Fantastic. Can't wait to hear more. This will be good bonding experience for Reds 

She should be 75 or 78. And that sounds great to me. Sorry I didn't notice your question until today!

Hi Mat if you're still looking for somebody - and only if nobody else wants to - I can help. Perfectly happy to do it not as credit as I already used up 1 WS increase previously for blademaster arc. 

Just didn't want you to get sick of RP'ing with me. Thanks!

The silence made him uneasy. He knew he had come to a place that he shouldn’t have, but he had no idea how he could have avoided being here.

“I can hear water running.” A thin, tall male student replied to Loraen’s question. “We should send two or three people to see if there’s a creek. There’s no point in all of us going. Some of us should stay in the area, gather some wood, and start a fire to boil the water, just in case it’s not clean. I’ll go get water, who wants to help?"

Everyone looked at Aiden.

“. . . what?” Ashley said after pausing for half a second. He had taken some time to digest that meaning. This told him how serious his lack of experience was in regards to the danger around them. He squinted toward the direction of the running water. He could hear it, too.

If this was a close enough water source . . .

Now Ashley understood what Loraen asked. Only a dead end awaited them if they didn’t do this now. He once again looked at Loraen, wondering if she thought they could do this. The problem of this group was that it lacked experienced people. Everyone besides Aiden was a student. 

His hand trembled as he looked at her face in the bright sun. It wasn’t fear, but the drumming of his heart waving away that fear. Loraen’s kind and determined spirit had overcome his fear; he was dizzied by her determination, her brightness. This drumming he felt could only be excitement. 

Did he think he’d be allowed to run away at a time like this?

Wasn’t that what their training was for? What was the purpose of this power within them otherwise? Wasn’t it for times like this? For their survival? 

As he finished this thought, he couldn’t sit still anymore. The stirring feeling in his heart intensified. He stood up and said, “I’ll help you.”

As he ran toward the possible water source, he kept in mind that the moss grew on the southside away from where the sun was. He wanted to pass this crisis safely, and return to camp.

Got it, thanks Odd!

Hello Cass. "Come and play with us, for ever and ever and ever"

*ahem*

Couldn't resist the shining moment 

She was as calm, outwardly, as she had been. Lillian sat in her place, silent, holding something back. She didn’t answer for a while. Her silence didn’t mean that the conversation ended. But she remained silent, thinking, brooding, trying to make sense of Merdyn Gilyard.

Lillian, for her part, did not look away. Indeed, she pointedly looked only at Merdyn. She studied his face, while processing the information he had given her. Lillian listened so carefully and well that she understood his words, even when they choked up— his two listeners never once asked him to repeat something. It took a real effort of will at times from showing any sign of emotion. 

What happened was too bad. Parents always made their worst mistakes with the oldest child. That was when parents knew the least, and cared the most, so they were more likely to be wrong and also more likely to insist on that they were right. But, hearing this, she didn’t like to leap to conclusions about his family—no one had faced them squarely, except Merdyn.

She was puzzled that he addressed this matter so openly. It would have been hard for Nox and Merdyn to speak openly in front of her, if Lillian had not taken to make sure the young men heard nothing but respect and interest from her. Yet he was more forthright, more plainspoken than she expected. Lillian also came, without invitation, and installed herself in a tiny eating area where there wasn’t even room to have a table to themselves, where one of the males must have set up a ward to prevent loss of privacy. Why this young man should be so open telling his story to an outsider such as her, she really could not understand. But she realized: he had to do it anyway. And as he talked, Lillian knew that he was right— who he told, after all, was up to him. He could live with his secret; contain it, often for years; but like a dangerous, hungry fire, it’d keep burning within his heart until the day it let out in a terrible eruption and consume him.

Also, she was startled by how moved she was. For a moment it felt like a hammer in her heart. For reasons she was not able to explain, she could not contain Merdyn Gilyard only in her mind. He was a living victim, beautiful, appealing but damaged and abused. Most of the time, she tried not to dwell on her feelings. Now, she had to and she allowed herself to. 

She found she felt great kinship with him. He, and he alone, had opened himself completely to Nox and herself through his conversation. Perhaps, Lillian understood the sense of disillusion he felt. 

He was bitter, angry, frustrated, and filled with self-pity and loathing for his past action, but all that was understandable— his loss had happened only a year before, and he was still trying to face himself. 

But he was tough. He had not yet despaired; not harmed himself, she mused. There might yet be something he could do that justified his continuing to live. And perhaps, it would begin with his innate spark to channel. That, and his choice to live at the farm that had some hope in it.

There was a great deal at stake, and Lillian was already doing all that she could possibly do to try to fight. She had already written her essays on their alliance, in larger terms. Now, she needed the personal things. She wanted to be able to let the other people know black tower men as people. If it was possible, to bring people to like them. And, if spending a few hours with Merdyn could help her to do it better, it’d be worth taking the time away from her writing in order to talk with him. 

Merdyn had buried his face in his arms. He probably didn’t want to show such weakness in front of them. For Nox and her to see him lose control of himself. But she recognized that ragged, heavy breathing. His swollen eyes were ones that dropped warm tears onto his cold skin, his voice was the one crying out the pain in his heart.

He wasn’t a child; wasn’t her student. She shouldn’t meddle.

She paused and placed her cup onto its saucer.

She wasn’t his therapist. She didn’t meet him to show him how to cure the hurt that couldn’t be removed — the shame of his past, of his unworthiness. She had met him so that he could help her. If he wasn’t going to, fine. If he was, fine. 

". . ." 

Lillian leaned forward to the man sobbing across from her. Her ringed hand rested on Merdyn’s shoulder gently as she lifted his head, and pulled it toward her, so their faces were only a few inches apart. 

“You’ve never cried for yourself, have you?” she whispered. Then she embraced him. 

Grief, she reminded herself as she held him, was always for the mourner’s loss. She said, “we had a good talk. Thanks."

Lillian had listened to his words, weighed them, and now gave a tentative nod now that he grew calm. 

Letting go of him, Lillian waited for him to catch his breath and ignored the wetness on her dress. When she judged he was ready, she moved her conversation with Merdyn and Nox onto another line of thinking 'on families'.

“I think I need to continue with my research—and the answers you can give me are the resources with which I can do my work.” 

“Also, I like you as long as you tell me all that you think matters,” said Lillian. She wanted to test how well he could distill the important from the unimportant in his knowledge about a particular subject. “Are you ready to hear my next question? It’s more of a long thinking exercise, actually."

“There was this controversy, right from the start. A few aes sedai stirred up trouble when they broke the tower rules and insisted on having children. It’s rare for aes sedai to have babies, as ties to our families are frowned upon to the point of taboo,” she said. 

In the rare case where the sister had a baby, she was always removed from her sphere of influence and respect. That was partially why many aes sedai hid their children. 

“However, due to our aes sedai numbers dwindling, even as we ramped up recruitment efforts-  a grassroots proposal started from the ground up to force a change in the way the tower viewed aes sedai families. It’s an easy enough concept. Since children born to aes sedai were far more likely to be born with the gift of channelling, some sisters felt proud to add their children to the towers’ numbers.” 

Another part of why a sister might hid their children, was if she preferring them to have a different life as wilders, rather than bind them to the tower. Perhaps the rumors were true.

Lillian had made a decision— keep her lines of research open, and decide later when she knew more.

"Of course, if that child turns out to be male and inherit the gift to channel saidin. This can be interesting for the black tower. What do you both think of black tower recruits as children of aes sedai?” 

She heard some of the men even placed the bonding link to their wives, so that the families would enjoy a closeness to them. That dynamic would be interesting to study. Perhaps Nox or Merdyn knew of such a family around the farm or in town that she could visit.

“To go even further, will you do your duty— raise a child in the hopes he can bolster our numbers? Will you obey the will of the black tower for example, even when it might seem wrong, as long as you believe in its cause?” Now, though she understood that some of the towers’ actions might not seem good. Yet that didn’t necessarily mean that they were not good.

It was often the ideas that sound most absurd and counterintuitive at first that later caused fundamental shifts in the way she saw the world.

Crouching on his haunches by Adrim’s side, Ful folded his arms and sighed. If only he had the ability to travel, like Nox. 

He didn’t want to carry ladies on a make-shift litter towards town, or - the other choice - ride a horse back to the farm and get help, if he wasn’t forced into it.

“We’re good, I think” muttered the young man directly to the ground. He smoothed his regimental uniform, not looking at either of Adrim or Merdyn. He wasn’t quite sure what Adrim expected. Probably something heroic. Heroic actions came from the men with faces hard like knives at the black tower, Ful thought. They certainly had a sort of mad dog smell about them. He had serious doubts he was suitable for the same tasks as those guys. 

“I mean, isn't this . . . you know . . . sufficient?" It's fine to speak your mind. He reminded himself as he added:

“Can't we just stop here while you rest? At least until they wake up. Maybe somebody will come along who can help us.” 

He breathed in expectantly. He’d perform as ordered, per majority vote of course, yet that doesn’t necessarily mean he had to like it.

Clear! I know how to write this now. xD

To Ful’s surprise, Merdyn’s face was awash with guilt. For a moment Merdyn’s words about Nox hung in the air, answered by Ful’s silence; for a moment Ful imagined leaning closer, putting his arms around to embrace his friend, pulling his head onto his shoulder. Merdyn’s breath on his cheek. His soft, honeyed hair tickling Ful’s face. It might help. But, no it occurred to him that his first impulse might not help - it might be awkward; he didn’t want to make Merdyn uncomfortable, or for the other man to reject him, to pull away from the hug. 

Would it help if Ful pointed out how the very next day after Nox got injured, Merdyn’s shield saved five people from harm, including Ful? How Merdyn sought every opportunity to correct the wrongs he saw? The young man always seemed to be suited in complete self-confidence. It was strange to see the cracks in that armor.

Fortunately, Merdyn disabused him of attempting any action; he now smiled his most charming smile at Ful. That was what Ful needed to see; he visibly relaxed. And smiled back. He held his mug but didn’t drink any more wine. Instead, he listened with cool appraisal as the noble talked of tailored wardrobes and the artful buttering up of egos.

Ful took his duties seriously, and found joy in them. For the last months he had passed through a rigorous, exhilarating course of studies. His body was shaped and trained in the company of other men— running, riding, combat with swords, combat with sticks, fist-to-fist, and this foremost- saidin. Along with Merdyn, his memory was filled with weaves by their teachers. He looked up to the older men: Nox, and Merdyn. As for Adrim, his praise made Ful dance all the way back to Isha’s house; Adrim’s mildest rebuke made him spend hours tracing diagrams and practicing weaves in his room, until he felt worthy to return to the healing tents.

No one was much surprised except Ful himself that he had learnt all these lessons much more quickly and thoroughly than the other boys his age.

When Ful turned his attention back to his dinner, Merdyn was speaking. 

Per Merdyn’s instructions, he placed the napkin over his lap.

Then he gave a blank look at the first course. Its presentation had been . . . unenthusiastic. 

Ful raised the beige bowl tentatively and sniffed the soup. The aromatic smell wafting toward Ful made him salivate. And the taste was unbelievable. The freshness of the vegetables and herbs teased his tongue. It became hard to keep himself from eating too quickly. 

It was his turn to laugh. Playfully. “Shall we toast the cook?” 

“But Merdyn,” said Ful, with mock sweetness, “why don’t you tell me what you like to cook?"

Ashley Wilkes, dressed in civilian clothing, was sitting on a stone bench at the end of the path near the stables. He was leaning back with his legs stretched out and crossed, reading a dog-eared old text. After a moment, he turned to watch the men on the far side of the square doing jumps with weights on. 

He put the text down on the bench beside him and stretched his arms. This book was cheerfully borrowed from Aiden, one of his mentor’s recommendations. But either he was very stupid, or he just didn’t get it. Poems. Long, old poems. Bad old poetry, a bench in the sunlight, all in his own time. His way of escaping what he hated about his life here in the yards. He fidgeted with the book again, flipping the yellowing pages to see if its prose got any better.

“Good book?” A tower guard he knew asked and paused by him. Ashley looked up. The man looked tired, his eyes still puffy with sleep, and he was trying to smooth down his hair with his fingers. Maybe he’d come straight from night sentry duty. 

“No,” Ashley shook his head, facing the guard. “I just don’t get it.” 

“You’ll need to figure it out later. You’re meant to be in the stables now."

“. . . " 

He opened his mouth to reply and paused. He was taken aback by this news.

“What’s this, it's started already?” Ashley said. 

“Yes, it has” said the other guard wearily, “aes sedai's time is precious, so we moved up your stable time to accommodate. Alvin can tell you more.”

“I wasn’t notified.”

“Ashley, it’s not your place to challenge any changes to the schedule, particularly where the aes sedai are concerned. Go care for the horses."

Ashley hesitated - he had been dreading any time with horses - but the older guard walked away before he could protest. 

“All right,” he growled, eyes shone bright with anger. He kissed the silver leaf that hung on a chain around his neck before dropping it into his tunic and buckling up the neck of his over-jacket. Then he tucked the ragged old book inside his jacket pocket. 

“Ashley Wilkes?” one of the lead grooms told him as soon as he came near the stables. Ashley walked in casually and took off his jacket. “Yes, Master” he said.

“I’m Alvin. There’s a lot to do and we don’t have much time. Jagen Sedai wants both her horses to get a bath, brushed down, and then saddled up after Trine. Come, this way."

Ashley sighed and followed Alvin as they walked back to the front rows of stalls to where horses belong to aes sedai were kept. It was surprisingly empty. Maybe many aes sedai were outside tar valon, traveling? He looked around the stables, and felt a new stab of annoyance surge over him, as though he were a second class citizen. It was so unfair. He breathed deeply to calm the hot angry tears threatening to warm his cheeks.

He raised gloved hand to take the pack indicated by the lead groom off the rack, and recklessly emptied its contents onto the floor. A brush made of boar’s hair. Bottles of scented oils. Beeswax for softening the leather bites and saddle. Soap. Sugar lumps. “Let’s begin with basics. You need to get to know this place. To learn who these horses belong to."

Ashley nodded as Alvin showed him to the two horses. He sat on the bare floor of the stall and gazed at Jagen Sedai’s horses. Trainee Ashley had certainly not been designed to ride horses. But still he had not challenged lead groom Alvin’s decision to pick him for this chore. Ashley didn’t do things that way. And he knew that when the time came and he learnt more, he would be the right man for the job.

But horses. Riding was a bloody nightmare. He’d never be higher than simply standing if possible. The vibration from wind, the animals’ heavy breathing and beating at the ground. It was as if the air itself didn’t want you to forget you were a few hands up thanks only to its charitable nature.

Fortune prick me, he cursed to himself. He had been twitchy and already running on adrenalin from the anger. This was much worse. He felt sick as he studied the magnificent black stallion with its lush mane and the standard issue bay next door. They looked spirited. How was he to cope?

He leaned forward and said, “Okay, I’ll be right back. Got to prepare your baths.”

He kept his mind off the nausea as he drew water from the nearby source; Alvin watched him get used to the pump then helped him carry the two buckets. His stomach was doing flips, and all his resentment was somehow replaced by fear and worry about the struggles ahead.

As per Alvin's instruction he began to work the bay's hair with his bristle-brush, gently, keeping his hands away from its mouth. Alvin handled the black stallion himself, not trusting a mere trainee with the spirited warhorse. Then came a very hard scrubbing with soap and water. And massaging oils into the muscles - this the animal seemed to approve of.

Alvin then demonstrated the correct way to put the oiled leather reins and saddle on his horse, asking Ashley to do up the bay's. 

But before Ashley was even done with his task, Alvin tapped his shoulder and Ashley looked up.

Back away from the stable groom, he saw through widened eyes the aes sedai coming, two of them.

Light, was it so late already?

He hastily secured the saddle and hoped he did that right. 

Ah, thanks! I'll check out white ajah org.  You have been busy. So much info in the master threads 

Enjoyed both Nox and Merdyn's interactions with Lillian :)

As for medics tent thread . . .

@Oddpositions what do you want to do, friend? Adrim gave us many options  

@Matalina Couldn't help but laugh at Adrim's last comment. How is 2 people the majority vote if they disagree? Even if the ladies wake up 4 people is possible to tie. Will Adrim be our tiebreaker? 

Lillian eagerly considered Nox’s response as she sipped delicious tea from a cup placed in front of her. He had the courage to admit that there was an immediate barrier between them, even though he pretended that the barrier was her love of philosophy. 

She sensed his impatience, his discomfort with ‘philosophy’ or ‘ideals’. Within minutes she could see how it’d be easy for Nox, if this whole intellectual thing made him uncomfortable, to get away. So much to do this afternoon. See you later. Then perhaps plot how to avoid her as much as possible in the future. 

No, no, she didn’t want their conversation to end like so. 

Of course, she could see why it was hard for Nox to think of himself as well educated. But then, she didn’t know him at all. She spent her life guessing at what went on inside everybody, and when she happened to get lucky by guessing right she thought she’d understand. She hadn't even been around the two of them long enough to know what passed as natural between Nox and his student.

But, he was knowledgeable. Nox seriously considered the things that mattered. She believed in hearing what people meant, not what they said. And, despite his protest of ignorance, Nox just told them his ideals.

Being close to people. Leading by example. Doing good. The method of doing good might be different, but regardless of an individual sisters’  approach as to how, people saw the good that aes sedai of all ajahs enacted. Blues sheltered the homeless, fed the poor. Greens fought side by side with the people holding the borders, providing battle know-how. Yellows healed. Yes, there were many ways to earn trust. In the meantime, Lillian spent her time learning from people. Of their estimation of aes sedai plans, and how much they could be trusted.

So, Nox made something better of himself, his situation, all this to help people, to protect people from the evils of the world.

And all the better that he’d be the one burdened with the cares of the world, because pain and loss touched other people the way it had touched him.

The differences that really mattered weren’t the big things, she concluded. It was the small stuff. For now, channelers from every walk of life had a right to know what was going on, and then decide together what, if anything, to do. In the meantime she’ll watch carefully, and prepare for a time that might come, even though she hope it wouldn’t. 

Perhaps, then, we can find a way to fight and hope to win . . .

She was disappointed not being able to discuss all this with a certain storm leader with whom she used to be close. They’d shared such open, productive talks. When they met again, Lillian had thought all was well, and she was merely glad to see him at last. But soon she understood that something was deeply wrong. He had changed after that battle in Kandor; had become withdrawn. She’d wondered at first if it was some kind of leftover taint, but it wasn’t that. He had just changed. She wasn’t someone he could talk to anymore, not about the things that mattered to him anyway. He had seen things she hadn’t. What happened to him? she wondered, not for the first time. She’d like to thank him in her own way, some day. Their talks had lifted a great burden from her heart, even if only for some short time. But now he changed. Why add to his worries by telling him her own?

She looked at Nox and Merdyn, shaking her head as she asked.

“So, the difference between the two towers is that you fight for the dragon? It could be said that the dragon is himself a weapon, a tool to fight against darkness, just as the amyrlin is watcher of the seals. That’s how you fight, supporting the dragon the best you know how, kind of like how we support our amyrlin. To that end, some may go so far to say in this current age aes sedai and asha’amen share the same goal. What's the reason you fight? Because it is necessary? Also, I ask you this again, what - to you - constitutes an ideal asha’aman? What traits should he embody?” 

Now it was the dedicated Merdyn’s turn to reveal things she hadn’t thought about. For a moment Lillian looked thoughtful as she listened to his life's story; then she grinned. 

“You're the first person I've met here who's highborn. Why do you have to sacrifice your obligations as a noble, cut all ties to your family, in order to fight as an asha’aman?"

Merdyn led the way, all the while talking through the things he had learned, trying to decide what they might mean, what might happen. Lillian, still looking at Merdyn, saw that he seemed worried about the soup kitchen. As if he didn’t like the idea of leaving the volunteers he trained to handle the lunch rush alone. It didn’t seem as much a chore for him as passion, she thought.

She nodded in acquiescence, saying nothing as she walked down on the well-beaten path toward the soup kitchen. That was Lillian’s way. Except when she was questioning, or teaching, she said little. Merdyn was a good boy. She liked the fact that he could admit caring what Nox thought about him, and about the asha’aman. And what did it matter if his feelings toward the asha’aman name had self-pity? She had a few thoughts like that herself in the past.

Merdyn’s reply had a few points of consideration she’d like for him to explore further. What did Merdyn think of aes sedai? Did he admire them over the asha’amen, to want to carry the title of aes sedai? Was his ideal then, the aes sedai of the age of legends - all those aes sedai who perished during the breaking? They were a different people, from a different time. The aes sedai living in the age of legends served all in a humble manner that was worthy of admiration, but this only happened during a more peaceful time.

Lillian understood; though she and her sisters claimed the title of aes sedai, when compared with the aes sedai of a lost age, the aes sedai of the white tower possess but a part of their predecessors’ strength, knowledge and humility. As the threatening shadows from the north drew ever close, sisters of the white tower - though lacking the wisdom of their ancestors - desperately worked on survival. Only some people knew how precarious their world’s survival really was. Fewer still understood how much was at stake; how much was riding on the work aes sedai were doing; how close their contest was with the shadows; how devastating the consequences would be if aes sedai ever fell behind. 

Just as well. If majority of people did understand the reality they faced, there would be many who would say, "if it’s inevitable that someday the shadow would overwhelm us, then let’s just join the dark one. If that kills many people, then sorry, but if it’s us or them, we choose us.” 

Perhaps, it would be better for this world to trust only strong-willed and opinionated amyrlins - there wasn’t anyone of them who didn’t seem to trust her own judgement above anyone else's - who decided what was in the best interests of humanity, or their futures. It cut Lillian to the heart the need for such secrecy that she couldn’t speak to common people about hall decisions that would affect them as much as it would affect the world at large. And yet her sisters were right. To bring the urgency of their long battle out into the open now, before they even knew what was possible, would lead to confusion and bloodshed.

It was fine for Lillian to take the long view, the philosophical perspective, but knew that intellectual understanding did not aways bring about visceral belief. Aes sedai opinion wouldn’t matter to the normal people of this world once they knew all the dangers, realized the consequences of every failure or mistake. Their own lives were at stake here, and the lives of their families. And who would watch their destruction as it approached, day by day, knowing their future was in the hands of other people? 

I have too many secrets, thought Lillian. For all the years I’ve been an aes sedai of the white ajah, uncovering secrets and helping people to live in the light of the truth.

Aes sedai told no lies. But now, she no longer told anyone half of what she knew. Because if she told people the whole truth, there would be fear. Hatred. Chaos. All she could do now, all she had ever done since her first day as a novice, was listen and talk. And after all the talking, perhaps they would be closer to solving the problems that darkened their future. Because she firmly believed that the solution to their world’s problems - some of them set in motion by aes sedai themselves - depended on the knowledge and action of other people. How did their black tower allies see themselves in this fight? 

Lillian could follow many trains of thought at once, but her thoughts were prioritized, with many different levels of attention. She relegated her self-investigation to a low order of attention, and turned her close attention to what laid before her. 

They came in sight of their destination, a soup kitchen made of dirty, black stones, as if soot had been baked on and then varnished. It was part of a ramshackle collection of similar stone buildings set on a low hill amid the tall, invader grasses, in an area studded with trees. Southwest- a little distance beyond the soup kitchen, a thicker belt of lush woodland began. Lillian looked around, taking in the stone buildings, and the surrounding vista of the countryside. She spotted penned livestock on the dirt ground amongst farm tools. The functioning structure of an air mill, its cloth-hung vanes moving like wings, appeared less broken down than the animal courtyards and outhouses missing their roofs. Lillian remembered seeing a few ruined mills before. That had seemed an awful long time ago.

This rustic place proved an interesting contrast to her home, the cosmopolitan island city called Tar Valon. Lillian considered, for a moment, the growing number of people abandoning the countryside for the cities in all nations. This was . . . nice. Nice to see the expansion of population and renewed economy here, as new recruits, new settlers take the place of the ones who left for the city, and the restoration of these abandoned farms. 

They walked over to a door, narrow and painted black. She pushed open the door; it was noiseless, but it cast a shaft of light across the room. Lillian stepped into the soup kitchen and sat on a bench besides a communal table. She eyed the mismatched pots and drinking cups and other receptacles, laid out in a curious pattern on the wooden tabletop: a chipped cup for drinking; a plate still half-full with a stack of fluffy pancake; and a bowl of vegetable soup beside it, but no spoon. 

She sighed. It hadn’t been that long since she lived in this world away from the tower, and people had been suffering then. 

Would a thought, or word, or act from her help? Lillian had no way of knowing. She tried to think, to learn, to act. Perhaps it would fall somewhere between her best hopes and worst fears.

Here and there people got up and left, closing the door softly behind them. But Lillian looked around, and noticed people watching the three of them. 

She glanced at Nox with a smile. His turn to talk.

Adrim instructed them. His voice was clear. Forceful. Intelligent. Calm. 

The asha'aman made quick work of the healing as he spoke. Ful looked at him closely.

Ful tried to follow the more complex weaves. Why was he sometimes weaving the water this way, sometimes laid through air to reset the breakage? It seemed so fragmented, so counterintuitive to him. He thought the smaller things were, the faster things happened. In this case, the smaller weaves were more delicate and slower to come together. Also, when a body was broken, when the bone structure broke apart - he took the premise in his speculations that spirit rejoined the tissues and connected the ligaments. All effects of Adrim's healing.

Ful, watching Adrim, saw the asha’aman place weaves on the major injuries on her body. As if he didn’t like what the woman’s body was doing internally, and adjusted his elemental bindings, constantly tweaking. How did Adrim keep track of so many different flows everywhere? As per Adrim’s instruction, Ful had copied the basic form. It took all his concentration for the weave to respond to his will.

Judging by the woman’s even breathing - that had been ragged, agitated- her condition was stable now.

Adrim’s strong, confident voice — the voice of the brilliant, experienced medical man — took over, asking them to try on the patient.

After healing, as explained by Adrim earlier in the day, it took hours or days for the body to sort itself back out again. Since healing was draining on her body, should Ful really try to heal the minor injuries?

Ful shrugged and hunched over the woman to examine her right arm, which was covered with cosmetic scratches.

Here was his chance to fix minor injuries, to learn how to naturally heal while she was unconscious. Once more he made the simple form of the healing weave Adrim showed them, and to his pleasant surprise, it worked right away.

Also, it was a picture of the body’s workings Ful had never conceived of before. He could feel her scratched skin scab over and shift into place under it new unbroken flesh. Once started, it was as if her body took over the repairs on its natural mechanisms. His eyes widened once he delved and saw the extensive amount of healing that was done, keeping her alive. Her body was very far from the healthy, clean body of the boy they delved at the farm.

Adrim had done a good deed. Ful was glad of that.

He quickly stepped out of the way, away from the lady to let Merdyn have a go.

Ashley's former life on the road meant he saw what a majority of city people couldn’t see: the world outside their city. His first encounter with Tar Valon told Ashley that there were more humans than he thought, living in close proximity to one another. But the majority of people would never see each other. Even Ashley didn’t know everyone at the yards, much less the city at large. Then he considered the numerous cities spread across this world like stars, where people wanted to meet up, trade and converge. For the normal city person, it was rare to travel through isolation and wilderness. To cut through wilderness of the country and travel to another city was taxing, and extremely dangerous unless you knew what you were doing. Thinking of this, he found it was interesting — how incredible that they overcame the hardships to come here. That they were given the chance to meet one another here. 

This was his thinking as the person standing right in front of Ashley began to haggle with a tattooed face merchant over an impressive looking golden goblet. Ashley tried to imagine how the trainee would eat from the large goblet. How exhilarating it would be, if after a long day of deprivation, for the boy to drink from a heavy golden goblet as a king ought to be. The trainee bought the goblet at the agreed price, against his friends’ wishes. Such strong determination gave off a proud and lonely air. His situation was so different from the rest of them. After laughing secretly to himself, Ashley forgot his misgivings of their trip.

Besides, the other two boys he knew also bought whimsical things. And then there was that boy who bought nothing, brought nothing except his pack. It surprised him, he had judged the others would be more prepared than him. Ashley stared at the three students with an amused gaze, his shoulders shaking at their actions in the city. The conversation continued as the group finalized their preparations. 

No one seemed to have noticed Ashley’s indecision while shopping. 

There were so many choices he didn’t know how to pick the correct type. He felt helpless with his slow intuition. He asked Loraen a question, who was looking at a display in the stalls. 

“What kind of tarp or bedroll do you think I should get? It’s not easy to pick with so many here.”

After paying for the item Loraen suggested, he packed up and hurried across the grand bridge to Aiden’s side. It was an exit from the city he knew, as this was also the point of his original arrival to this city.

The break time from relentless hiking and lecturing finally came, and saved Ashley from collapsing behind Loraen. After wiping off his sweat, he plodded to a suitable fallen log and toppled onto the ground. He now understood how he was so tired. This much exercise with a pack took a lot of his strength, and the extra weight carried took his mind off the hike. He made unnecessary moves because of a lack of focus, which in turn wasted a lot of his energy. He relaxed his breathing and his mind, reaching for the void instead of giving into his feelings of weakness, of tiredness and pain. When he had collected himself, the sounds of the trainees - some shrill and others lowered - vibrated through his exhausted body. 

“Hey, does anyone have more water?” the boy carrying his golden goblet asked. 

Ashley laughed — a single “ha!”

The five of them looked at him. He said calmly, “no, not enough to fill that. Now where can we get more water?”

Lillian studied Nox’s face; her gaze latched on him as an almost palpable thing, like a faint tickling under the skin, inside the other’s brain. He had spoken to her, not with careful precision, but with great emotion. She listened without impatience, without interrupting his sentences, without letting her gaze waver from his face. She could listen, so he could speak. 

As she listened, she realized she might have made a mistake starting off with relationships. Taking note of the slip - for a moment the grin fell from his face - on Nox’s part, Lillian knew not to make any comment on it. She had come seeking answers because she was curious, but it was not her place to push at another’s pain. Most definitely the conversation needed to shift away from on being too personal. Do these male channelers also discourage having relationships i.e. close ties with their partners and families? Novices and accepted often made pillow friends during their extended years of isolation from the world; however, very few romantic liaises last when they re-entered the world as aes sedai. Lillian made a note to circle back to this point.

What interested her most was his thought process - it surprised her. His gentle kindness and empathy toward his student. She wondered if he was still trying to redefine himself in relation to other people. She could see that he was very strong willed, the kind of man who didn’t easily fall apart under pressure in front of others. This person would adapt and thrive, no matter what patterns the Wheel threw at him.

She was herself again — thinking. Lillian wasn’t a person who'd shoot back answers without thinking. She was better able to learn from the other’s responses this way. She wanted to draw him out, to help put him at ease, and help him to know he’d be taken seriously . . . 

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “you’re definitely worth talking to. And not just to get material for the essays I’ll be writing. I can see that events move down a certain path, there might be a time when we’d need your knowledge.” And your compassion for others, she added this to herself. None of the aes sedai she talked with had ever possessed the full power or wisdom they pretended to, even as some of her sisters considered the black tower channelers to be half trained children needing to be led by apron strings. She knew women who were opinionated, headstrong, bossy, quick to draw conclusions. But she listened to their personal stories, their opposing world views, changed her thinking when their truths made sense to her mind. It made her happy to have the chance to interview both men.

“What does it mean to be ‘asha’aman’?” she tried to be more specific, “What to you is the ideal embodiment of ‘asha’aman’ ? The traits and purpose for ‘asha’aman'? Why not name yourselves 'aes sedai' as did the male channelers of old? And can you explain the differences between 'aes sedai' and ‘asha'aman’?” 

She recognized that there was a lot to unpack here. And there was a lot she wanted to learn. She did glean much of that kind of information about their structure and the interesting partnerships developed within the farm from tower records, of course— she couldn’t have been a scholar for all these years without learning how to extrapolate much from scant bits of eyes-and-ears reports. All these years she had the privilege of thinking about issues most busy people almost never thought about. 

These two first-hand sources were the best to draw information from. It took willpower, a measure of restraint, not to pepper them with questions; she didn’t want to overwhelm. The time was approaching for the men to think, to converse, and for her to listen. This was going to take some time -- she grinned happily.

Ooc: Thanks to his denying any relationship, Nox just attracted the interest of a very persistent person. Also, I hope Merdyn didn’t have any pressing issues haha. Hoping one of you can walk us to a more quiet area where we can sit and maybe drink tea or kaf. This cultural exchange is gonna take some time AKA dry out some throats. Feel free to ask Lillian questions too if the conversation turns that way, thanks! 

Ful Haert jogged up the curve of the parched field to join the men at the traveling grounds. There was a general bustle of activity coming from the neighboring hill where gateways were practiced or set up for use: the distant clatter of weapons and armor, conversations, a very occasional “bang!”

Ful, the young dedicated assigned to procure supplies out in the city, saluted the senior members as he approached the group of onlookers. He looked down at his fellow dedicated in the field, the asha’aman standing over them at the far edge of the field, watching them diligently. 

“What’s he doing?” he shot a sour look in the direction of the newly withered field trench, still exhaling smoke into the glassy sky.

“Don’t ask,” replied one of the soldiers. Ful glanced politely at the soldier, who made a respectful nod. Then he yawned. 

“Tired?” Ful asked. “You should take some rest while you can."

The other shrugged. “I sleep. But then the dreams come."

“Yea,” Ful nodded. The man didn’t seem particularly bothered about his dreams. But dreams were things Ful simply couldn’t deal with, didn’t understand the strangeness. He wasn’t ready for them. “The dreams here will get you. Keep trying. Sleep will come. So . . . what is he doing?”

“Not entirely sure. But that trench used to be overgrown. When I asked, he just said, practice - and we left it at that."

“I’ve come to buy supplies from Caemlyn. Is there a gateway set up for use?” Ful had no talent for gateways. He couldn’t even learn the weave. As such he needed somebody with the talent to help him get to Caemlyn.

The man shrugged again. “You have to to take it up with them.”

Ful slid down the dusty bank into the smoked-choked ditch. It was part of an old field system, a natural divider, but the neglect and abuse these students had imposed upon the trench had allowed the land to run wild, and now it withered. He picked his way over to a familiar face among the field of dedicated.

“Ready to go, Merdyn?” he asked with a smile. They’ve all got work waiting for them. His supply run was for Merdyn’s precious volunteer soup kitchen, so Ful doubted Merdyn would miss a chance to replenish stock.

The bar owner scowled, and returned with two mugs. Perhaps all the owner’s glasses had been broken, so there was none left for the wine. There was no doubt in his mind Merdyn had to pay the owner well to get them this. There’d be no shame in admitting Merdyn tossed his money around like candy - now, if there were better drinks to be had, he’d probably be buying drinks for the whole camp. Ful was not sure what ‘vintage' was, but it seemed to him like maybe the humorless bar owner didn’t have any left of the fine vintage either. No matter. In that case, this was perfect. When Merdyn tipped generously, the owner set a decanter of wine down in front of pair of dedicated. Ah, so there was still glassware left. He didn’t expect too much from Bertrand re: refined three-course dinner. Should old bread and cheese count as two separate courses?

Nodding as Merdyn explained the night’s schedule, Ful took up his pathetically dented mug and studied it dubiously like it was venom. Ful laughed at Merdyn’s comment about the haggard musician. “Hey, dulcimers are expensive." 

He held his mug, but didn’t drink. 

“Have you seen Nox? How is he?” he asked. “I’ve been at practice until now . . . not had a chance to . . . you know . . ."

He turned his mug slowly, eyeing the serious measure of alcohol. “So far what you say makes sense. What do you nobles drink to?”

He sipped his drink like Merdyn showed him, and shrugged at tasting the bitter tannins. You can’t throw back a mug and sink this in one gulp. “What topics are highborns interested in? Fortune prick me. I don’t have anything to wear to the ball.” He growled. Ful only shopped for cheap clothes. What did he know about the rich, lavish fabrics of society men? Maybe he shouldn’t attempt to go to the dance after all. He didn’t look the part, much less speak or act the part. But he couldn’t back out now. To whine or bemoan his poverty and to complain, say, the unfairness of nobility, was useless. Merdyn used his precious time to educate him in the ways of the highborn, and damned if he was to be pitied.

He nodded here and there as he listened, sipping at his drink . . . time had improved the taste, mellowing the wine. But all things considered, he’d rather just have juice. Perhaps he would drink ‘vintage’ wine at this dance they got invited to. He brightened at that thought, and forced himself to face reality and drink this down.

“All gone,” Ful said, playing with his now empty mug. He cheerfully refreshed Merdyn’s mug, then refilled his own from the decanter left by the bar owner. “What’s for dinner?”

Lillian walked alongside the asha'aman on the bustling road. Through the press of people, she could see a figure running straight toward them. A blonde man, tall and well built, wearing the dark black uniform and gleaming pin of a dedicated. He had come to a halt in front of them and spoke with the honeyed lilt of court andoran tongue. 

Interesting. That had not been the sort of answer that Lillian had been expecting by any stretch. The answers came so organically. She heard a lot about Nox from an unexpected third party: this dignified and handsome man (was there something in the air here?) was laser focused on Nox. And the apparent well-being of Nox, who seemed like he could do with some square meals. She shook her head, amused she was being ignored. 

As she listened and watched in silence, Lillian contemplated where next to go with her line of questioning. She had so, so many questions for the both of them. She looked at them, her eyes moving from one man to the other. 

Then Lillian looked up and saw the look in Merdyn’s eyes just as he rose from his salute. She began to laugh so hard that she had to steady her feet into the ruts on the road to prevent herself falling over. 

“Sorry, sorry . . .” she sighed at length. “It’s alright. I should have expected your reaction. All this. All this, and your face is so funny."

Lillian stepped forward and touched Merdyn on the shoulder briefly. “You know what? Thank you. Thank you for that courteous greeting, and the compliment. I am Lillian Tremina,” she said softly as she backtracked to his earlier question “Hello, Merdyn of house Gilyard. Let’s have a conversation. What makes you forsake a noble life for that of servitude at the black tower? How long have you been here? What do you do for fun?” she didn’t want to possibly lead his answers with her words, but she really wanted to understand these two. Hmmmm. 

She turned back and said to Nox, with a smile “So what’s your relationship with Merdyn? He cares about you."

Lillian Tremina

Feel free to flirt. Lillian isn't a green, she's just very interested in interviewing Nox about his opinions, and experiences. His debauched past makes him who he is. Also, people are much more interesting when they act genuine and embrace all aspects of themselves, their mind and their body. 

Edit: Caemlyn post up. Thugs await those who come along. 

“Thank you. How did you manage? With your book?” said Lillian in admiration as she found herself moving level with the man whose voice was richly flavored with personality. He was young, stick-thin but hard, with cropped chestnut hair and his long limbs . . . almost too slender, light like twigs. The black uniform fitted him well. He was good looking. Lillian watched him as he walked with her up the path, moving silently with a fighter's practiced stealth. His bright eyes and scar down his cheek spoke of a rough life, in childhood perhaps. She found he was looking back at her with an easy grin.

Nodding while she listened, Lillian smiled as a memory occurred to her. Now she began to remember. She remembered those fun young men who linked with her. Lively, playful, even impetuous. The black tower boys she worked with were a good lot, and such grins typified the good humor with which they and the aes sedai cooperated not so long ago. She remembered the men who winked - very saucy! - at her, an aes sedai who controlled the link. 

Even then, she had planned - planted the groundwork for times like today when she would visit the farm and, perhaps then, they could share a meal, have a conversation together. That would naturally open up ideas and information about one another. Lillian never liked the mystification of the aes sedai reputation. She didn't feel manipulation and the withdrawal of information was the correct approach to their allies and the outside world. It made her feel uneasy, unclean to rely on people’s awe or fear of aes sedai and their . . . reputations. The reaction of those who didn’t understand, those who feared and distrusted them, became a gulf of distance she hoped to cover in her small way: one smile, one word, an act of kindness, actively engaging people and communities. The fact that the white tower encouraged and trained woman in isolation, to act with proper ‘aes sedai’ decorum, almost not human, made the contrasted, friendly behavior of the Black tower men wholeheartedly agreeable. Like a breath of fresh air.

But she didn’t care about history. She wanted to focus on the future. A future in which she, and they, were alive and smiling. But here she was, sidestepping the man’s direct line of questioning, not deliberately, not in the effortless aes sedai way . . . but, how to word it best? It was a moment before she found the right words to reply.

“I’m Lillian. I’ve come today because I wanted to ask you boys a few questions. I’m doing a piece of research, on the black tower itself. One part of that is to get the opinions of different male channelers about the many aspects of their lives on the farm. For example, who are you and what are your hardships? Of course, this is confidential and no names would be named.”

“Speaking of names, what is yours? Will you talk with me?” she wanted to add more but didn’t want to weigh down the young man - though approachable in his friendliness - with words without his given consent first. There was a lot of work to be done: collect the information, process it, revise her carefully jotted notes . . . but first she would need his participation. If not this person, then she’d wait. Wait for someone curious enough to answer her questions.

Lillian Tremina

@Dar'Jen Ab Owain Yayyyy! Are you psychic??

I had Loraen in my mind when addressing WY women. It'd be super for trainees to go outside the yards with Aiden for further training - pending approval of course! Plus it'll be fantastic character development for all of us if we saw women chained, flying beasts, big ships as tarabon used to be the center of economic development.

Thanks, Mat! I can wait for Aiden to resolve his thing, as it's not an RP I want to rush. Need to flesh it out properly and get approval from the powers that be once the proposal's ready. Plus it'd be fun if we run into real Seanchan PC's . . . 

Heh.

I just saw your post comparing aes sedai to eunuchs . . . is it bc she's bald like Lord Varys/the spider in game of thrones? 

Will gladly reply to Nox later tonight.