It was a dusty evening in late summer. The sun was still above the horizon by a hair and painted the whole world (or at least the empty fields before Sterre) a deep russet hue. She was relaxing against a tree, watching the sun set while quietly enjoying a beer on her own. Sterre figured that she'd deserved this one. Tonight had been the first night that their performance had gone flawless. The audience had gone wild and they had made an amount of money that was even greater than on their first night, when they'd still been a novelty around those parts.

Every step she'd set, every jump, every twirl - even the part where she had 'fought' to rob Suraya of her fiery torches - it had all gone perfectly and it had showed. It gave Sterre a thrill to go through a perfect performance as much as the adoring crowds did. She even had cute guys coming up to her trying to woo her into their beds. I have fanboys! she reflected and surpressed a giggle. Instead, she just took a swig of beer and closed her eyes to feel the last remaining sunrays on her face. Life was good at the moment.

The people loved them, but the thrill of the performance was the best thing ever. Even Suraya had been satisfied tonight, and that was never an easy thing to achieve.

She remembered the feeling of the thrill from where she'd felt it before: it was the same as pulling a perfect con and walking away with silver and valuables without any hitch. Walking away from Tanchico she had quietly grieved that she would never feel it again, but now in the menagerie of Howel Fitch she had found it again.

And despite the occasional irritations with Suraya, the way Howel Fitch was making lewd comments on her looks, and the silent treatment and seeting frustration that they were served from the acrobats... despite all that, Sterre thought that she could happily stay here for a while. All of the discomforts and the remarks were worth the feeling of pulling that perfect show. Every step was right, every movement was a dance that she knew how to perform, every moment of it a crystal clear second of perfection. To execute such a dance, that was worth the world to Sterre. And it made the rest so much more bearable.

Suraya of course, was already working on how to improve upon it and had decided that Sterre should learn to firebreathe and juggle as well. While she didn't really look forward to getting that close to those torches and burning herself up regularly, Sterre had agreed to do so. Not tonight, though. Tonight was for contentment. After the performance she'd washed her hair and dressed comfortably for a night of quiet celebration.

So while Suraya was elsewhere doing whatever it was that she did when she was being creative, Sterre was having a grand time on her own. Time passed unnoticedly. The leaves of the tree she was sitting against were rustling with the slight evening breeze, the sun had sunk underneath the horizons while stars were starting to twinkle above her, and Sterre was all mellow with her beer.

Maybe it was because she was so accustomed to the scent of burning wood and whatever it was that Suraya used to keep her torches burning, that she completely missed the fire at first. It took a long time for her to realize it in her mellow and half-asleep state of being, like how a sound from the waking world can be incorporated in your dream before you're rudely awakened.

"Fire?" Sterre murmured, and scrambled up. And that was when she made out the glow of a fire in the camp, indeed...

That last leap just didn't work. Her jump went all wrong, she felt it the moment she pushed herself off. For some reason she sunk through her ankle and she did not have enough momentum to leap all the way over Suraya. All she could do was try and not hurt Suraya too much, while still maintaining an image of grace that might or might not fool the audience.

They collided in a crash. The air was slammed out of Sterre's lungs and she hit the ground with her head a little too hard for comfort. A flash of light bored through her skull, but then Suraya hissed: "Roll with it. You’ve defeated the fire breather."

It took a moment to register what her partner had said, but then Sterre leapt off and twirled, before bowing deeply to the audience. She tried to ignore her headache for now and squinted against the setting sun.

Howel Fitch was the one who saved their asses. “Ladies and Gentlemen!†his voice boomed through the tent. Suraya took the opportunity to get onto her feet and pick up her torches. "You’ve just witnessed something amazing! The very first time our Champion Suraya…†He gestured to Suraya who had also gotten up and was lifting her torches in the air, "Was defeated. Honour to our new Champion!"

Sterre smiled brilliantly at the audience and bowed.

The cheers of the audience was like music to her ears. Who would have thought that they would have been such a hit? It seemed that life was smiling upon Sterre Sophya once again. Things were picking up, and even though Howel Fitch seemed a shady guy and Suraya Oceantide wouldn't probably be easy to live with, Sterre had worked in worse circumstances.

A promise of a good future awaited her. And it felt good.

"You're on," Esthelle nodded at Sana, while not taking her eyes off the unconscious trainee. "I think we could both use a drink after this. What a day."

It was a heavy task, to try and carry Maldrin to the Infirmary in his current state. He was a dead weight and did not work along in any sort of form. Esthelle and Sana dragged him slowly to the Infirmary and left him with the Aes Sedai.

"Nothing more we can do now I suppose," Esthelle noted. She sighed. "I don't think he even heard my apology... and if he did, he didn't care. You guys are roommates, aren't you? I'd watch out around him, if I were you." She had not seen such irrational dumb anger since her husband and she'd had their final falling out. There was no reasoning with such delirious anger. All they had to hope for was that Maldrin would come to his senses soon and didn't carry grudges. She wondered if he did, and immediately felt sorry for Sana.

"So... how about that drink?" she smiled at Sana. "Drinks are on you, dinner's on me?"

OOC: You did GREAT, Cala :D

Kat: I hope I didn't go too soon, I had these beautiful images in my head...

Give what's worth remembering

Give what's worth dying

Give it all

Oh, back for more

If you come closer

I'll show you how it feels...

~The Gathering, "Monsters"

Spirit through Fire, around Air, more Spirit in a double strand - it all went faster than her eyes could blink. The weave was melting together and charged up the air in the dusty and smoky cellar until Lanfir could nearly taste the electric charge in the air. It was more, heavier than she'd ever woven, but her threads were strong and her weaving was sure and smooth. No mistakes.

Her mind snapped back to her weave of desperation, the Healing weave that had cost Gytta's life in Fal Dara. Over fourty hours without sleep, non-stop channeling and the horrors of battle had ravaged her then. How much easier it went now, when she'd had a full night's of sleep and the only things that were fuzzing her mind were her tumble down the cellar and the two glasses of wine she'd drunk earlier this afternoon in another life...

The weaving would be joyful, if she had not been so painfully aware that it was Balefire that she was weaving and that she could very well face dire consequences even if Lyanna and she managed to destroy the crazy channeler before them. No matter. She had taken risks before and paid for them (Alec...). Lanfir knew what it meant to give everything for the Cause: the Light. Alec had died for the knowledge of this weave, Lanfir realized. It would please her if she'd ever found out that it was used to save the Tower so spectacularly.

Moments strung together, stretching out to infinity in Lanfir's heightened state of super-reality. It was as if it took hours to complete her weave yet it didn't. It was mere heartbeats, incredible as it might sound. She felt Lyanna's amazement at the deft weaving and the sheer power that was filling them both, felt pride at doing something incredibly right, tension at the pressure of the moment. This HAD to work or they would surely all be doomed...

And that was the moment that Syl burst into the cellar through one of the unobstructed doors that was still functioning. Alec's mentee, her eyes glittering with desperation and rage. Lanfir's bond flared up with courage and determination and hate equally. She looked up in shock -this is not supposed to happen- as Sylandia screamed out defiance and lunged at the Dreadlord without any regard for her own safety. A mere girl, trained in weapons... attacking a Dreadlord.

In that one time-stopping instant, Lanfir knew that this would go horribly, utterly wrong. And with the Balefire weave taking up all of her abilities and concentration, there was no way she could protect her warder from Caladesh' madness. "SYL!" she screamed, willing this to be untrue.

Lightning glittered, and then the bond that connected her to Sylandia Kaiserian... snapped.

Like Alec's had, months ago. It was so bloody familiar, so bloody inevitable. The pain, the ripping sensation that robbed her of that tiny knot of feelings, of belonging and connection... it was happening all over again. Fortunately Lyanna was still with her in the link, sharing in her shock and her pain; that was a relief and a comfort through the haze of loss and pain.

Tears streaming over her face, she fought to keep control over her weave as she was shaken to the core of her being. And she did. She kept control.

By the Light, she was holding on and weaving.

For Syl. For Alec. For Lyanna. For her fallen sisters and the honour for the Tower. She dropped the shield that protected herself and Lyanna, but she held onto the Balefire weave. If it would unravel, it would surely kill them all. Lanfir couldn't bear to lose anyone anymore. Not now, not ever. If anyone else would fall, she would surely lose her sanity.

So she held on, and weaved...

~Lanfir

Rest in peace, dear Syl... :cry:

These are my final words to you

I know you're listening can you hear me

The time has come to say 'goodbye'

These are my final words to you

~ Bullet for my Valentine - "Her voice resides"

He was condescending and giddy and Lanfir knew that it wouldn't be very hard to hate his guts. It wouldn't take all that much, she thought. Just look at him standing there, laughing, while he has killed our people in the heart of the Tower, where we are supposed to be safe and working for the Light... No, it would definitely not be very hard. His insolence made it all the more easy to do so.

The Power surged through her veins. It was so much more than she was used to and technically its sweetness should have drowned out all the myriad lacerations and bruises all over her body. However, saidar heightened her senses as well and made her more aware of her surroundings to the point where she seemed to be walking around in some super-reality that was so much more intense than every day life.

And Lyanna was so close; she could feel her lover as intimately close as her warders... of which she could feel Syl alarmingly close by the way, was she coming here? Lanfir tried to send through the bond that her youngest warder should stay away, this was not her battle, but she didn't think it was working. Lyanna's being was full of power as well, power and sweetness and bright thinking.

She wouldn't have wanted it any other way; standing in the middle of life-threathening danger, bleeding and tattered, with her lover right next to her. Whatever happens, at least we are together.

Caladesh, confident and laughing and more than a little mad, didn't seem to consider them even the slightest threat. "I will of course be sporting and give you one last shot, A chance however small it may be, of beating me. Oh but please speak first, your Last Words and whatnot. I will even engrave them on the White Tower's tombstone."

Lanfir would have rolled her eyes at him for all his boasting and stupid blathering, but next to her Lyanna murmured: "...If only we could turn back time..."

And that hit home. It was something she might have been hinting at already in the back of her mind, but Lyanna's suggestion made things click together. He was giving them one shot. If he were so confident that he meant it, then she and Lyanna knew a way to make that shot count. And he would not expect it at all, because this weave was so dangerous, so forbidden, that even the Shadow hesitated to utilize it's devastating power. A true Doomsday device.

It was a memory of a weave that she and Lyanna considered as their greatest triumph on Serashada. They'd gotten the Forsaken to teach them Balefire after a long struggle. Eventually the woman had given in and taught them.

"Not that any of you will be able to manage to weave it alone," the woman had commented with that eternal spite in her voice. "Lyanna is too pitifully weak and Lanfir, you are so bad with fire that it's a wonder you can even light a candle." She had chuckled at that and Lanfir had bitten on the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting that it was not true. It wasn't. Lanfir was not very talented with Fire like Lyanna was, but she was adept enough to use it productively.

But then Serashada had shown them the actual weave and Lanfir knew that the Forsaken was right. She could not muster the amount of Fire that was needed for this glittering weave full of all the elements. "We would need to link to do this," Lyanna had muttered, and she'd been right. Lanfir memorized the weave as it hung suspended in the air before them and then had the Forsaken dissolve the weave by controlling her through the a'dam.

She remembered. Ah yes, she remembered the weave very well. She was adept and strong enough to weave it, once she could muster enough Fire to weave.

The memory came back to her within the blink of an eye. She looked directly at Caladesh with all the defiance she felt - she was the Amyrlin, she was trained to fight the Shadow, and this was such a battle, this is what she lived for - and then smiled vaguely. "You shouldn't have come here," she told him almost gently.

Most of all, he shouldn't have allowed them a shot in before he would attack. He couldn't withstand balefire, nothing could. It was forbidden, it was a dangerous weave... but Lanfir fought to win.

Spirit and Fire and Earth and Water and Air. With the added saidar filling her being and Lyanna's comforting presence next to her and safely shielded from harm, she started weaving. It was so much easier than it should have been. Balefire, Caladesh. Have fun with your one last shot.

(OOC: Syl, you're up!)

Esthelle dropped the quarterstaff she had been holding. It fell with a splash in the mudpool at her feet but she paid it no notice. She had expected a somewhat hostile reaction, but this? And... Wildcat? What did that mean? He sounded delirious. She shook her her mutely, at a loss what to say at the moment.

Sana had not swallowed his tongue, fortunately. "Maldrin, come on. This is mad. Put the sword down. It's me and i'm not going to hurt you. We want to get you healed. Put your sword down and let us help you. That's what we came back for."

"That is right," Esthelle added. She kept her voice low so he would not find any threat in it. "We came back to make sure you're alright; at first I thought you'd been helped already but it turned out that you weren't." She now looked up directly at him, making eye contact. He didn't look very impressed; or coherent for that matter. Did their pleading even help? "I want to say that I'm sorry that you were hurt and left behind like this, Maldrin. It was not my intention to make a mess like this..."

Esthelle hated apologising and she was not sure if she regretted hitting him, but she sure did feel bad about him being messed up like this and nobody had taken care of him. Hopefully, he would let them take him to Faith Sedai. He really needed to see a Healer...

Climbing out of the bath and wrapping a towel around herself, Esthelle couldn't help a mischievous grin at her fellow trainee. "Somehow I wouldn't mind bathing again with you at all..." She was not new to flirting. Before her mother had started her ridiculous matchmaking sessions, Esthelle'd had been flirting and kissing with some of her male friends from her neighbourhood already. That seemed a very long time ago, though. She towelled herself off quickly and slipped into her muddy clothes once again.

"Let's go," she said to Sana, who had done the same. "I feel a bit guilty for not making sure he was okay before we went for healing, even though that might have ended somewhat messily," she confessed as they headed out of the bathhouse. It had stopped raining fortunately; the late afternoon skies were still steely gray but no drizzling rain was emerging from them.

They walked back to the place where they had fought and found nothing but mud and Esthelle's quarterstaff, abandoned in the mess. Esthelle picked it up and rubbed it clean on her tunic, feeling as absurdly guilty over the abandonment of her quarterstaff as she did over the trainee she'd fought with. Sana soon found the other trainee he'd directed to Maldrin, but the young man seemed distracted and was in the middle of a spar with someone else and they decided quickly that Maldrin was probably still out there somewhere, hurt.

How long had it been? An hour? An two hours?

Nobody they asked had seen them, but in the end Sana called out: "I found him!" as he was checking some bushes. Esthelle ran over and found the trainee she'd smacked with her quarterstaff only half-conscious with a flushed face as if he had a fever. His eyelids were flickering and his eyes were rolled upwards, as if he were unconscious. Sana checked the other young man's chest under a mud-caked tunic and found a bruised and battered mess on the ribcage. "Seems like you really hit home, Esthelle," he murmured, looking up at her.

"Oh Light," she said, staring at her fallen adversary

with greenblue eyes as large as saucers. "We should really get someone to Heal him. Should I ask miss Faith Sedai to come get him?"

But then Maldrin stirred, and his eyes opened.

Healing felt every bit as horrible as her roommates had warned her about. Esthelle hissed in a sharp breath as the sensation of being dunked into a ton of ice water overcame her. Her skin tingled and pulled and there were things going on underneath it that she would prefer not to know about - but the pain left soon enough and her face felt right again. When the sensation subsided, it left her gasping for breath and dizzy and incredibly tired. "Light, that wasn't fun," she spluttered.

"Take it easy for today, dear," Faith Sedai adviced her gently. "A Healing takes quite a bit out of you and I wouldn't want you to collapse."

"I think I can do that," Esthelle reassured the Yellow Aes Sedai and waited for Sana's Healing to commence. He had graciously let her go first, like a true gentlemen, and Esthelle couldn't help but feeling touched by his gestures. He was so different from Yoran; Sana seemed so eager to please because he got joy out of it, as well. She admired that in him, she thought, as she watched him shudder slightly under Faith Sedai's healing hands.

When the Healing was over, Esthelle smiled at him: "I don't know about you, but I could sure use a bath now. I kind of messed us both up, filth-wise..."

And he joined her. They soaked together in the bathhouse and Esthelle had to keep herself from checking him out (and admiring) his forms through the water surface. She hoped he didn't notice, but on the other hand she decided she didn't really care. He probably thought her odd already anyway, so there wouldn't be any harm in it. Apparently the oddness was not enough for him to avoid her. They even had fun; they laughed and teased with the ease of friends. Looking at him through the steamy air Esthelle reflected that she hardly could not imagine ever being angry at this wonderful young man. She hoped that she was making it up to him now by being his friend... because she didn't even just like him, she was probably even starting to fancy him a bit. She grinned. How about that?

That left her one more problem though: "Maldrin. I should check on how he's doing, and apologize for attacking him," she mused as she was rinsing out her darkblond hair. She didn't exactly look forward to it, though...

~Esthelle

Lanfir listened at the Sitters squabbling and wondered what in the name of the Light had been so urgent that the meeting had to have been rescheduled to this time of the day. Most of the issues on the agenda were the same standard points that they'd been discussing last time as well, and there were no new changes or revelations in any of the situations. What is the big deal anyway? Lanfir wondered, exchanging a glance of understanding with her Keeper. Lyanna was obviously very unhappy with how things had gone, Lanfir could tell from the tension in her lover's shoulders, despite the smooth and expressionless way her clear green eyes were focusing on whatever Sitter was talking at the moment.

She wasn't quite bored - not exactly - but Lanfir was far from having a good or productive time, either. She was still irritated of being pulled out of her morning routine like that and she was plagued by vague feelings of needing to be somewhere else. She couldn't quite describe it but she felt as if she shouldn't be here right now, as if there was something she had forgotten, something she had missed in the bigger picture. There was something...

And that was when the pain suddenly flared up. It was so intense that at first when she doubled over in agony she thought it was happening to herself - a stroke, perhaps - but the next instant she realized that it was actually a feeling that was transferred through the bond. Alec! She exhaled painfully. It felt like she was on fire, like her flesh was cooked off her body. "Light..." she blurted out in a tortured moan.

"Are you alright?" Lyanna was sitting next to her and Lanfir realized she had fallen to her knees a moment ago. She couldn't even recall it happening. Lanfir looked up at her Keeper through a mist of fear and pain and croaked: "It's Alec. There's something completely wrong, she's hurting."

She felt the eyes of the Sitters upon her but did not even care about their opinions and the gossip that would surely start circulating because of this. The ones with warders of their own would understand.

"Go then," Lyanna said softly, helping Lannie up with her trademark firm but gentle touch. "I'll handle this, and I'll be right after you."

"Thank you," Lanfir whispered. She turned around on wobbly knees and inclined her head to the Hall in a respectful way. "Please excuse me, Sitters," she murmured... and then ran.

Just when she exited the Hall, she could hear Lyanna addressing the Hall to adjourn the meeting to tonight - "...when it was supposed to be scheduled in anyway..." but then she rounded a corner and sprinted off to her quarters, uncaring who might see her run and what they might think. It was Alec, and Alec was hurting. And the pain that Lanfir was fuzzing out so it wouldn't cripple her in her dash to save her warder was too horrible to comprehend.

I'm coming, Alec!!! she sent through the bond in hopes that her gaidin would know that she was on her way. She should have asked a Yellow to join her, but it was too late now. Lyanna was hot on her heels and that was all she could do now for her warder.

Turning another corner to the stairhouse, Lanfir reflexively reached out to check on the silver a'dam bracelet that was supposed to adorn her wrist... and found nothing.

Nothing.

A flash of insight: she had taken the bracelet that controlled Serashada off when she had been dressing. And she had never put it on again, neither had she given it to Lyanna...

There was no one controlling the danger that the Forsaken represented to the Tower and the world at the moment.

And Alec was in agony.

Oh Light...

"NO!"

Lanfir ran.

The fountain of fire that was deflecting off the crazy male channeler's shield licked its way unto the ceiling and scorched the marble-and-mortar over their heads. Normally the ceiling should have been able to withstand quite a bit, but the flames were just too incredibly hot - the crack with which it burst was ear-deafening.

Immediately dust and bits of ceiling started pouring down on the people within the Hall, but mostly on its initiator: Caladesh. He had obviously shielded himself in a similar matter to the shield that was protecting Lanfir and Lyanna; debris seemed to slide off him with no harm done.

The floor, however... the floor seemed to mimic the ceiling's destruction. Lanfir could tell that there had been Earth and Fire channeled into it, because it sounded (and felt) like metal scraping and marble exploding under their feet. The Main Hall was a warzone. Fire and debris were everywhere. Pure insanity, and it all happened within mere heartbeats.

A block of marble that was the size of a person's body collided with the floor next to the rogue channeler, and the floor simply began to cave in underneath his feet. We need to get him out of here...

Lyanna seemed to see an answer to Lanfir's shouted suggestion. She thought fast and practical and came up with a way to indeed make sure that he was out of the direct entrance to the White Tower: "The floor won't hold! We can trap him in the cellar if we are quick, get him out of harms way. MOVE!"

Bless her bright spirit, Lanfir thought incoherently, already picking up on the idea, already coming into action. Lyanna and she were so tuned to one another where it came to fighting - the way they shared ideas seemed akin to a bond sometimes. Sisters in battle, indeed.

One look of understanding was all it took, before they came into action. Lanfir reinforced their shield of Air and Spirit and they ran while underneath them the floor was groaning with a near human-like voice.

"Get OUT of here!" Lanfir yelled on top of her lungs at the people that were still trying to battle the crazed Caladesh. "This place is going to blow!"

Caladesh himself'd had his back turned to them to fight off an attack from one of the Aes Sedai, but he half turned around at the sound of Lanfir's shout. Fire as liquid-hot as lightning danced between his hands and she could tell that he was about to channel an offensive weave right at them - but Lanfir had reflexes that were used to act quickly, and the perfected skill of over two hundred years of channeling under her belt. And on top of that, she was pretty good with Earth.

And so she channeled Earth and Fire into a familiar weave that she had learned so long ago from a woman who had been a true Legend – a Grenade - lifted up the weave; and slammed it down on the ground between herself, Lyanna, and Caladesh. BOOOM! The Grenade weave exploded with an overwhelming intensity that slammed all of the air out of Lanfir's lungs. For one moment there was a sensation of being tossed into the air, a moment of panic while she was falling - and then she collided with the ground painfully.

There was less than a heartbeat of blackout, before she scrambled to her feet again with knees that were trembling like straws. She found herself amidst a pile of rubble and dust that reached as high as her hips. There was fire burning, Lanfir could smell the stench of her own singed hair and she was aching from a dozen bruises and lacerations all over... but they were not in the main Hall anymore.

They were in the cellar directly below it, and Lyanna, Caladesh and herself were the only ones present and in condition to fight at present time. Next to her, Lyanna got to her feet as well. She looked scorched and bruised and about as battered as Lanfir felt, but her green eyes were glittering with intense concentration.

Near delirious with battle fever, Lanfir grinned at her friend, glad to see her alright and ready to fight. "Time to end this," she said, and turned to the insane male channeler on the opposite end of the room...

Breathing each others lives,

Holding this in mind,

That if we fall, we all fall,

And we fall alone...

System of a Down - "Attack"

The feeling of so much saidar being channeled only enhanced the feeling of urgency and danger as Lanfir and Lyanna rushed down the stairs of the White Tower. Heart pounding in her throat, adrenaline coursing through her veins, blazing with saidar in her embrace, they ran down and down the winding steps. Too long, this is taking too bloody long!! Who had thought it'd be a bright idea to put the Amyrlin's office so high up in the Tower anyway? The polished marble stairs seemed more endless to her today than they had ever did before.

They did not really speak, they just ran to preserve their breath and their energy. Lanfir held her skirts in one hand and the other on the railing, cursing the idea that the Amyrlin had to look presentable as much as the stairs that were between her and the main Hall. The wide skirts bothered her terribly, threatening to tangle her sprint and make her end up down the stairs in a way she would certainly not prefer to be right now. What she wouldn't have given to have worn her training outfit right now... as much as she would have given much to be not so far away from the danger right now.

Like Lyanna, her first thought had been of Serashada coming back for her ultimate and final revenge, but the channeling patterns seemed all wrong, and the spikes of Power that they had felt indicated linking rather than one very powerful female channeler going all-out on the Tower. The shaking and rumbling that was going on, however, seemed to speak wholly different volumes. It almost seemed like there was a male channeler wreaking havoc in the main entrance hall of the White Tower, but that sounded rather outrageous - especially since it was very possible for male channelers to be stilled by a circle of thirteen. And blowing up the White Tower like this... that would be pretty much a suicide mission. Who would do a thing like that?

"We should link," Lyanna said as they finally left the stairhouse and entered one of the hallways connecting them to the Main Hall. Particles of dust were floating in the air here, and the ground beneath Lannie's slippered feet was shaking dangerously. It felt like an earthquake.

Lanfir shared one look with her Keeper and then wordlessly opened herself for a link. It had been so long since they linked last, but the acceptance went smoothly, as if they had practiced this just yesterday. In a way, it felt like coming home - fighting together again with her Battle Sister who she had come such a long way with. It also seemed ironic, because it had been only today that they had regretted not being able to fight anymore... and now this was happening. Was it so strange then, that they linked so seamlessly, that the Power was shared and enhanced between them, as if they'd never done anything different?

They ran towards danger without any regard of their station, to the fact that they would have to kept from danger, perhaps. It was all instinct for Lannie at least: saidar, power, and the pure and primal need to defend her home. She needed to defend her people and her home, and defeat whoever was threatened her sisters and the helpless novices and visitors that were in the White Tower right now. Was there any duty beyond that? To Lanfir, this was the most important thing in the world at the moment. She was a Green, she fought to preserve the Light and her home. Could it be any different?

They passed fleeing novices and visitors, fear and the scent of blood and fire headily in the air. Battle in the Tower, and they were running towards it, even though dust was raining down on it and they could see the strange lights reflecting on the tiled walls. It had been a long time since Lanfir had sensed so much channeling going on in such a secluded place and the structure of the White Tower wasn't responding to it very gracefully. Earth and Fire were ravaging the building and it's inhabitants, only reinforcing Lanfir's belief that it was indeed a male channeler (or, Light forbid, multiple of them) attacking the place.

And then they reached the mayhem that was the main hall. Fire and Earth were spiralling through the air and would under any other circumstance be a breathtaking sight, but Lanfir and Lyanna didn't really waste any time on the view. There was death in the air, as much as there was blood and wounded. Lanfir could see a few dying or dead sisters and young women, some trying to flee... and brave sisters linking up and attacking the man in the eye of the madness... a man she recognized as Caladesh – the male channeler that they had locked up in the Tower for quite some time before he escaped.

Seems like someone else but Serashada had decided to take revenge on the institution that had chained him. Lanfir had only seen him once, from a distance, but she immediately recognized his face. And he was laughing, of all things... delirious laughter was ringing through the air and reached her ears over the rumbling, over the screaming and shouting, over the horrible sounds of battle. He's lost himself to the madness of saidin... he's gone crazy. Oh, why did we ever let him go? One man... and he was causing this much destruction. How could this have happened? Lanfir thought in that one heartbeat that she and Lyanna needed to take in the situation.

Lanfir wove Air and a slight tendril of Spirit to protect herself and her lover, a first line of defense, while next to her a novice with blood streaming over her face darted past them and into the hallway – away from the fight, away from the madness. “We need to get him out of here,†Lanfir shouted to Lyanna. “He's causing too much destruction; too much death...â€

But what could they do?

OOC: Um... while kind of funny, this kind of does not fit with the rest of the RP that we had in mind hun...

you think we could disregard that post and just RP out a normal confrontation?

cheers, Esthelle

He sighed and reassured her that he did not think she was crazy; it sounded like music to her ears. As if not all was lost yet. His hand touched her chin, raising it slightly so their eyes met, and she could see the gentle acceptance in his eyes.

"You don't need to keep saying you are sorry. You said it once, and I believe you. And if you need to talk, about this or anything else, I'm always around here somewhere." And then he smiled. "Just move slowly around Maldrin if you come to visit our room so he doesn't think you're going to beat him up again." He touched her in the face again to wipe her tears away and she let him. It felt so different than Yorans touches had. This felt right.

She could feel herself smiling up at him despite the pain, despite her feelings of confusion.

"Of course," he added with a smile, "if you don't know where to start talking... your name would be good."

Esthelle laughed softly. Suddenly, the world seemed a whole lot brighter. Despite the rain and her throbbing face, she felt as if the sun was shining. "I didn't tell you, now did I? My name is Esthelle Vinder. And I'd love to take you up on your offer; how about I take you out to dinner sometime to make things up to you, and I'll buy you beer. And for now... let's get ourselves patched up and healed, okay?"

He caught up with her behind a row of bushes, where she simply leaned against a tree. She could not see anymore for the tears blurring her vision, so running on would not have been a smart idea... and Esthelle was quite done with acting stupid for today.

"There you are," she heard him say gently behind her. "Are you alright?"

Esthelle opened her eyes and turned to him. He was watery and blurry, but she found him easily enough. She wrapped her arms around him and buried the good side of her face in his shoulder, sobbing heartbrokenly. "You must think I'm not quite right in the head...that I'm some kind of violent psychopath. I am so sorry, I am not like that..." she cried, hating herself, hating today, thinking that the world was not fair for letting this happen to you. She thought she was getting over what had happened but it seemed that this was less the case than she'd hoped it would be. I thought I was dealing so well... Reality check...

"I'm sorry for hurting you," Esthelle confessed, looking up at him. The bleeding had stopped and the rain was starting to wash away the stains on his face. "I know there's no excuse for what I did... but I just wanted to tell you that I'm genuinely sorry. It seems I..." she sniffled, "I have some problems. I need to talk to someone and deal with it I guess." She sighed. "I never meant to let you be on the receiving end of it. Or that Maldrin guy for that matter, even though he had it coming."

Sana had his arms still around her in that gesture of comfort, and she found that she was quite comfortable there. For some odd reason, she was starting to like him and would want him to be her friend. It was very possible though that she had messed up beforehand, though. How would he respond to her apology?

OOC: Maldrin-> Esthelle and Sana will re-join you as soon as they've this talk & a healing out of the way. :)

He wasn't even listening to her, she could tell from the glazed, vaguely amused expression in his eyes. He just responded instinctively to her challenge with the ease of someone who doesn't mind fighting. It was obvious that he was further in his training than she was, and he had the air of someone who is very comfortable with hand-to-hand offensive contact.

Esthelle's hands tightened around her quarterstaff for just that quarter of a second before she acted. She didn't think, she just wished to hurt this blathering idiot with his loud mouth and his meddling. That same red haze before her eyes, that same clouding of her mind; just pure bloodlust. Later she would recognize this as the same feeling she had when she finally struck back with that poker, but at the moment all she wanted to do was strike out. And so she did; interestingly enough in exactly the same manner she had struck out before, with Yoran and the poker.

Never before had she handled her quarterstaff so surely, with such strong grip and such fluid movements. Perhaps she wobbled a little because the staff was so much longer than the poker had been, but the motion was smooth and sure, and it went fast. She had not even realized what she was doing until the staff had finished its arc and collided with a cracking crash with Maldrin's shoulder.

He had never even anticipated her move, probably as little as she herself had - but this was the bloodlust kicking in once again: she wanted to hurt someone and thus she lashed out in the only way she knew how: by hitting, instead of the moves she had practiced with Kynwric.

Maldrin doubled over in pain, choking out a sound that might have been a howl if the oxygen had not been all but knocked out of his lungs - and all Esthelle could do was drop the quarterstaff in horror.

I must be out of my bloody mind, she thought in a moment of startling clarity. I have problems. Definite problems

So she turned tail and ran. But from what, she didn't quite know...

OOC: Feel free to follow Esthelle, gents! ;) She's pretty much mellowed out now. Maldrin: I kept your injury vague so you can make it as horrible as you want (or not)! :)

"I'm sorry, I'd forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Maldrin, Sana's roommate... and friend. I was passing by when I noticed you two, both the worse for wear, so decided to come over to see if I could help out." He shrugged. "So, what happened that made you both look like you'd fallen off a cliff?"

She glared at him, at his misplaced smile and sense of humour that was totally passing her by at the moment. This Maldrin with his sparkling green eyes was rubbing her completely the wrong way, and she let temper and the pain in her face get the better of herself. Maybe if she could have stopped herself, she wouldn't even have wanted to. She felt like shouting, and this meddling idiot was in the way.

"I refer to my former statement," she told him icily. "Which is, as you might remember if you had enough braincells left that aren't occupied with your meddling, is to stay the hell out of other people's business." That last part came out sounding a little like a hiss. She had picked up her quarterstaff somewhere along the lines and held it with a grip that was certain and steadfast; the steady grip she had searched for in the past weeks but never seemed to find. Seems like her defense mechanisms knew things about her staff that even she didn't know. When cornered, her body knew instinctively what to do.

"This was something between Sana and myself, you don't have any right to poke your nose into it. The only poking that will be done is by a Healer, which I am fairly sure you are NOT. So take a hike, or I'll help you leave." Esthelle centered her weight and put her hands in the basic offensive position, so he'd know she meant business.

OOC: I'm having SO much fun! *squeals* thanks guys!

Squatting down next to her, he said with a vague look of concern on his own battered face: "Looks like your face needs a looking at too. A Sister could fix that all up for you." He grimaced, perhaps not looking forward to a real Healing. Esthelle had never experienced one before, but she knew that it was quite intense. But then his blue-gray eyes softened again and he said: "Come on, the mud won't help either of us. My name's Sana by the way. Sana Tahn Sakhr." And he offered his hand. His hand! He was bleeding and his face was blooming up with bruises, his clothes and hair were full of mud, but he offered her his hand. It was unbelievable, but he smiled at her and seemed to forgive her!

Esthelle could have kissed him for his gentle spirit. She was just so used to Yoran and his temper, so used to having to pay dearly for every mistake she made. Yet today, in the drizzling rain, she had found someone who was willing to step over her moment of insanity. And Esthelle realized that she had never even experienced such a thing. Sure, Evan had been forgiven all mistakes he made by her parents, but she had always been punished. And later with Yoran... well, she was just so used to hurting for her faults that she didn't know otherwise anymore. And that was what she'd been preparing for. And here, this Sana... She just wanted to reach out her hand and she was smiling up at him, when suddenly a new voice piped up and another young man broke in rudely.

"Hey Sana, what happened to your face? Looks like a horde of trollocs stampeded on it." It was a darkhaired young man with the same bloody mirth lacing his voice. "Youch. I'm guessing that one of you were fighting someone, the other jumped in, and you both got beat," he prattled on. "I just hope you drew some blood. Otherwise I'm ashamed to have you as a friend. Now than, let's get you two to an Aes Sedai and you'll get all fixed up." He finally turned to Esthelle and reached out his hand much like Sana had done just moments ago. But this time it just felt all wrong. He had ruined the moment, Sana's gesture and her own acceptance. "You really shouldn't make a habit of getting Healed. It can't be healthy."

"How about you mind your own bloody business?" Esthelle sniped, not taking any hand but pushing herself out of the mud on her own strength. The side of her face felt like an inferno; almost burning as much as her hands had done during the fire incident with Yoran, and she was hurting once again, hating once again. He had ruined everything. "Who do you think you are anyway, butting in on us like this?"

~Esthelle

who's bouncing a bit around between moods atm ;)

She managed to get a few hits in (or so she found out later) before her victim rolled over, pinned her onto the ground for a moment - which caused a jolt of panic and fear to rush through her rage-clouded mind... and then jumped out of her reach. "By the light woman, what's wrong with you?" he nearly snarled. He seemed somewhat out of breath and looked at her with both surprise and a bit of repulsion. His eyebrow seemed split, and a trickle of blood was running over the side of his face. Otherwise he seemed in better shape than she was.

Esthelle sat up from her sprawled position in the mud and wrapped her arms around her knees to hug herself. She blinked at him and wondered what was wrong with her, indeed. The rage was quickly fading, leaving her fatigued beyond relief. That, and aching. Light, the side of her face hurt. "You're bleeding," she noted. Her voice sounded distant and disconnected to her own ears. She felt as if she wasn't quite there, as if she was dreaming. It felt like a nightmare, indeed: the drizzling rain, the hot pain in her face, the fact that she had lost control so completely... She looked up at the male trainee and murmured: "I made you bleed. You should get it fixed... I am sorry."

Why had she lost control again?

She'd better not turn this into a habit or she might be a danger to herself and others. Esthelle bit her lip and wanted to curl herself into a tiny ball that made the whole world go away. Way to make introductions, Esthelle, she thought wryly. What in the name of the Light IS wrong with me?

OOC: Of course it was, Cala. Thanks :D

Feel free to post, dear people. It will take a bit before Lyanna and Lannie are downstairs, and lots of things are going to happen simultaneously, as they usually do during battle. Have fun! :D

Evacuate

Assemble here

Soil's song

in your throat

Future, death

in your reach...

~Katatonia, "Soil's song"

Over a quarter of a millennium had passed since Lanfir Leah Marithsen had first seen the first Light in her eyes as a newborn baby. Most of that quarter of a millennium had she been an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah -- and most of that she had been involved with or training for battle. She had seen more fighting than many people during their whole lives, and such a way of living creates survival instincts, deeply ingrained in your bones. As deep as the Oaths she'd sworn on the Oath Rod, she sometimes reflected.

Those survival instincts can be dormant for years but never truly leave your system, even when the last time you've truly fought for your life is over two years ago. Your body might forget (and in Lannie's case even that didn't hold true for she had trained vigorously for battle - she was ready), but your instincts never truly dull out.

There's always something inside of you that is always aware, always on the outlook for possible danger... even on quiet afternoons when you're sitting with your lover and colleague amidst heaps of paperwork and with a glass of wine in your hand, while the brilliant sunlights slants through the high windows in your office.

Even when all you've been doing in the past two years is politics, those battle instincts remain alert. Even then. Perhaps especially then, because after the calm before the storm, the actual sound of the storm hitting seems so much louder and intense. Battle instincts: from dormant to full alert in half a heartbeat.

So when the crashing and rumbling occurred all those stories below in the White Tower, Lanfir was on her feet before she even truly registered the sound. And so was Lyanna. The peaceful feeling that they had shared during their administrative work and the sips of wine was gone and replace with alertness as if it had never been there.

They could feel channeling all of a sudden, and a lot more than was normal for the bastion of saidar that the White Tower represented. The amount of Power channeled suddenly spiked, and then remained as such, fluctuating in irregular bursts of intensity. It felt like battle. "What in the name of the Light was that?" Lannie breathed, all tensed up, all adrenaline thundering through her veins and saidar enhancing her senses. "That was no accident..."

His laughter was cutting Esthelle until the deepest of her heart. How dare he laugh at her? Normally she was the first one to laugh with anyone else but today, and in this pain... there was nothing funny about this. Nothing!

The guy with the bad sense of humor actually had the audacity to stand next to her and hand her the quarterstaff while grinning. "I'm sorry," he said with mirth twinkling in his eyes, as if he didn't mean it at all. "Are you okay?" As if he was making fun of her.

A red haze clouded Esthelle's vision as she pushed him over and climbed on top of his chest as the air slammed out of his lungs on collision with the soggy ground. "I'll SHOW you sorry, you bastard!" she shouted, and punched him in the face before he had any idea of what was going on. It hurt nastily, but she found her other hand (the one with the burn scars) curling into a fist as well, to join its brother in the other Trainee's face.

The rage and embarrassment was overwhelming - like that other time when she had lost all control - that one time when she had nearly killed her husband with the poker. Blind rage, just lashing out with all her power, with all her strength. She wasn't very strong or a proficient fighter, but in her anger it seemed like there were no limits to her explosion. She thought she had heard something snap under her fist, but she was not sure. And she did not care, either.

She'd teach him. Nobody would mess with her.

Never. Again.

~Esthelle

Tower Trainee flying off the handle... big-time. O_o

It was a dreary day in Tar Valon and it found Esthelle with a mood to match it. Last day she had practiced with Kynwric until she thought she couldn't pick up the quarterstaff anymore because somehow it felt like it had been weighted with pure lead, but today was a new day and she would have to practice at well. Going to the bathhouse last night had not helped a bit for either her sore muscles or her frustrations over her ineptitude.

Kynwric was telling her to be patient, that she couldn't run before she could walk and that she was progressing as should be expected for someone who has never trained vigorously before. He kept telling her that she was coming late to her weapon and that her hand/eye coordination would improve, but all Esthelle saw was her own ineptitude and she found that she just could not deal graciously with it.

Her roommates, only two weeks in the room with her, had quickly learnt not to bother her when she came back from training... or when she got up... pretty much all the time, unless she initiated the contact herself. Kynwric had himself under good control when it came to teaching her, but even he had been sighing an awful lot the past few days.

And today, Esthelle was aching all over - in muscles she didn't even know she had - and yet there was another day of training that lay ahead of her. And to make things even worse, it was drizzling with a cold and mostly very wet rain that morning. The sky was grey as steel and the clouds were heavy. It didn't seem like it would let up soon, and she would have to stand in the rain all day.

This was one of those days that she hated the world.

Her quarterstaff both seemed as heavy as the whole world and as slippery as an eel, she couldn't just keep a good hold on it. "Bloody heap of trolloc feces!" Esthelle cursed when she let her staff fall for the millionth time that day. She had picked up on an awful lot of curses since she had entered the Yards for some reason. Who knew that Tower Guards and gaidin were such potty mouths?

Irritated with herself and the whole world, she stomped on the back of her staff so the other end would jump up in her hand and she would start over yet again -- at least, that was the plan. For some reason she missed... she MISSED, and because she was standing hunched over just enough, the staff painfully collided with her face.

She heard the crunching sound only a moment before she actually felt red-hot pain bloom up in her cheekbone. She let out a shout of pain and frustration and felt hot tears drip over her face before she reached out to the right side of her face to survey the damage. As soon as her fingers even touched her cheekbone, sharp shots of pain made her dizzy. She tried to feel how bad it was, but her cheek was already swelling up. Broken. Oh for the love of the Creator! I suck! I suck SO badly! And to have to explain this to everyone else...

And someone... SOMEONE... someone behind her...

someone was laughing at her misfortune.

Laughing. At her.

Oh you filthy bastard!!

~Esthelle

PO'd Tower Trainee

Lanfir had not even know she would say these things before she suddenly did. Lyanna's green eyes widened for a second before she nodded slowly. "Strange isn't it, how the road you set your feet upon sometimes leads you somewhere you don't want to go at all? You wouldn't have become Amyrlin if I hadn't urged you, and I wouldn't have become Keeper if you hadn't been Amyrlin. In essence, I am my own undoing." And then she laughed. She laughed! It was a beautiful sound: bright and unburdened, and suddenly it felt as if some of the tension between them had lifted. There was a smile playing around Lyanna's lips when she continued: "I guess I am at the right place then. Because you certainly are, and I do not regret a single moment telling you you should run for Amyrlin. I do know you feel as hampered as I do - but somehow you seem to handle it better, do you not?"

Do I? Lanfir thought of nightmares and tears, of her own vulnerability to Ja'varans insults in the past, and thought differently. There was some truth to Lyanna's words, though. Lanfir had mostly gotten over most of her I can't do this, I don't want to be here feelings in the first two months after her raising to Amyrlin. From the moment that she had found comfort in Lyanna's arms, she had felt better, more secure and more grounded, even.

"I apologize if I have been a complaining old hag. We simply need to make the best of things I think. But Light, do I die for some excitement around here!" Lyanna said cheerfully. Her green eyes were sparkling with a mirth that Lanfir had not seen in a long, long time. "Know what? Maybe we should just order some wine up and a nice meal, and then go through all of this at our leasure. It isn't as if the day is going to run away with us - we have plenty of time so why not make it a little more cozy?"

Lanfir smiled back at her friend just as brilliantly and said: "That's the best idea I've heard in weeks. Let's make it so." She quickly ordered wine and snacks and opened the curtains, so more daylight filled her room. It was too cold outside to open the doors to her balcony, so they made do with lighting some scented candles and settled down comfortably in the pillows, together with some papers about Mayene and its internal politics. Lanfir explained a bit of what Nyssa had told her about Mayene and it's murky schemes, and they laughed together at the messy flowchart that Lannie put together to explain her point. It was a weight that was lifted of Lannie's shoulder, one that she had not even known was there, she thought, while she smiled at Lyanna over her glass of darkred wine.

For the first time in the better part of a year, she truly began to feel at peace.

"And yet I long for the last Battle, Lanfir," Lyanna concluded her musings. Her green eyes had taken on a faraway look, lost in thoughts of more important things than this day, this hour. "If only because I feel that at that point, I can finally show my worth and be what I was supposed to be. I can be a general again, one with a quarterstaff and sword, not one with a pencil. I know you meant well when you appointed me to the Keepers office, and I never dreamt of refusing you, but at the same time I wish you never had. I feel as if my wings are clipped. I know I am doing a fair enough job, but my heart is not into it. It is not my place I think. Or is it?"

"It is as much your place as it is mine, Lyanna." Lanfir leaned back in her pillows and tried not to show the pent-up frustration that was balling up in the pit of her stomach. "You dried my tears when Chachin fell. You know how badly I wanted to go there and make a stand against the Shadow with saidar and steel, as I've done for so many years. But I couldn't, because of our duty here. I'm as caught up as you are. It was never my idea to go for the position of Amyrlin, either. It was you and Jaydena who came up with that, and I felt like I had to do my duty. If I forced you, it's because there is no one better around to do this job, even though you feel like you don't belong here. There is no one better suited at this very moment. It could change today or tomorrow, or not for another year... but bottomline is that we're in this together, sweetling. This is our waking hour."

"...I must say that I could not imagine my life without you again. We work together like a well-oiled machine I think. And it is more than that of course."

Indeed, they had only been back together for the better part of two, nearly three years... but once they had found their ways back to one another it was as if those seventy years of living alone had melted away just like that. They had laughed and called it fate back then, and Lanfir still did... in the quiet depth of her heart. For her, it was fate that of all the people in the world, Lyanna had shown up on her doorstep. It was fate that they'd gotten over their hurts together to make that large step back to the Tower again. It was fate that the sun had been shining brilliantly on the day of their return. Fate that they had lived through Namandar, that they had become Sitters in the Hall once again. And it had been fate that the Hall had deigned Lanfir to be the best one to sit the Seat while the world was readying itself for the Last Battle.

Lanfir believed in coincedence, but she did not think that any of those happenings had been coincedence. There were things they had taken into their own hand: things like raising Lyanna to Keeper, things like politicking with the Gray Ajah to vote for Lanfir during the election - those things. But the rest had been up to the Light, and it had bound them together as surely as Lanfir was bonded to her warders.

Was it so strange then, that they had found love and comfort with one another after all those years? "It is more than that," Lanfir agreed, her heart full of warm thoughts. "You saw me when I was at my lowest and stood with me throughout my hardest storms. And I'd like to think that I picked you up when you were at the bottom of your own pit. We've sailed through heavy storms together. I wouldn't be where I am without you... I think I wouldn't be who I am without you, Lyanna." She laid her head on her Keeper's shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the feeling. "I just felt it had to be said, sweetling."

How often did they really sit down to reflect, these days? Never. Life was steaming on and often gave them a back seat while around them, things were exploding. It was all about reaction and damage control. They hardly ever had the time to look back and learn, or to look forward and anticipate. Time for one another was even rarer. Most of the things that were spilling over Lanfir's lips had gone unsaid for years. And why?

Perhaps her talk with Nyssa about the calm before the storm had stirred some feelings inside of her. She had felt the need to say these things, to get them out before indeed the storm would hit and they would not be prepared. Some things you just needed to have out of the way before the storm would sweep you away, after all.

Perhaps it was that. Perhaps it was just time to say these things, to show Lyanna that appreciation. She knew that Lyanna's Keeper stole chafed her often, and she was terribly sorry for putting her friend in a position that made her unhappy. Just bear with it, Lyanna... it will all be over soon. Because it was all ending. Just a little while longer and there might not even be a Tower left to rule over. Who knew what would happen, before the end?

And then it was time to enter the ring already. Sterre could hear the crowd; they did not sound very impressed with the act that was coming offstage right now. She exchanged some glances with the acrobats that she had talked to earlier today - and with their narrowed eyes and ugly expressions they looked far from friendly.

Sterre smoothed back her braids and checked over her appearance one last time while Suraya entered the ring. It would have to do. The crowd, easily distracted, stopped booing as soon as Suraya elegantly made her way to the middle of the ring. Light, the way that girl moved was enough to catch attraction! Sterre wondered if the young woman'd had some Domani training. She sure had a flare for drama, Sterre judged as Suraya waited a few heavy moments before adressing the crowd. “Ladies and Gentlemen…†she started with a trained voice that easily carried. “Tonight… is going to be a real treat. Consider yourself privileged, nay Honoured, to be the first to lay eyes upon something the world has never seen before. My name is Suraya Oceantide. And I present to you the woman who makes stars look pale in comparison."

Oh dear Light, what is she DOING?! Sterre's breath caught in her throat, but Suraya was not done announcing yet. She continued, her voice brimming with glee and drama: "A woman who makes noblewomen sigh in petty jealousy, for their husbands will never look upon them the same way as they did… before they laid eyes on her. Ladies and Getlemen… I present to you Sterre Sophya!"

So what do you do, when people talk about you as if you are the best thing ever? You try to be the best thing ever. There would be plenty of time to throttle the other woman later.

Right on cue, Sterre swept into the ring, twirling and easily somersaulting - her glittery sashes flashing in the evening sunlight - until she found herself right next to the other woman. She took a deep bow before the audience, allowing them a good look at her ample cleavage, and then got up and gave a brilliant smile at an audience who looked at least partly intrigued. More than a few of them applauded, she noted with some degree of satisfaction.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure to be here for you tonight. You will bear witness to something that has previously gone unwitnessed before," she took up where Suraya had left off. She'd always had a voice that carried; perhaps not as well-trained as Suraya's, but her voice was clear and warm and always made people listen to her. "Tonight, dear esteemed audience, I will try to attack the Mistress of Fire, the Enchanter of Flames, the unrivalled and stunningly beautiful Suraya Oceantide! Please do not try to do this at home, since Suraya's fiery flames are as dangerous as they are beautiful - and I am going to bet my life against these fiery terrors that are her torches!!"

The response wasn't as cheering as it was to Suraya's words, but Sterre guessed that people were silent because they were curious about what would happen next. In a flash, Suraya's torches were burning; and thus Sterre launched her first flurry of mock-attacks.

They danced around one another: sashes and flames twirling alike. Sterre could feel sweat trickling over her back as she trusted Suraya not to thrust the flames into her face or endanger her in any way. It only went seriously wrong one time when Sterre's bare foot actually whooshed through a licking tongue of flame when she performed a kick, but fortunately the move went so fast that it never hurt her - like you can trail your finger through a candle flame without feeling heat. The audience loved it, but the girls both exchanged a glance of pure horror before the moment passed and Sterre somersaulted out of the reach of Suraya's flames once again.

Near the end of the act it happened again: one of the sashes in Sterre's hand didn't move out of the way quickly enough and caught on fire. The sheer gauze burnt up in a flash, and Sterre was only just in time letting go of it before the flames reached her hands and the other sashes. She bit back a scream and finished it off in a graceful move, bowing to the audience as if she had done it on purpose.

The audience cheered wildly, and Sterre exchanged another look with her partner in crime between lunges of fire. They were messing up all over the place, but at least it looked impressive, apparently. That was something to be grateful for at least...