Year's end! (Rory and Saline)

[Sam]

A white dress turned crisply at the tinkling, bells.

 

Her eyes shied; clear blue, summery skies.

 

 

 

"Ahem." Charm worked more efficiently than intimidation, and Saline smiled her most reassuring smile as she paced toward the startled young woman. "Would you like assistance, perhaps?" Though it was the Accepted Quarters, plenty of initiates had lost their way in the labyrinth before. While Saline was not exactly expecting a Novice in her room, a poor sense of direction had been common amongst the best when first they came to the Tower. Saline should know; she had been that confused Novice not so long ago. Even as an Accepted there were areas she was unfamiliar with throughout the Tower, and sometimes, a few more than anybody might expect, she would inadvertently give out wrong directions to the ever changing classrooms and lecture halls. Older, though no wiser (as the inner voice always reminded her), she now gave directions only when she was positive, and in areas of uncertainty would refer the Novices to an Aes Sedai who could help. As an unexpected benefit she was able to familiarise herself more with the Tower and its navigation. At least, she added ruefully, it was not as wild as having to find her way in the woods with a compass. Now that was hopeless.

 

 

 

Then it was Saline's turn to be startled. Her dark gaze focused on the rainbow hem in the Novice's soft white hands, and the neatly folded shifts piled on Rory's desk. Rubbing the calluses from years of toil – mostly weapons training on top of an even longer period of working in Mistress Laras' kitchens; Saline continued, only more avidly pursuing her line of questioning. "Are you looking for my roommate? Rory's not back yet, but you may either wait on her bed there, or leave a message with me."

 

 

 

More and more it was becoming clear to Saline that this bright-eyed lass was not here by accident. Her first idea was preposterous, that the Novice could have somehow picked her way into their room just to nab Rory's possessions. The possibility of a thief in the White Tower was easily conceivable. Aurora, the student Saline had taught how to read, came from a very tough upbringing in which there was no other way to avoid starvation if a woman did not employ her witty fingers. Nay, the ability of a thief was there from her knowledge of others' past, but what about having faith in new beginnings? When Saline summoned the memory of Aurora printing her letters neatly in the first home that fulfilled all her physiological needs, she flushed with shame, but recovered quickly. That was a knack she developed from many years rooming with Rory.

 

 

 

She eyed the Novice's hands again, inspecting them. Too white for snatching in the markets, she assessed. Bright-eyes had probably been a stupid, lumbering Noble, like Saline, whose earlier years did not disappoint as they provided her with another conceivable motive. Perhaps it was a sudden bout of paranoia at work, but what if the Novice was after Rory to pay a grudge? Saline was sure that her ever mischievous roommate could easily have offended a Novice or three. After all, three Novices had kidnapped Saline before, just for a tattered diary. Who knew what this one might have done, if Rory had in fact turned her bread into stone or whatnot. The Novice's mouth was unsmiling, making it difficult for Saline to check for chipped teeth; besides, couldn't the Sisters in the infirmary fuse a tooth back? Then again, why would the Novice organise Rory's dresses for her? Were they laced with itchweed? Saline shifted at the thought. Again, paranoia struck. She had blackmailed the three Novices who kidnapped her to put itchweed into Vera and Estel Sedai's towels, and to this day she did not reckon the Gray or the Blue knew who the mastermind was behind the itchweed prank.

 

 

 

Such a prank was unlikely seeing as no herb pouch was visible, but let none say Saline was an unwary person, for that wondrous attribute of caution had been shaped by a childhood saturated with intrigues. Along came a third idea, and this was by far the worse.

 

 

 

By this point, it had occurred to Saline to simply ask the Novice why she was folding her roommate's clothes in the room, but she hesitated. Perhaps Rory had pulled rank. An Accepted asking a chore of the Novice was very common for the sake of discipline. However, doing one's own laundry for mere convenience was frowned upon… And the inner voice piped up: "Pah, Saline is weird! Laundry, shmuandry, how is it the worst?"

 

 

 

Well, the first solution would have been easiest, for the fault lies with the ignorant Novice. She would learn not to steal, for much was freely given if asked with proper deference, while the Sisters looked unkindly on thieving. The second answer was more troublesome, and might require a serious inquiry before the Novice's grievance could be settled (without harming Rory, of whom she was very protective), but in terms of damage control all Saline needed to do was to wash Rory's dresses and shifts. But the last idea, this one implied a fault within the Accepted, and that her roommate might have wronged was the idea Saline would grudgingly accept, has she always had.

 

 

 

As the simplest answer usually neared the truth, Saline considered the third option the most, and the more she considered, the more she wished it were not so. Again, she would have to chide her roommate for abusing her status as an Accepted.

 

 

 

Sigh.

 

 

 

Sisters such as Jagen of the Red Aes Sedai would not have cuddled their students like Saline did hers, but former Mentor or Mentee, the Taraboner really felt responsible for everything that may or may not happen. It was not a staggering case of universal guilt, which, as everybody knew, was quite the ego-booster. She had learned from that when she was still filled the role of a Mentor, and had neglected Rory due to her own insecurities and passivity. But Rory had brought to Saline her epiphany, and throughout the process of breaking Rory's so called 'block' they grew to care for each other, and were inseparable after seven years of rooming together. No, no, Saline did not feel guilty when she thought back to the beginning, only joy that they had both grown so much.

 

 

 

On the other hand, some things would never change. Rory would always pull some stunt that would have worked brilliantly, and sometimes they do, but most times the pranks would land her into more trouble, Saline along with her roommate. Were she a stronger woman, for example Lillian, she would not have gone along. Regrettably, the White was always in and out of the Tower, and the Accepted pair rarely had time to catch up before their friend went abroad again. But nay, she went along, mostly to keep an ever watchful eye on Rory, to protect her and others, but also to have fun. Most people could not be bothered to learn why she 'babied' Rory, pinning it immediately for guilt, obligation or some other complex they could dispatch. Nay, she helped Rory whenever she could because she cared for her companion, who had become so precious to her. Saline enjoyed Rory's company more than she would comfortably sit with anybody else, and Rory was dearer to her than her Tower Guard friends, her other roommates as a Novice, and, she would not lie in the privacy of her own mind, even the Tinker.

 

 

 

That boded. But Saline did not mind, as long as the secret remained hers. At night she would find something to chide Rory about, and laugh in the mornings when the other woke her up in the most pleasant manner. Thus was contentment, for now.

 

 

 

Once more, Saline smiled at the Novice, having a fairly good notion why the other seemed nervous. Since she was quite sure Rory was to blame, one way or another, she could afford to be kind to somebody who might have a legitimate grudge. Picking up another one of Rory's dresses she grinned. "Mind if I help with the folding?" Not giving the other a chance to refuse she tucked the dress neatly onto the pile on Rory's desk and moved onto a shift.

 

 

 

Although she was grateful that her hands were not itching yet, her tummy tumbled in dread. So the third idea was the right one after all. Saline had almost wished it was a Novice for Vendetta, instead of Rory being in the wrong. She would have to lecture Rory for the umpteenth time, knowing her roommate would not change her living style. And did Saline really want her to change?

 

 

 

A part of her suspected not, for she had enjoyed too much of the said style to resist.

 

 

 

And not for the first time the hypocrisy of lecturing Rory on not abusing one's rank struck her, when she herself had sinned in such a manner by punishing three initiates with a 'chore' to rub itchweed into the two Sisters' towels at the bath, but at the time it seemed like a great idea not to turn in her kidnappers. Besides, she still kept Taya Gille's diary in a cubbyhole near the Tower Guard's steams, where she was certain no Novices could venture without permission. A useful hideaway for what could potentially be the greatest discovery of secret societies since the beginning of the Gruesome Girls' Guild.

 

 

 

On the bright side, the lack of itchweed meant that Rory had not yet tricked this initiate into biting anything hard. Saline thought that perhaps after their last run-in with the Mistress of Novices her roommate thought more before acting on impulses. Rory certainly did hold Darienna Sedai in high regard for her creativity and fairness, although it was not altogether, well, respectful.

 

 

 

Yes, well anyhow, that was good news, and Saline would not be chastising too sternly knowing personal growth does exist for her roommate. Besides, she would read a story, and in her heart of hearts Saline knew stories solved everything.

 

 

 

Buoyant by the prospect, she gathered her thoughts on the present situation. In silence they -- the Novice and herself -- worked until all was packed away nicely, and Saline dismissed her partner with a twist of rue. "I'm Saline. Sorry about this. You probably have studying to do; thank you…?"

 

 

 

She waited for a name, which the Novice gave, after an odd start at Saline's name. "Amber." Seizing Amber's hand Saline's smile widened. "I could do the washing for Rory, really. You've been a great help."

 

 

 

But Amber did not leave; she stood, examining Saline, who watched the young woman shuffle as if debating how to proceed, and watched for that tale-tale twitch of a falsehood as she held her breath tight. The Novice finally chose to give her an uplifted smile, full of dazzling, un-chipped teeth. Why then, why was her heart beating, faster and faster as if something had gone very wrong?

 

 

 

"Cheers Saline, but I am instructed to take your roommate's belongings elsewhere. I am not permitted to tell you where Rory has gone, and if you follow me I must report you to Darienna Sedai. I am to give you a message. You cannot help Rory."

 

 

 

Was her heart pounding? The poor thing stopped instead. Feeling a bit faint, she sat down on Rory's bed. Then she recovered herself, though this time composure took longer due to the shock. Suppressing the alarmed thoughts racing in turmoil, Saline asked in slow deliberate tones, "What can you tell me, Amber?"

 

 

 

That debating look came over Amber again, but this time Saline did not wait. "Please," she pleaded, dropping all façade of the Aes Sedai every Accepted tried so hard to emulate. "I need to know." Or I shall die.

 

 

 

Amber locked eyes with her, and nodded slowly, then explained what happened with Rory, the trolloc, Arette Sedai, and most of all Darienna Sedai's sentence. When Saline had gotten information she asked for, Amber slipped out carrying the last of Rory's pack. Rory's things were gone, and Saline had helped pack them out of their room.

 

 

 

Saline could have cried readily, but the banner of her despair was quickly taken up by another. She trembled with 'righteous' fury. Why had Rory not listened to her the last time they were punished, and she specifically talked her way through the night about hurting their chances? Now her student was taken from Saline, a disgraced Mentor.

 

 

 

That felt a sharp slap in the face.

 

 

 

Why had Saline gone along with Rory's pranks as she always had, indecisively encouraging the other to go wild, and laughed about it later? She had failed, failed Rory as a Mentor, and Rory had probably failed out of the Tower altogether. Perhaps that was why she had to 'stay away', when… when her darling could be out there in the wilderness with only a pack of the dresses to keep memories of.

 

 

 

Saline was pained by her anger, knowing it was not directed at Rory so much as at herself. A disappointment burning in her eyes as tears of self-pity threatened to overflow. Lillian had always told them to lead by example, to be a role model, and Saline, well, she was too short sighted to protect Rory from herself. Now Darienna Sedai had taken Rory away, and Saline might never talk with Rory again.

 

 

 

She lifted her head to keep in the hot tears, staring through a mirage of colours.

 

 

 

You cannot help Rory.

 

 

 

Ooo, but she could help! Saline would convince Darienna Sedai to bring Rory back to her. Yes, she could face the old dragon, provided that persuasion would work. For Rory she would wake the kraken itself, if she thought it would help.

 

 

 

Here was the most troubling of her thoughts, as she knew what answer she would be given. Aes Sedai may take ages to determine a course of action, but once given, they did not take back their orders without good reason, and Saline's plea of how she missed Rory would not bode well. Besides, she had never known the Mistress of Novices to eat her own words. No, she could not counteract Darienna Sedai's orders, not directly, anyway. It reminded her of the time when she and Rory actualised her friend ' Rome's desire to train in such a manner as to defeat a dreadlady, to which Lillian had given them some sterling advice. Some things were beyond one's abilities, and she ought to accept her limits. The thing about pessimism, however, was that Saline would be defeated, and then harden her heart so she would not care. She could not neglect Rory this way, she would not.

 

 

 

Were we doomed to repeat the same mistakes all over? She had neglected Rory once more, this time out of liking Rory too much. Last time she had given in, and that made things between them alright. But she could not disobey the Mistress of Novices who had no need of her help (for fear of Saline influencing Rory? After all she had not done so well in Advance Saidar – nor did she care, really -- and on top of that, starting the Guild for the girls…), what could she do?

 

 

 

Saline did what she always did whenever she was vexed. Her eyes closed. Drawing deep breaths she began a simple exercise 'Rome had taught her, and calmed as she gathered all her emotions into a ball, then letting the feelings she had felt course through her. Confusion, anger, desperation, regret, solitude… all her fears and worries she fed into that tiny ball, as one by one they flickered through her.

 

 

 

Ever so slowly, a new feeling battered into her, one that told her how things were meant to be. It rejuvenated her as she focused her mind, and realised how a channeller touched the one power, and that was more applicable to many other situations she had never linked to before, although the association was clear now. Saline had given in, simply submitting to the flow that the Aes Sedai dictated for her. They were her teachers, guides, and for a few, friends, but if she wanted the freedom to shape her own choices, she must. The only way to counteract Darienna Sedai's orders, and share with Rory whatever punishment she had been given, was to gain complete independence. Instead of running or resisting, the best way for her to do this would be to work as hard as she could so to show Darienna Sedai that she could do well in the classrooms, and she was ready to be tested.

 

 

 

Yes, that was true. Saline Sedai could room with whoever she bloody well wants, but Saline Wastrel could not be with the person she preferred. Saline Sedai could help Rory, while Saline Wastrel, Rory would have to tough the life alone.

 

 

 

Nights were definitely the loneliest. During the day hours she could at least interact with the Sisters, the other initiates, and her friends, although it never occurred to her until the first week without Rory how little she talked with others. During classes she would contribute, and in study share her opinions, but the real feelings and jumble of thoughts she disclosed to one only, and now that Rory was gone, what she tried to say was awkward to people she never felt a need to connect with before. Sometimes ' Rome would impress her with his clarity of thought and his loyalty though she knew he probably thought she was a mental.

 

 

 

Her storybook was unopened, as she would no longer read ahead without Rory. Since some nights were best forgotten, Saline craved sleep, but however she tried she could not hide in the luxury of sleep. Instead she distracted herself with research, and when her brain had fizzed over homework, in which she devoted much effort into, she found some other hobbies. Timmons, the gardener, was one of the best people to have a heart to heart with, perhaps because he had not known Rory very well, so Saline did not find it awkward when the subject turned to her roommate; they shared an interest in horticulture, and she genuinely believed that Timmons was fond of her. Saline began growing a brier of Rory's favourite flowers around the back of the juniper, and would keep circling there as if Rory would suddenly appear beneath its broad branches one day, and play together like they used to.

 

 

 

She kept busy with her studies, but never forgot her roommate. How could she? Rory and her, they had been inseparable for seven years. Several months would not eradicate memories of the one her world had centred around. But it was true that without Rory, she had more time to invest in other things. Helping out with the soup kitchen project, Saline cooked with some Novices in the Blue Ajah chicken shed when she could not sleep, which was half the time, and became quite efficient at hotpots and soufflés. Wines were good remedies as well, and if they took a while to understand it was certainly worth ploughing through the jargon, although she took care not to indulge as she had in her novitiate, which was easy enough if one had prepared a meal and invited company. Saline was a patient woman, and those nights were worth the days of planning even though company was not always easy to arrange for, given everybody's schedules.

 

 

 

As for pity, perhaps Huxley described her best. He wrote that one should not wallow in pity so much as to become stagnant, or move on so quickly that one does not retain the experience of being moved, but rather to wallow in self pity long enough that one would always learn from the experience, and thus being able to move on. Saline's roommate was present, and always a part of her wherever she went, but she did not give herself too much time to dwell on Rory, except when she wanted some inspiration so she could get over her frustrations with whatever task at hand and work harder.

 

 

 

Instead of worrying about what was beyond her, she had simply moved her focus elsewhere, establishing her worth as a Mentor. She learned from everybody as her examples, especially Arette Sedai, whom she held in great esteem after the Brown had broken her student Tirzah's block. Now Tirzah had an interesting older brother, who was very good with metals, something she knew very little about, and yet the properties were so thrilling. Saline only wished that Rory would be able to hang out with the duo of Ogier and Novice, but it was a fleeting fancy.

 

 

 

Months passed and Darienna Sedai never assigned another roommate to her for which she was grateful. The nights were lonely but nobody could replace the Rory in her heart, and she did not want another roommate. Her motivation was Rory, and she worked hard. Her achievements were thought highly by Vera Sedai, her advisor, and frankly, the recognition was humbling to a girl who was never so clever or skilled to begin with. Saline always regarded praise with a suspicious mind, taking most to be mockery, but there really was no need for the Gray Sister to flatter Saline, who failed to imagine her advisor to be any but sincere, although her words of encouragement were far too kind.

 

 

 

As for herself, Saline was quite satisfied with her personal growth. In the months, she was forced out of her natural passivity to interact with others, and found much good in the Tower. That made her days bearable, and she always had something to work for. As Timmons had been fond of saying, above your mountain there is another, and there was always room higher for improvement. That was true, and changes had occurred, but she no longer resisted them. At first she did not care what others thought, but lately she cared a great deal, and their thoughts of her invigorated her. She was embracing the river she tapped into, and drawing from her connections every day more reasons to venture out. Saline was just as good as anybody else, and all she had to do was to reach. Timmons had pointed out the attitude shift, comparing her to a gem hidden inside a stone. Before, she had waited for somebody else to notice her, somebody like Rory or Timmons who had the time and energy to share with her. Now, she shone with a definite purpose. Throughout her activities, she was missing Rory, and Saline was determined do her best to get her roommate back.

 

 

 

The roses were in bloom and calmed her.

 

A blanket under their juniper was spread, and mounted on top were little paper plates with napkin folded into artistic forms.

 

 

 

She dabbed at her skirts with one of those, shifting as it deepened with the moisture. In her arms she cradled a basket laden with dishes, and the smell of a particularly rich ginger cake pervaded her senses. Her excitement was almost palpable. It had taken hours of planning. Not just the decor, but the mental preparation took a great deal from her as well.

 

 

 

Amber was an Accepted now, when she gave Saline the heads up. As for Saline, she had not seen her roommate in a year. It was not new that people sometimes move on, and where there was no longer regular interaction grow to forget their friends. What if Rory would not like the changes Saline made to their sanctuary? She was scared, that she would be left behind, before a chasm she could not cross.

 

 

 

Things had always been expressed physically so much that talk seemed unnatural, and instead of the speech she prepared, words died in her heart, as language failed her altogether as she marveled, then lurched into the other.

 

 

 

She, she was thinner, taller, her eyes incredibly large, dark longer hair framed her face, paler than memory served; impact.

 

 

 

Her delicate little fingers, so small I could snap them up within mine. Brittle, they would break in my clutches if that'll win me her. I felt a fool as she stared back, but cannot express my feelings, not with words. There was so much to say. How could I profess my feelings without ruining our fateful friendship? I had entertained the branches of multiple futures, and Rory had been the cornerstone featured in them all. She hardly seemed to comprehend the passion that I nurtured in her absence. I myself, brimmed with fearful apprehension, knew not what to do. In all my hours spent dreaming, it was hardly what I expected, though I had dreaded the confrontation even as it filled me with joy. 

 

 

I hugged her and made her understand how much she was missed. Dear, dear Rory.

 

 

 

Why was Rory not responding, even as Saline reached up, up, and twining her fingers into the other's hair? She could have cried as she withdrew her unwanted attention, bracing herself for that angry resentment she dreaded. Then the strong arms she remembered enveloped her, and turned away further doubt.

 

 

 

She leaned in, fastening eagerly onto my shoulder, surprising me as her fingers ran freshly through my locks, reciprocating my affections long and deep. A twist of the tongue, and I tasted this incredible, blissful warmth. For a moment I freeze, it was what I had always wanted, but that little idea of being a Mentor had sunken roots deep in me, that made me pause. Not for long, however. Her fashioned lips were still ajar, and I gave myself over as I returned her affections, brushing my dried mouth across hers, clumsily. 

 

 

And how about this for a jam: every time she moved, her enemy moved; each time she turned, her enemy turned.  This was going to be a long day. She had been locked in mortal combat for the past four hours with no sign of surrender. She eyed herself in the mirror once more. Yes, her face was still there. Not that her desire was to see it vanish totally, only miraculously transform and become a little more manageable. She was procrastinating and her reflection knew it.

 

She had left Darienna Sedai's cordoned off little "Rory Area" without pause, her excitement to be free, to be seeing Saline once more after so long, hopping the thought-queue of her mind and shoving that little old woman aside her, glaring at that little boy there, until no other thought dared to come anywhere near it. This had lasted long enough to take her, with a bundle of supplies under her arms, into town, where it quickly barged its way out of the queue with the same physical abruptness leaving her thoughts cowering on the floor.

 

Truth be known, like it wasn't already obvious, she was terrified of seeing Saline again. She had been corralled by the will of Darienna Sedai for an entire rotation of seasons, not that this mattered—she seldom caught glimpse of the sun. Darienna kept her busy, very busy and Rory had become a touch thinner in the face, thinner in the body and her complexion several shades lighter. That is why she was where she was, not exactly a philosophical answer.

 

Saline had once bought Rory a dress, one quite lovely that she was determined to wear today. Having said that, with her slimmer figure it would sit rudely and be unflattering to her and to Saline's choice, which on this occasion had been adequate. Finding a seamstress was easy.

 

That sorted, Rory picked out an assortment of oils, flowers, perfumes and creams, and ran back to her quarters with them securely tucked under her arm. This was not typical Rory behaviour by any means, but these were not a normal set of circumstances, and Saline was no ordinary girl. How heavily did the last weigh into her decision?

 

Rory knew how she felt about Saline or thought she did. It was a little hard not to over an entire year of separation; after all, there were only so many nights one could bawl oneself to sleep without realising something was up. She hesitated to term it "love," that was a powerful word with a complicated set of rules attached, and having no prior experience to compare it just wasn't ... how did they say ... cricket?

 

She could say that it was the memory of Saline that had kept her sane in her isolation, the remembered warmth of her body, the rarity of her smile, the way her voice breathed life into the words of her stories; the way she would let Rory press against her in the night, the way she would stroke Rory's hair when she was upset. She could say that the thought of seeing Saline again filled her stomach with a hive of bees that she must have swallowed inside a candy apple at some point. She could say all these things, but she jolly well wasn't going to—not even think them. In all of her reunion scenarios, some of which being rather racy, she had not accounted for this particular feeling, and they fell short.

 

Oh, fine. So she loved her, okay? She had thought of nothing over the past year but their final parting kiss and remembered every aspect of it: the taste of Saline's lips, the smell of her skin and hair, the feel of her body; the tremulous response of her own. She had known in that instant, or at least over the year that followed, that she wanted Saline in a way that was more than friendship, and this, coupled with the severe string of apologies she owed, scared her more than anything. Right, we've got that sorted. It's out in the open. Can we continue with the story now? Thanks much.

 

Several hours more were spent in the bath, amidst potions, soaps, herbs and aromatic oils promising everything from the skin of a babe to youth eternal. Rory doubted severely that they would deliver anywhere near to what they promised, but when she left the bath and wrapped herself in a towel, her skin tingled pleasantly and really was more sensitive.

 

And now she sat in front of a mirror, sighing the fringe from her eyes and staring glumly at her reflection. What could be done with a face like that? Her brown eyes were domineering orbs, and her pale amber skin had faded to a sickly pallor. Her hair was also brown—like chocolate—straight, dull; boring. She wouldn't even get started on her hands, those hands that looked thin and boney. I guess she would get started on her hands, after all.

 

How tempting it was the cast glamour. A few quick weaves and she would be the essence of perfection, perfection according to Rory. Saline would know and if she mentioned anything it would be utterly embarrassing. Her mother had always tried to teach her to be "a woman" why did she have to be so light cursedly stubborn all the time? It was a wonder people put up with her at all.

 

She did her best, yes, and tried very hard, yes, and pulled it off … well, almost. She gathered her hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck, leaving some "accidental" strands to curl down her forehead. It wouldn't have been bad if the ponytail had been straight rather than slightly crooked, but she wasn't able to see it.

 

Her eyes had to be shrunken somewhat; no, not like the heads. Rory, brandishing kohl, ran a very thin ring of black around her eyes, for some reason unknown to her making her eyes appear smaller. She also shaded the upper lids, starting dark at the lashes and lightening as she reached the brows. A good attempt that would have been better if the black lines weren't as jerky and the shadowing not so blotchy in places.

 

She wore the dress, pastel pink with a light floral print. A white sash was tied about her waist, loosely, so that it wouldn't show off the extra slimness of it. The kept rose, Saline's first gift to her was affixed over one ear, going quite nicely with the dress, which not only lessened the danger of her appearing pallid but brought out the colour of her lips. She did not even attempt to bolster those. Now there was an uncomfortable thought.

 

She'd gone to all this effort, and wearing a pair of slacks beneath her dress now would make a good job of ruining it. She wore stockings, she actually wore stockings! Light, what was next? They were white, woolen, and clung immodestly to the shaping of her thighs and calves. Thank the creator for long dresses.

 

The shoes were hideous: hideous. At least they were so to Rory, who spent most days in strapping, leather boots. Pale pink with a splash of white, certainly an appropriate match to her attire of the moment, but really? Horrible, detestable things. Rory would take sturdy boots; sturdy anything over those silly … she wasn't even sure she could walk in them!

 

About the only thing that had gone completely right, and this depended entirely upon interpretation of that shy and elusive word, was the smell. Yes, you heard right, smell. It was an interesting blend of honeysuckle fresh apples and cinnamon. She loved apples, and Saline loved to bake. The perfect perfume. Well, I did say it was dependent on interpretation, didn't I?

 

Rory was ready, utterly terrified of embarrassment, failure and reaction, but ready. Her mind had been drawing weapons on mischievous thoughts on that subject all day. How would Saline feel about seeing her, would she be angry, would she have changed, these three questions especially were too frightened to step inside the building.

 

Had Saline not seen her she would have fled, she was in process of doing so when she was caught. She thought she had been afraid earlier; now her body was in full flight defence mode and she trembled as Saline came closer. She knew she was trembling, knew she shouldn't be, but Saline looked so good, smelled so good and it had been so long and….

 

Saline embraced her and her heart stopped. Completely paralyzed she couldn't smile or laugh or even grimace. Not fair not fair! There was so much she wanted to say, to apologise, to plead forgiveness; to say how much Saline had been missed and how much she cared; especially the last. But no, her body betrayed her and she stood frozen as Saline looked into her eyes, played with her fingers.

 

Rory moved. Her lips pressed into Saline's mouth before she registered the motion. It was clumsy, and not exactly skilled, but it was fervent and her face flushed bright scarlet. She couldn't stop, for so many reasons. Foremost amongst them was the ignoble silence that would follow, and having to meet Saline's gaze. Oh, why wouldn't she kiss back?

 

Saline's mouth tasted better than she imagined, and her lips were warm. Rory remembered the last kiss, remembered the spark that had flashed through her blood and the pleasurable sense of rightness. But here, here Saline was not kissing her back, her lips did not move; nothing else stirred. Rory continued desperately. Please, please, please.

 

When Saline returned the kiss, and she did, Rory became so giddy that she swayed and would have fallen if it weren't for her roommate's embrace. A sob of relief escaped her mouth and she knew she was crying but she didn't care. A feeling much like that of the embrace of saidar came upon her and every sense surged with life. She focused only on that mouth, on that body, on her Saline and what she told her. Rory was home. 

 

 

How awkward. A little spontaneity and the disciplined mind simply melted into the textile sense. They were together again, but the experience was unexpectedly rough. Unlike the gentle caressing of her most intimate fantasies, her fingers pressed, making dimples on Rory as if to ascertain that the other was really there. They acted out not only her affections but her fear of losing Rory again, and they itched to reach all over, though she restrained their touch to seizing Rory's hands, then smoothing a slight bump in Rory's ponytail, tingling with a wave of pleasure when they encountered a familiar rose fashioned into the ribbon, and when they groped Rory's cheeks, they found wetness, as if in response to Saline's violence.

 

 

 

When it came to being kissed Saline was a romantic, and that meant her eyes closed after a while, trusting that the other knew where her lips were. That she was kissing back was hardly of importance to her as she savoured the sensations consuming her mind. Although she didn't see them, Rory's tears came as no shock to her. Some had fallen unto her face before she pulled away from their kiss, so mingled that she could taste them; that was how she became aware of the other's tangled emotions, that and the uncontrolled release shaking Rory's thin frame as she held the other close. Instinctually her arms tightened around Rory, swooping in, demanding more warmth. Surely this was not wise for Rory to stay so close, but she would not, could not force her body to let go, not when she craved for the other's kiss for so long. And kissed they had, the feel, the memory of Rory's mouth haunting her as her hands yearned to cup the other's chin, to kiss her again.

 

 

 

"Silly, why are you crying? Don't cry." As they always did whenever the other cried, Saline's fingers brushed along the thick fringes of Rory's lashes, chasing the tears down. The slopes of Rory's cheeks were sharper than she remembered: what little padding it had was eroded over the months. What was even more moving was the smudges that had came off at her fingertips, which then carved cakes onto Rory's face in a mixture of fluster and surprise. Rory's large brown eyes were encased by makeup. Saline stared in fascination. She had never seen Rory wear kohl before. That the other would go to such lengths to enhance her appearance indicated how frightened she must have been of the reunion with Saline, who didn't know whether to be pleased or saddened. And if she thought Rory's eyes were large before, without cosmetics the twin chocolates at the centre seemed to have increased their diameter.

 

 

 

Did she look slightly cross-eyed to Rory as well?

 

 

 

Through the sheen of tears Rory was smiling, and at the upturned cues around the corners of Rory's eyes and mouth, she smiled back, although she too, felt shaky. In Etiquette she was told to not look the men from head to toe, as if searching for something to like. Instead the proper place for a gaze was your dance partner's eyes, or if that was too much for the delicacy of the individual, one should at least examine the bridge of his nose. But Saline went against the rules, and looked everywhere. She had to admit it; Saline never saw a person so near perfection. "Look at you," her words sounded clumsy, as though they had grown too large and general for the tenderness she possessed in her regard for Rory. The Illianer had dressed to please, and the floral dress was one that Saline had hoped the other would wear as it flattered her curves, but hadn't expected since their tastes differed. The dress hung slack where its purpose was to shape, making her swallow hard. That the other had sought to please her, by wearing a dress she was sure the other thought was tacky gave her such a giddy rush. And the matching pink shoes were icing on the cake, though they did look uncomfortable.

 

 

 

Though they no longer kissed, she couldn't resist touching, tugging at the elegant white sash (like something Lillian would own) around the other's waist, as if by keeping contact with Rory she could probe into the other's mind and see what Rory was thinking. The way her mouth had delved into Saline's the other wasn't altogether displeased, and neither was Saline. She could never get too much Rory, but confrontations made her uneasy. When she had neglected Rory for so long, that she would be reduced to wearing these shoes? Would the other hold their separation against her? When Rory was around sometimes Saline would try and convince herself to forget any other possibility beyond friendship, for both their sakes. She did not stop enjoying herself when people joked around, but she thought it was only her own heart she was risking, in controlled, discreet bouts of affection. While she did not like to think unwell of friends, she had even given an ungracious argument that Rory was self-serving in hopes that her passion would pall. But it had not. She loved, and lived in fear. The old fear, her heartbeat would so easily reveal her.

 

 

 

Better to have no heart to confide in.

 

 

 

Looking at Rory was akin to reading over a good story, there were certain things she had not noticed before. Like that scent, so strong she could taste it when she leaned. Never in her wildest inventions would she have devised such a scent, of honeysuckle and apples. Some perfumes when applied by amateurs were farfetched and overpowering, but somehow Rory had engineered the smell just right. And like everything associated with Rory, it was simple and divine. She had gone past her thoughts, out of her imagination, exited her league, and off the deep end, but inevitably the heady scent brought her senses back, recalling all the food, the apple pie especially, left to cool on the ground. "Hungry?" The roguish thought of making free while they had left a well-baked apple pie standing warmed her cheeks, and she was glad for the cover as she turned toward the cutlery, the sound of Rory's delightful laughter tinkling in her ears. 

 

 

 

Mmm; they tasted even better than they looked and they looked delicious. Rory was content to lean into the embrace of Saline and into her mouth forever—which seemed like no time at all, really. Fascinating: she had never actually been kissed before, not that Saline needed to know. Rory wasn't sure she'd be able to stand on her own if she'd wanted to—and she really, really didn't.

 

 

 

The kiss spanned from the tip of her hair to the well pedicured nail of her biggest toe, not to mention everywhere in between and she hadn't even know that was possible. It was very little surprise that her bottom lip tried to latch onto Saline's as the other attempted to pull away. This was unsuccessful and so she opted for a small whine of frustration and a pout.

 

 

 

Rory laughed when she believed that Saline's query about being hungry had been a joke and then laughed ever harder when she realised it wasn't. Saline had a gift in her ability to say the wrong thing at the right time to relieve most awkward situations, or to at least make it less awkward for Rory.

 

 

 

And Rory was certainly not going to mention, or draw attention to, the sash tugging at all for fear that Saline might stop. It was good to be with her again, good to be out in the sunshine, beneath the Juniper tree and away from Darienna! She had come to respect Darienna a great deal, but still—hello free time!

 

 

 

As Saline reached for the apple pie Rory leapt a little too quickly to get there first, Saline had done so much for her and she had never given much in return. Well, she'd start by cutting her own damn pie and a slice for Saline also. "Wait. Wait. Do be letting me. You do be preparing all this for us, the least I can be doing is cutting some pie. Here. Now please do be telling me everything that do be happening while I be away."

 

 

Fork poised strategically, Saline waited until Rory had gotten herself a slice before digging in, taking a neat bite of the golden mass. She hoped Rory was finding the pie as scrumptious as she did. The Illianer always spoke of great and lofty ideals in a direct way that flirted with rudeness, and here she concerned herself with the cutlery. This fall from grandeur made her suspect Darienna might have had Rory at more than just lessons. She tried to pry her tongue from the divine sensations her mouth enjoyed by swallowing. Having nothing more to sense, except for delicious memories (and not just of the pie, either) her tongue did move, but it was not in speech. Rather it inspected her lips for stray crumbs, longing for more honey glazed morsels. 

 

Smearing a napkin across her mouth, Saline smiled, forgetting herself, more specifically her self-consciousness. After the second forkful of pie her smile evolved into an easy grin. She knew she could not avoid the question forever, and with a fortifying portion of pie she did not want to. Usually she would mull over her responses slowly, whereas now she was somehow capable of talking until words cascaded out. She did not start at the beginning, however; rather she had worked backwards, an odd way to relate a story, but Rory, used to Saline’s rambling tangents, wouldn’t mind listening and figuring out the sequence for herself.

 

“Why not, so long as you keep eating, please eat, do not talk! This is just like story time isn’t it, when you’d sit and listen to me under the juniper.” Gesturing to the small blooms there, as her Taraboner accent took on a fervent lilt. “Did you notice the roses, are they not luscious? They are still your favourite flowers, I hope. Let’s see, what have I been doing? I’ve been doing a lot with plants in general, partly to grow these.” Absently she played with her fork: it really looked forlorn without any pie on it. After looking around cautiously, as if there were watchers in the trees and on top of picnic cloths, the Accepted said, “You remember Timmons, right? The gardener I met when Rossa and I were helping Vera Sedai with this Garden? Rossa sometimes takes her students here, but other than that it’s private, and really it’s Timmons who is the caretaker. He, ah, is rather elderly, if you’ll remember, but somehow on a free day had gotten caught up in a tavern brawl, Timmons hurt his leg in a scuffle to get away. And stubborn as he is he wouldn’t let me tell a Yellow of his injury, like it’s any shame that he cannot run fast enough to avoid getting hurt. His excuse is that he does not trust anybody with the Garden while he’s cooped up in bed weaker than a drowned kitten,” bemused she leaned forward, curls dangling, and whispered conspiratorially, “but I will be unkind and say he somehow stirred up the brawl, and the Sisters are on the lookout for troublemakers. Funny, isn’t it, that the old man has so much life in him. A look at him, so frail as he quavered with a pitchfork for a cane, and one would tiptoe around so not to use up his fresh air it’s that sorry a sight, but do not be deceived. For the love of Light he has such a strong voice… All the times I’d go and visit him it’d be: ‘’Aline, mulch!’ or ‘’Aline, weeds!’ Tcha! Not even an ‘‘Allo’ before I am once more forced to move the never-ending mount of mulch one wheelbarrow at a time while he limps back into his cottage. The weeds are okay since I learnt how to pluck ‘em using a weave Vera Sedai showed us, but still, that mountain of mulch has fell many a strong man. I must admit, I learned a lot more about gardening, and although it is mostly manual labour, I kind of like it. Running chores as a reward of my finding out his little secret is what is known as ‘unfair’, but seeing this garden flourish is something so much more meaningful with my hand in it.”

 

“Perhaps one day, when - when not if, we must think positively - we are both Sisters I can grow my own garden here, and one day after that, I will retire and be a gardener. Some apple trees for ‘Rome and junipers for us, I’d imagine. I already have the cuttings for the russet apples, a gift from Timmons when his leg healed; apple seeds can be grown too, but those are sour no matter what kind you use, and I reckon ‘Rome prefers the sweeter ones. ‘Rome has been good to me, very friendly, he and Rossa both, and more settled too. He’s been raised as a Tower Guard, you see. And he actually invited me to his after ceremony party! Gave me a dance, too; how cool was that. I reckon he would have given you a dance too, or if he doesn’t it’s definitely his loss as I would have, though I am by far the poorer dancer.” Saline’s laugh cut short, realising abruptly while Rory was gone she had nourished a small ambitious flame, “That is, I don’t mind looking silly if you do not mind clumsy me. At any rate Timmons certainly minded, as I do not have much of what I believe the gardeners would call a ‘green’ thumb. Black, from all the dragon-snaps I have uprooted instead of dandelions! Timmons got so upset he ah, overwhelmed me with shrill reproaches, and abased me to the level of a hearth-brush. That made me study up on botany, and it was a week before Timmons let me back into Vera’s private gardens again. It’s worth it though.”

 

“Ivy is fantastically tough - it just climbs and climbs despite neglect. And coleus too, I adore the fact that I do not have to water them all day like I have to dote on the heliotropes. More Saline-tropes if you ask me. Sorry, bad joke. I didn’t know that coleus flowers, a pretty, more sedated bluish-purple scatter of buds, really. You have to nip the buds though, as they are grown for their leaves and the buds will only take nutrition away, and the leaves will be less dense and bushy. I feel sad about amputating the flowers, but in the fall the leaves turned a dashing red, yellow, and blue. You should have seen them then, pure candy to the eyes. Oh, and we’ll have roses of course, I shall dedicate my (future) garden to you. It would be a shame not to put this knowledge to use.” Then a shoot caught her eye and she rummaged through the dark, oily foliage before turning proudly to share. “Go ahead and touch that flower over there. Wait, maybe I better do it first. Here, watch this.” She tried to reach for the spiky leaves underneath, but the plant … softened and folded its leaves away from contact. “Mimosa. Fragile, but it’s quite expressive. A funny little flower, it shies away from sunlight and touch, opening in the evenings. This is the secret ingredient to Timmons’ favourite drink. I only know this ‘cause he made it for me once last summer. Such a softie, really, once you get past the leather exterior. Most people don’t bother, but if you’re gentle, it’s all good.” With a final gush of pleasure she moved over so Rory could have a better look. “Not that I have much time to garden anymore, what with extra classes from Jagen Sedai, and my latest student Tirzah, but I do what I can. I rather enjoy soaking in the sun.” With a keen knack for social inaptitude, the Accepted delivered this last line rather insensitively, pleased with her new-found knowledge. She wanted to share the one thing she appeared to be good at to her talented roommate, and this seemed as good a time as any.

 

 

 

Conversation was comfortable. Here was something she understood; kissing—not so much. The kiss had been great, left her tingling and warm all over, but ‘what next?’ She did not know ‘what next’ and there could have been a very awkward moment there. Saline could have given her the opportunity to figure it out. She would have, eventually. Rory didn’t mean that thought to ‘sound’ so reproachful—when did it get so hot out here?

 

It did not matter what Saline said.  Countless hours of lying next to her in bed and falling asleep to the timbre of voice had caused a sort of response mechanism and Rory was quickly becoming too relaxed and sleepy. Saline’s voice was like a warm day, Rory wanted to lie down on her belly and bask. Lying on the back works too, but then you have to shield your eyes from the sun with your forearms and feel a little weird. It is also less rude if you only lie on your back and not someone else’s.

 

Saline was very busy these days, Rory observed. It was a wonder she found the time prepare for this picnic. Was that a touch of resentment? She did not mind that Saline was up to all that and more. She did not mind that Saline was up to all that and more with without her. What stole the wind from her sails (or would have if she were a boat) was the knowledge that she had done nothing in the year of their parting.

 

Oh, hi, Saline. Yes, I no do be doing anything since I do be seeing you last. That do be slightly untrue, I learned to sit very well and study in silence. Not going to happen. It was thrilling to see hear how many things Saline learnt over that time and very satisfying that she was so excited to tell her about it. Soon the time would come for her to talk and what would she say? Rory deliberated over whether distracting her with a kiss would be successful. Probably not.

 

 

 

When the question came, and it did—eventually, Rory offered up a weak smile. Behind her eyes her mind boiled like a kettle in an effort to come up with some way of having to avoid the truth. There was no reason why she should fear her answer. Their separation had not been by choice. This did not stop the idea of Saline knowing the truth from terrifying her stupid and she made her decision. To lie.

 

“What I be doing? A bit of this. A bit of that. Darienna do be taking me to all sorts of places and teaching me all about them. I no do be socialising a lot but I do be travelling all the time. I do be doing a lot of study and a lot of learning and that do be what I’ve been doing since I saw you last.”

 

Strictly speaking her answer wasn’t an outright lie. She was going to make a great Aes Sedai: Darienna had taken her to several different places around the tower and in passing Rory picked up information on them; she had travelled a lot but only inside her own mind. Day dreaming was an important recreational activity in confinement. Studying was pure truth and that helped to dust it off. Best not to over-complicate things.

 

“I do be telling you about it later if you like. More pie?” Yes, tell her about her travels after she’d finished making them up.

 

 

Pleasant as it was that Rory spoke so well of Darienna Sedai, Saline looked at Rory hard. Beside her eyes, everything about Rory was small, her waist, her ears, and her knuckles whitening as they gripped the knife. Small and light like feathers falling on snow. Wondering if something was up, the Taraboner quickly noticed the sparkle in her roommate’s eyes crunching smaller as Rory detailed the nature of her absence. It was not so much what she said, as the manner in which she had said that concerned Saline. Nay, where Darienna took Rory bothered Saline not at all. For one, Darienna Sedai could have still stayed in her study, and entrusted the Accepted for Lillian Sedai to take along in her travels. But Rory’s discomfort had not escaped Saline. Though clever with words, Rory was not a convincing liar, or else she could have talked her way out of punishments. For a moment Saline wondered whether she ought to confront the other . . . only for a moment. The months separated had hardened her but hardly to the extent of negating seven years of steadfast tutelage and friendship. If her old friend was not comfortable with the discussion it would be wise to stow the discussion and save the hammer for when Rory broached the subject on her own. Sooner or later, Rory would let her know the why of this, and until then there was nothing for it but to continue with the picnic, and assure the old girl of Saline’s continued adoration.

 

 

Smilingly, she accepted another plate.

 

 

A forkful of pie stopped their conversation, and there was a brief yet enlightening silence for Saline’s thoughts to outstrip themselves. Rory had changed, her months of isolation had taken a toll. She brushed kohl on her eyes to make them smaller, sported narrow pink shoes that pinched her toes, and hung a spring dress on her frame. Its colours made the flowers too messy, and Saline made a note to take up the hem by an inch or two. Next time she would use what allowances she saved to buy Rory a better frock, perhaps a darker green to accent her lighter complexion. Still the other tried and Saline was touched . . .

 

 

***

 

 

Her head popped out and then her arms, wishing they felt a nicer texture than the rough cotton of the shift she changed into. Rory donned a similar shift, if a little longer in length than Saline’s and considerably less frayed. Saline’s shift would benefit from a wash too.

 

 

Putting the worry from her mind she laid her head on the pillow. She should sleep but Rory’s presence, even though they were in separate beds, was so exciting that she did not want to. Rory had grown, and Saline could well grasp how precious Rory behaved to-day. She appreciated the considerations Rory had shown her, from serving her pie to gathering the baskets of food, and carrying them back to the Tower. All in all very pleasant, unless . . . Saline thought back to that lie Rory had told about travelling with Darienna, and all of a sudden it clicked. All the while Saline had been doing many things (Rory marvelled at her tan!) and her roommate underwent a quiet punishment that limited her freedom of moving about, meeting others. Then Saline had been thoughtlessly showing off her adventures and fun. No wonder Rory withdrew from ‘Rome, Timmons and the fine friends Saline’s forged without her. Cringing in her blankets Saline desperately wanted to apologise but instead of seeking absolution guilt was a burden she must bear until Rory was no longer bothered by Saline’s carelessness. Rory would get used to society again even if she had to be dragged along to shop with Rossa, and that idea brought a smile in its wake.

 

 

“Saline?” So soft she thought it imagined. But it got closer, louder, and once again Saline’s heart quickened at her name. “Saline, do you be awake?” She turned over. Rory peered at her.

 

 

“Saline, I --”

 

 

Knowing what the other was about to confess Saline forestalled it, holding a hand up. “I know.”

 

 

“But I . . .”

 

 

“. . . Already forgave you. Come here.”

 

 

“But ” 

 

 

Saline sat up, blankets falling off a shoulder and feeling the draft. Her gaze was stern and insistent, booking no arguments. But her hand was warm as it took Rory’s and gave a gentle squeeze. “Come on, over you come.”

 

 

As Rory crawled in beside her she doused a wick with air and dimmed the lights. The touch of Rory’s skin was as fair as it seemed. And she smelled divine up close, way nicer than that expensive bathhouse in Tar Valon. Happily, Saline welcomed her beloved friend home.

 

 

Rory & Saline

 

P.S. She did all the hard work, colouring and such. I just wrote. Life is sweet.