Ful chuckled and nodded. It made sense she wanted to see a class.

“Yes Aes Sedai,” said Ful. “This way please.”

Ful found Merdyn ten minutes later in one of the individual training rooms. The noble had signed the practice room out on the board outside, and added “NOT TO BE DISTURBED”.

Ful went in anyway. Just inside the door there were racks of training dummies: multi-legged metal machines with lashing weapon limbs. They circled Merdyn, jabbing and striking. 

Four. Four at once. That seemed excessive to Ful. He’d always admired the Asha’man’s blade skill, and knew it took a lot of practice to keep such skills honed. But four…

He watched for a moment longer, not wanting to distract his friend.

Sensing his movement, the nearest dummy broke away from Merdyn and came for him and the Aes Sedai, skittering its metal legs off the practice mat onto the metal floor. Its power-driven arms spinning…

Hey @Taymist cheers for the welcome. Hope everything's good.  ?

Her tower guards stayed with the gate guards. Viviane didn’t seem to mind that leaving these two behind. Then again, she also didn’t mind his lateness.

Viviane chattered to herself, noting the elements of the black tower, her hunger for accumulating knowledge unstinted. Ful watched her for a while, her eager moves, girlish glee at new details, the chop of the breeze fluttering her red shawl.

He smiled.

When asked about the walls, he said quietly, “yes, Viviane Sedai. It’s a never ending work in progress. Everybody pitches in at the quarries and buildings… asha’aman, students, even normal people without powers who live on the farm. It’s not grand, but it’s our home.”

He was alert and sharp as always. He walked in front of the aes sedai, soaking up the details like Viviane. But the details he noticed would be far less pertinent and immediately useful than the red sister’s. He doubted many sisters would ever have come here under her own steam. For him, the black tower was the epicenter of the male channelers culture, the big bright world Ful had always dreamed about and of which he yearned to be a part.

But Viviane lived and worked in Tar Valon, that vast, bloated hub of industry of commerce, the most productive capital in the region—the white tower and its city boasted a human culture for thousands of years, governed by powerful nobles and aes sedai, whose combined wealth and influence rivaled the output worth of whole countries. It was the administrative heart, whose reach and power extended across the world.

The black tower rose before them, gleaming in the sun. Once inside, Ful could appreciate how nice, how towering it was even in its unfinished state. Rising from pillars formed of basalt and limestone, the tower and its other buildings were constructed from smoothly fitted, stone blocks, their facades weather-washed, their roofs dressed with copper tiles. Gargoyles yarned at the gutter ends or curled around pipes and drain sluices. Upper levels had balconies with railings; many of the balconies had construction scaffolding and awnings. Arched stone bridges and metal stairs linked buildings, and sometimes across the canal. Along the canal sides, stone walkways formed a street for pedestrians.

And there were many of those. The place was alive with movement, color, noise. Once they got into the farm proper, their passage down was slowed by other traffic. Above them, everywhere he looked were banners celebrating different regiments of the dragon. Tinny music played out, distorted, from the horns that dressed the street.

The canal was busy. Ful saw a few young men, all wearing their newly issued coats, drunk despite the early hour. Soldiers, raising hell and risking death by downing as they enjoyed their free hours before lessons and chores. Ful wondered when he graduated, would he be sent to a gateway bound for who knew what horror half a world away?

One of the boys fell into the canal as they tried stagger home. His friends dredged him out, and baptized his head with the contents of a beer bottle.

“They’re simply having fun,” he said. “There’ll be hard work later.” He knew one of the boys from the soup kitchen...

He smiled his brightest smile as he showed her on the map. “See, dorms are five streets away. Now that you're here, is there anywhere in particular you’d like to see first, Viviane Sedai?”

The traveling grounds of the black tower is wide. The size of a small city itself, it’s the chief hub for the army of the dragon, maintaining a large number of operational staff at all hours. Ful made no excuses for the design of the grounds itself, with its darkened windows at the guard areas, its protective spines of iron spikes around an open area. Critics of the Asha’aman may regard its architecture as comically overdone, playing directly into the stereotypes of the public. That, Ful would say, is precisely the point. Fear keeps the people in line, fear of an institution so terrible, it does not hesitate to punish them for transgressions.

At the start of the day, Ful went to the traveling grounds, escorted by two hooded guards. He had come wearing black: coat, leather boots, trims and all. His dedicated pin was pinned at his throat. His companions were formally dressed too, their uniforms threaded with gold and emblazoned with silver pins according their office. One did not greet an aes sedai of the Red Ajah in casual attire.

Ironically, he felt vulnerable with only two companions at his side. He had grown too used to a large retinue of soldiers and dedicated during his training these last few years. He had to remind himself that there had been a time when his entire class would have numbered two people—Nox and Merdyn. Good old times.

The traveling grounds of the black tower was not a place for casual or accidental meetings. The black tower staff and visitors moved quickly behind shields against eavesdropping, their business confidential. On entry to the platform for gateways, his party was offered a similar anti-eavesdropping weave to ensure privacy. Glinting opaquing fields swirled into being, forming a solid, buzzing corridor of energy that divorced Ful from his surroundings, projecting an insulating cone of silence around his party as they awaited his visitor.

Ful Haert played with the pin on his high collar distractedly as he walked. He was nervous. The oppressive threat of the traveling grounds affected even its own servants.

“She’s late.” He muttered. He blinked, and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. He saw twenty other men in black do the same.

He let the privacy weave dissipate around them. His companions looked edgy.

That would not do at all. He smiled and told his duo to wait for the aes sedai in the grounds. The two guards did not accompany Ful as he went outside the traveling grounds to the gates.

The tower had organized a busy schedule for the aes sedai through her first tour of the farm, so he’d be grateful if they could start on time. He’d been charged with arranging as much pomp as possible for their visitor. And pretty much all the aes sedai he’d known in the past (looking at you Eqwina and Lillian) won’t be sticking to their appointments if they could help it…

“Where the hell were you?” grumbled one of the guards at the gate, his face was dark and stern now “they’re here.”

“Sorry.” He paused. “And thanks.”

“Viviane Accylon Sedai? I’m Ful. So sorry! Have you been waiting long?” He called out, making a show of acting very sorry to spare any embarrassment on her part should she be to blame.

He was fascinated and horrified at the thought he might have gotten their meeting place wrong, because you see he thought all along she’d been late. This encounter with the lady in violet—whose fault it was, it did not matter!—was disturbing enough.

It was impossible to guess her age, but she must have been at least a hundred years old to hold such a high office? Thanks to the power, she looked like a gorgeous woman in her early twenties.

He strode toward her. Wary. Lillian and him had a good working relationship, and Ful felt she had trusted him ever since they linked up a year ago. Since then she’d been pleased to lead him, guide him, and oversee him personally when he was at Tar Valon. But one did not become friends with the aes sedai of the White Tower.

“Can I offer you refreshment?” Ful asked.

He took from his coat chilled water taken from their springs this morning to give her. “Uhm. Would they care for drinks as well?” gesturing to her guards.

Ful, dedicated

Hi, happy new year. I've missed RP. Please let me know if there's any open threads I can join. And any new rules I should be reading up on. So many delicious changes to catch up! 

OOC: I know it's stupid late and this thread is prob closed. Just posting a response. Thank you Taymist for taking care of Tris this whole time. Italics are dreams.

“Ely!”

Tris shrilled in dismay.

Screaming Ely’s name the girl was sprawled under the plank, but far from dead. Blood was running from the gash in her arm. She saw Ely’s face was pinched with worry, before Ely grabbed Tris and pulled her down to shield her.

Ely embraced Tris and held her tight for a moment. “Glad you made it,” she said into her hair.

“I thought I’d be left behind,” Tris said, her voice brittle with relief. “I thought I was going to die.”

Tris gave Arkin a hug too, a flying tackle from behind the big scout.

Then she lurched backwards off the grinning scout and joined the others, smiling at Arinth their leader…

“Tris? Tris?”

The voice penetrated her dream. It was a nice dream, followed by a not-so-nice dream.

She’d been in a fancy dressmakers in Tanchico Bay, being measured for a dress of the most gorgeous plum velvet. But the bloody tailors had kept sticking their pins into her left arm.

Stab, stab, stab…

She woke up. Faces peered down at her. One of them was a healer, one of the wolf Sages.

Tris woke up fast. She was in the lodge. She was a patient.

The healer examined her arm. “You’ve burst some stitches, Tris,” she said. “There is some weeping around the wound, some tissue tearing.”

Tris looked around.

She saw Arkin, the scout in the distance, fighting, and Ely, wrapped in blankets being taken away.

And Arinth, their commanding officer.

Tris looked at him. Arinth was badly rattled. Tris could see that. This kind of stuff was definitely not what she’d signed up for. It was like Tarabon all over again. The fragile excitement she’d generated in herself at the start off this cooperative mission was evaporating fast. She was a bander, a private, not a fighter, not a healer.

Yeah, they were all frightened. Them and all the others. Scared to death.

They were expecting something of Arinth. They were expecting something ridiculous. Like he’d heal Ely. Like he’d somehow be able to do something amazing and fix everything, free them all from this nightmare. Arinth pulled himself upright and gave orders to the gathering banders.

What kind of miracle did she want from Arinth?

Tris wasn’t that brave. She’d never been that brave. She was Tris. She wasn’t a hero at all.

“Help me up,” Tris said. The healer hoisted her a little.

She looked at the open doorway of the lodge. Two of the band’s soldiers stood in the frame of it, weapons ready. She looked at another soldier who was checking the trollocs were really dead.

Tris ignored these activities and focused on Ely’s unmoving form.

“She’ll be fine,” Tris said, rubbing her arm, and felt stupid saying it. They were banders, the toughest sons of bitches this side of the world. They’d think of something. And Ely’d be fine, won’t she?

Tris, bander

Hey it's not late at all! I'll post Tris this week and then get this trip started :) would be fun to have a group--the more the merrier!

Cool! And thanks. Please drop in Arkin sounds fun :D

Much-ly scowls and perhaps punching of faces if Arinth gives her any paperwork 

xo

Tris

Soldier Ful joined Nox at his makeshift gateway. He walked down the line of people and clambered deftly up onto stone terrace of the wolf territory where the volunteers were drawn up, adjusting his cap and sword. Wind carried ash washed back across the dozens of men and women of the Band of red hand pattern, with cavalry, infantry and support scouts. 

Nearby, a tall bander with bells in his hair laughed into the sooty air. The notion of working together seemed to please him and his friends. Ful saw the scout, infantry and private grinning up at him from the lower spaces of the tree line.

The wolfkin-in-charge began to explain to her allies what she wanted them to do, how they’d be deployed, what objectives they were to achieve. Her voice was relayed clearly to all the alliance parties. Her briefing turned into a question for Nox.

Ful nodded, hearing Nox’s reply. He and Nox’s other black tower student Merdyn were more than ready to see action. They pulled into an eager huddle around Nox. 

“You alright, Nox?” Ful asked. The asha’aman seemed pale. 

He knew full well Nox wasn’t, but he suspected it had less to do with the task at hand and more to do with the cut-off-from-saidin stedding ahead of him. Ful could certainly sympathize with that. Like all the male channellers, the power was Ful’s main weapon.

The asha’aman had also been nothing but helpful and Ful was most anxious to show his appreciation. 

“I suppose you’re going to tell me this is a lesson,” he said. “I’ll go first since I'm the youngest. I will, however, feel happier if you and Merdyn will watch over me as a surety against disaster."

In truth, Ful had never been in a stedding at all before this day. It was one of the few places still intact after destruction of their overrun world.

But it felt like coming home. 

He moved forward, leading his brethren up to the boundary, daring the open neutrality of the stedding— winning back public trust one small step at a time. 

He walked around and tested the link to the source, and made sure the stedding had total coverage within it. 

Nothing.

He was cut off, and there was no one of authority to back him up.

Ful inclined his capped head reverently and thanked the lady in charge. 

Ful Haert

Soldier

Yes! Yes! I'm back... been travelling in Amsterdam until now. Thanks to you and Arinth and Tay for posting with Tris. Will post soon!

Tris is here.  Yes! to fighting bandits 

Hey Arath, welcome back. :)

A new Red? Congrats Viv!

I'm back. Happy to see there's been a lot of BT activity :D

Posting an official LOA here from now until end of the month as I'll be traveling with limited access to posting. Happy summer and I look forward to catching up when I return.

thanks,

lih

It was a long while before Ful had recovered enough to get back on his feet and help Merdyn move the ladies.

~~

Adrim was exhausted. And Merdyn left for the farm. The platform wavered, then began to glide away, out of sight behind the shell of the broken wagon. As soon as it was gone, Ful sank onto his hands and dry-heaved violently into the burned grass. 

He closed his eyes, resting them . . . after some time, he heard their voices. Merdyn. And Nox! 

He had hoped for this . . .

Unsteady, he looked up, rose to his feet, succumbed to a spell of giddiness, and slumped against the bent trunk of a tree for support. 

He shook his head, trying to straighten up. Boots crunched across the road dust towards him. 

Ful raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey Merdyn. Thanks for bringing Nox. And coming back.”

Ful nodded, amused by Tal’sin twirling his moustache. He wondered how long Merdyn could keep the illusion going.

They walked west, down through the fractured arches of the city’s old streets past the bookshops and forges. Markets thrived there— the daily cheap food, grain, livestock, instruments— and the licensed merchant houses that raised lavish silk tents and displayed the trinkets of their trade.

Ful had always loved the markets for its flavor of the faraway. He’d once bought from a tinker a small metal pendant with an engraving of an ogier on the Stedding just because it had travelled so far. Now the faraway seemed even more remote and unreachable, even though it was his business to one day protect it all if he could.

Ful walked on. He knew he had to hurry now. Daylight was fading as they crossed the square with their wagon.

There was a long break, a long pause, in their conversation as the men practiced.

Lillian was almost impressed as Merdyn played with the fireballs. The dedicated was not only skilled, but he was strong in the element. 

Then it was Nox’s turn. He seemed unsure if he was able to draw on saidar.

She was silent for a moment, considering. The power they had in common, the one power, was not native to any of them, but perhaps Lillian’s grasp of it was better than the asha’amen at this time due to experience. 

Culturally, their worlds could not have been more different. Lillian did not expect them to understand, though they were not stupid, it was just different. She struggled to find the words.

She closed her eyes and thought hard for a moment, as if she was dredging up from a deep part of her mind, something she had deliberately blocked. At last she sighed. 

“We… do what we do. We embrace the source, and accept it. This means surrendering, relinquishing ourselves to saidar. All female aes sedai study this philosophy toward saidar and learn its principles, which then direct us as the guiding philosophy of our lives. Its wisdom informs our tactics, its strength reinforces our arms, its clarity focuses our minds.”

She shrugged and looked around at them. “You do what you do. But to fight hard against saidar the way you fight saidin won’t get you anywhere. To control it you must let go first. We live, and work foremost by this principle.”

Lillian stood back with a half-smile. She hoped it made sense. 

Evening fell. The hike, and their lessons, continued as the light faded. Ashley believed he understood the bulk of Aiden’s lessons as their party descended. 

Aiden waved two of his students forward on either flank, one taking right and the other taking left. Aiden led the front prong himself. Following their instructor, the young man with the golden goblet and Ashley spread into a defensive position, as the others slipped down the steep slope and joined them. By necessity, they quickly became more concerned with keeping upright and descending than raising their weapons defensively.

“It opens up ahead,” Ashley said, breathing hard.

Aiden walked to the open space with his trainees accompanying him and covering every quarter. Ashley looked back and saw the young men were keeping the line well another dozen paces behind him. 

For the first time since he joined the warder trainees, weary beyond measure, Ashley felt tears in his eyes. He didn’t feel scared as his classmates closed in around Aiden and assumed close defensive file, then pointed out they now need shelter.

Ashley wiped at his eyes-- he knew a moment of gratefulness, of belonging.

He smiled happily as Aiden called upon each of them to make their own shelters. He already had this idea to build a lean-to with his tarp, but it would require wooden stakes.

Ashley reached out his hand, slipped it into his leather satchel, and drew out his axe. He looked back up at Loraen’s face, and half smiled. Then he turned and walked away into the wide forest. Away from their camp, and the light falling through the canopy space which their party was under, the forest was dark and green and quiet.

He heard a splash and turned around. One of the trainees was walking toward him, shin deep in the green water. He stood up and watched the trainee coming closer. 

There was something in Nox’s face that made Lillian pause. She tipped her head up and glanced in contemplation at the Asha’aman. Something was awry. She could tell from the look on his face that he was disconcerted, but Nox managed to follow them outside.

She moved away, turned then called back. “This area is good.” 

She slowly turned in a circle to take in the scene. It was not a pretty place, and didn’t look at all special, but it had a sort of cold beauty, Lillian conceded. She spun on one of the higher places and looked down over the sprawl across the green slopes. The sky was a flat, bright grey-blue along the horizon, particularly in the south toward the farm itself, where dirty crusts of rocks pushed up in the air, the mosaic of stone-tiled rooftops crosscut by the mouldering stone of the maze of alleys, the warrens of the black tower. A secure town with encircling fortifications made from natural quarries of rocky areas around its valley site, designed to ward off storms and attacks.

And that was what was coming, drawn inexorably towards them . . .

It brought up in her mind central Saldaea - great, solid Saldaea crafted with the principles of defense uppermost in mind - and how hard that had been to hold onto, the months of fighting they’d had in the rocky terrain, just northeast of Maradon and above the Plain of Lances. That kind of full-scaled war, and these people would have to defend this town.

Lillian looked around at the staring people who’d come to a sudden halt around them. Some hurried to some distance away, then resumed staring at the trio. Maybe it was the chill wind gusting in, but a few of the bystanders flinched and pulled their clothes close. 

Thinking over what Merdyn had asked, Lillian pondered over the contrasts and comparisons that could be made between their respective styles. There were certainly similarities, but the intent behind their training as well as the way they thought about using one power was different, creating distinction between the two. Lillian could understand theory and technique well enough, but she needed to devote more time to practice in order to understand it with her body, to be so well practiced it became a part of her.

“Yes, it’ll no longer be unseen flows when we link. As for what you should do, there are similarities, but it may be easier to simply explain how I link first,” Lillian smiled as she stared at the dirt path ahead of them. 

“Please assume the void and put yourself on the brink of seizing the source. Please don’t instinctively battle saidar for control - and as it were -  you need to guide saidar gently but fight saidin at the same time. This takes some getting use to.” 

Soon Merdyn figured it out and she fought saidin for control as it poured into her. Also, an awareness of sorts came upon her, and she could faintly feel the emotions of the man she was linked with. She calmly ignored the overwhelming exhalation and fear coursing through her body. Those were not her feelings. 

She nodded as the other got comfortable with his control, letting Merdyn draw power from her body. Lillian then extended a slender arm to Nox in a ‘come here' gesture.

“Nox, please try to enter into the link. You need to see for yourself, and unless there are two of you I cannot lead any flows to demonstrate.”

With Nox added to their circle, Lillian took control of the link as passed to her, ignoring once more the strong, resonated feelings from her link partners. 

Because of the mens’ strength, the power density had increased to a level she wasn’t expecting. It hadn’t reached the level of when she linked with her sisters in battle against the shadow, but she was also experiencing a greater amount of Saidar being produced by herself. She no longer knew what her expression as, or what her body looked like to others. She focused on the power stirring within.

She quickly sorted the messy flows of saidar and gathered the source to her, feeling the power increase in her veins as she channelled. Lillian wove a ball of fire with saidar in front of them. Next, she drew power from the two men and formed a fireball from saidin, of similar size and intensity. “Both of these are equal, made with just one half of the power each. This,” she formed a new fireball from both powers of the source, “uses exactly the same amount of the one power as the other two, look.” Despite using half as much of each power, the new ball of fire burned larger and brighter than either of the other two.

Lillian said, “when saidar and saidin are used together, a kind of synergy occurs. Most weaves are formed differently, even for a simple fireball. However, I’m able to weave first with saidar and then reinforce the flows with saidin. Please feel free to try this yourself.” 

The white sister let the weaves dissipate, and - breathing deeply as she did so - passed the control of their circle back to Merdyn. It was the only way they could learn.

The men could hold the new flows, study its feelings, or try to weave saidar. She’d let them draw on her power, her strength as patiently, as long as they were linked.

Her body and mind were both strong, calm.

Ooc: after Merdyn and Nox both try handling saidar, and you can definitely do any weave you want. At some point, Lillian will ask one of them to try to form the weave for a gateway and explain how they weave saidin. Lillian will feel a little surprised at the different way men wove gateways for Travelling. Then maybe reinforce the Travelling weave by feeding it with saidar? I’ll leave it up to you. But I imagine the gateway made with both halves of the source would be wide enough for an army with your talents and skills. Destination wherever you like. xD

Ful grinned. Seemed “Tal’sin” had these big, heavy brutes in line by trapping them with his weave. “Yeah, let’s just tie them up and let the real queen’s guards find them. City laws, only the real guards are allowed to wear this. That’ll be punishment enough."

The people in the streets cleared and gave them a courteous wide berth. Violence and use of the one power made them imposing figures. He looked down at their opponents, the men who wore the ceremonial battle gear of her majesty’s regiment: gleaming brown leather embossed with gold detailing, arms and chests covered with polished, segmented armor plates and on their backs, under the fold of the recognizable scarlet sash, their sword harnesses.

Ful stopped as he came onto the nearest, a bear-like man he spoke with earlier, then fixed the thick set, shaven headed man trapped in front of him with an unblinking stare and repeated his previous request. “Donation, please.” After the man handed his purse over, Ful tied up his hands and mouth with rough cordage from his field kit. “Thanks."

He gestured to the man’s fellows. “Yours too,” and adroitly collected their purses before securing their hands in similar fashion.

“Ok to go back now.” 

Finishing his tasks at hand, Ful looked to his moustachio’d companion as he waited for his assent. Then Ful nodded and lead the way back. Ful had checked that the man he’d hit with air was knocked out before giving chase, and returned to find the boy rolling the still-unconscious man over on the dirt floor.

Ful laughed and tossed the small boy the small sacks of coin they got from the fake guards. He had the poise of a master conman.

The boy opened the canvas pouches and sniffed. It was a glorious thing for the boy to see.

“This is strictly a one-time thing, Tal’sin … ” Ful said, then turned to salute the boy. “Thank you for watching our cart. I’m sure you’ve already relieved this brute of his useful possessions.” 

All the “big, handsome, hulking men” turned and stared at Merdyn. There was something about his tone that made them look again at him. The men were wearing full kit, including the crimson cloak and conical helms of the queens guard. But it seemed they weren’t the real thing.

Ful was about to respond to being called Merdyn’s "butt-boy" when the blonde dedicated set off the fire display. Well, fifteen fireballs did the trick. 

He weighed the pros and cons of joining in, or wheeling the cart through their opened passage. The men seemed to ignore him. They were intent on Merdyn.

“Nice work,” Ful smiled, “they look like complete gimps in these uniforms anyway."

Ful moved forward at a jog and said to the boy, “hey, hey you there! Are you ok?”

The skinny lad cried out and shrank away from him. Ful grinned as he assessed the boy was fine except for bruises from the kicks and a bloody nose that’ll soon heal. Trying to ‘heal’ the kid would be more traumatic on his body than letting him recover on his own. 

“As I was saying,” said Ful, waggling a cheeky finger at Merdyn, “we need to be careful with funds."

He turned to “Guard" near him, gesturing at the fireballs “please donate coins for the illuminations."

One of the “Guards” suddenly pulled out a sword and rushed at them. The others followed suit.

There was no time to shout out. Ful had been trained relentlessly at the farm. Daily training, paid for by the black tower, gave the young man a reaction time significantly shorter than that of normal humans. With a graceful sweep that combined instinct and immaculate training, he drew on saidin and returned the attack with one of his own, placing his body between the assailants and the small boy. He didn’t worry about his companion as Ful dropped the swordsman charging at him with invisible flow of air to the head.

The others fled, leaving the small boy, Merdyn, Ful, and their cart.

“I’ll say,” chuckled Ful, leaning close to the child and unbuttoning the collar of his black uniform “this keeps getting better and better. Can you watch this cart for us, boy? You’ll be rewarded.”

The boy agreed, and the chase was on.

“After them!” Ful shouted headily. He was quick on his feet, his body and nerves singing with the rush of saidin as the interlopers pounded away down the empty street, around a side street and into a busier thoroughfare.

Lillian caught the excited look, and grinned. There was no use to explain in words the remarkable difference in one power unless the other was willing to try it first hand.

She remarked, sipping tea from the little, heavy-bottomed porcelain cup. 

“Yes, you can actually see saidar, study and feel my flows of saidar once we link. It’s as different as night and day with saidin. How saidar and saidin are handled. There aren’t many weaves that form the same way, so being linked or in a circle is a precious time to learn how to do things the other way, as well as give you invaluable skills when encountering unseen weaves. I was here, taking Storm Leader Arath Faringal’s lessons in saidin as part of a linked circle. It really is a beneficial exercise.”

Her personal history with male channellers drove her to take the storm leader’s lessons. 

Lillian and her fellow tower initiate Elyna's abduction by a dreadlord named Talin Losey had culminated in their rescue and subsequent release by a rival dreadlord whom they never learnt the name of, only noted for his distinctive black robe with golden symbols worked in. After Lillian's return, she had seriously begun to question the tower's traditions. Her thesis on the tower grew from a way to determine her Ajah to a critique upon the tower from its practices and culture and things that needed to change. 

She peered at both men and tapped the side of the table, “As far as we know, there are some rules of linking. When only women link, circles are limited to thirteen. Adding a single man extends the circle up to twenty six women. In that type of large circle, one of the women must take control. But if there are two men, either male can take control of the flow. Also, men cannot link without women, so you and Nox won’t be able to link without one woman."

“If you’re ready, let’s move outside. I’ll initiate the link, but then you have to take the lead and embrace saidar for yourself. Come on.”

Lillian Tremina

ooc: right, feel free to move us outside and Lillian will instruct for you to put yourself on the cusp of seizing saidin. Also, Lillian isn't strong in saidar but she's quite skilled. The reason we are outside is she's going to have you practice traveling since that's Nox's specialty and Merdyn's strong enough for it as well, but build a much bigger gate; also the way to weave travel gates is different for men and women. To travel the male channellers fold two parts of the pattern and bore through it. Please show her how you do this way/your version and then with the strength of two (or three), we can create a much bigger gate by reinforcing your gate with saidar flows.  :)

A good hand-span taller than Ful, Merdyn firmly held his waist in his gloved hands. Ful was swaying back and forth in the fancy two-step pattern to the music, his fingers on Merdyn’s chest, his eyes wide as he briefly muttered “ah, there’s no need to teach me dancing”, and Merdyn’s face next to him.

As he was dipped to the ground, Ful sucked in a breath through his teeth and tried to control his breathing. He could feel the rigid muscles of Merdyn’s arms behind his back. The other men in the tavern, who had been watching from seated stools, exchanged a few words and went to request something else to listen to. Half-broken furniture was piled up along one wall of the battered tavern to make room for the next dance.

“What do I do?” Ful whispered anxiously to Merdyn as he leaned besides him, pulling on his own arctic white gloves and black dress uniform. His first lesson in dancing felt quite fleeting. Merdyn reminded him it was all about the rhythm.

Ful nodded and swallowed as he strode purposefully up to Merdyn. Holding onto Merdyn’s trim waist, he set first one foot and then the other when the music began. What had Merdyn called it, back at the last song? The waltz? He was picking it up. To his complete surprise, he was getting it. And so were some of the men, as they paired off suddenly, grinning at them as they waltzed by. Ful glanced around. Merdyn moved prominently, patiently in the group of men who had gathered to watch and now partnered up to dance.

Ah, these men must be naturals . . .

He stumbled over his toes and nearly dragged Merdyn down with him. Ful quickly dusted himself off and took a jokey bow to the scattered applause and jeers of the men watching. “Yeah, I can do better. Let’s go for a third try.”

By the time the musicians were done playing, it was almost morning, and most of the others were already gone. The harp woman stood talking with the bartender, and the other two in the band sat on packs with their backs to the wall, smoking, drinking and chatting. 

Ful and Merdyn lounged over near the bar in a huddle, conversing privately. “Well that was interesting.” Ful said and smiled gently “thank you for a wonderful time."

Yes! That'd be really fun for us to see :)