Coming to terms. (Attn Laraness)

[Disendra]

The enormity of her situation had hit Disendra that morning. It was all well and good being hoisted into the Tower kicking and screaming, but the actual implications of that were finally hitting home. "I can channel the One Power" she whispered. As an errant breeze caught the sleeve of her white dress, a single tear coursed down her cheek.

 

Being from Tear, the very thought of the Power should have filled her with dread. Normally, it wouldn't have. But it was an entirely different story now that SHE was the one who could wield it. Her parents didn't even know. The last they had seen of Disendra was when she had climbed aboard her wagon and set off for Tar Valon on her first venture. "They'd probably never want to see me again anyway, if they knew" Disendra mumbled, and it was that thought that finally let her grieve for the life she no longer had. Alone and unashamedly, Disendra poured her misery out to the world and sobbed from her heart for the first time in her life.

 

ooc: sorry it's a bit mushy, but tough i guess! hehe!

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa~

 

She roamed the corridors, finally feeling at home in the stately walls of the White Tower. Rossa had been there for long enough to know her way around, but even so there were still some areas she was not keen on visiting. Simple white slippers trod softly on the tiled floor, trying to creep softly from one lesson to her room where Rossa had a book borrowed from the library and wanted to do some further studying, but her musings on the subject of farming in Ebou Dar were interrupted by a nagging sound. A familiar sound to when she herself had first arrived at Tar Valon, tired and grieving, and needing very much just to cry with a shoulder to cry on. Weeping. Honest grief, filling a new novice until she could take no more and having to let it out. Was it homesickness? Rossa found it hard to think back to those first few days. Now her grief had settled into a definite resolve to find those responsible for the deaths of her family; her brother, sisters and parents, all lost months ago to the cruel flames. She had been bereft and completely alone. Even now she felt the twinges of loneliness brought on the oft-present tears, but never in public. That was something she had learned to control after the closed glances of the other Novices and Accepted had made her feel as though she would never belong. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t stay here. What was there for her?

 

Aeveryn had been the turning point for her. Crying on the blonde Andoran girl’s shoulder, dampening her silken waterfall of hair with her tears and leaving the small garden they had been in feeling as though she had been put through a clothes wringer, but also feeling a lot better in her heart. More resolve was there now; more of the clear-headed purpose that some of the other Aes Sedai possessed, if somewhat sterner of gaze than she had been before. Her mahogany gaze became more of a veneer, hard and polished, a calculating mind working behind them and taking in every single detail in case Rossa could use it when she finally extracted her revenge on those responsible. Only once had she made the mistake of mentioning her plans in front of an Aes Sedai, and she had cried then, too.

 

The weeping was incessant. Whoever it was certainly was feeling more than the usual homesickness, or the kind of tears brought on by exhaustion or the kind of self-pity that nobles expressed at receiving too many chores. Her heart went out to whoever it was, but Rossa knew that eventually the girl would come to accept and like it here, even if her role was undefined. Still, she knew how therapeutic it had been to have that shoulder to cry on, and she couldn’t let the poor thing suffer alone. Consigning her free time to “one of those thingsâ€, Rossa let the sympathy on her face show through and journeyed towards the sound of sorrow. Her eyes greeted a hunched over figure, shoulders shaking with tears and Rossa crossed the floor to stand next to her, white skirts moulding to her legs in her haste to get to her.

 

“Don’t cry. My name is Rossa Venye; I’m also a novice here. What’s the matter?â€

[Disendra]

Her grief was interrupted. She raised her head to see the girl who had knelt beside her. "Rossa Venye? You should know what the matter is as well as I. I'm a prisoner here. Trapped by these women to learn to control something which I have never wanted a part of." Disendra angrily brushed the tears from her face.

"I'm Disendra Vinyrai. I'm from Tear." The thought of her hometown brought the tears anew, washing away the brief moment of anger. "And that should tell you everything!"

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa~

 

She was from Tear? Light, that explained everything. The poor girl was in a similar situation to herself, only far worse, effectively being isolated from her family while they still lived rather than her own situation of not having a family to speak of. She swallowed the pang of her own rising grief and impulsively hugged the other novice. It was so hard living this life with every individual story. No one had someone to cling to. All ties with family had to be severed for the long run, but what of those that did not want that? What a cruel fate.

 

“Disendra, listen to me. I know how hard it is. I am not Tairen, but I know what it is to be alone and unable to rely on anyone. I wanted to be here, but for completely different reasons to that which you probably think.†She was still hugging the older woman, but Rossa saw no reason to let go and increased the pressure slightly so Disendra was fully aware that there was someone there for her. “You probably think I am here to make people dance to my own tune, for power or personal glory. That school of thought could not be further from the truth. I am here for you, Disendra, if you ever need a shoulder to cry on. Would it make it easier to tell me a little bit about yourself or would you prefer that I tell you my story?†That would be hard, but maybe if she knew that there were other pieces in play in this game of stones then she’d be a little less selfish. The truth was that if she was here, it was because she had the ability. Rossa had already had the lessons about learning to control the One Power and about how she would be dead if she misused it, or drew too much of it. It was hard not to, considering the sweetness she had to battle just to use it. Oddly, it helped to picture something…

[Disendra]

Disendra almost melted into that comforting embrace. How easy-she thought-it would be to just let go for a few moments and feel that gentle touch of another being who actually seemed to genuinely care.

 

With a start, Disendra realised what she had just thought. I don't need that! I've never needed someone elses support before! Well, the Light blind me if I'm going to start needing it now!" Pulling back from the embrace, Disendra wiped her face with the back of her hand. Smiling apologetically at the young girl, Disendra took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then took hold of Rossa's hand and held it in her lap. "Sorry Rossa. You obviously know it's like what. Sometimes, those emotions just spill out. Now then, why don't you tell me about how you came to be here?"

 

Oddly enough, Disendra began to feel much more in control of herself, more accepting of her situation, as Rossa's story unfolded. She listened intently to the girl's words and began to see the same similarities Rossa had mentioned. It seemed that, with each passing word, Disendra felt closer and closer to this little girl who had just saved her from drowning in her own self pity.

 

ooc ooooo! Betcha didn't see that one comin! lol. Now then lara hun! Gimme your story! :) I wanna bind these two together pretty tight for a while! hehe

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa~

 

“My story? You don’t really want to hear my story.â€

 

Inexorably, the older novice coaxed it out of her regardless. How Rossa had managed to speak without crying was beyond her, but she supposed that even grief subsided to sombre memories after a time. She would not - could not forget them. She felt the proximity of the Tairen girl, so close to her while she had hugged her the first time and felt something … close between them. Kindred spirits, almost, bound together by the Wheel or the Light itself perhaps. It was something to cling to in the maelstrom of life that was the White Tower. With faltering words, Rossa began, but thankfully no tears punctuated that hesitant rendition of her life.

 

“I have no one now. There is only me to depend on, and for the moment, only myself to worry about. In time, I shall return to my homeland and become the person I am meant to be, the Light willing.†A swallow, a grief-constricted throat dulled by the passing of time, yet still prickly enough to make it hard to breathe, or speak. It wrapped her, and she trembled a little. “I am the High Seat of a noble House in Altara, one which is very close in relations to the Queen herself. The estates lie not far from the Capital of Ebou Dar itself, or rather, they did lie there. I suppose the lands remain, if they are not overrun by usurpers or bandits, but the house will be a charred ruin.†Blackness and smoke, pungent and choking, tore at her memory; only lightened by the bright, vivid orange of the flames… “My family … burned … to death, all of them except me. I am the last in my line and the High Seat of my House and technically in exile, as I believe the fire was set deliberately, in the name of the Great Game.†There, she had said it. The hardest part was now out of the way, and everything from here should be easy. Well, easier…

 

“My only memories are these carvings I made on the road when I came here. I begged lifts with passing wagons, walked, offered my services so I could get to Tar Valon and train in the one place that will give me the most chance to try and find out who did set that fire and why.†She did not add that she had already resolved to take revenge when she did find out who was responsible… “I was to be a Lady in Waiting to the Queen, if my parent’s plan had been fulfilled. All that taken away from me, although I admit the future was not one I would have chosen for myself, but it would have been a good life. Mother always said I was born in my mid-thirties … too mature for my own good. I never had a childhood; it was always lessons in Daes Dae’mar, or fighting with a whip, or courtly manners and etiquette – you know the sorts of things associated with highborn ladies. Yet, I have to hide them all here. But I will not stop being the person I am - that would betray my family’s memory. Compromise.â€