It was a small loaf sitting on the window sill, nestled in brown paper. Freshly baked that morning, springy but with a firm crust that would promise a nice bit of crunch when bitten in to. Maever wouldn't have noticed it were it not for the simple fact that it was in the Infirmary, and people didn't tend to leave whole, warm, yeast-scented loaves of bread unattended here. It was a quiet morning, too quiet for such shenanigans, and the Illianer looked left and right awkwardly anyway before sidling his way along to the window. He inhaled through his nose and his toes curled at the scent of the delicious snack, but Maever managed to refrain from eating it. It wasn't his, and he was no longer a poor farmer's son; he could eat as much bread as he pleased, whenever he pleased, but not this particular loaf.
Gently Maever rewrapped the loaf in the brown paper it was sat upon. It was warm in his hands as he held it to his chest. It gave him some memories of Illian, waking up to much out the stables and smelling the bread in the air as his mother baked it in the morning. Sometimes he would get the heel smothered in butter if his brother didn't get it first, the reminder of which turned the small smile into a neutral one.
"Excuse me," Maever went over to the nearest patient they had that day, an Accepted who had eaten something she shouln't have. "Do this be your loaf of bread?"
The Accepted looked annoyed, but remembered who she was speaking to. "No Asha'man, it's not mine," she said. Maever nodded and moved on, asking the other patients in the Infirmary, but nobody lay claim to the loaf.
He set it on the window once more, let out a sigh, and straightened his uniform. He liked to wear the uniform of an Asha'man, even though he had been one for fifty years or so at this point. It just felt like the right image to project, though the buttery yellow sleeves of his shirt beneath paid homage to his Ajah. Right then though Maever felt more like a Blue, trying to solve some mystery and figure out something that wasn't any of his business.
"Excuse me," he said to the Aes Sedai working, including the somewhat bountiful Karrahmel. "I did find this bread on the window, do it be belonging to any of you?" He straightened up at the tittering, as if he had been caught in some sort of practical joke when he was just trying to do the right thing. "If it do no be, then that do be fine, but a 'no' would be much better," he said, a little vexed in spite of his placid nature. Or perhaps because of it. He was trying to do the right thing here. "I do continue my search."
But nobody in the Infirmary owned this bread!
"Maever," Karrahmel said after he'd spent a moment musing over his next steps. "It's just some bread. Take it back to the kitchen, some Novice will have just stolen it and dropped it on the way through. You don't have to right every wrong; this isn't even a wrong, it's simply..." here she spread her hands a little, her bejewelled shawl clinking a little from the fake gemstones, "strange. There's plenty of more constructive things the Head of the Ajah can be getting up to, surely?"
"Karrahmel," Maever said with warmth, "this do no be important to you, but it do be important to me. This bread, it do belong to someone, and they must miss it ever so much, so it do no be right to keep it for ourselves. I do no be needing your permission or approval to be doing this. It do be quiet here this morning, so I will see if anyone else do be knowing how the bread did get here. You do no be having to like it, but you do be needing to respect that this do be my plans for this morning now." And with that Maever picked up the bread once more.
Home of all the Ajahs, Aes Sedai and Asha'man.
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- "The Path of Daggers"
- Posts: 964
- Joined: December 16th, 2015, 8:19 pm
- PC: Murdock Mather, Keeper of the Archives
- SC: Nathaniel Carridus, Asha'man (Blue)
- TC: Maever Donovan, Asha'man (Yellow)
- Location: Plain of Lances, UK
------ Murdock -------------- Nathaniel --------------- Maever -------
meble kuchenne na wymiar cennik
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