Stirless Nights (Open)

Welcome to the Gardens: one of the most tranquil areas of the Tower Grounds.
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Welcome to the Gardens: one of the most tranquil areas of the Tower Grounds. Birds sing in the trees which line the wide paths between beautiful flower beds and serene lakes. There are benches to sit and listen to the waterfall, and there is neatly trimmed grass to lie on and rest. Novices and Soldiers as well as Warders in Training can be seen, sweeping the stone paths as Accepted and Dedicated study from books and relax under leafy trees.
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Jack
"Lord of Chaos"
Posts: 470
Joined: May 25th, 2015, 9:01 pm
PC: Malcym Ashe

Stirless Nights (Open)

Post by Jack » May 25th, 2022, 6:22 am

Mist formed as Sojin exhaled, a symptom of the mountain climate. His blue eyes scanned the skies above, the stars only partially shrouded by clouds.

Light from an otherwise unobscured full moon flooded the heavily treed area around him. It hit the small lake’s calm surface, reflecting like a thousand candles

The moonlight also added a semi-bright sheen to his silver hair, a color he had been born, something out of place with his apparent youthful look of 30 winters or so. Despite the youthful age, the slender, broad-shouldered man carried himself with an unnatural grace.

Sojin was simply dressed, leather breeches, a blue shirt and plain green wool to keep the chill away, and plain leather boots that seemed out of place with most fashions. At his side was a slim long sword, something that might as well have been part of him. He stood like a coiled spring, at once relaxed and ready to spring at the slightest danger.

Most dangers, at least. He was here now because he couldn't sleep. Dreams had plagued the last few weeks — nightmares — of things that he could not remember, half-lived memories.

The Warder had been back for months — longer than promised — and found himself unable to depart. The Yards had granted him a cell to live in, a simple room more than suitable for what he needed. After so many years in the Aiel Waste, it was ... different from the life in which he became adjusted.

He remained only to keep an eye on an Aiel Wise One apprentice — an Accepted now — and then only for a month. His oath to certain Wise Ones was complete, but the girl remained a potential target.

Sojin had long become accustomed to the Aiel Waste, years of wandering the empty expanses. It was a quiet relief from the "civilized" westlands. Harsher, yes, but simpler. Most Aiel he met were wary but polite, and he made friends with some septs, some clans.

And now he was here ... and his presence drew strange looks and stares of concern and confusion. Mostly from older Warders and from channelers — some faces looked familiar, others were blanks in his mind.

Given he might have looked exactly the same as he did four decades ago, the looks were understandable. But then entire years — chasms really — existed in his memory. An incident in the Waste saw to that, so in those rare engagements where he spoke with someone he thought he knew came up, he was brief.

He kept busy, helped to train Warder trainees, and occasionally accompanied unbonded Aes Sedai or Asha'man outside the Tower, but didn't otherwise engage in conversation.

But dreams kept him up. Dreams of blank faces or ones half-formed. He recalled a lot of his time spent in the Tower, and could recall his training vividly. He remembered his tumultuous affair with a Storm Sedai and the passionate, stormy relationship he had with Saphire en'Damier, a powerful First Sitter of the Green Ajah, his bondmate and lover.

And then there was ... a faded face, just the barest features. An Aes Sedai he was bonded to at one point, but one he could not recall. Those memories were just beyond him, like a half-remembered dream lingering from years ago.

That's what half his life was now. He could recall the fall of the Caralain, a wife of Seanchan decent he had left this place for out of ... political reasons and grown to love, the faces of his three children when they were young ... but not as they grew near adulthood. He could barely remember the years after, obscured in the same fog.

So he was here. Ignoring dreams, sleep. Still, the lack of sleep didn't dull his instincts. Someone approached, but he remained still.

"Lovely night isn't it," he murmured.
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."

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