A Failure of Follies

[Drea Raylin]

Daylight seeped in through the curtains of the latest Inn room window, slowly spreading across Wylie’s cheek as the sun rose. Reaching her eye, she opened them, startled at the morning sun and the obvious time as well. Lurching up, she looked around the empty room and cursed loudly. The spot next to her wasn’t even warm anymore. Wylie reached under her pillow for the knife she planned on using and threw it across the room. She screamed a curse again.

 

Another one had gotten away. Light, she didn’t do this because she liked it—well, not mostly—she did it because it paid well. The last thing men expected from a beautiful woman was to be robbed and sometimes murdered. But as of late, Twyla Santagar’s skill had been lacking. But everything seemed to be going so well last night.

 

**

 

It had been another rainy night in Cairhien, third straight. The Common rooms of every Inn was packed which made men right for the picking. Normally, they seemed to find their way to her, but by the weight of her purse and the growl in her stomach, she needed to initiate this time.

 

Her pick was easy: a young, skinny man, maybe a few years older than herself. He was tall, about 6’3” dead giveaway he wasn’t a local. His ice blue eyes stood out against the tan of his skin and his dark brown hair. Very attractive. He was sitting in a corner, alone, listening intently to the woman singing on stage and he had no drink. Perfect. Judging by the silk on his back and the jewelry on his fingers he was worth a try.

 

Grabbing a serving woman by the arm, Wylie pressed a coin into the palm of her hand. “Brandy. I’ll be around.” A good strong drink should warm her up nicely. The young girl, probably more loose than Wylie, nodded and left quickly. She walked around the common room, pretending to look for a seat but got no luck, ending at the man’s little table in the corner.

 

“Do you mind? All the rest are taken?” She asked sweetly.

 

The man barely paid any attention to her, nodded vacantly and waved a casual hand toward the chair. Wylie rolled her eyes and took off her damp cloak before sitting down, revealing the single, plain knife she kept at her belt. Her drink arrived shortly and Wylie gave an obvious tip to the loose girl. She felt the man’s eyes on her and had to force herself not to blush under his gaze.

 

“She’s a beautiful singer.” Wylie said finally while the woman took a break between songs.

 

The man nodded again and then turned to face her. “Yes. I’ve always had an ear for music.”

 

Wylie melted under his gaze. He smelled musky, a mix between a good cigar and a fresh shave. She reveled in it. “Not me. My mother would beat me with a stick when she heard me singing.” Sad truth in that statement. She took a drink to hide any incoming humiliation, but her glass was empty. Raising a hand to get the girl’s attention, she flashed him a quick glance and smiled.

 

“You look like you could use a drink, Master…” she trailed off.

 

“Grahm. Grahm al’ Schott. Thank you for the offer, but I don’t drink. And you are?”

 

Wylie scowled at the serving girl, not wanting—or able—to do so at Master al’ Schott, and waved her off again without ordering anything. “Lorna” She replied, smiling genuinely. She couldn’t be mad at that handsome face for long. Grahm waited expectantly for the rest of her name, but Wylie stared back. “What? Bad context with my name? I can pretend to be someone else if you’d like.”

 

Grahm laughed. “No, that’s not it. I like it actually. Very innocent.”

 

Wylie laughed as well. This was it. Time to make a move. “Well, Master al’ Schott, it’s about time I retire for the night. Good luck to you.” She took one last glance at his adorable blue eyes and threw a few coins onto the table. Grahm reached up and grabbed her by the wrist. Her skin tingled all the way down her back.

 

“Are you staying here?” he asked quietly.

 

Wylie smiled as she turned around to face him again. “I am. Are you?” Of course, she already knew the answer.

 

Grahm nodded and stood as well. “It is getting late. Can I walk you to your room? Wouldn’t want a pretty lady like you getting lost down the hallway.”

 

Wylie smiled at the poor attempt for a joke. “No we wouldn’t.”

 

 

**

 

Wylie growled to herself, cursing the fact that she now had no money, no food, and no place to stay tonight. She dressed quickly and looked out the window. The streets were busy with daily tasks, and there was no sign of Grahm anywhere. At least it had stopped raining. Snatching the blade from the wall, Wylie threw open the door. Standing directly across from the door was another woman, obviously waiting for her.

 

“It’s about time you woke up. Your prey left hours ago.”

 

Wylie clutched the knife in her hand, hiding it behind her. “What are you talking about?”

 

[ashara]

“There’s no need to hide the dagger woman, I’m not here to harm you.”

 

After a night of pattering rain, the day that had lifted had come with sun and sparkle, an irony that did not escape Adela as she watched the frowning face study her. There was some fear in that face that would not be defeated by the struggling features that desired the void, and while Adela let herself stay calm, her insides tensed. Fear drove people to do foolish things, and she hardly needed someone who seemed perfectly healthy and useful make waste by throwing herself, measly knife and all, straight into an attack against Adela. No, she wasn’t here to threaten. Not when she herself could see an offer shimmering its way down the staircase. The fact that the staircase was dangerously warped and curved at dangerous corners was, irrelevant. They were of the same people, and that would be more than enough love to keep the two of them steadily away from each other’s harm.

 

The girl had emerged the evening before, drawing her eyes as she stepped in past the muddy streets of Cairhien. At first she had suited the wallpaper as remarkably as any of the several weary eyed travellers, with her roving eyes and cautious demeanour. At first, she had only been subject to the green monster of envy rising up within her, wondering not without exasperation how it was that even a tired, ragged looking woman could still manage to look appealing to the eye, catching not only her own jealous interest, but that of several other men in the vicinity. She had continued to watch the stranger over the brandy and bread she had chosen for her meal, but the study was surreptitious, and more than just covert. A trade she had learnt from Nona, in her early days.

 

At second glance though, she found herself following it with a third. More brandy was ordered, and as the vile taste skirmished down her throat, Adela’s curiosity was fastened. The drained face had been a guise it seemed, for soon there was a touch of shine to beady eyes, and a sway to her hips that she hadn’t noticed before. Adela had heart about the arts of seduction, mainly tales she had gathered during journeys, but watching the gentle twists and turns that persuaded a man upstairs with her own eyes… it was a different, amusing and intriguing story. However, while that was all well enough, what really demanded closer attention was the expression she had caught on the seductress’s face, a passing thing of command and cruelty as she handed the serving woman a coin.

 

“I’m talking about what best would be discussed, inside.” Motioning to the room the woman had stepped out of minutes before, she spoke again. “The man can be found. I’ve traced his steps well enough to know where he is. Now, do you want to hear more?” Motioning again, she waited expectantly. If the woman knew what was good for her, she would not refuse.

[Drea Raylin]

Twyla bared her teeth and bit her tongue, hard. With eyes narrow and pointed at the girl before her, she made a point to sheathing her knife, clicking it firmly at her side. This bloody girl seemed to think herself important the way she talked. She had obviously watched Wylie work last night –how much did she know? Get out, Twyla Santagar. Get out now and run. This girl is trouble.

“I don’t need you.” Twyla growled lowly as she brushed passed the girl, nearly knocking her over. As she swept by, the girl grabbed her by the arm, stopping Wylie with a jolt. She reached down and pulled Twyla’s purse off her belt and shook it with a smug smirk. Blood and bloody ashes! Who was this girl? Was she some bloody Aes Sedai! Light, that’s the last thing Twyla needed, a witch chasing her around making “deals”, threatening to take her to the flaming White Tower and make her a bloody novice. Ha! Twyla, a novice! The thought made her smirk. She’d cause hell in that tower like no one else.

 

“Listen… whoever you are. I appreciate your help, but I really don’t need it. I’ve managed on my own for years, I think I can handle a day or two. Tonight’s another night, after all.” Twyla pretended to grin politely, but she was sure the sarcasm dripped out like a bucket of cold water.

 

As Twyla took a step forward, she was suddenly moving backward. The girl still held her arm and was leading her backward into the room. The door slammed behind her and Twyla was shoved further into the small area.

 

“What the bloody hell are you doing!? Are you def as well as stupid?” She contemplated the idea of taking out her knife again but decided against it. Though a girl, she was tougher than she looked. Twyla had the forming bruise on her arm to prove it.

 

 

 

 

[ashara]

So she was a fiery one. Dragging her new friend back straight into where she had first emerged from, Adela ignored the shrieks and demands, noticing only the slight mingled touch of fear and anger, and what an interesting quality it gave to the stranger. This woman had determination, if nothing else. Closing the door firmly behind her, she turned to face the seething stranger. Adela felt oddly reminded of herself, of an event locked so deeply into her past that it took someone very different to have drawn it back to her thoughts. She had been struggling under the grip of a much bigger, stronger foe than any she had encountered, and although hate had been seared into her heart for Kane Trahil even now, so many years later, she would always owe him for being the very cause of having pushed her beyond her limits. Studying the outraged face before her now, she felt calm brought to her by years of practice with the Void, but also the understood fact that she, would do her level best not to have this lass turn her anger into hate. Once solidified, hate was strong. She did not need it, neither of them would have advantage by feelings so extreme.

 

“Enough.” She held her hands up in dismissal of any future arguments. “Sit down if you wish, and if you need drink some of the water you’ve left wasted in your room. It might calm you down.” She waited for a little, and considered her face. Where to begin? She did not want to bring her offers onto the table before she knew what made this girl tick, seeing as she’d already understood what made her furious. “I think we could do with starting introductions. What is your name, and what brings you here? Oh and, the real answer please. I will know if you’re lying, so I’m asking you not to bother. The Great Lord has all its forces trained in that art, unlike lightfools. But then, you know that fact all too well.”

 

~Adela

Sorry it's so short!

[Drea Raylin]

Twyla stared at the girl, begrudgingly as she slowly reached for a cup beside the basin. The last thing she wanted to do was obey this girl, but her mouth was unexpectedly dry and screaming for hydration. With no wine to be found in this bloody man’s bloody room, water would have to suffice. Slowly, and only taking her blue eyes off the other woman for brief seconds, Twyla poured herself a glass of water, took one drink and set it back down on the table before taking a seat in the room’s only chair.

 

The Great Lord? Light! Who was this girl? Her first initial thought was curious, but all senses told her to run, fast. But curiosity won over anyway. Was there something she was supposed to know, but didn’t? Had she been blinded her whole life to the answers she’s been searching for? Best start with answering the questions asked, before jumping into her own. This woman may be of help after all, despite her diminutive size.

 

Her name? A list of names she’s used scrolled through her mind. Selyse, Vivia, Brecca, Misael, Lya, and last night’s pick: Lorna and many others. But the tone of this woman’s voice told Wylie she was serious. “Twyla. Twyla Santagar. But my family always called me Wylie.” Her voice was suddenly meek, as if the mentioning of the Dark Lord had silenced her wit and stilled her fire. Enough of that! A bloody man had never put fear in her before, why should this one be any different? “And who are you?” Her indignation was back and with full force.

 

[ashara]

Twyla Santagar. Wylie. These were names she could work with, the truth that was ingrained in them she could work with. The internal struggle that was marring her face was a curious thing to watch, although Adela’s face stayed as similar to blank canvas as it had when she had first greeted the woman. Her choice of words, the appropriate mention of the Great Lord had appeased like she had hoped and this success guided her a little further down the path she would need to use to completely and utterly, subdue Miss Santagar. The flash she had caught in her eyes before the fury had lurched back had told Adela just how to grasp control, but she was unsure if she wanted to. She had Twyla’s attention now, which opened so many other doors. Doors that held keys to trust. And as far as she was concerned, that was one of her top priorities for now.

 

“I am Adela, and I want to help you.”

 

Adela had said the words honestly, looking straight at Twyla as she had done so. Once said though, she moved near the small windows near the room and pushed back the curtains to look through them. She had not bothered to watch the other’s face for a reaction this time, even though her mind urged her to do so. First impressions, first revelations could teach her so much about Twyla Santagar, but she was willing to sacrifice a little bit of knowledge if it meant that she could have a little bit of faith.  Therefore, it was more important for Twyla to grasp the situation quickly, and digest the little nibbles of information that Adela was willing to give her. Not only would it serve her as a manner to show Twyla that hers was an open door, but Adela would be able to judge just how intelligent the other was, and where her strengths truly lay. After all, her temper was going to be a difficult weakness to work with. She had decided that for every blaze she would receive, she would give back simple words and honest answers. As honest as she could risk them to be, anyway.

 

“That is, if you will receive it.” She turned back towards Twyla and looked at her straight in the eye again. “I am giving you one chance to leave. If you wish it, you may go now.” Her eyes still gripped Twyla’s as she had said the last words, and when she saw no apparent movement, she was pleased. So Twyla knew how and when to take chances. Good. Offering the other a hand, she spoke clearly.

 

“Take my hand, and I will take you to him.”

 

She did not need to know more than that. She did not need to know more about ‘Grahm’ than required, no more than his location just now. The fact that he was a Friend of the Dark just like Adela herself, was not needed. Smiling slightly, she waited for the approaching response. The game had begun and it would be now that the gamble would pay off, if it actually would.