Private Eye - Attn: Sirayn Sedai and Estel Sedai

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa~

 

The Aes Sedai droned on ceaselessly, irrespective of the fact that she had already gone over this particular topic about nine times now, using only marginally different words each time. Rossa stifled a yawn, carefully blanking her features so the woman wouldn’t notice, and picked up her pencil; concentrating on taking some notes should help her to stay awake. The only problem was that she found it difficult to take lessons from this particular tutor because of things she had heard mentioned around the corridors and shady corners of the White Tower, and that made it difficult for Rossa to assign any credibility to the woman. Estel Sedai, a sister of the Blue Ajah, had more rumours attached to her than the walls had triangular buntings on feast days, and her rank as Aes Sedai alone meant that Rossa should curtsey as deeply to her as to the Amyrlin Seat. Right now though, the sun streamed through the window and even chores in the gardens would be preferable to another intolerable history lesson of which Rossa already knew it backwards.

 

How could you take the reputation of an Aes Sedai seriously when she had acted as rumour had her behave? If only a fraction of the things Rossa had heard were true, then that was dangerously close to giving the White Tower a bad reputation if ever she saw it. Whether anyone Rossa knew among the novices that knew how true those claims were was another thing entirely, but she did not go around with her eyes closed. A single word here, a glance shared between two women that spoke of turbulence in those usually still waters, not to mention what the rumours said. The pencil flickered across the page, reflecting her notes to start with, but soon they began to take a different form. An outlined box to begin with; a place to show what she was going to draw as her mind wandered, considering the different possibilities to test her skill. It had been a while since her artistic talent had been used. Not since the carving of the small figurines she carried everywhere with her, depicting her family now dead thanks to the flames of both politics and greed. Burning everything they touched, it was a wonder she had escaped. No one else survived to her knowledge.

 

Still her pencil flew. The faint bulge at the front of the woman’s dress made one of those rumours definitely true. Idly, Rossa wondered who the father was while the pencil continued to make deft lines showing a bed through an ornate door pushed slightly ajar. Fanciful letters proclaimed the caption “You find the best mattresses when you come to the White Tower!†It made her smile as she saw it, and it instantly gave her the inspiration for another one. Another box, the same size as the first, this time showing a sword with an elaborate blue cord wrapped around the hilt with a woman’s hand gripping it tightly. The caption read: “Even the bluntest sword in the rack can still be deadly to a Warder.â€

 

More vignettes. A lump of cheese that was captioned with “Soured, bitter and hard to swallow†written on it. A wagon near a cliff-top that was underlined with “Been to the edge so many times, they now take trips.†A fraying piece of cloth with the slogan “A few Weaves short of a blanket.†Rumours from unnamed sources spoke of problems with Warders. She had overheard the fact that he was blind… Well, this was fairly easy to depict, but she would not tar him with the same brush she wanted to paint the Aes Sedai with. Besides, he could be dangerous, or have dangerous friends. Erring on the side of caution, Rossa left that one well alone, in spite of numerous comments springing to mind. Her perceptiveness had always shocked her family, but now she needed to exercise a little thoughtfulness with regards to what she had already drawn. If someone got hold of those little twiddles, she knew she was for the high jump, most likely with a visit to the Mistress of Novices thrown in.

 

Copy this Weave. Perform this little trick with Saidar. Do this, do that, do the other. Each time the older woman gave Rossa an instruction; she broke off from her scribbling of the little scenes and copied it, feeling the sweetness of Saidar filling her so wonderfully and making her acutely aware of how true the rumours seemed. It made her want to giggle, uncharacteristically. Each time Rossa had Estel Sedai for a teacher, something happened to make either one or both of them get angry and each time the smile started to creep across her lips, she saw the Aes Sedai frown. It gave her the inspiration for her final piece of artwork, and her final caption…

 

Taking her seat again, she listened to the Blue Sister drone on once more, and Rossa picked up her pencil and began industriously looking as if she were taking notes. In fact, a final box on a separate sheet had a facial portrait of Estel Sedai scowling fiercely with a notice underneath that read “If lost, please return to the ground in a whimpering position.†Oh yes, that was just perfect! Now all she had to do was to find a way to put them up … in the Blue Ajah Quarters that would be best, yes. On an errand for one of the Blue Sisters… That would work. Ooh, and she had some free time right after her lesson with Estel here. It was the perfect opportunity too. Her mother had always loved her wit and astuteness… Mother… she thought. You have a different Mother now…

 

The thought only stiffened her resolve to do it, Rossa realised as the Blue Sister ended the lesson, dismissing her to whatever chores she blatantly was not interested in. Gathering her “notesâ€, Rossa left the room after a curtsy barely deep enough for a minor noble, let alone an Aes Sedai, and made her way through corridors and halls to the Blue Ajah Quarters. She fastened each picture to a pillar, making sure it was visible. A satisfied smile lingered on her lips as the last drawing went up, the stern gaze seeming slightly irate. It only served to make Rossa giggle again.

[Sirayn]

Later, when she got time and solitude enough to review the whole incident, she estimated that the drawings had been up for a good four hours before she ever glimpsed them herself. Hours for those sketches to hang in all their deceptive innocence on public pillars. Hours for every passer by to admire some cynic’s impression of a certain Blue Sister, in whose reputation and career she had great interest, and who could scarcely afford further damage. Hours for rumours to spread. Had she approached it as a containment exercise -- which she had no intentions of doing, if anyone was going to put themselves out over it it should be one Estel Liones, perhaps it would stir her exquisite Domani beauty to some actual work -- it would have challenged her own cunning to the limit. It was damn near impossible to convince so many people to silence without giving anything away.

 

Somewhat to her later discomfiture, having been the target of public ridicule herself in her less politically defended days, her reaction when she first came across half a dozen interested novices staring at a poster was less than the ideal Aes Sedai response. She snapped at them quick enough; they fled like startled starlings, a precisely calculated effect of tone and bearing, and left her confronted by an image of such cruel accuracy that it stole the sarcastic comment she had intended to make. No mistaking its model. It was impossible to confuse those striking Domani looks, nor the damaging effects of certain secret hardships, even distorted by a satirist’s skill. The look of glowering fury, the caption … only too perfect.

 

The proper response in this circumstance would be to tear down the poster. It reflected poorly on Aes Sedai image, something of great importance to her, and besides the more rank and stature Estel gained the more use that Domani wretch might be. Perhaps eventually enough to repay her for the time and trouble she had put into the Blue Ajah’s kicked puppy. Instead entirely against all protocol she studied the paper again, brows lifting only a fraction, and her mouth twitched as a suppressed smile fought to break free. Must not smile at another Aes Sedai’s discomfort in public. Must not. And yet … ruthlessly she stamped out the beginnings of outward laughter. It seemed that Estel had stepped on some kitten’s tail. A kitten with claws.

 

Most likely this had been mocked up by some bored wit. As such, it was a demonstration of some artistic worth, but of no more interest to her. If one took it, however, as a carefully structured campaign of public slander against which no Aes Sedai could strike back effectively … timed and placed to gain maximum exposure … it became a work of real beauty. Art held no meaning for her by itself; now politics and revenge she knew intimately. If she had possessed any more artistic talent than a rock, or possibly even if she had had two thoughts to rub together in her young and daring years, she might have taken the same tactic herself.

 

Perhaps she should investigate this terrible crime further. As an affront to Aes Sedai dignity, it required proper attention and punishment. And if it should happen to introduce her to a sharp political mind, possibly suitable to be added to her collection, why that would only be prudent in preventing any further … outbreaks of levity. Her mouth was still curling a little at the edge when she took the poster down, careful not to tear the paper, and rolled it up. Briefly it occurred to her that the author in question could have stayed around to observe the effect; discreetly she scanned the hall, quick grey glance under dark lashes, but detected nothing suspicious among the lingerers. Present or no that person would meet her soon enough. Armed with this unflattering portrait Sirayn went to pay a call.

 

She disliked effortlessly gorgeous Domani women. She disliked the unreasonably tall. She disliked stupidity, especially when it was so contagious as to spread to everyone around, and most especially of all when it had to be displayed in public. Estel Liones stood at the unfortunate junction of all these unwanted traits; as such, the secret connections which neither could afford to see publicised protected her only from serious wrath, not from the daily sarcasm Sirayn liked to treat her to. It kept her opponent interestingly furious, the Domani whelp seethed like a teacup left too long to boil, and the beauty of it was that Estel had no way at all of striking back. Tormenting the helpless had a certain appeal. It was like kicking a puppy, only far more satisfying.

 

Therefore, when the Blue Ajah door opened before her at her sharp knock, she made no attempt whatsoever to feign sympathy. She had no compunctions about doing so. Once this ridiculously tall woman gained the strength to defend her and her dependents, then she would perhaps gain the right not to be harassed by unsympathetic superiors such as one Sirayn Damodred. Instead she held up the vividly drawn poster and smiled beatifically: the smile of one who was enjoying another’s misfortune and knew herself entirely safe from retribution. “It seems your fame is spreading, Estel Sedai. I trust this is nothing to do with anybody’s Warder? This time?â€

 

Sirayn Damodred

Everybody's best friend!

[Guest Estel]

Embarrassment and scandal had been following Estel around long before this incident. In fact, this incident would never had occurred if certain things had either never happened or at least remained quiet. But wishing never did anyone any good. She had found that out the hard way. So she found herself quite grumpy when a certain... shall we say acquaintance?- came knocking at her door.

 

Rap. Rap. Rap.

 

A groan.

 

Rap. Rap. Rap.

 

“Gway.â€

 

Rap. Rap. Rap.

 

Another groan followed by the tell-tale thud of Estel Liones falling out of bed. There were a few things Estel was, but there were far more things that she wasn’t. She was neither brilliant, popular, particularly skilled or even friendly. And she certainly was not a morning person.

 

Rap. Rap. Rap.

 

“Mcom’n!â€

 

Her speech was slurred to the point of inaudibility and held a definite irritation. As an Accepted- when she had still held some sort of prestige, even if it was only over Novices and her fellow Accepted- few except Aes Sedai had dared near her at such an ‘early’ hour. Upon reaching the Shawl, things had drastically changed. Most Sisters new to the Shawl slowly began to earn their way up the complex social and political ladder Aes Sedai ranked themselves by. Estel had instead managed to, impossibly, fall far below the bottom rung of that ladder. A combination of unfortunate events, her own stupidity and the stupidity of a few other select individuals had amalgamated to dump what was supposed to be a glittering career somewhere in the depths of the lowest hell. Now it seemed that every time she tried to build on the little she had, it all came crumbling down around her.

 

She took a quick moment to fix her hair into something that did not resemble a bird’s nest- and that hid what she and Orion, whom she had finally Bonded, had been doing last night- and splash some water on her face in a vain attempt to wipe away all signs of tiredness. All in all it took roughly two to three minutes before she opened her door only to desperately want to close it again.

 

Sirayn Simeone was only one of the many people Estel had come to classify as ‘enemies’. In fact, upon the long list of people the young Blue hated, Sirayn ranked second only to Lavinya. So when the midget of a Green Sister showed up at her disgraced door that morning, her immediate reaction was of course to scream in frustration, slap her and slam the door in her face. Unfortunately, her damaged career could no longer sustain any more public tantrums so she simply stood with a rather sickly smile on her face and welcomed the woman as sweetly as she could.

 

“Good morning, Sirayn Sedai. Would you like me to fetch you tea, breakfast, perhaps like your slippers?†Yet somehow the failed to take the hint that she was not at all welcome. Sirayn just kept smiling. Belatedly, the warning bells began to ring in Estel’s head. ‘What in the Light is she smiling about? Sirayn doesn’t smile.’

 

A rather worried look had already begun to creep across her face by the time Sirayn handed her the poster and a jab from her ever-sharp tongue. “It seems your fame is spreading, Estel Sedai. I trust this is nothing to do with anybody’s Warder? This time?†There was momentary confusion before she unrolled the poster. Then the comment became agonizingly clear.

 

Scrawled on the paper was a not badly drawn sword wrapped in blue cord and help by a woman’s fist. The caption read: “Even the bluntest sword in the rack can still be deadly to a Warder.â€

 

There are many things in this world that are fast. The change of colour that took place on Estel’s face just then ranked up with the fastest. One moment it was its normal coppery colour and the next it was some shade between purple and red. Words to express her outrage fled and she instead sputtered like a fool in front of a positively beaming Sirayn.

 

It took a few moments before splutterings became curses. They came rushing forth in no particular cohesive order and it took at least a minute before sentences were uttered. In the meanwhile, a certain Green Sister looked on, completely forgotten.

 

“Who in the bloody Pit of Doom? The arrogant little whorechild! I’ll rip her stupid, empty head from her bloody shoulders! Mother’s milk in a cup! If I find the goatkissing fool who did this I’ll...†Finally she remembered Sirayn. At that point, the woman was a convenient outlet for her rage.

 

“You!†It was the classic spin-around, finger to chest, screeching voice act. “Don’t you have your own problems to deal with? Get out!†Just then Estel made the horrible decision- one she would of course regret later- to take Sira's eviction in her own hands...literally.

 

Estel

The Blue Ajah (and Sira’s) kicked puppy

Resident Bi-atch

[Sirayn]

Over the years many had found out to their cost that in almost every conceivable area Sirayn Damodred had no sense of humour whatsoever. If ever induced to relax she could be amused or, rarer still, amusing, but this was approximately as common as the proverbial coloured moon. Not normally being a woman given to light moods and mirth, therefore, it surprised even herself when the rapid and drastic alteration in her sister’s expression set her off laughing. The image of towering Estel Liones in all her Domani beauty going purpler than a sheaf of lavender was one that burnt itself into the memory.

 

Honestly she got the near-uncontrollable urge to poke Estel and see if the woman popped of sheer outrage. It was the urge of a giddy novice, not a stern Ajah Head and therefore with some effort she kept her hands to herself, though her amusement could not be suppressed so easily. It seemed to spur Estel on to ever greater heights of righteous ire -- or possibly the Domani Blue was so wrapped up in her sputtering attempts to form words that she hadn’t even noticed. The range and inventiveness of the curses this most improper sister could summon up raised even Sirayn’s dark brows and she spent a moment in happy contemplation of her vocabulary, now expanding to rival that of a trooper, while Estel got herself at least under a semblance of control. Oh the many benefits of baiting sisters!

 

One response she had not been expecting was for Estel to turn on her violently. But it was broad daylight and the corridors were full of people, and she had a hold over this woman she could not bring up in polite conversation, and she did not fear. Estel made a grab for her; she stepped back promptly, still laughing, and pushed away any further attempts to eject her by force. “Dear Light, woman, get a hold of yourself!†The sheer hilarity of the young Blue frothing over with just indignation overwhelmed any attempt to put the proper force into her voice. No doubt their audience were equally spellbound.

 

“If you could possibly restrain your urge toward indiscriminate violence for just a moment,†eventually she forced herself to composure, though her mouth kept twitching toward a smile, “you could put your remarkable mind to figuring out, say, who actually … expressed her creativity in this charming way.†She tapped the parchment still in her hands, keeping it prudently out of Estel’s reach, to illustrate her point. “Good artist, doesn’t like you, access to the Blue Ajah quarters? Ring any bells? Do at least try to think, I know it hurts, but the practice is good for you.â€

 

Sirayn Damodred

Nice lady

[Guest Estel]

It took a rather long time for Sirayn’s actual words to work their way through her abnormally thick skull. The sarcasm took only moments to feed the flames of rage within her. When reality sunk in and the minuscule amount of common sense she possessed returned to her enraged brain- or lack thereof- the queen of stupidity lowered her hand from where it had been in a position to strike the much smaller Green.

 

Though the other woman had, by now, wiped the mocking smile from her face, perfectly composed little Sirayn could not hide her amusement behind a mask. It struck Estel how awfully hard it was to think when the only thing running through your head was the all-consuming urge to strangle a certain skinny little neck.

 

Who in the Light would draw that poster? Who didn’t like her? Wow. That was a rather... scratch that, very long list: Lavinya, Sirayn herself, Reds, Blues, probably most of the Greens and Greys, hmm... that Yellow who Healed her after the fight with Rosheen definitely hadn’t any enjoyed receiving the rough edge of her tongue, so that ruled out a number of Yellows, her skewed logic was certainly enough to infuriate any White and with the rest of the Tower hating her, even the Browns in their aloofness couldn’t miss it. So that put most of the Aes Sedai who had visited the Tower in the last thirty or so years on the suspect list. And that was just Sisters! Rosheen definitely had a grudge against her, not to mention most Novices or Accepted who had been victims of her pranks, or had come into contact with her at all- including her mentees!

 

With her temper cooled slightly, she managed to address the tiny Green without yelling and screaming. “Just how many of these posters are there? I can hardly narrow down my suspect list off of one poster.â€

[Sirayn]

Despite her now effervescent mood she kept a close watch on the other woman in case of any further outbursts of violence. Her patience extended only so far. Luckily it seemed that even Estel Sedai had received her message loud and clear and she did not need to defend herself against any more attempts to forcibly eject her. She contemplated the Blue Sister’s positively heroic effort to overcome her temper with a betraying twitch of a smile; it was on the tip of her tongue to warn Estel not to rupture anything … but she needed to encourage the Domani to think before speaking, not to actually sabotage those efforts, and her sarcasm could just as easily be vented elsewhere. Infuriating though she was Estel Sedai might still be useful in the future if she could just be properly guided.

 

“How many?†Briefly she recalled scenes of laughter and fascination as she had first entered the Blue Ajah quarters. The chattering crowd had had many separate centres. She had removed only the one poster for her own perusal, but there had been plenty more than that, certainly. Perhaps even more than she had seen at first glance. It could well be that she had not been the first person to remove a poster. In fact there could be an infinite number, scattered across the White Tower, spreading their witty brand of poison wherever they went. “Suffice it to say that if I estimated the number it would turn out to be an understatement.â€

 

It occurred to her in a sober moment that if she had had any sympathy for Estel at all she should have taken them all down immediately she came upon them. She hadn’t even considered it. If it had been somebody she liked … somebody she felt responsible for … she would have exercised her political and persuasive powers to their utmost. It disturbed her a little; she had always thought of herself as the kind of person who protected their dependents. Yet Estel was dependent on her -- very much so, if today’s events were any measure. If she didn’t teach Estel to be a strong Aes Sedai, who would? Had the Blue Ajah washed its hands of her already? Like people had done to her once upon a time. Always she recognised a little too much of herself in Estel to be truly comfortable.

 

Blood and ashes. She didn’t even like Estel. But she had taken on an obligation as well as given it when she tricked this wretched child into swearing loyalty. “Come with me.†Summoning the other with a brief snap of her fingers she left the doorway and headed to the centre of the Ajah Halls. Pillars stood all around them; she had always liked this chamber, its sweep of grandeur reminding her of the Hall of Swords where so many of her career’s defining moments had occurred, and now the posters brightening them up did not amuse her half so much. “One and two and … I don’t have time to count them all, but you can see there are many, yes? Study them. And tell me who drew them.

 

“Sister, if I wanted you embarrassed, I would see to it myself. I don’t recall that I ever gave anyone else that right. Since this was not my doing, I will find out whose it is and I will correct them. Give me a name. That person will not trouble you again if I have anything to do with it.â€

 

Sirayn Damodred

Smiter of satirists!

[Guest Estel]

An understatement? Estel repressed a groan that would have bordered on a whine if she had voiced it. Why did this always happen to her? In another moment of utter humiliation, despair, fury and depression she very much wanted Sirayn to leave her alone. Not that this was any of the woman’s faut- or was it?- but the tiny Green had the most annoying habit of showing up at times like these; when she felt most humiliated, most depressed and most miserable.

 

“Come with me.†It scared her that with just a snap of her fingers, Sirayn had her following like a trained puppy. “One and two and … I don’t have time to count them all, but you can see there are many, yes? Study them. And tell me who drew them.â€

 

The hapless Blue looked around the room and saw the truth in the other woman’s statement. She wanted to scream. She wanted to curl up in a ball and never face the world again. She wanted to hurt the person who had done this to her; tear them to pieces so they would stop. Light burn her! She didn’t even know what she wanted, as long as the torture would stop.

 

Sirayn’s next speech shocked her to her core. Her eyes did not bulge, nor did her mouth drop open, but she stood-still and forgot everything; even forgot to breathe. Estel almost had to ask to have it repeated back to her.

 

“That person will not trouble you again if I have anything to do with it.â€

 

The words reverberated in her skull as her brain- or whatever else it was that sat between her ears and did the limited thinking she could manage- tried to make sense of it. The old Green’s voice held no compassion, pity, affection or any other emotion but unless she was stupider than even everyone else believed, Sirayn was protecting her.

 

‘Sirayn is what?’ Even her mind shouted incredulously at the very concept. How could this woman, the same who had viewed her with such contempt, who had manipulated her, who had laughed at her in her misery, protect her? Why? Why on earth bring her down so low and then protect her? The First Oath ruled out the possibility of a lie and Estel suspected that the Green meant exactly what had said. ‘But why?’ The question plagued her and ate her up inside. She could not contain it anymore.

 

“Why?†The question charged forth, filled with anger and yet wonder.

[Sirayn]

A number of responses ranging from the sarcastic to the downright offensive came to her tongue. She was not accustomed to having her motives questioned. Instead she took a slow breath, stuffed the scorn back where it had come from, and told herself to be gentle; she had been precipitous in writing Estel off as a dead loss, the Blue Ajah must instil at least some qualities worth having in their sisters, and her insults had provoked exactly the wrong kind of response. She wanted to see the real steel in this one, not the petulance so easily brought out, and there must be some somewhere. Unfortunately the child had turned out to be a damn sight less intelligent than legend painted the Blue Ajah; but with careful handling she might still be useful and that required a certain subtlety of touch.

 

In all honesty there were many reasons why, half of which she would not repeat in public lest somebody get the wrong idea. It took a moment’s thought to sort out the private from the permissible. She had no wish to further damage the child’s spirit unduly, nor to put her back on the defensive, better that Estel served her willingly than required a controlling hand always on her shoulder. So she made her tone even and reasonable, much against her normal manner, and attempted a different tactic for this particular quarry. “It is unacceptable that anyone should publicly insult an Aes Sedai. It damages the Tower’s image and gives offence to all right-minded sisters. The shawl is your friend in this … and so am I.

 

“I have no reason to want you undermined in this manner. It is an affront to you, and through you, to me. As of this moment you are unguarded against a repeat performance; I suspect I may be more effective than you at convincing the offender in question not to do it again. It is only logical that I seek out the person in question and apply my, how shall I put it, persuasive talents to discouraging them from an encore.” Sirayn contemplated the other woman critically for a moment measuring the effect of her words. Finally she wove a silence ward around them, just briefly, and went for the kill.

 

“You are in my hand. I shelter you, I direct you; I have a duty to you and you to me. If you are punished, it will be by me alone. You have a right to call upon me for protection or guidance. By my judgement you need both right now and I will provide them. I will make you a soldier for the Tower and the Light if I have to break you down and build you anew with my own hands. Tarmon Gai’don is coming and, like it or not, you will be at my side when everything ends.”

 

Sirayn Damodred

Big trouble in a small package

[Guest Estel]

Light but Sirayn made her squirm. It was a damn good thing she had never met the woman while still in Whites... On second thought, meeting Sirayn while still a defenseless Novice or Accepted might have been better, any time would have been better than that night she had been utterly vulnerable. But that was besides the point. The point was that Sirayn intimidated her- blood and ashes but it chafed to admit that, even to herself- more than any else ever had.

 

Burn her, the woman had a horribly irritating ability to not only always arrive at the worst possible time, but to state annoying painful truths that did absolutely nothing for her already pathetic self-esteem. That she needed Sirayn to protect her grated as much as the ease with which the Green manipulated and handled her.

 

Yet those facts were much easier to face than the cold, hard truth. This was not the first and definitely would not be the last time Estel would try to ignore and refuse to admit to what she knew was true but too painful or hard to bear. Her Arches had confirmed her terror of hard truths and the scene in the forest with Carise floated back to her memory.

 

Like the Reds it had been easy to hate Sirayn. The Reds had taken her father, Sirayn had taken her freedom. Years in the Tower had slowly forced Estel to grudgingly admit that what the Reds had done, and still did, was needed even if she had her own very different beliefs.

 

“I have a duty to you and you to me...”

 

Hate became more complicated once the factor of a returned duty was added. It was much easier to ignore the fact that the older woman gave back part of what she took instead of admitting that her hate wasn’t entirely justified. Estel preferred things in black and white, rather than shades of grey in which no person was entirely right or just and no person was entirely wrong or evil.

 

The Blue could stand the grey gaze no longer and tore her eyes away to examine a few more of the posters. “Been to the edge so many times, they now take trips.” “A few Weaves short of a blanket.” The artist had good skill- not that Estel was one to judge- and the insults bit deep as anger swelled anew. When she got her hands on the culprit...

 

One poster stuck out in particular. It wasn’t any more demeaning than the others since, truth be told, the picture depicting her scowling and captioned “If lost, please return to the ground in a whimpering position.” set her face afire in shame and anger. Instead the lump of cheese was certainly taken from an Air class she had taught only a few days back. A face came to mind; dark hair and eyes, olive skin, Altaran accent...

 

“Rossa.” she growled. “Novice Rossa Venye.”