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About Lavinya

  • Birthday October 17

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  1. Silence stretched for only a few moments, but in that time it thundered in Lavinya’s ears; her fingers curled about the stem of her glass tightened, tension mounting as she waited for him to snatch at the opportunity and walk out of her world once and for all. She could scarcely dare to breathe as she waited, eyes locked to his, impossible to tear them away now as returned the inspection, his jade eyes always seeing too much, piercing through her armour into the soft underbelly of her soul. And in an instant, the atmosphere changed, the welling anxiety dispelled as the cocky guard nonchalantly propped his dusty boots onto the table and spoke so casually. So great was her relief she didn’t even care to lecture him on the impropriety of where he set his feet, the breath she held escaping and drawing with it much of her tension. He is not going to leave me; not yet. With that knowledge in hand, finally she was able to relax, a massive weight lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t give two figs where they went, so long as it was far from the filthy black-coats and their insanity. Freedom; just the two of them, no pressures, no strictures, no responsibilities. The open road and Corin by her side – ahh, life had not tasted so sweet in an age, not since the moment the warm weight of a squalling babe was placed into her arms, all pink skin and balled fists and the sweet fragrance of new life. Her eyes cut to his guiltily for a brief moment before shying away, her attention returning to the rapidly emptying cup of red wine. It would not be without its snares and pratfalls, this journey. The weight of her secret returned, grounding her in the reality of her situation that was far from the rosy ideal she wanted to imagine. She promised herself she would take him to meet her; well and so, she would keep it, in her own time. There was no way to know just how he would behave when there was no buffer between them; not so much as a pretty waif to interrupt and smile coyly at him. A perverse desire to laugh rose up within her chest but she tightly held onto control. Her homeland? A hint of amusement quirked her lips as she looked at him; he looked at ease but she couldn’t shake the thought that his real desire was that of the player seeking information on his quarry. He wanted to dig into her past, did he? Honestly, the exasperating man could simply ask and she would only need to look into his eyes and every last sordid detail would come spilling forth. He clearly had no notion the power he commanded and it was best it stay that way lest he use it to discover that which he was certainly not ready to find out just yet. How would he react? Cold anger, she thought. Disbelief. Horror? Disgust? A small furrow marred her brow as a distant pain squeezed in her chest. How many times had she played out the scenario in her minds eye? Countless, she thought, and still she could not settle on a sure reaction save that she would feel the brunt of his disdain and any lingering hopes she had of an idyllic family reunion would be cast into the flames of oblivion. She swirled her glass, the liquid sloshing in a less than perfect swirl suggesting the heady liquid was having some affect and forced her thoughts to move away from the unknown and focus instead on the very real, living problem in front of her that was looking at her with an almost wolfish amusement. She narrowed her gaze, noting how he seemed younger and lighter for it and was made instantly suspicious. By all accounts he should still be chafing at the bit, longing to be free of the leash he perceived she held, not looking positively smug at the notion of the association being extended. She immediately discarded the idea that he simply wanted to spend time with her – even though in her secret heart of hearts she wished it to be so – and instead considered that he was looking rather confident. Did he think that perhaps he could run roughshod over her without the need to pretend deference in front of another Sister? She took a sip, letting the warmth rush over her palate. No, he might try it, but she doubted it was his motivation. More likely was the fact that he believed he could rattle her or slide beneath her façade more readily in such an environment. So why was he also willing to alter their outward association? No longer brother and sister…now that was an idea with merit. She quirked a brow, a mysterious smile dancing about her lips as she downed the dregs in her glass. How many had she consumed? Three? Four? She didn’t remember, but she was certainly starting to care a lot less. “You wish to discover Arad Doman, Corin? I believe that could be quite enjoyable.” And if she was not bound as his sister, she would be freer to warn off the too-forward women they encountered, which was bound to be many. The image of him blushing and stammering, all off balance made her smile bloom into full life as another flare of cruel, bright hope flickered within her breast. To see him smile, even at her expense…ahh, maybe they would be alright after all? Reaching once more for the bottle, Lavinya unsteadily sloshed more wine into her cup, spilling a few drops that she paid no heed, instead welcoming the numbing embrace of intoxication. “I sent the carriage on after Saline; your mount will still be in the stables though.” One hand idly twirled a scarlet curl about her fingers as she began planning out loud, reclining more comfortably in her chair now the imminent trouble seemed to have passed. “We should have some supplies between us still, I have coin…” Dark, heated eyes lifted to his and a familiar mischievous smile tugged at her mouth. “We could always ride Ayende together, like you said it’s not far.” A dimple creased her cheek as her smile deepened, conjuring an image of riding astride the magnificent mount, securely wrapped in a pair of strong, masculine arms. Did he still find her attractive? Would he hold her so aloofly distant if he did? “And if we dispel the ru-“ she paused to hiccup, “the ruse of being siblings we can save money on lodgings.” She took another gulp of wine. There would be nowhere to hide. No shield from her night terrors, only the shame of revealing her weakness to him continually, the pity and disgust in his eyes as she again disgraced herself in front of him….or maybe, just maybe….her smile slipped, gaze flicking somewhat dazedly from her cup to his face as it now swam a little in front of her. Maybe she would feel safe enough to sleep, and he would give her comfort like he had twice before. He still hadn’t mentioned the night in the barn. He was honourable and discreet, but she half expected him to bring it up when she least expected it, like a surprise attack. Like when they were alone and it was easier to speak freely…nowhere to hide, she thought, but maybe I don’t want to hide from him. He is here. He will always be here, won’t he? “What have I overlooked? What needs to be done?” She asked, once more subconsciously deferring to him for direction as the glass again approached her now rosy lips.
  2. (ooc sorry for the delay, moving house is busy business!) Lavinya's lips curved in wry amusement as she noted Viviane's genuine remorse on behalf of her peers that even now would be answering to the Mistress of Novices' wrath. Such admirable caring and concern showed a warm heart beat beneath the striped gown of Accepted she wore. Would she maintain that empathy once she attained the shawl? Such a naive and innocent view of the world she must hold; it was almost refreshing, though in a woman of Viviane's years she would have expected it to be soundly quashed by now thanks to her rigorous training and the realities of life's difficulty. The Gray herself couldn't remember a time when she hadn't held cynical, calculated views of the world, and her years in the tower had only reiterated those opinions. Compassion was weakness, warmth a hindrance to the work that needed to be done. In silence Lavinya finished putting the front desk she had leaned on to rights, watching as the Accepted's mind visibly mulled over what she had learned. More subtle than a novice, but decidedly not a player of the great game with her emotions on display in such a manner that a player such as she could discern them almost without thought. She is not impressed with the Gray, Lavinya thought, noting with bored curiosity the way the younger woman's brows drew down and her jaw tensed in response to the passage of thoughts. A yellow then perhaps, with a desire to help the hurting, or perhaps a blue with dreams of passionate crusade. Then again, the way she was mulling suggested she may be willing to pause and view all angles after all, mayhap she did have a calling to be in Lavinya's Ajah after all. One of those who liked to mediate and represent the unfortunate, no doubt. A sparkle lit the dark depths of the Gray's eyes at the question posed to her - perhaps a promising initiate after all. "Yes, it can be learned to an extent by any, though some do seem to be better suited to it than others." She considered Viviane thoughtfully. "Have you ever played a game of chess, or stones? Games that require you to think several moves ahead of your opponent. It is similar, in mediation or negotiation. One must guess at the results of each option - how will this party or that party react to that? What would the implications be? And if another measure were instead chosen? What if a compromise were suggested in this area or that..." She broke off and laughed lightly at the expression on the Accepted's face and waved one hand. "It is not so difficult as it sounds, it simply requires you to think everything through." "One of my favourite exercises in my classes I like to do is a debate - a vocal representation of what many Grays do internally in their work. A simple topic, let's say...All novices should be allowed wander the halls at any hour." Lavinya clasped her hands together, smiling. "Most novices are able to animatedly list any number of good reasons why they should be allowed. The difficulty is when I assign them the task of arguing against it. Rarely does anyone want to, but when they are forced to stop and think about it, to consider it from an angle other than their own, that is where we see true breakthroughs. It's easy to argue your own points; it's harder to argue someone elses. And yet, that is what often a Gray must do." She nodded her head towards Viviane, spiral curls bouncing lightly. "Try it. What is one argument you might make for each side of the topic?" Lavinya
  3. I have vague recollections of Jaem but I didn't make a band character for a long time and didn't play them much. All these old relics being unearthed...did someone blow the horn?
  4. Welcome back! I don't remember you specifically but I may remember characters...only returned recently myself after an 8 year hiatus. Good to see more people creeping back in ^_^.
  5. There was something gratifying about skittish underlings, and when the younger woman's eyes widened at being posed a question Lavinya was forced to swallow a smile. Viviane clearly thought quickly on her feet, Lavinya conceding the point with a small nod of her head. "Indeed, facts are the path to finding the truth of a matter and without a full picture of the issue at hand it's impossible to make a sound judgement." Righting the last book on the shelf, Lavinya stepped back, leaning casually against a desk and folding her arms as she considered the girl thoughtfully. "A very important skill or tool a Grey has in her arsenal is the ability to see things from different perspectives; putting themselves in their shoes as it were and inspecting the issue with new eyes. Facts and logic are vital, but so too is empathy and understanding. If we can learn something of the emotions involved, of the motives and the why," Her lips quirked slightly, "the passions at play and combine it with the facts, only then can we truly find the means to do what is right." She smiled fully, a dimple flashing in one cheek. "Now right is subjective and often open to interpretation by the individual, but striving to find it is, I believe, just and good." An elegant hand waved expressively, indicating the lingering mess in the room. "Logic states that all the girls in this class today were channelling and each played a part in creating the chaos we experienced. That is not untrue." Lavinya lifted the other hand, a counter to the first. "The empathetic view is to aknowledge that none of the girls present had complete control over their actions, either by being the passive partner in the link or by being inexperienced and thus surprised and overwhelmed by the power. It is a heady thing. This is also true." Lavinya brought her hands together, eyes twinkling as she warmed to her topic. "Both views are correct yet vastly different, so how do we find the middle ground? Lack of control is dangerous and requires firm correction, but should those who had no physical control over the flows be forced to suffer the same fate?" She shook her head, corkscrew curls bobbing with the motion. "We instead strike balance." Lavinya watched the girl process the information, her expression one that seemed thoughtful. The Gray pointed to the last row of desks that had endured less of a soaking and more a sprinkling of water. "Does that help illustrate a little who the Gray Ajah are? And please, if you have any questions do feel at liberty to ask them." Lavinya
  6. Lavinya approached all classes with a mix of emotions. There was some pride and arrogance associated with knowing what others did not and the curtseys, courtesies and honorifics were always highly gratifying. Unfortunately none of this came without a great deal of frustration and tested patience. 'Motherly' was not a term that was ever associated with Lavinya. Neither was 'nice', 'kind' or 'friendly' for that matter, depending on who one spoke to. 'Arrogant' and 'cantankerous' were far more fitting - and yet...and yet. There was some satisfaction in teaching, something she would not openly admit to but it was what found her a regular tutor nonetheless. To see novices discover with wonder the joy of saidar and learning to submit to the bright river of power, or successfully form their first basic weaves, that brought a secret happiness that had yet to dim despite the many years of training. Many of them also brought recalcitrance, attitude and mischief but Lavinya was undeterred by such things, relishing the challenge when it arose. Accepted, now they were different again. Older and one would hope wiser, these were no longer children in the eyes of the world but within the White Tower still they were little more than girls. An awkward stage, having a little freedom and experience but still considered far from Aes Sedai, the women she trained seemed to either dive into their studies and thrive, or slowly spiral helplessly and find themselves unable to complete their training and attain the shawl. All of them seemed to handle themselves differently - some grew spines and tested their new found authority, minimal as it was. Others imitated the serene hauteur of the Aes Sedai whose ranks they longed to share, lording over the novice who ranked below them. Some did not cope and were prone to fits of tears; still others rebelled at every turn. There were many challenges in teaching, but it staved off the boredom, to be sure. This days adventure had been one of the more lively in recent months for Lavinya, and truth be told it often was when the girls learned to link with one another for the first time. One's ability to channel was not infinite; linking provided the means to channel more power for longer, the ultimate act of cooperation. It is relatively simple in practice, but in reality giving up control to another was often times difficult to learn, and for the one discovering new depths of saidar to plumb it was a heady and unpredictable moment. It had gotten a little out of hand, the Grey could admit it to herself if no one else. For some reason the girls holding the control were swept up in a power trip, attempting weaves beyond their ability and control until chaos reigned and Lavinya was forced to intervene, her voice sharp as a whip as she chastised them for the dangerous actions. Every novice has the very real threat of burning out drummed into her from day one, not to mention how careless weaves can be volatile. The behaviour was a fine example of why Accepted were still considered children. Having sent the foolish culprits to the mistress of novices for penance, now she was forced to clean up the considerable mess they left behind. This, this was a definite downside to tutoring. Lavinya was sopping up a puddle with a towel when she saw one of her students approach. Not one of the trouble makers this time. She paused, brushing her riotous red curls aside as Viviane made a pretty curtsy, all proper deference and meekness. Deep brown eyes assessed the girl before her, assessing the motive behind the request and determining it to be a genuine desire to learn. Well and so, the Grays had much to recommend them and the Domani sister was happy to speak on them. She nodded once, straightening and handing the towel to the Accepted. "If I am to speak, then you will make yourself useful." Moving to the table at the front of the room, she began straightening a sheaf of scattered parchments, putting them back into a neat pile. "All Ajahs hold to certain philosophies, but you will find that each individual will still interpret them differently. I will try to paint you a picture of our overall beliefs but just what they mean to me, or to you, may differ." She smiled lightly. "The Grays are in essence the ajah of balance. Mediators, diplomats, seekers of harmony; we have been named these things and they are all true in their own way. Many rulers have sought our wisdom and advice, and we are renown as impartial and fair judges and advocates." She paused, pointing with one finger to direct Viviane to the next row of desks. "Compromise is an important concept; it is the path to harmony. The best agreement is one where both parties are left feeling satisfied, and that only comes when both are willing to bend. The Gray, we seek to facilitate this, approaching matters with a measure of logic and a measure of passion." Her lips quirked in a small smile. "You see, the Whites hold that cool logic untainted by emotion is the correct path, and the Blues place their passionate causes above the wisdom of simple logic. Thinking with hearts more than heads. And the Gray, we are the balance between the two." Soot, how in the Light had soot come to dust the side of the room? Again Lavinya pointed, ushering the girl to wipe the charcoal smudges as she in turn set about righting a shelf of books and scrolls that were now unceremoniously strewn about the place. "To consider us peace makers or harmony seekers does exclude the fact that we are only mortals and fallible. We each still have our personal preferences and beliefs, our reasons for choosing one side over another. There is a fine line sometimes between mediation and manipulation." One that was best concealed - the finest result was one in your own favour with the other party none the wiser at how they had been played but that little tidbit Lavinya kept to herself. "The Gray Ajah tries to maintain perfect impartiality." Again Lavinya paused, a scroll in her hands as she glanced over at the Accepted. "Do you know how such a thing might be accomplished, Viviane?" Lavinya Morganen Aes Sedai of the Gray Ajah
  7. Remarkable, simply remarkable! Senette hummed to herself as she swept through the tiled halls of the tower, a pile of books and sketches in her hands and resting reverently atop them was the pristine, perfect cutting of a snow-white anemone and the source of the current bounce in her step. It had been something of an idle experiment initially, wondering if she could cultivate a blossom in such a pure colour and formation from rosier hues growing in the gardens, and it had become a labour of love and extreme patience. Reds had lightened to pinks and ivory, but at last she had found success and the bloom was not only the right colour but it was also unblemished in formation. Coaxed along its journey with the help of the one power, the fragile flower was a symbol of Senette's triumph. No longer needing the reference volumes she carried, she made her way to the library to return them and to pick up another slender tome, one she was quite sure made mention of the use of saidar in horticulture. She liked to think she could expand upon the knowledge therein. Mayhap she would even publish her own book about her experiments, with results such as these! Deep in her own reveries, she didn't notice the people she passed and certainly not the glances at the grass-stains on her cornflower-blue skirts or the tendrils of hair escaping the confines of the two braids she wore in the traditional Arafelin style, tinkling silver bells and all. What she did at last notice was some sort of ruckus in the library, something of note by the sounds of urgent voices. Dropping her returned books with a harried looking Brown, she carried her fistful of rough sketches and carefully, so carefully carried flower towards to commotion to see what was going on. "Oh! There it is." Chaos forgotten, she noticed the volume she was after sitting unattended on an empty table. Tch, the Browns never liked anyone to leave the precious books lying about, how fortunate she found it before the poor person who left if suffered a tongue lashing. She flipped it open with one hand, skimming the contents briefly before closing the black covers with a satisfied nod. Excellent. What a delightful day this was proving to be. Piling the sketches and the precious flower atop the book, she collected her things and swept out of the library, blissfully unaware of the black smudges now staining her fingertips. ooc: I figured you'd like to tag her a bit and enjoy the spectacle! Feel free to have her absentmindedly spread it, I promise she will notice eventually and as I'm sure you can guess it will be disastrous in her eyes and there will be hell to pay. She'll probably meander about and eventually end up back in the gardens. Have fun!
  8. Lavinya’s fingers tightened around her fork at the mention of returning to Tar Valon. Asha’man walked the halls there now, the taint-touched men in black coats that had attacked her sisters, had murdered and captured and destroyed. She had stilled one, she remembered absently as her vision swam, remembered the wail at his loss in a distant way. The scent of burning flesh filled her nostrils, the screams and shouts of battle assailing her senses. She had followed a warder through the gateway, bound to a Green, she thought. She didn’t even know his name, but he had exploded before her eyes. One moment there, the next torn apart. How quickly they had been overwhelmed, completely unprepared for the ambush, but they had fought; fought and failed. A shudder ran down her spine as the old fear and horror clawed with cold fingers around her throat, tightening and stealing her breath. Her eyes flicked upward, found twin emerald orbs that served to anchor her against the darkness that struggled to take hold. She blinked a few times, clearing her vision and the moment was gone, all that remained was the taut silence; Corin. Her eyes dipped to the fork she held in a death grip and she forced herself to relax her fingers, to maintain her serene composure, assuming she hadn’t just let it crash and burn entirely. She had given him the choice, Lavinya knew how he chafed at the enforced close association they currently shared; of course he would leap at the chance to be free of her at last. She had half expected it, but to hear it voiced brought an unexpectedly sharp pain to her chest. He gave her an out. Not deliberately, she presumed it was under the pretence of being a humble guard, a token display of deference at best as he assumed there would be no reason to delay his escape. “No.” She said, her voice clearly sharper than she intended as he rose his brows in response. “No,” she repeated softly, “I am not yet prepared to return to Tar Valon.” She could see the question arise instantly in his mind, followed no doubt by suspicion, anger and seething frustration. She didn’t owe him any explanations, she was Aes Sedai and he was sworn to protect, not question her every action; but she wanted to be able to share with him, to be on equal footing, both giving and taking. To have his advice and opinions; to similarly give hers. A proper friendship, a relationship. Carefully she set down the eating implement and pushed away her plate, no longer interested in pretending to eat. He didn’t deserve an explanation and the Light knew she was loathe to give it, to remind him yet again of her weakness but she would give it anyway. She looked at him again and sighed, wondering if she would ever find a way to put him at ease, like he used to be, like they used to be. Carefree. Playful and relaxed, uncomplicated and warm. Romantic fool, she berated herself, looking away. “There are Asha’man in Tar Valon. In the White Tower,” impossible to keep the venom from her voice, her bile rising at the very thought of those lunatics befouling her safe haven with their very presence. Her lips twisted in a bitter parody of a smile. “A peaceful delegation, forging friendship and harmony and sweeping their atrocities under the rug.” Her hands had clenched again, anger a raging torrent in her blood. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to let it go, to relax, to breathe. “I cannot, will not reside beneath the same roof as any man linked to the Black Tower.” Her glass found its way into her hand, the crisp red liquid passing her lips in gulps until it was empty. Mayhap a whole lot more of the rather rough stuff would be a good way to pass the evening; a drunken stupor sounded quite appealing in that moment. “When they leave I will return; not before.” She wanted to look at him, to find some understanding or reassurance but her cowardly eyes didn’t dare reach his face; she imagined his expression well enough, the disgust, pity and urgent desire to be far, far away from wherever she was, certainly not those things which she sought, needed. It was selfish of her to want to hold him against his will, and yet there were secrets she needed to still tell him, that it was wrong of her to continue to conceal. Would he flee if he knew? Would his anger turn to pure loathing? She thought she had lost him once; no, he’d never truly been hers, but she had believed him lost and it had been a bigger blow than even her incarceration and torture. Good sense and morality warned her to free him, but how could she ever bear to watch him walk away? At last her eyes clashed with his, hers filled with an inner turmoil. He had not shouted at her in a few days, progress indeed, but the peace was tenuous at best, what could she possibly do to preserve it, to strengthen it and find a way back to the natural ease that had always shared since the very beginning? She could let him return without her, even though the idea made her insides twist painfully. It was the right thing to do…and yet she couldn’t let him go without the knowledge he was the father to the most beautiful little girl in the world. She should tell him; needed to, had to. But what would that knowledge do to him, to them both? Guilt threaded its way around her thoughts, festering and cruel. He deserved the knowledge, did she hold onto it selfishly, that she might first ensnare him, prevent him from hating her? How he felt about her did not change the fact of his daughter, but what if the news broke him further? She knew him well enough that it would hurt him; he had such a strong sense of duty, so strong he faced the penalties of returning to the tower despite losing the one he loved, when any lesser man would have remained in exile. He would feel a strong sense of duty to his child – would it also extend to the mother? If he chose to remain out of guilt and duty – despite his loathing and anger that were guaranteed to accompany them – what would be the point? A continued existence steeped in loneliness but tempered with constant resentment would be disastrous for everyone. Light help me, I don’t know how to proceed. His gaze held hers, face not betraying his mind; very much the player now, holding his cards to his chest, waiting out his opponent – must it be a battle, always? – and it drew forth her frustration. She was tired, physically and emotionally, weary of this endless wariness and watchfulness. “Ahh Corin!” A smile that held no mirth twisted her lips and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes for a moment before her fingers speared into her mass of curls restlessly. “There is so much I would tell you, so much you should know,” she paused, dropping her hands and lifting her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know that you’re ready to hear it, not yet.” She looked away once more before she could detect his answering anger, instead focusing on the empty wine glass and wishing it were full. As if on cue, the willowy young maid returned, anxious to ensure everything was well for the Lady and her esteemed brother, cutting through the thick atmosphere in the room and forcing both to bide their time beneath a veneer of normalcy. “Wine, and plenty of it,” Lavinya ordered coolly, not liking the way the girl – she was scarcely beyond her teenage years, surely – kept casting doe-eyed looks at Corin, blushing prettily when he thanked her for filling his tankard, hovering by his elbow as the very picture of youthful grace and sweet innocence when she returned hastily with the wine, asking Master Elisar if there was anything, anything at all he might need than she would be most happy to oblige. With a saccharine smile and clenched jaw Lavinya dismissed her in no uncertain terms, firmly instructing that they no longer be disturbed unless she was summoned. Swallowing a few hearty gulps of wine – it really wasn’t particularly good, though it was warming her quite nicely – Lavinya looked back at Corin as the door clicked shut on the reluctant serving girl, casting him one last longing glance on the way out. For what must be the millionth time, she wondered why; why must they be so at odds, why must he resent her so, why couldn’t he have shared her feelings, why had he refused her, why, why, why. Still no answers came to her, only bittersweet memories of a rose fluttering over her eyelids, of callous hands laced with hers, of emerald eyes alight with mischief and merriment. Resignedly she broke the silence again, eyes dropping to the hands that laced in her lap. “If you desire it, you may return to the Tower with my blessing.” The words were more difficult to say than she could have realised, it may be the right thing to do but Light how it hurt. Another memory came to her, a conversation, filled with dreams and musings of the future. Did he still harbour some of his boyhood dreams of travel and adventure somewhere within the surly shell? Her eyes flicked back up to meet his, at once achingly familiar and yet now different. Harder now, where once they had danced at her with amusement and mischief; with scalding heat. “But I would like it if you stayed with me.” Could he hear her voice shake? Sense the uncertainty in her gaze, the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t so eager to depart from her? “There are always contacts to check in on and rumours to be heard; a little travel would not go amiss, seeing a bit of the world.” She raised her brow in question, once more putting the option back into his hands. She could order him and she thought he would most likely obey – though it was far from certain – but she didn’t want to compel him, didn’t want to be heavy handed least she drive him further away. She wanted, foolishly, for him to simply choose her, if only this once. Foolish indeed, she chastised herself, finishing off the contents of her glass and refilling it a third time. He already made his choice, why keep setting yourself up for further rejection? Tell him about Elise; lance the boil and then learn to go on as you always have - alone. “Is there anywhere you would like to visit?” If he stays with me, I will take him to Elise, she promised herself, the image of the sweet child causing another pang – she missed her dearly. And I will endure the consequences whatever they may be. Lavinya
  9. So the thread is finished, do I need to report somewhere special to have it looked at/stamped with approval? Pretty confident we covered both WS 0-1 and WS 1-2 in the thread (we tend to get very verbose in our posts!).
  10. Well done. Well done?? Far from lavish praise but it was recognition all the same, and despite how lacklustre it was, Lavinya warmed inwardly at the two short, simple words. For her entire life she had hungered for power and position, and nothing had managed to satisfy her – Sirayn had offered her everything and delivered on naught. Sometimes she even believed it were true that the woman had deliberately baited her into a trap where she was torn asunder for stepping into the Green’s territory; for discovering Corin. Too often her striving had amounted to little; it seemed however that two small words of notice from her wayward tower guard made up for it, especially when coupled with the acknowledgment of just how she had achieved the goal. How long will you be my shield? Of course the moment was short lived, but hope, cruel and fierce tried to burst into flame at the thought that perhaps he meant to be by her side permanently. Ruthlessly she crushed it to a mere ember – he was here under duress and she must not forget that. Given the choice he would flee from her presence and never look back. A sombre realisation that this journey was her one real chance to reach him, to find a way back to the people they once were; once playful and light, passionate and tender if only for a brief time. Was it possible to find that again? Had they moved too far to ever return? Hope, that was all she had, and it was far from a firm foundation to build upon, but what else could she do? As once more the aloof mentor role settled into his voice she bit back a sigh. Just hold onto the knowledge that he chose willingly to teach you and don’t look to closely at the why of it. It seemed he was not yet done with his lesson, now directing her to more menial labour. How was she supposed to dry the weapons he had purposefully splashed, with her soaked through dress? Her jaw clenched as she thought back, on how the wife of her captor had enjoyed deliberately creating work for her, for no other purpose than because she could, and now doubt having an Aes Sedai slave had been immensely amusing. There had been little sympathy from that quarter, even as her pregnancy progressed there had been precious little respite from the pointless and humiliating chores. She glanced once at the enormous axe – that task she understood in light of the strength training, little though she might like it – but the other she could not see what benefit it might bring, and it chafed at her hidden and only partially healed wounds. “Corin,” she said his name, not harsh but not weak, either. Hollow, even to her own ears, but she heard him halt, lifted her gaze to see him turn, brows raised in question. “There was a woman,” she looked away from his enquiring eyes, her voice flat, “who rejoiced in giving me menial busywork as though I was her slave, and in essence I was just that.” A muscle worked in her jaw and one hand clenched unconsciously into a fist, her unseeing gaze directed at the fan of weapons on the grass. “I will do what you have asked because I agreed to obey your directions, and I trust there is a purpose. If it is merely a desire to see me humbled, I advise you in future to reconsider. I will not be a willing tool for anyone’s spite.” She knew that Jocelyn has resented her, resented the bond and her forced association with her husband but blood and ashes her jealousy had been entirely unfounded and served to only increase Lavinya’s misery and put her too often in the path of Linten. She swallowed against the rising tide of memories, of the degradation and cruelty, of the helplessness, sorrow and fear, forcing it all back into a mental abyss. Corin was not like them, she knew it in her heart and would even stake her life on it. Even so, she didn’t quite meet his eyes when she looked back up, instead stopping the path of her gaze at his chest long enough to see him nod once, afraid of what his expression may be, of discovering pity or disgust in his eyes. Having said her piece she turned away, hiding her fragility beneath a straight spine and determined movements. She hated that she had reminded him yet again of her weakness, of the pathetic failure she had proven to be on an important mission. Aes Sedai with years of training but embarrassingly useless and now fractured as she had revealed so graphically last night. Whatever he may have thought of her once must now surely be completely shattered in the light of the terrible truth. Despite all that, she would be no man’s whipping toy ever again. She didn’t look to see if he left but eventually the silence told her he must have as she set about separating the dry weapons from the wet, annoyed at how many had managed to receive a good splashing. Glancing around she discovered not only that he had indeed left her to it, but that there was a large scrap of linen slung over a fence rail not far away. A rag, she decided on closer inspection, and one that no one would miss. Sitting cross-legged in the grass away from the puddle, she took each weapon one by one and dried it with the cloth, the methodical action surprisingly soothing. The sun was pleasant and so too was the moment of solitude, even if some of the weapons were surprisingly heavy and others decidedly sharp. A nick on one thumb had her rub down the blades with greater care as she pondered just why she may have been set the task. That Corin might snatch the opportunity to get a measure of revenge upon her for what he saw as his own servitude since his return to the tower she didn’t doubt nor did she begrudge it, not entirely. It was far less confrontational than his shouting matches but she was still in mind of a caged beast snapping at her fingers, if perhaps with less force than before. A little humility for the haughty Aes Sedai for once dancing to the tune of the guard may bring a brief amusement, though he would have to know it would not last. Both of those things perhaps, but more than that too; it was logical that weapons wrought of metal and wood would require care and maintenance, moisture unchecked could lead to rust and warp. Hmm. Perhaps another teaching moment after all, wrapped in an irritating cloak of banality. She really ought to speak to one of his trainees, it would be interesting to discover if they resented his methods or admired them; she was leaning towards both sentiments thus far. Once done with the chore Lavinya eyed the massive battle axe warily, standing before it with hands on hips. It was a wicked-looking weapon and she knew instinctively that it was going to be heavy and awkward – the jar all over again except blessedly dry. Reaching for the haft with two hands she lifted it experimentally, eyes widening to discover just how heavy it was. Light, she was not that weak was she? She’d spent the better part of a year lifting and carrying and toiling – admittedly the burdens were less due to her delicate ‘condition’ – had she really become so soft since her restoration to the Tower? Surely not. Adjusting her grip she hefted the axe, holding it two handed and wondering at the strength it must take to wield the terrible thing in battle, given simply carrying it was far from easy. Mindful of the curved blades and not willing to test them, she made off with her cargo to find Mister Mitya, muttering prayers under her breath that he might not be far. Had her prayers ever been answered? Surely they had before, else she would surely have abandoned the practice years ago, but in that moment it was hard to recall as once more she was denied her request. Blasted trolloc-loving Mitya was nowhere to be found. The courtyard, someone said, though her arrival found him long gone, in the stables they said. No, not the stables, he had gone to the blacksmith about horse shoes. No not the blacksmith, the little store on the main street. Oh yes he had been here but she had missed him, he was headed for the inn, presumably. Blood and bloody ashes, the axe was a deadweight in her hands and her arms had long grown weary with its weight. It was pure determination that kept her going, ignoring the burn in her biceps and the ache in her back. She had promised to obey and there was no way she was going to give Corin any cause whatsoever to call her out for being less than exacting to his orders. He no doubt expected her to cheat or to rebel, and every fibre of her being urged her to follow those natural instincts but stubbornly she refused. She was not so useless and pathetic that she couldn’t manage what an adolescent trainee did in the natural course of their training. She would fix her broken parts, one stupid moronic task at a time. When she at last found the captain of the red guard it was a relief to note that all would soon be in readiness. She glanced longingly towards the carriage; the haven where she would find respite and rest for at least a while – assuming she made haste and finished her own packing. She saw Corin as she made her way back inside, his eyes from across the courtyard measuring. Rolling her eyes skyward, she pointed silently to the captain and his newly returned axe, before striding inside to her room with all the haughtiness she could muster. Insufferable man! Lavinya
  11. He was enjoying this, she was almost certain of it as she watched his face, his body language, read the tone of his voice. Lavinya wasn’t entirely sure what sort of answer she had expected, an explanation perhaps on just which sword form the task would benefit? Frankly she had half believed he would refuse to indulge her and merely issue his command again. Small mercy he hadn’t, perhaps she still maintained some level of authority after all, or at least the illusion of it. Why did he have to be logical? Oh he danced around the why prettily enough, not quite giving a satisfactory answer but all the same there was sense in what he spoke. Quite irritating, really. Almost patronising, like a blind man…was he insinuating that she was the blind one to his teachings? Was it so terrible to question things rather than accept every little snippet that one was served without comment? When it was anyone questioning her – absolutely terrible – but this was vastly different. Well and so; she did not miss the subtle message in his speech, she had agreed to this training and to refuse to submit to it would be folly indeed. In this, she very much was the clueless novice and he the master. She thought to remind him that she was not completely without battle experience – she had watched someone’s warder literally explode at the hands of saidin right in front of her, for goodness sake – but then she recalled all too well how they had lost that encounter, how they had been beaten and bound as chattel for their failure and that, that had been only the beginning. A shudder rippled down her spine like a winter chill despite his bright grin as he reinforced the point that she had already failed at Linten’s hands, too many times to count. That she was unfit to manage so much as sleeping without incident, of course she wasn’t going to come up with a better way to be strong and survive – well beyond the fact that so far she hadsurvived – but it forced her to ignore her bruised ego and focus on the point of the training. He was trying to help her, cruel as the reminder seemed, this was for her benefit, and she could not deny that he had made a living study of his craft; was more than equipped to instruct her, if she would just bite her tongue and trust him. Trust…ironic that he expected something he himself refused to give. She trusted him; always had – with her secrets, with her heart, with her life. “So really you are asking me to just trust you, hmm?” The words were resigned as she spoke them, much of her earlier fire now diminished though her gaze which met his head on still held a fair measure of disgruntlement. I trust you, the look said, but why won’t you trust me? Bending, she hoisted the jar up, propping it against her hip as she had before and inspecting the small holes now marring the purpose of the vessel. They were small, true, but there was nothing to stop the water from flowing freely from them at what she estimated would be rapid enough to see far more than a handspan escape before she crossed the distance from the well back to where she now stood. She would have to be quick then, mayhap the task was to measure her agility and speed? Whatever else happened, she was going to have a difficult task keeping herself dry; no doubt the dilemma was part of the entertainment for ‘brother’. “I can show you how that is done at least.” Uttered largely to herself, she referred to the matter of trust but the twinkle in his gaze made her think he took it for bravado in the task instead. Let him think what he will – she was more tenacious than he gave her credit for and would not be so easily deterred, no matter how unpleasant the task. Upon reaching the well she faced her first dilemma – managing to fill it in the first place. A stone lip edged the well and she balanced the jar atop it, frowning in thought. How was she to prevent it from emptying as fast as she could fill it? She glanced towards where Corin waited and while she couldn’t see his expression she had no doubt he was waiting for the inevitable entertainment to come. With a stifled curse she pulled the robe, drawing the bucket to the top, filled to the brim with cool water. Experimentally she tipped it into the jar, watching as it filled a small way before reaching the first hole. She kept pouring, watching with narrowed gaze as water trickled steadily from the hole – not quite as bad as she may have thought but it was certainly a rapid leak and before long the level was again below the hole. It would be twice as fast with both holes weeping. She scowled again – it was becoming a fixed expression – and turned the jar, considering the holes, measuring them with her hands. She could stopper one with her finger, like so…but the other was in such an awkward position, she could reach it with her other hand but it would be impossible to carry it like that empty, let alone heavy with liquid. Well, she had declared if only to herself that she was not one to quit easily; she had best get on with it. Her sigh was more an irritated huff as she lowered the bucket again, filling it and heaving on the rope to bring it near. It took a bit of balancing but she managed, blocking the lower hole with her hand as tightly as she could while rapidly filling the jar. The bucket was large, the weight of it made easier thanks to the pulley system so that the jar filled night to the brim. Immediately water began to trickle from the uncovered hole; with a scarcely stifled oath Lavinya wrapped her arms around the jar, hefting the heavy, ungainly load and began her walk. Water sloshed over the top, splashing one slippered foot, so she slowed down to compensate but the water level within the jar continued to recede at an alarming rate. She looked up, dismayed to realise she had barely crossed half the distance. She was not returning so obviously defeated and so with a grunt she turned on her heel, back to the well to begin again. Several false starts later – let it not be said she lacked determination – and Lavinya was bristling with vexation. Of all the pointless, idiotic, humiliating tasks to be given, this had to be the worst. The hem of her skirts were decidedly damp now and her arms were getting tired from hefting the stupid vessel. It was so perfectly torturous, even the shrew wife of Rion’s would have been in awe of its genius. With hands on hips Lavinya glared her irritation at the water vessel, freely leaking back into the well without anything to stem the flow. Again her gaze swept to where Corin waited, no doubt brimming with laughter to think she stubbornly kept attempting the impossible task like a fool who couldn’t see the woods for the trees. Her eyes tracked back to the light-blasted flaming jar that she now loathed, hot frustrated tears pricking unbidden at her eyes and her hands balling into fists. Would he really be so cruel as to make her toil at something that was indeed impossible? Would he go so far to further shatter her pride? As much as the evidence of the task seemed it was so, she couldn’t convince herself that it was truth. He wasn’t cruel at heart. Angry, bitter and hurt, yes; but not cruel. He may find amusement in her predicament but she didn’t truly believe he would set her up for certain failure…would he? Maybe she just needed to think it through again, to find what it was she missing, there had to be a solution, if only she could block both holes at once she could possibly slow the leak enough to make it back across the yard, but she couldn’t do it with the other hand, she had tried it briefly, but maybe, if she… Suddenly it was obvious, so obvious she slapped her own forehead in reprimand. She could block both holes, yes. She just couldn’t stay dry doing it. She sighed heavily, wearily. Not an impossible task, but certainly one that was bound to leave her discomfited all the same. Corin was a right tyrant of a mentor she decided with bemusement and perhaps a hint of begrudging admiration. One attempt, she thought tiredly as she again pulled the rope, summoning the full bucket, one last attempt before I drop the blasted container and shatter it, confirming my failure. Carefully she blocked the lower hole, sealing it as firmly as she could with her hand. Awkwardly, she manoeuvred herself around the jar, exhaling sharply to brace herself. This is going to be cold, ugh. Quickly she tipped the bucket, filling the jar as full as she could, quickly quickly lest too much spill. Bending her knees she wrapped her other arm around the jar, pulling it against her chest so that the second opening was pressed tightly against her middle and lifted the heavy vessel in one jerky movement. Light, the cold seep of water was unmistakable as it dampened her gown and it was positively icy, drawn from the depths as it was. Gritting her teeth she ignored it, consigning the discomfort and slow moving trickle of water to the depths of her conscious and instead focused on holding the jar secure in weary, trembling arms. Her steps were short but hasty, eyes watching closely the level of the water; yes it was dropping but not nearly so fast as before. Hope blossomed with each step, the realisation that perhaps yes she could succeed, might prove herself not completely useless in Corin’s eyes. Just mostly. Lavinya was breathing heavily from the exertion when she stepped across the grass, the burn in her arms at odds with the cold rivulet soaking her gown. Scarcely waiting for Corin to check the level – she knew she had managed, burn him if he denied it – she hastily set it down with a sound that was half relief and half triumph. She had done it, pointless and irritating and ridiculous but she had done it. Shaking out her poor arms, the grey looked over her gown with dismay. The dress that had once draped and clung so enticingly was now plastered to her skin from bust to knee, the hem speckled with mud. Entirely impractical for training, but what else was she to do? Remembering too well how he had assessed and dismissed her imperfect frame earlier she plucked once ineffectually at the emerald silk then dismissed it entirely, there was little for it but to let it dry. The wool-headed oaf would just have to add to his criticisms, the important thing was she had succeeded at his silly task, and she had done so on her own. She was not so incapable after all. She glanced at Corin, waiting to hear his praise or chastisement. Perhaps in some regards she was capable, though not, it seemed, in those things which were truly important. Lavinya
  12. I’m hardly wearing the dress for it’s classic battle-cut, you wool-brained lummox, Lavinya thought grouchily as Corin’s gaze wandered over her attire in a very deliberate but impersonal manner that stoked her temper further as surely as it poked uncomfortably at her confidence. Would it be so terrible to look at least mildly appreciative? She was painfully aware that the process of bearing his child had altered her physique drastically and that perhaps she had not managed to regain the exact same allure of her old frame, but still she hadn’t thought she had entirely lost her physical appeal. Not until Corin inspected her so impassively and critically that was, no doubt noting every flaw. Ridiculous, Lavinya had always enjoyed the admiring stares of men and had been exceedingly confident in her own exceptionally created skin, and this new self-consciousness was most unwelcome. First, she ridicules herself with her pathetic night-time display and now she adds to her failures with physical defects. I’d like to see how well you would like to be so assessed and dismissed, she half muttered under her breath as she snatched up the bow once more, glowering to see his half-smile. He had called her beautiful once; a lifetime ago and very likely a pretty lie, all part of the polite guard trying to detangle himself from unwanted attentions without being rude. Well, he had no qualms about that now. Doing as she was bid, Lavinya went through the motions, moving into position as he had instructed, holding the bow aloft, string taut by her cheek as she glared daggers towards the fence post, thinking how nice it would be to put him in a dress that clung to every curve like a second skin and see how his confidence fared then. Naturally her thoughts conjured a picture that started amusing at the idea of a man in a dress but her memory began filling in the details of just how nicely built he actually was and it only irritated her further – why did she have to like the way he looked quite so much? Infuriating man, let him have a child and then see how his body fared…her teeth clenched together as he admonished her distraction without so much as looking at her. Tension radiated through her frame as she aimed her scowl as well as her imaginary arrow at the post, muscles holding the strain of the string slowly beginning to burn in protest. He droned on, correcting without looking and blood and ashes if it wasn’t so irritating that he was somehow still right, sensing her errors and short-comings as thoroughly as he had looking at her dress. Fiercely determined to prove herself capable in something she held the pose, slowing her breathing, forcing herself to steadiness and sureness of frame. She did well she thought, holding as long as she could before the inevitable wobble of tired muscles became too great for her to counter and she released the position to the great relief of her arms. The considering tone of Corin’s voice drew her gaze, still very much the teacher assessing the student – was he actually smiling? Disconcerted she let him hold her gaze, his expression unreadable. Did he find her shortcomings amusing? Was it seeing the haughty Aes Sedai brought to the lowly status of student that he enjoyed? She wasn’t sure, was hardly sure of anything with this man anymore and it was most unpleasant. Still, whatever the cause, something inside her flipped giddily at seeing the curve on his lips, the amusement in his gaze. She didn’t know the cause of it but she welcomed it all the same. How long since he had genuinely had cause to smile, to laugh? Some of her ire dissipated as she returned the bow to the array of weapons under his less than glowing praise, a sidelong glance showing the smile still firmly in place on his face. How much younger he seemed for it, lighter; as though the weight of the past year had shifted and the young man beneath was at last able to come forward. The change in is tone distracted her, the way his smile seemed to lose its warmth. Was that how he saw her? Broken? A damaged tool in need of fixing? A frown returned between her brows as she followed his eyes to the now punctured water jar, wondering if he was correct and she was horribly broken – was she even worth fixing? Could it be done? Was the jar now supposed to be a representation of herself, unable to even fulfil her original purpose she was so badly defected? She wasn’t that bad, not really, she told herself. Everyone has nightmares sometimes, she had endured far worse; besides no one else even knew about that little concern. She was still Aes Sedai, was still strong enough and capable enough…why was he smiling again? A sense of nervous apprehension trickled over her like a silken net laid upon her skin – was he deliberately goading and baiting her? Was this all a test on her patience, temper and obedience? And why in the light did he seem to be enjoying it so much? He was positively gleeful when he issued his next command, tapping the jar lazily with the tip of his arrow and a playful grin at her. Ahh, what things that smile did to her! That twinkle of mischief in emerald depths, the attractive curve at a mouth she thought of far too often – this was what she had sought since his return but why oh why did his impishness have to be directed at her? She was torn between wanting to revel in the smile and the strong desire to box the insolent oaf about the ears. She stiffened her spine and clenched her jaw, thinking of the task and how he had deliberately set her to failure and humiliation. She had knocked quite a few uppity novices down a few pegs in her time and no doubt trainees needed similar treatment at times, but burn him she was not some naïve child dreaming of glory in battle, willing to chase her tail in pointless endeavours out of sheer obedience. Folding her arms stubbornly under her bosom Lavinya glowered at the gleeful guard who took far too many liberties; with any other Aes Sedai he likely would have been whipped soundly by now. Why did she let him get away with so much? A puzzle for another time she decided, tapping one foot with open impatience. “Why?” She asked simply, levelling her gaze at Corin. She hadn’t outright disobeyed – she did want him to teach her, after all – but she wasn’t going to let him make a fool of her for no purpose than his own personal amusement. Even if the evidence of that joy made cold places inside thaw and twist. He could bloody well explain himself. Lavinya
  13. I continued my quiet plotting since I was waiting on posts anyway. So happy the forums are back though, now I can keep plotting and have background research too ;)
  14. Lavinya watched his face as he spoke, his own gaze no longer trained on her. She saw the cynical curl of his lip, the tenseness in his jaw – how could he still be so enjoyable to her sight while filled with unease in her presence? – and wondered not for the first time how to reach him. Not just the surface, not the same measure as anyone else might, but deeper, she longed to recapture the playfulness she remembered, the mischievous glint in his gaze, the smile which had once so easily warmed his face. She knew he walked his own private perdition, had been to the pit of doom and back but surely, surely he was still there on the inside, just waiting to be drawn out. And into her arms. Pah he did not think that way anymore, if he ever really had save that one evening…No, this was not the time to reminisce on such things, she should be paying attention to his words, not wondering if his hair would still feel as soft if she speared her fingers through it. She would be a better student if he was less distracting she thought, but all the same she forced herself to focus, noting how his voice grew colder, more distant as he described his method of escaping his emotions; no more than that, the void was where those thoughts and feelings had been ruthlessly squashed, the good and the bad, discarded. A frown formed between her brows as the significance of what he did touched her coupled with how utterly unreachable he seemed in that moment, even his words halting as he fed everything into the flame. Is that what he did with his memories of her? Why he no longer seemed to see anything but a nuisance Aes Sedai set forth to torture him? Worse than the Whites with their cool logic, this was ice in comparison. What was the point to living, to striving, if not for those very thoughts and feelings and emotions? Briefly she considered the emptiness that gaped beyond should she feed her own tumultuous thoughts into the flame; without the overwhelming love and pride for her daughter, without the hope of a bright future, without the affection she felt for the man before her, unrequited as it was. Without dreams of what could be and memories of what had been, even without the temperance of her very real fears and weaknesses, what was left? Nothing. Her frown deepened. How under the light was he going to find the will to live in a great, vast abyss where nothing touched him and nothing mattered? She understood the escape and freedom from the pain, in months past would have demanded he show her until she had it perfected too, and yes she supposed there was logic in removing these distractions when one was in the midst of battle and each breath could be the difference between life and death; but the tone of his voice was tickling something in her, some measure of familiarity. This was not the first time he had escaped to the void in her presence, she thought. Did he really view their association as such – warfare? Did he need to avoid all emotions just to endure being close to her. How empty he must feel, how very alone. But you are not alone, you mule-headed lump! She glared her thoughts at him. Live? This was not living, this was enduring in some light-forsaken stasis. He may think differently if he knew he had something worth living for. Someone. No not me, he’s made that very clear, but a sweet, innocent daughter? It made sense, surely he was not so far lost to the man he was that he would wallow in despair while his child needed him? Assuming of course the very knowledge didn’t break him…and he’d have to believe her first, what if he thought she made it up to try and snare him? It was the worst sort of tangle and she couldn’t see her way clear. Her mind ceased its wayward wandering once more as his voice changed, a subtle inflection but the emptiness seemed to have disappeared now. Silently she made note to pay closer attention to his voice in future, to know when he escaped to the void but the thought was interrupted when his eyes returned to hers, a hint of their old mischief dancing in their emerald depths. Why did she have a sudden sense of foreboding, as though she was about to be the target of his impishness? Fetch? Fetch?! He was ordering her about like a novice or, worse still, a dutiful pup? Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed – he may be the teacher here but she was not some sort of common servant he could send to do his bidding. Infuriating man, she already gave him far too much leave to be insolent in her presence and opened her mouth to expound precisely on just what he could do with the water jar he wanted when he raised a finger, surprise silencing her more than the action itself. He was enjoying her turmoil, could read it clearly on his face and in his high-and-mighty tone. Her mouth closed with a small click and she glared at his smug face, considering. He spoke true of course, she could hardly learn if she wouldn’t follow his instructions but did he have to make her run about like a fresh-faced trainee in the yards? She held his gaze, seeing the challenge and hint of satisfaction in his eyes, the shadow of amusement. In that moment she saw the boy she knew, the bold young guard who thought to challenge a White sister in a battle of wits despite the odds, and something inside her coiled painfully tight. If it brought him back, she could endure a little meekness and work, couldn’t she? Besides, he was doing this to help her. Resignedly she exhaled and without a word (though with a parting glare) she rose to her feet and went where he pointed, straightening her shoulders for all the world as though she wanted to go where she strode and not because she was told to, moving with natural grace in the clinging emerald gown and a decent measure of haughty irritation as she crossed the distance to pick up the jar. Blessedly empty, still the clay pot was heavier than expected. Hefting it from the ground she braced it against one hip and made her way back to the yard where Corin waited, ignoring the few odd looks from passers-by. “Your water-jar, master,” she uttered with cloying sweetness and no short amount of defiance in her gaze as she placed the vessel in front of her teacher, wondering just what he had in store for her.
  15. I honestly don't remember! I used to have characters across a bunch of orgs back in the day so it's entirely possible but then again I remember people I never actually RPed with too. It was a long time ago, the brain is old and tired
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