*points and laughs at Q*

sorry... couldn't help it.

*points up*

yeah... what she said. ;)

*slowly recovers from her heart attack*

don't DO that, Ata... *shakes a fist* I'll get you back for that.. I'll.... I'll... do something!

Sweet! :) I'm at your disposal... metaphorically of course... please? ;)

Yes! RP! Let's RP! I have a "courtesan" (I've rped with her maybe... three times total...)

I'm married, honeymooned, and back on track. *rubs hands together* So, where are we? What are we doing? Who's bored and wants to rp?

diamonds

;)

Guess what!!! I got hitched!!! That's right, I've been HAPPILY married (and happily... uhh... pg13.... pg13...)

Anyway, just wanted to drop a line and at least let you all know that I'm still alive. I leave for my honeymoon on Saturday (yay Disney!) and wont be back until the begining of February. So technically my LOA is until the First (at least that's what I say...) So yeah! See you all soon! Don't change too much while I'm away.

-Drea Raylin

haha

*coughs*

good thing I got this a month and a half AFTER the fact, huh...

and an even better thing that the new code of conduct didn't kick in until now, or ya'll might be out TWO staff positions. *giggles* silly DM...

funny... I never check this board anymore *Hugs all old family* though I shouldn't be such a stranger.

Anyway, Magpie, though I doubt you'll check this much more, email or PM me if you need something. Otherwise *hugs* hi. :)

*sniffles all dramatic like*

It's so good to be home.

A sudden coughing fit errupted as Drea's head turned quickly from the fire to Mehrin. Her eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed at him, confused and irritated. She tried so hard to be as broad as possible with this stranger and Mehrin lays everything out just like that!

The coughing continued and she managed to motion Mehrin to follow her. "Excuse us" She said politely though a cough to the man in black, and walked a few paces outside of the fire's light. Should be far enough out of earshot, but the creator only knew what sort of weaves this man had up.

She stopped abruptly and turned on Merhin, the coughs miraculously gone and the color coming back to her face in a nice shade of red. "What the bloody- Are you crazy, Mehrin? We don't even know this man and you dare speak his name. What if he works for Ayrik? What if Ayrik is out there, waiting for us? If you get us in trouble or hurt or killed because of this, Mehrin, so help me..."

Rosh pushed the plate away. The smell of the rotting food made his stomach churn. He had made a better meal while drunk and half asleep, and that was saying something. Wrinkling his nose and leaning back in the chair, Rosh folded his hands and watched the man drink his ale. Surprisingly, he didn’t have much of an appetite for food or drink, so the stranger hoarding the ale like a selfish twit meant nothing to him.

Though he seemed annoying at first; playing that sad song, talking all funny, and now keeping all the ale for him; Rosh seemed drawn to the man. His sorrow was intriguing, mysterious, almost addicting. The silence hung in the air between the two men, well, man and boy.

“Why don’t you just go find her then?” His words seem to hang there more so than the silence had. At least the man set down the bottle now, but his face had turned to stone. Was the concept of going after the woman he loved that foreign or that obsurd?

OOC: Sorry it's taken me a month to reply. Life happens. Hope you forgive me.

Drea sat down by the fire. The sun had set and the breeze was chilly, so the warmth was invting for at least a little while. She watched the flames as Mehrin and the Ashaman talked. She didn't want to be rude, but the Ashaman still made her feel uncomfortable. Anyone who could channel made her uneasy. It wasn't until Mehrin cleared his throat that she realized the man was looking at her.

"News?" Her scout ears still heard everything that was said, even when she was concentrating on something else. "Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose. The Ogier are nearly finished with most of the Citadel, and new recruits are coming weekly. It's pretty exciting to see the growth since we've settled in one spot." Drea took a look at Mehrin, unsure what details to give out. "They're in search of a new Commander, you know, with an army that size there's no guarentee you'll live through the night, no matter your position."

She hoped that was enough information for the man to keep his mouth shut. That's the problem with men, they don't bloody know when to stop asking questions. Well, it's Mehrin's choice now.

Drea watched as Mehrin went out of the room and up the stairs. He was assured in his words and movements; something she had always considered an attractable quality. There was an obvious way out of this mess, but it may end up being more chaotic in the long run. But then again, what fun was life if it wasn’t messy?

Grinning at her parents, trying to be polite and reserved but ending up showing her teeth in trepidation instead, she bid them goodnight and started to follow Mehrin up the stairs. Before putting a foot on the first step, Drea turned around and took another look at her parents. “It’s really nice to be home, Mom. Have a good night.” And up she went.

Mehrin was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for her. Either waiting for her or confused as to which room to enter. She stopped in front of him, tilted her head to look in his eyes and smiled. She reached down to his hands and wrapped them around her waist and placed her head on his chest. She breathed him in, enjoying his scent. It would be strange sleeping alone again. It had now been months since they left the Citadel, and every night had been spent near or next to his warm body. Now, the north is the last place she wanted to feel cold and empty. The land was already enough of both to suit her needs.

"My father wont touch you so long as I tell him not to." She winked playfully and tipped up on her toes at kiss him on the cheek “You’re room will be here. Sleep well, Mehrin.” She opened Kimal’s door to let him in then turned to the opposite door and went in.

**

Koreen watched with sad eyes as her daughter walked up the stairs after that man. When the bottom of her foot was beyond seeing, she took a longing sip of her tea before turning to her husband. They stared at each other in silence—both thinking the same thing, she knew, what had their daughter come to? The distant whispers weren’t audible enough to make out what was said, but Koreen and her husband knew they were talking. It wasn’t until she heard footsteps going the opposite way and two doors shut that she took another sip from her cup and sat in her chair. She didn’t know how much longer her legs would stay under her.

“I can’t believe it, Tone. I just can’t. I thought we raised Xandrea better than this. Maybe we should have kept her here, married her to that nice Marshall gentlemen. He always seemed like such a nice boy and is now a Wall Guard. They could have a child by now, maybe two. She would have been happy, Tone. I know it.” Koreen sighed and thought about taking another sip of the spiked tea, but that would give her husband too much time to interrupt. “But instead, she’s miserable. Her heart has more battle wounds than her body and she wears it on her sleeve like an Andorian. This Band of the Red Hand has made her weak. She is no Boarderlander now, Tone. Not any more. The south has made her soft and weak.” Koreen took a long breath. She didn’t normally banter like this; it must be the alcohol in her tea, it must be.

**

The night was colder than normal, and the pigeons in their coop cooed gently. Every once in a while, one could be heard fluttering from one side of their cage to another and the rest would coo louder. They seemed restless, and so was Koreen. She felt the muscular body of Tone next to her, but if he were sleeping or not she didn’t know for sure. Koreen had not slept yet this night. Her eyes were heavy and her mouth seemed to be continuously open in the form of a yawn.

There was a sudden noise outside that made Koreen sit up in bed. It sounded like it was coming from the backyard, just outside her window. The pigeons were unusually quiet and Koreen even stopped breathing. There it was again, but this time it sounded like it was coming from the other side of the house. Could Drea be outside? Or maybe her friend checking on the horses?

Curiosity got the best of her, and Koreen slipped out of bed and into a shift. Slipping house shoes onto her feet, she crept out of the room and down the hall. A large shadow moved past the window and Koreen gasped, jumping against the wall. Instinct told her to wake her husband. He was definately the stronger of the two, but her stubborn Shienaran mind made her take a step forward. She grabbed a knife from the cabinet and held it tightly. The back door opened soundlessly-for a change- and the crisp night air and adrenalline rushing through her body made her shiver in her shift.

The shadow had gone around the corner of the house to the front. It couldn't be her daugher's friend, the horses were in the stable behind the pigeons-who's coos were louder outside than they were in. Inch by inch she crept to the corner of the house, dreading what was aorund the other side. Rounding the corner, knife to her shoulder ready to strike, Koreen took a deep breath and looked up at the dark looming figure and screamed. 

Rosh hiccupped and stumbled down the dirt road to his home. It had been a long night at the tavern and Mistress Anagail had kicked him out of her bed early—or late, depending on who was doing the kicking and who was doing the sleeping. She at least had the grace to give him one more bottle before slamming the door in his face and mumbling something about her husband being out of town too much and young men too charming for their own good. Roth had merely shrugged, tipped his hat to the closed door and took a long swig of the red wine before stumbling off her front steps in the dark.

That was an hour ago, and Roth was now trying to remember where his house lay on this wretched earth compared to the Inn. His mother might be upset to see him home so late, and more so at the bottle in his hand and the stench on his breath, but his father would noticed the un-tucked shirt, messy blonde curly hair and smile with a clap on the back. 21 wasn’t too old to be living at home, nor too young to live on his own. There were plenty of boys in the stories, who were younger than Rosh and ruled kingdoms, and there were plenty more in his town that were older and still on leading strings—whether by wives or mothers depended on the man. One thing Rosh knew for sure was that he was content.

As the sun rose above the fields and through the tree branches, Rosh tracked on, regaining some sobriety. Perhaps the walk was good for him, gave him time to trick his mother into thinking he was with Wex and Cris all night—well, he was with them part of the night, so that wasn’t all that bad an idea. As the sun continued to rise and Rosh’s buzz turned to a headache, his ears were filled with a sorrowful melody. A small house to his left provided the source and Rosh stopped to listen.

Rosh knew that house. It was messy, nearly torn down, and people lived in it. No one in the village dared talk to them or invite them to festivals because… well… Rosh didn’t exactly know why, they just didn’t. Then again, the people who lived there weren’t exactly known for their social attempts. In fact, this was the first time in all his 21 years Rosh had seen someone actually outside the run down shack.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was the gloom of the song or the anxiety of returning to his mother but Rosh surprisingly found himself nearing the front porch, and the man sitting by the door.

“That’s a mighty sad song, Sir. Mind if I ask why?” He put one booted foot up on the step and leaned against a post. The sudden desire to be drunk again washed over him and he took a swig of his bottle. Damn, empty. Shaking it upside down for the last drop and getting nothing but small splatters, he set it down by his boot. The only thing he liked more than his wine was his women, and there didn’t seem to be any of those around here either.

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

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

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

The area traveled was beautiful. The skies were perpetually cloudless and the surrounding trees were like an emerald ocean, similar to those fabled in Seanchan, it’s tides swirling in the wind. The rustling of the leaves was soothing in the silence between Mehrin and herself and once in a while she’d answer a bird’s whistle. Drea was truly at home here, and the scene was almost enough to make her smile.

Her dagger sat at the hip of her brown trousers and her sword lying within reach along Renly’s back. Her cloak was draped over it and the sleeves of her dark blue shirt were pushed half way up her arm and it was tied loosely. The nonexistent clouds would have been a welcoming friend this day. She had left her uniforms back at the Band—better to be anonymous at all times, just in case. The only obvious signet of her past was Mateo’s red painted hand print just visible under the laces.

Mehrin was walking next to her, but she didn’t mind. She liked riding behind him. First of all Drea lived on horses as a scout. And second of all, she got to look at him. He was silent almost the whole trip thus far, only saying the necessities. In the beginning, Drea didn’t mind that either. She respected him and knew he needed space. But now, her days were spent in stillness, with only the birds to talk to. One more day of this and she might go crazy.

“We should think about making camp soon.”  Light! He can talk!

Drea looked down at him in surprise. The sudden appearance of his voice had startled her—which was saying something—but she suppressed fear with a gracious smile. Drea liked hearing his voice and considered it a treat when he did talk.

Looking around, there wasn’t a farm close to them for leagues and there was no telling when one would pop up, but she knew from experience the farm folk down here were generous enough to open their doors even at late hours. “Maybe just a bit farther? I’ve smelled fire for at least a few miles and there are wisps of smoke just over the next hill. It could be a farm.”

She may not be a scout anymore, but old habits die hard. If you look like a wolf and act like a wolf, you can’t be a sheep no matter how hard you try.

The next hill was farther than she had realized. Your skills are slipping already, girl. But the night was just getting dark when Drea realized the fire was from no farm house. A quick glance at Mehrin as they reached the top answered her question. He knew it too. Slight disappointment hit and she frowned to herself. A feather bed and pillow was obviously too much a luxury to expect. Are you going soft now too?

“Do you want to talk to them, Drea, or should I?”  Mehrin asked. An innocent question, truly, but Drea chuckled regardless.

“We can’t have a little girl like me looking dominant, Mehrin. Show ‘em who wears the pants around here.” Her tone was more playful than she expected. Was it the silence that made her this way, or his voice? Both perhaps. “You could use the practice.” She whispered under her breath as Mehrin walked ahead of her.

*is tempted to post LOA but doesn't*

have fun... and happy birthday to me  :P

*hides sword behind Qib's back*

*points*

he did it! he did it!

oooh! I love it when men fight over me!! *waits for the others to join*

too bad it's only one man fighting with himself... and one of them wants to kill me anyway.

*grumbles* maybe this isn't as awesome as I though. oh well! *enjoys it while it lasts*

*shows off her shiny new "newbie" pin*

hmm... maybe I better not show that off too much in this div... *thinks twice*

Anyway, I love the idea. Being newer to the DF, it'll be good to get to know others and rp with different people as well. Not that I'm sick of playing with you, Vera, ma'am...

*offers Drea as sacrifice*

Twyla here!

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re not sleeping together, if that’s what you think.” Drea lied. Mothers always know. Koreen had told a young Drea when Kimal bedded his first girl at 17. Drea tried to hide the guilty look in her eyes.

“Jaem is dead.” That’s right. Play the guilt card, it’s the only weapon you have left. “At least he was.” The words left her mouth before she knew it and a hand quickly covered it, as if that would make the words disappear from their memories. She sighed, frustrated at herself, wondering how she was going to get out of it with as little pain as possible. This had to be the scariest battle she’d ever been in. Trollocs, Seanchan, Darkfriends, even Aes Sedai and the asha’man she’d take any day over her parents and a discussion about her love life. In fact, Drea prayed that a hoard of trollocs would come tearing through the city any minute. She took a drawn out sip of her tea, waiting for the stampede, but alas, it never came. The only thing left to do was explain.

“We thought Jaem was killed by a very powerful darkfriend while training one day. I was so distraught, my Captain General sent me to my tent to rest.” She lied. She had nearly killed Cabroci so he put her on house arrest. “I had a miscarriage there, he was still born. The medic told me there was too much stress in my life. ‘Too much sorrow.’ So the creator decided to give me more.” Bitterness bit hard off her tongue. “I buried Mateo myself the next day.” She stopped and sighed. “To make a long story short, I was kidnapped months later, tortured for information on the Band but escaped with half my sanity in tact. I spent almost a year away, but when I found the Band again, Mehrin here, was Commander. With my knowledge on how things were run, I became his advisor. We spent a lot of time together, got to know each other really well and fell in love. Just before we left the Band, Jaem returned. His attacker wounded him badly, but he was not dead. But he had been gone so long and changed so much. There was no hope for us.” She decided to leave a lot more out that might be necessary, none of it would help matters any.

Drea had trouble reading her parents faces. Give her a week old trail in a winding wood and she’d be fine, but this was challenging. Everything she told them was true, and though she had moved on, they were hearing all of this for the first time.

“And Mehrin will not be sleeping with the pigeons, Mother. He will be staying in the house. Kimal’s room will be sufficient.” She said with force. Drea’s reasoning was that Kimal’s room was closest to hers, but she hoped they’d pick up on the fact that Kimal and Mehrin were very similar in size and his bed would be more than comfortable for him. She was an adult and so help them if her parents treated her like the child they once knew her as. To prove to them you’re an adult know, you have to act like one.

Yay Stel!!! Congrats, girl! Good luck! ;)

-Drea

Drea- FL... in Fal Dara now.