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Old Women and Politics [Sirayn & Corrine]


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Corrine sighed, rubbing her temples as her fingers could massage away the sudden headache there. Her rooms were neat and orderly, even more-so than usual, and things had been set out for tea. Usually, those menial tasks calmed and mentally prepared the Blue for an upcoming meeting. Not so this time.


The old Taraboner sat in her armchair, head held in hands, suddenly feeling very tired. She walked a thin line, every woman who dared call herself Aes Sedai did but hers more so than most. Certainly her guest walked an ever thinner line and, with amusement, Corrine noted the far slimmer shoulders with which the new Amyrlin had to bear her load. Right now, and no doubt she would feel this way many times before this meeting was over, she would not trade her most worthless possession for Sirayn’s position.


White braids clacked together as she shook her head from a sort of amused exasperation. No doubt Sirayn was not altogether pleased with her little speech when the Hall had convened to choose the Amyrlin to follow Lanfir. There had been little choice in the matter though. Sirayn would have been raised and she would have been forced to stand anyway. All that mattered was that there would be no repeat of the events following her predecessor’s raising.


The newly-raised Amyrlin’s note had been short, stating only that she wished to meet in the Blue quarters. No hint at the purpose of the visit, no indication of where she, and the Blues as whole, stood with their new leader. No doubt this was the tiny woman’s plan to set Corrine off balance. Damn her, it was working.


Though anticipated, the knock at the door still caused the Blue to start. Forcing herself through Novice exercises to calm her nerves she made her way to the door. ‘Here goes.’ Was her only thought before she pulled the door open, immediately dropping a curtsy and completing the necessary formalities.


“Welcome, Mother. Do have a seat.” Taking her seat only after her guest had taken hers, Corrine played the perfect hostess and allowed neither her curiousity nor her nerves to show. “Tea?”



Corrine’dei Susten

First Selector

Wondering what the hell Sira wants




During her long and some would say chequered history Sirayn Damodred had crossed paths with innumerable Aes Sedai. From the book-lovers of the Brown Ajah to the logicians of the White Ajah and all the shades in between, she had offended, explored, fought with or against, sometimes admired or all of the above each of the seven Ajahs. Yet for an Ajah which shared such strong philosophical links with her own … her former Ajah, that was, and however much it stung to leave the Green Ajah behind she couldn’t afford that kind of slip in public … she had had comparatively little to do with the Blue Ajah.


She had been acquainted with a number of them. Half the younger generation she had taken on campaigns, with fiery Serena Morrigan her particular favourite, while others -- in particular she remembered Kartos Dal’Avier -- had joined her on the darkest task of their lives: the Black Ajah Hunt. But each had been a passing contact, save for those she had brought into the Order at a later date, and she had never had Ajah-wide business with them the way she had with other Ajahs. As far as she knew there was no logical reason whatsoever why an entire faction should take against her the way the Blue Ajah had.


Illogical reasons, however, they had in plenty. She had had the temerity to be raised from the same Ajah as her predecessor, Lanfir Leah Marithsen, causing all and sundry to conceive wild notions of a Green Ajah takeover. That one proponent of this should be the same Ajah which boasted so openly of having more Amyrlins than anyone else called their intelligence into question, but apparently Blue Ajah propaganda did not have to be checked for internal consistency before it was released, and maybe only Sirayn recognised its absurdity.


No matter the illogic, for her audacity in having worn a green shawl, she had to pay for a stranger’s crimes. She disliked having a total outsider and political spy forced on her as her Keeper, but for the sake of diplomatic unity she was prepared to tolerate it; perhaps she would never know why Lanfir had pitched a fit at the idea of doing the same and decided to disobey the Hall’s wishes. Indeed, she considered herself as ignorant as anybody else on the topic, but it was she who had to be punished as if it were somehow her responsibility. So although she had no intention of allowing a Blue Ajah plant to hamper her, she had taken the stranger as her Keeper and intended to behave with all the propriety her predecessor had lacked, and that should have been the end of it.


Yet for all this the Blue Ajah still seemed to hold a grudge against her. If she were two centuries younger, or maybe even one, she would have rolled up her sleeves, dragged a Blue Sitter out of bed and rattled some sense into their empty head until they started to see the sheer stupidity of their position -- the senseless, destructive hostility of hating her for her Ajah, for Lanfir Marithsen and maybe even for the Last Battle which everybody now knew was on the horizon -- but a sister of her age ought to observe the proper behaviour.


Instead of a dawn interrogation she had sent a beautifully polite note to arrange a meeting with their senior Sitter. She had dressed smartly, practised her most businesslike and noncommittal smile, and generally prepared herself for diplomatic battle. Unfortunately it was the kind of battle to which she could only bring her wits, and however highly she thought of herself she doubted her wits were as sharp as a good length of steel, but on behalf of her beloved and bitterly divided Tower she intended to at least put in a decent performance.


It seemed somewhat uncharitable to hope that Corrine’dei Susten, another complete stranger, had spent the time since receiving her note slowly stewing in anxiety. Perhaps it would make her a little more agreeable for once. She took her time heading to the Blue Ajah halls, finding the right room, then finally knocked; it did gratify her somewhat that the Sitter curtseyed so readily, something still foreign to her, so perhaps they could keep this little meeting down to a dull roar. Her smile was flawless, her nod calculated to the fraction. “Good morning, Daughter. I’m glad you could find time for me.” She took a seat, let the other woman pour tea for her, maintaining an expression of cool benevolence. “I thought you and I should … talk.”


The brief pause, the subtle and barely perceptible change of intonation, took the tension up a notch. She had no reading on this stranger whatsoever or on how much trouble might arise and Sirayn intended to find out. “I know a few of your sisters but by no means all. Perhaps you could give me an overview of Blue Ajah concerns, how I can best address them, and perhaps which sisters you feel would most benefit from a little attention … and perhaps responsibility. If I need a mission leading or a cause furthering or just a job doing … who would you recommend?” She sipped her tea, the picture of serenity, and waited to see if and how the other woman took the bait.


Sirayn Damodred

Watcher of the Seals

Flame of Tar Valon

The Amyrlin Seat

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  • 4 weeks later...
Guest Estel

“Politics: a compound word derived from the Latin word poli; meaning many and tic(k)s; being blood-sucking animals.”


Talk? By reputation and her own limited personal knowledge of the woman, Corrine hadn’t taken Sirayn as one who would bother to state the obvious. So either her perception of the woman was completely off or else there was some other meaning. Was she daring to threaten her in her own chambers? Or was Corrine jumping at shadows? What was the bloody woman getting at?


As for the rest of the Amyrlin’s questions, either they were genuine in their concern or else some ploy lay behind them which Corrine could not for the life of her see. ‘Blah, too many games. I’m as paranoid as she’s legendary to be.’ She sipped her tea, making a last futile attempt to come up with some game Sirayn could be playing but her mind drew a blank and she couldn’t sip her tea for forever.


“I’ll start with you last questions first. Mission leading: Serena Morrigan, for sure. Survivor of Dumai’s Wells and not just because of luck, she has a shrewd mind. Kieryn Ashadar may not have Serena’s experience in the field but Kieryn has an exceptional mind for details.”


That was the easy answer and truthfully the only one she had. The first question could have been better phrased “What in the Light is your problem?” and Corrine couldn’t exactly answer that without earning herself a healthy dose of the former-Green’s ire. After all, it truthfully wasn’t Sirayn’s fault for being raised from the same Ajah as Lanfir but the Blues had to stand and let her know that they would not be left to kick their heels as they had with her predecessor.


“As for the overall concerns of the Blue Ajah… It is no secret that the Blue held little love for Lanfir as Amyrlin. She slighted us and despite our supposed “perfection”, it is a woman’s nature to hold a grudge, however childish. I’d rather not see a repeat of the past.” Now came the olive branch. “But you are not Lanfir, though I used you as her in the Hall. The Blue Ajah will not stand by and let another Amyrlin run roughshod over us again. However, there is little and Ajah can do for itself when it has incurred the Amrylin’s displeasure.” “You help us, we help you” it could have been said so much easier but politics and appearances deemed bluntness improper.



Corrine'dei Susten

First Selector

Politics be Damned


ooc: blah, I hope the end makes at least a little sense...

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Beyond the notice of many, the noise of her wings caressing the ear was a defeaning roar that assaulted Zztrzzt's antennae. Twisting through the air to and fro, the air was as the ocean was to her food, so heavy yet so easy to move through with a grace that did not reveal that she had recently spawned a new brood. Well over a hundred and fifty young, she had taken the blood of others and turned it into a new generation that would continue their species long after she was gone.


Indeed, continuing the species was why she was flying now, searching for a new food source to give her the strength necessary to bring more of her kind into the world. While her wings assaulted her antennae with sound, they sensed more than this, the sweet perfume of sweat and blood heavy in iron and protein was a miasma of delight that drew her like a moth to a flame. High into the air, floating on the warm air as she climbed higher and higher until she saw herself in the substance before her.


Landing on the wooden ledge, her antennae twitched in excitement, it wasn't far now. Crouching, she slipped underneath the obstacle before her into a vast world where she was washed with the heat from not only the room, but two very viable sources of food. One dressed in blue, that one was quickly ruled out in favour of the other that emanated more heat.


Throwing herself in the air, Zztrzzt quivered in anticipation of the meal that the huge beast was to give her. Indiscernable to the human eye due to her minute size, thanks to her starved state, there was no lashing out as she spiraled down, down, down until she found a place that suited her. Perching herself on the cornucopia of life's neck, she shifted about a little until she found the spot that sang to her most. Rearing up, she thrust downward with her proboscis, feeling each serrated edge clip as it penetrated the skin. At once the familiar orgy of pleasure overwhelmed her as the lifeblood of her host flowed into her, filling her very being with a liveliness that was euphoric and addictive, mindblowing yet demanding as she drew even more deeply as her wings twitched from the ecstasy.




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