.

 

As she entered the ballroom she was glad to see that her kids were behaving so far. It would be good to see they did so all night. But..well... so far.

 

Ginae... Mistress of Trainees

[TaeaDawn]

The ballroom stood sparkling and dynamic tonight, in ways that it hadn't in too long. As Aramina sur Dulciena looked around she remembered that there had been a time when Aes Sedai could hold such balls and expect people to come from around the land. That there had been a time when Aes Sedai were beloved by people and trusted above all. That was long before this though and tonight it stood as a test for the students Sirayn had been teaching. Still, it was a way to meet the upcoming trainees from the Yard and the girls that moved among their studies.

 

Aramina rarely met anyone from the Warders Yards anymore though sometimes she felt the pain of that more than others. Memories of Michael filled her head as she watched them moving from one to another and other memories as well, of Aran. Their names seemed to always come together these days as she tried to sort out her feelings for Aran. He was incredibly difficult to deal with and gave her no respect for being an Aes Sedai. What respect she had from him came from their shared experiences together and though it was hard not to demand respect that was due to an Aes Sedai of her age and standing, in some ways his respect meant more to her for it. In good standing or bad though, her feelings for him were a jumble that she hardly understood. She took a deep breath and pushed the thought aside. She was there to represent her Ajah and show the girls how a proper Aes Sedai should act.

 

her custom was to wear her hair all back in elaborate braids, but tonight she had only pulled the front back, leaving the back to fall in fascading curls. A few well placed moonstones made the light dance in her hair as she moved about. Her dress for the evening was a pale green with dark green embroidery that wound it's way around the hem and sleeves.

 

Her mirror had shown back a stunning reflection, but as she stood on the outsides looking into the ball, she felt it little. Her own doubts were playing havoc with her, though her face showed it not. her conversation with the Amyrlin after her horrid behavior still hung in the air as did Aran's betrayal and she had little way to convince Sirayn that she was better than her behavior had shown her to be. Time was the only way to change opinions and Aramina was as impatient as a novice in this manner. Still, she was there to show the strength of the Green Ajah and she wouldn't back down now, no matter who stood in the other room. With her head held high, Aramina walked into the ball.

 

Aramina sur Dulciena

[CorenYi]

He struggled to keep his eyes away from the mirror as he buttoned the loose silk shirt over his bare chest. Jorality sat across the room snickering at him as he tucked the smooth fabric into his breeches. "Shut it." He said with a look of mock anger as he cinched the belt tight.

 

Fior had always hated dressing up, but he knew that Sahra really wanted to go to this ball. Her excitement the last few days, while adorable, had only served to heighten the nervousness he had been feeling. Everyone would be at this stupid ball. Aes Sedai, Warders, Trainees, Novices, Accepted, everyong. Light, he was worried he would look out of place next to Sahra's radiance. Worried he wouldn't be able to remember the steps to the dances he'd known since childhood.

 

A manic laugh escaped his lips as he looked at himself. He was acting like a foal out of the stables for its first time. He had no reason to be so nervous. He and Sahra had been together for over a year, and he'd always been a skilled dancer. Plus there was the little treat he had in store for her afterwards.

 

Grabbing the russet brown coat he had bought for this occasion, he slid into it and turned to face his reflection. He had to admit, despite everything, he cut a dashing figure. The golden hems of the velvet jacket blended smoothly with the reds and browns of both his hair and the coat. The soft ivory white of the silk shirt sharpened the gold and accented the color in his face. The ends of the deeper brown breeches hung loosely around the soft brown and gold of his new leather boots. It was an ornate, but functional outfit. All in all, he was satisfied.

 

As he turned to face the door he caught a look in Jory's eyes. "Not a word." He said, swinging the door shut behind him. The ball wasn't for a few hours yet, but he still had some last minute details to throw together, and he wanted to be sure he was ready.

 

*****

 

He made his way slowly around the ballroom. Sahra had insisted on coming seperately, and he had no idea when she would get there. Everyone looked so lovely tonight. He almost hadn't recognized Cairma when she came in with her new Bonded, Jaydena Sedai. She had looked absolutely stunning.

 

Munching on an ice pepper garnish absentmindedly, he saw Conor from across the room. He was alone, which meant that Sahra was here, looking for him. He began to scan the ballroom anxiously when her sultry voice rang from beside him.

 

Grinning, he turned slowly his emerald gaze meeting hers. "There was an accepted who passed by a few moments ago with a deliciously low-cut affair." He said with a smirk and a wink. The smack across the arm he recieved was well worth it as he took the opportunity to catch her hand and pull her in close to him.

 

"But of course she barely tips the scale compared to you, my sweet."

 

Fior Canain

Dressed to impress

[Sirayn]

If she had to list all the qualities she particularly disliked about Corin Danveer, aside from her general aversion to Darkfriend poisoners, she might have begun with how he could bow and smile and look so innocent doing it. He styled himself as the very image of an honest Tower Guard, following protocol to the letter, when only she knew he had systematically planned and damn near executed her death. It felt like a kind of mockery: a sophisticated pretence, fit to fool everybody else, the subtext being reserved for her alone. She wanted little less than to spend her evening engaged in a sinister many-layered conversation with a murderous stalker, but when she looked around herself … at youngsters not normally out of white skirts, no more than children, and even older ones being careless of what they were drinking and who had been near it … no, she couldn’t take that risk.

 

Even so, famous Sirayn Damodred in her seven-striped colours had to steel herself to allow him to take her hand. She permitted so little touch that she just wasn’t used to it any more, the startling immediate sensation of unfamiliar skin against her own, and the self-imposed isolation only exacerbated her revulsion. Only the knowledge that she could not possibly flinch away in public with half a hundred people watching her kept her still and outwardly relaxed as the boy stepped in to put his arm around her; forcing herself immobile, her breathing controlled and even, she stamped out any sign of fear as the Darkfriend gathered her into close proximity. She felt everything too intensely: his hand on her back, only thin layers of fabric from her skin, his light grip on her hand, too much touch. She hated every moment. This had been a mistake, she shouldn’t have let her guilt trap her into this, she had no obligation to protect other people from their own stupidity, let them defend themselves for once …

 

Her son had been right to call her a coward. It shamed her that she claimed the title Amyrlin and yet she couldn’t even stand for somebody to touch her; at this rate it would be she, not her Basic Etiquette students, who earned herself a dressing-down. The sooner she learnt that Tower Guard trick and put away emotion forever the better. Focusing very hard on maintaining the proper composure, as was only proper from nominally the most powerful woman in the free world, she sought desperately for a distraction from just how much she hated being touched.

 

In case this ball hadn’t been strange enough already, the Danveer boy upped the bizarre factor by … flattering her. No stronger or wiser leader for the Tower? When he had planned to, what was his charming phrase, see how long he could keep her under forkroot before she went irretrievably insane? Perhaps if she somehow managed to forget who this boy was and how he had so abruptly and frighteningly turned on her, and a more cold-blooded plot she had rarely seen, she might convince herself there was half a chance he meant it. But, since she possessed slightly more than the intelligence of the average rat, she had no such illusions. She had never truly worked out why he had betrayed her like that or from where his mad, murderous plan had come. It seemed simplest and most logical to conclude that he was a Darkfriend, thus commanded by his masters, but she supposed there could be other reasons. But none of those reasons allowed for an abrupt and fantastic change of heart.

 

Music eddied around them as the dance slowed bringing them once more into close contact. She prickled helplessly, fear and disgust and aversion in equal measure, and wished she had the courage to walk out and damn the consequences; but the Light forfend that the Amyrlin Seat should ever break public expectations and she had condemned herself to this because of the stupid guilt she still carried. There would be no escape for quite some time … at least until she felt certain that nobody was at risk from her least favourite light-fingered poisoner any more. Still, although she dared not create a scene, she had no intention of indulging this mockery of a conversation any longer. “Spare me the false flattery, boy.” She kept her voice even and pleasant, tone carried much farther than words, but low enough for him alone to hear her response. “I recall that in my invitation I specifically told you to leave your usual tricks behind. By that I include your otherwise charming habit of flattering everyone fool enough to listen to you. I’ve no time for it, I know better.”

 

Strong and wise. Her mouth wanted to twist in bitterness, thinking of how well he had played her back when she had been fool enough to fall for his flattery, how stunned she had been at his unexpected attack … but she would never be weak like that again. The lonely and the half-witted, and she included herself in both categories, had some stupid desire for praise to fill up the empty spaces from everyone who hadn’t loved them enough; and that was how they got themselves preyed upon by skilled liars. For all she knew the boy would make a second attempt on her life later. In fact, for all she knew … he had one up his sleeve right now. Such were the rewards of Tower life. Retaining her smile, she devoted herself to the serious business of subtly keeping the young man in question away from unattended bottles and glasses.

 

Sirayn Damodred

Watcher of the Seals

Flame of Tar Valon

The Amyrlin Seat

[ashara]

Oh, Light, he’d asked if he could be her Warder. Rossa did not know where to look other than in those compelling green eyes and she felt her breath catch in her throat. The candlelight flickered over his handsome face and rippled over the locket that seemed to rise and fall with her pulse. She searched his face, trying to find some hint of whether he was being serious and desperately hoping she would not find a joke or cruel trick waiting. His face did not appear mocking, however. Sincerity shone in those green eyes like emerald fire.

 

“Nerome, truly, I am most flattered by your offer. I cannot bond you until I am Aes Sedai, and I do not know how long that will be. I am doing all that I can to progress with my studies but I will not be ready until the Aes Sedai say that I’m ready.”

 

She briefly considered what her mother would have thought to this interesting prospect. He was of noble birth; handsome enough to more than please the eye, had exquisite manners and shoulders to make many a maiden sigh. He was trained with a sword and it moved with grace that would make a leopard envious. More than a match for her daughter, Rossa knew her mother would say that. Her mother would see it as almost a marriage proposal, but Rossa would wear no knife for Nerome. It was different in a way that she could not easily explain. Love? Yes, love was there. She did love Nerome. But it went far deeper than that. The security of having someone sworn to defend your life with a love as sharp as your own … it was very different to marriage, particularly among the nobility. As the middle daughter of a noble house, the most that Rossa could have hoped for was a gentle man she could come to love, and a marriage of convenience to mutually further the prosperity of her house. This meant so much more to Rossa. She was able to choose, and the person she wanted also wanted her.

 

The words that he had said with such assurance, were now crashing down on him. Kneeling as he was, the room seemed very still and he himself, painfully loud. He could hear his thumping heart, the way it had quickened and tightened now that he had said what had needed to be said. He could hear it, and it made him cringe. Surely Rossa couldn’t hear it? Surely not? His eyes were still locked on hers, those beacons of hope that were studying him now, as if trying to discern the true meaning of his words. Her face was smooth, and remarkably akin to that of an Aes Sedai. A mask, and one that did not ease his worry. No one liked waiting for the aftermath of grand gestures, after all. Still, it was a grand gesture that he meant. Nerome blinked as realisation dawned on him; every word, every gesture tonight had been ones he had meant! Every last thought, true and every last heart beat, duly devoted.

 

It was as this truth unfolded that Rossa’s rejoinder came. Nerome listened closely to her words, but found himself at a loss when she finished. What did that mean? Light, was that a refusal? Or rather, a stimulus to proceed? Repeating the words in his head, he continued to look at her. He didn’t hide how he felt, eyes searching hers as his mind filled itself with the puzzle. Of course he understood that they couldn’t bond as yet, but what was she possibly afraid of?

 

Was it him?

 

“Rossa, I understand your worries. I face some of the same, even though while you chose to rise above others, I chose…the other way around. Still, I will not be allowed to be a Warder unless I am raised to Tower Guard, which while not far away now still requires that extra effort. That is why I had gone, if you should wish to know. To come closer to completing my days as Trainee.”

 

“Having said that, I’ve never quite found a reason to train. I joint, as you know because I had nothing better to do.” Giving her a hand a squeeze, he continued. “You would be more reason than I could imagine, Rossa. Also…” he paused, searching for the rights words. “You say that you do not know how long it will take you, or rather Aes Sedai to accept you as one of them. I am more than happy to wait, for you. With you, perhaps. If you’re worried that perhaps I might abandon you midway, please…” he paused, eyes stressed to his point. “Please, do not be.”

 

“Ah, Nerome… You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you ask me this. I truly do want you to continue your training because even if I do not bond you, you will make someone else a truly magnificent Warder.”

 

She watched his face fall, the hope in his eyes going out. Even at court dealing with the press of ardent suitors bent on a title or a prank to get close to her sisters, Rossa had never had such feeling for one of them. Gently extricating her hands from his, Rossa ran one over his cheek, cupping it briefly before looking around to see if anyone was watching and held it back in front of her, folded as serenely as the Aes Sedai around them. Long moments passed before she spoke again, while she tried to calm the iron butterflies in her stomach. She felt sick with uncertainty; the one time her training with Daes Dae’mar had failed her, she needed it most, and while Rossa tried to work out how to respond best in such a situation without letting anyone down or losing image … oh, how torn she felt!

 

She decided quietly.

“Nerome, if you promise to wait for me to be raised to the shawl, will you still be as devoted to me then as you are now? I will need a strong sword and a strong will, not one that will fall at the first. If you promise that to me, then I promise myself to you when I reach the shawl.”

[Guest Estel]

“Brandy if you can get it, a white Domani wine if not.” Faerthines said in response to Calen’s. “Your generosity is most appreciated, Master Yvresse. As for my interest in Malkier, I also claim rights to its blood, though through my father. However, he died before my birth and I was raised in my mother’s family’s home, ignorant of my heritage.” There was just a hint... actually, more than a hint of resentment in his voice for knowing next to nothing about his father. In fact, he had even wondered whether Orion, not Matthias, had been his father. From the many rumours, though distorted with age, he had heard in the Yards, it wasn’t completely an impossibility.

 

At this point, Calen’s serving girl returned with a goblet of brandy. He snatched it up greedily and managed a bare “my gratitude” for her before setting into with the fervour of the alcoholic he was. Finishing it in that first pull, he stumbled as he gave the girl back the cup as she looked at him apprehensively. Just barely managing to steady himself without having to grab hold of poor Calen’s shoulder, Faerthines sighed rather contentedly. “I am interested in learning more about my father home and people.”

[Arette]

After the thwap and glare Sahra melted a bit at his amendment. "I know that men are simple creatures and that it is easy to make you drool but we hold in esteem a bit more intelligence that appreciates leaving something for the imagination too", she said crisply pulling him toward the dance floor. "Or well, most of us do. Those who don't display themselves like that." They began to move to the music and her mood lightened instantly. She pondered for a moment savouring his strong arms around her and enjoying the feel of his broad shoulders under her palm.

 

"Though I could maybe dress like that for you privately if you wanted. I would do pretty much anything for you." It came out a too seriously; she had meant it to be light even if it was the truth. Donning a cheeky grin, she leaned to whisper "What would you do for me? In fact, have just the thing in mind. A dare or a challenge even." Sana and their family dinners had given her the idea and she was quite certain that this stunt would keep the Aes Sedai off from Fior for the rest of the night. Or then it would backfire and their interest would be perked. But she was betting her money on the first option. She had to because the other option was not tolerable.

 

"I assign you a partner for a while to entertain and you... well, I am sure you can think up something interesting for me in the bargain. Anything you can think of." Her eyes were full of promise and she knew that he would pick up the proverbial gauntlet. As he smiled and whispered that they had a deal, she twirled them so that he could see the short dark woman in her white finery. She nodded her head slightly toward her and saw his eyes widen when he picked up the regalia of her position. She experienced the first twinge of nervousness when she thought of the woman they would approach. But it was too late to pull back now even if she likely should have picked the Mistress of the Novices or even Ginae instead, Light anyone but her. She must have been taken by the Dragon for a moment.

 

Strenghtening her hold of him, she pulled him against her possessively. "Just not quite yet. We have barely even finished our first dance." Even though they would have time later when she got him back, she was greedy. And she would have him even if she had to challenge the woman for it. But first they would enjoy a few dances and maybe a few glasses of the punch even if it was postponing it. Sahra never drunk more than what made her mildly buzzed and tonight she could use a bit of enchantment for her courage. They swayed on the dance floor mostly in silence, their eyes fixed and bodies speaking a language of their own. It was a while since they had last danced together vertically but their training together and the physical intimacy showed in their well coordinated motions and the utter dedication like the rest of the world had stopped existing.

 

She didn't even know how many songs had passed before the players kept a small break and she could finally unlock her green eyes from his that were so close in shade. Her mouth was dry and her breath was definately quickened and not because the excercise was too much for her. After he lifted her hand to his lips, they headed to the drinks and touched their glasses before gulping down the wondrous liquid Laras had mixed. There was no taste of alcohol but Sahra was certain that the punch was fairly potent. They lingered for a moment and let the effect of the drink take hold before facing the most powerful woman in the world.

 

Sahra's fingers dug into the fabric of Fior's arm as he escorted her to the pair and she lifted her chin defiantly in a very typical gesture for her as nervousness threatened to overcome her. The Aes Sedai would be formidable but she had no reason to get angry. All they were asking for was a simple dance. As they approached, dark eyes from serene face bore into her and seemed to measure her inside and out. She felt like they founded her wanting and someone who was no more than a minor nuissance. It annoyed her but she fed that to the Spring and releasing her hand from Fior's arm managed a deep and graceful curtsy. Fior bowed beside her, a flowing and beautiful motion for a man of his built.

 

"Light's blessing on you Mother. I hope that I am not interrupting and interfering too badly", she said in a surprisingly clear voice. "I'm Sahra Covenry and this is Fior Canain, we're Tower Guard Trainees both. If it would please you, Mother, could I maybe borrow your escort for the next dance, the waltz? If you cared to dance, Fior here would stay. Even if he surely pales to your chosen companion" which he in her opinion didn't, but you had to be polite "I guarantee you that he is light on his feet and that his manners are impeccable." She grinned at the annoyed glance said man gave her. Growing serious she faced the Amyrlin Seat again wondering if she should have apologized in case of possible offense. But maybe Mother could be placated later if there was need.

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa and Nerome~

 

A promise binds

All those that vow

And it reminds

Both then and now

Of what must be

 

 

They might be far from bonded in spirit and soul, but at that very moment, Nerome felt as if he were looking upon a mirror. Her olive skin against his pale white marked them from different blood, but when one looked beyond face and eye…every expression that flickered on and off her face was exactly that which he felt his own heart being subject to. True, she was the one who was leading the conversation. And true once more, that she was the one who would choose, in these few crucial moments of what was left of a somewhat remarkable night. It was just that he knew one thing beyond all other things that kept him with his back straight, even though her words had just brought his face crashing down-he was doing the right thing. He was pursuing, the right dream.

 

It could mean that that he would have to prove himself time and time again, but as he felt her touch and kept his eyes enfixed on hers, he accepted it. It comforted him really, to know that there was something finally that both his mind and heart welcomed without any qualms. Of course there was that pang, that hurting for the rejection of what would’ve been the perfect end for such a night, but Nerome took in and kept it safely locked. He had been running all his life; perhaps it was finally time to look the other way.

 

Through love or duty

Honour or care

I'll keep my word

And I'll be there

Just wait for me.

 

He waited expectantly for her to bid him adieu, with downcast eyes and a weak smile. Had it not been for the fact that he could feel himself crumbling, just a little, Nerome would’ve smiled. To him, the hopes were still present just as they had been before he’d heard her speak, such was the surety he sat kneeling with. Never, never before had he felt so determined! If not tomorrow, then the day after, and if not then, then perhaps the week dawning next. One way or the other, he would make her see, he thought.

 

He realised with an honest start that she hadn’t whispered goodbye. As yet. Nerome thought as he looked at her, the dawning in his mind disturbing the previous calm he had settled into. Her eyes were still the same, but…

 

 

Through the ages

I'll hold you close

A promise kept

A promised knows

What you mean to me.

 

Her words tumbled out steadily, and Nerome listened to each one carefully. On the inside though, he felt the calm shatter. He felt the disappointment crack and fade into splinters. His mind, that had till then been a fortress of clear and accessible glass fell. Had she just spoken as he thought she had? Had she, really? Light, he wanted to smile. He wanted to take her in his arms and twirl her around, because it would fit that perfect ending.

 

He wouldn’t though, he decided.

 

Rising so that they were level once more, Nerome chose to be a man rather than the boy that had left for revenge and Caemlyn, only a few months ago. His eyes had lost that earnest boyish need to make her understand, his lips that smirk that fitted his personality so well. Instead, he had on a simple look of firm, knowing, understanding. Acceptance of what was, and hope for what could be.

 

Through the ages

I'll hold you close

A promise kept

A promised knows

What you mean to me.

 

“You have my word, my sword and my soul. I shall wait and gladly so. I promise this to you, Rossa.” Simple might just be best, he thought. Either way, change had come.

 

Through steel or storm

Darkness and light

From Dragon's Fingers

To the Blight

Depend on me

 

 

It was meant to be.

 

Rossa felt her heart soar that Nerome would wait. Even though she had a feeling it would not be long before being raised to the shawl there was always the thought that some other girl would sink her claws into him first. She had his oath now, and he didn’t look the kind to break it even though he was Cairhienin, and they were the worst for Daes Dae’mar she knew. It couldn’t be a ploy though, not with the same sort of feelings reflected in his eyes as her own. She smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting slowly and her eyes filling with warmth and happiness. It would be difficult to keep a look of satisfaction off her face as they walked around to see the other novices and accepted with their partners for the evening. They would be awkwardly trying to flirt with mixed amounts of success and she had seen how the others had eyed Nerome: a prime candidate for a trophy warder if she had ever seen one.

 

It was odd. Rossa did not want to move from his gaze, not yet, but she could feel the pull of the rest of the room. Aes Sedai eyes would note their absence before long and wonder why they were keeping apart from the rest of the festivities when the object was to be evaluated on their appearance and comportment at this ball.

 

He would wait for her, though.

 

“Gladly then do I accept your pledge, my Lord Seshir.” Her voice was louder, the formality resumed in case of those trying to overhear. She could tell him her thoughts more keenly at a later time. Squeezing his hand tightly, Rossa could not help but notice the music having certain poignancy to the moment and felt tears well up in her dark eyes. She pushed them away, knowing it was neither the time nor the place for such a thing, and tried to remember the novice exercises for calm and before those, her mother’s words about appearances and politics. Be the regal queen, no matter what your position. It will throw any rivals off guard and set friends at ease, but most importantly it will give you an air of unpredictability that in politics is essential.

 

“Well, my promised.” She did like saying that. It had such a nice ring to it, particularly the “my” part. “We should mingle with the other people that have come to this ball. It is discourteous in the extreme to closet ourselves away when our gracious host as laid on such a magnificent occasion, and I am quite thirsty.” It would have been better if she had not wanted the moment to last all evening and let the rest of the room go hang. Rossa was far too pragmatic to allow that to happen though. Her feelings could wait; they would have to.