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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

Bonds of Sisterhood (attn: Lillian)


Arette
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The Forsaken was dead, a sweet victory for the Light bittered only by the lives it had cost to gain. Arette was still filled to brim with saidar but she could sense no one else holding the female side of the Source anymore. If there were anymore Dreadlords left, the Asha'man would handle them. They had met the vile Ja'varan and her cronies on the Tammuz Square and defeated them and the Palace was theirs now. There was still fighting going on in parts of it but the Tracing weave on Con's wedding ring told her that he wasn't part of it anymore. He wasn't in need of Healing and he was safe so she could focus on finding a woman held prisoner somewhere in the vast building. She knew the structure of the place from the battle plans and the basement and the holding cells there were the most likely location to start at.

 

No one disturbed her on her way down and the soldiers recognised her giving her way. She stopped on two occasions to Heal men, who were so badly injured that moving them was impossible, but she tried to store the rest of her strength for Lillian in case she needed her aid too. She felt guilty for not helping everyone but once she found her Sister, she would come and assist the men also.

 

The air in the prison was moist and cool and everything was quiet as the grave with only her own footsteps echoing eerily. She felt a chill in her spine and for a moment image of Lillian dead and bloody rose to her mind. She dispersed it angrily and began to stroll alongside the line of barred doors. All cells were empty save the last one and she gasped in shock to see her Sister lying on her side on a stone slab completely motionless. In fact, Lillian's stillness was so complete and creepy that Arette was convinced that she was dead. Her clothing was shredded, what bits of it were left, and her hair was a mess with bits and pieces cut out of it like someone had been a bit frenzied with scissors. The most frightening thing was that the emerald eyes were open but staring eerily into nothingness.

 

Arette wove urgently Earth into the lock to open it and swung the door open. She strode to the woman and knelt to Delve Lillian even while she searched for the pulse on her throat. It was there but so incredibly weak that she feared that Healing might be too much for her. What had been done to her poor Sister? She shook Lillian gently and received a barely audible mutter as a response. It had sounded like 'Leave me be'. Hearing her speak filled Arette with elation. Lillian really was alive and she would make it through.

 

"Lillian, this is Arette. You are safe now. Ja'varan is dead and we have taken the Palace." She clicked her tongue and 'admonished' Lillian slightly tremulously. "You need to have a word with your hairdresser, she has done atrocious job."

 

Arette Stavros

Exiled Brown Sister

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  • 1 month later...

Empty.

 

There was nothing left in Lillian, in fact there wasn't much of Lillian to hold anything.  Three days.  Three days with Ja'varan, her captor and as she had soon understood, one of the Forsaken.  She hadn't understood at first, she'd even almost killed her, something she had cursed herself for failing.  But then, there had been little time for cursing after that, now there was little will to do anything.

 

She had prided herself on the strength of her mind, the strength of her will and the strength of her heart.  They had meant little by the second day, everytime she was taken within an inch of death and then Ja'varan would pull her back from its welcome embrace.  How she had wanted to die, die and deny Ja'varan the satisfaction of completely breaking her.  During this third day, at least she thought it was the third day, she had little left in her but that.  Her entire being focused on not budging on that fact.

 

Ja'varan had wanted acknowledgement as the Forsaken, Lillian had given it when she had seen that the woman was not simply Ja'varan anymore.  But Ja'varan wanted more, to completely break her, to leave her with nothing but a tiny voice in her head screaming as she became whatever Ja'varan moulded her into.  Yet she hung in, she held on, she managed to resist by not resisting.  Losing herself was a far greater fear for her than death, to be some maddened caricacture of what she was, it was something she refused to do.

 

So she braved what Ja'varan did to her, again and again, hoping for the release of death.  A final way to deny Ja'varan what she wanted and to free herself as there was nothing else for it now.  By the time anyone realised something was wrong, or wondered where she was, she would either be dead or forever changed.  She just had to hold on, refuse to let go of herself and she would die as she was, as opposed to whatever perversion Ja'varan wished to make her.

 

Touch.

 

Voice.

 

It sounded like Arette, felt like her, smelled of her, looked like her out of the corner of her vision.  Another game of Ja`varan's, she came to her with the faces of her sisters.  That she had chosen Arette was crueler than those she was only acquainted with, but she knew it for what it was.

 

"I am."

 

It was barely a whisper, but Lillian repeated it again and again.  A mantra that helped her focus, as long as she was, then she was not.

 

 

Lillian Tremina

Sister of the White Ajah

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Lillian clearly reacted to Arette's presence but she didn't seem to recognise her. She just kept saying the same thing over and over again. Light, what had been done to her. She needed to rest and get her strenght back. It was all just trauma and exhaustment since there was not a mark on her.

 

"Of course you are, Lillian", Arette said gently and stroke her hair the way she soothed her daughters to sleep. "You are Lillian Tremina of the Purple, I mean, White Ajah. You are safe and alright now."

 

She wasn't certain if Lillian had even heard her as she still whispered the mantra almost inaudibly. "Shush now. You can sleep and recover." Some assistance was likely needed and since no herbs were available, Arette embraced Spirit and wove sparingly a thread that gave Lillian the release of slumber.

 

It was a shame that her Sister couldn't help Arette with the wounded, but was one of them herself, another victim of Ja'varan's. But the White would recover and others would be saved today. With a sigh, she made her way back upstairs and arranged Lillian to be moved to a comfortable bed in the Palace until they could all go home. Her rest would have to wait as there was still work to do.

 

Arette Stavros

Exiled Brown Sister

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