The Grey Tower

There was an exacting quality to the Mistress of Novices' attire this day, and there was every day. It went without saying that Elia Sedai was one of those women who made themselves look elegant. Not because the world wanted to see Aes Sedai as the model of grace and perfection, but because she knew she was the embodiment of grace and perfection. She had very few public enemies, and even those were just people she had rubbed the wrong way from a sharp word spoken too loudly. Most people liked Elia well enough, although no-one could really say that they aspired to be like her.

Flame red hair worn loose spilled gracefully around her round shoulders. Moonstones sat in her hair, connected by fine chains of gold. A glass ornament of a rose in full bloom was positioned just so amongst the mesh of gems, her newest acquisition to her collection of jewellery and accessories. Her mint green dress, decorated with vinework embroidery around the cuffs and waist, had been altered for her increased girth. Somehow managing novices and Accepted all day and night had resulted in an expanding waistline.

The same carefulness in her appearance extended to her duties as well. She knew where each of her charges would be at any given moment, so long as they were not up to any antics. As a novice, and as Accepted, Elia had been a model student. She understood why some of the children wanted to get up to mischief, but she did also wish they would not. It was bothersome, but obstacles that came before the elder Darrow did tend to get smoothed out quite nicely.

The second bell after High marked the end of chores, with Accepted going to their personal studies, whereas novices were allowed a free hour. The gardens looked very clean and tidy, with freshly swept paths, and a few of those gifted in Plantweaving tending to the flora. She moved beyond various benches and monuments -- including the one marking a triumph and failure -- until her malachite glare settled upon a girl in novice whites.

Elia knew about the lands from the Aryth Ocean to the Spine of the World, and a little that lay beyond that, but the islands to the south were a vast unknown. Velvaen Tamaril, a short woman with a harsh face, was from Tremalking. One of the Amayar. That was about the extent of her knowledge, not that she would admit ignorance to anyone. Far too early days to be certain of anything, but the girl would probably go with the Browns or the Greys. She had that vacantness Browns often did in her large eyes.

No matter what thoughts crossed the Indigo sister's mind, Elia made a beauteous smile that warmed her whole visage, and spoke lightly. "Velvaen, child? Come with me please. Just place that rake anywhere, one of the servants shall collect it." She made an offhanded gesture; she didn't care where the rake rested.

The Mistress of Novices waited for the novice to do as instructed before starting off in the opposite direction -- the way she had come -- at a slow walk. "Tell me child, how are you finding it here, now that you've had a little time to settle in?" It was important that the novices did get settled into their new lives here, regardless of the circumstances of their admission. She did not have the time nor patience for another Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin, the 'eternal' novice, or Cassandyra Majere, although that girl came with a literal family of issues. Both noblewomen. A coincidence? She brushed the thought aside as she may brush off a biteme. "I believe you encountered my niece earlier. A precocious child; I don't know how my brother handles her. I hope she wasn't too much of a distraction." Malachite eyes tightened slightly. She was both interested in how Kaira was developing -- her fondness for the girl was far deeper than she'd expected, even as her aunt -- and to see if Velvaen was going to be one of the novices she needed to keep on a tighter rein.

Velvaen almost gawked at the Mistress of Novices when she glided up along the garden path toward her. She was of average height, and somewhat buxom. Her hair, a bright red that sported a collage of jewelry, framed an open smile on an ageless face. Dressed in a mint-hued gown fit for a ball, the Aes Sedai carried herself with that mysterious blend of elegance, presence, and aloofness that Velvaen saw in so many sisters.

Velvaen gave her best curtsy, but growing up rurally didn’t make for good curtsies. Even as she wobbled, she persevered and said “Greetings, Elia Sedai. Is there something I can help you with?”

Elia wanted to walk and talk, it seemed. It was rather pleasant to be asked after, to start–so far, she hadn’t gotten very close to many other Tower occupants. Then, the Aes Sedai asked about Kaira and whether the girl was ‘too much of a distraction.’ Feeling slightly pressured, Velvaen considered how to answer. She didn’t want to lie to Elia–it’d be a quick trip to her office from there–but she also didn’t want to get Kaira–the first person she’d felt a real connection to–into trouble. It was her free hour, after all, so a little introduction didn’t seem too amiss. She settled on, “Only faintly, Elia Sedai. She is a rather talkative one, but also seems encourageable enough.”

Elia stored away each nuanced action - the stumbling curtsy being one - and tallied it away as positives and negatives against each trainee. Mothers were not meant to have favourites, but she did, and it didn't bother her in the least. She rather hoped that Velvaen would be one of the well behaved students she could place a modicum of reliance on.

Rather talkative was a polite way to describe Kaira's incessant nattering, which had to be an attempt to make up for her father's solemnity. Amusement flittered over the Aes Sedai's features. "If you find her harrying you in the future, you can ask her to desist. She is very conscientious for her age." I pity I can't say that of all of the novices, but I may as well wish for flying pigs.

The stone monument of the novice and soldier came back into view. "She showed you this, didn't she?" Malachite eyes watched Velvaen for a reaction, although Elia already knew the truth. The Indigo sister moved towards the memorial, lightly touching the novice's lowered arm, as if a physical connection with the statue would bring her closer to the memories of that fateful morning. When Elia spoke, it was with a mournful tone, her eyes squeezed shut. "A tragedy almost beyond words."

Mint green skirts spun out wide as the Aes Sedai turned back towards her student. "Tell me child, what tragedy befell you?" If there was any shock from the Amayar, Elia deigned not to react to it. Her features were compassionate, but her voice seemed to both offer insight and probe at the truth simultaneously. "To come so far from your homeland, to a place where you are so far from the world you were born into, it is not the beginnings of a happy story. So tell me."

Velvaen suppressed a sigh of relief when amusement flickered on Elia’s face, and again once it became clear the Aes Sedai wanted to drop the subject, though Velvaen would’ve been in favor of a brighter change. Following the Sister through the garden paths, she tried to find calm, but as she watched Elia reverently touch that tragic marker, Velvaen couldn’t help feeling sick. A Black Sister. What kind of person had Mirin Ronaile been, to commit such atrocious crimes? She shuddered.

Then Elia asked about her own tragedy. Velvaen’s eyes widened–Aes Sedai intuition was no myth, it seemed. A familiar resentment boiled up, and she tried to keep it from her face as she spoke. “The Seanchan. They arrived about a year ago, with ships and weapons and warriors.” As she continued to explain, her voice flattened, and her dress crinkled as she knotted her hands into fists. “My people don’t believe in violence, so it was easy for them to take over. For some reason, they came after my sister and I. I made it out. She didn’t.”

Shaking herself from her dark contemplation, she blushed slightly. “Excuse me, Aes Sedai. I… I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”

The moonstones moved about as Elia shook her head. "There is no need to apologise, child." She read Velvaen's posture easily. "You have every right to be angry and upset."

There was much that could have been said at this juncture. The Grey Tower had been attacked by the Seanchan twice, once within Elia's time as a sister. She had witnessed the hellish devastation they had wrought, and not just on a physical level. Deyeniye would have taken an opportunity to exploit that anger and bereavement -- whether Velvaen's sister was dead or damane, she was effectively gone. But then Elia didn't think an Amayar would find her way to the Shadow easily, and she didn't need another weak pawn like Mirin had been at the end.

"I have heard far more blunt statements." The neutral path, Elia thought sourly. Emmond's influence was rubbing off on her. "And please, don't be fearful to tell me anything. That is why I am here." Elia's smile was subdued, but genuine. She gave the statue a last lengthy gaze. The Indigo did not like the reminder of failure. Turning away, she gestured for the both of them to move on, away from the memorial.

"You said your people don't believe in violence. My next question is, do you? I ask because once you have undergone the trial to become Accepted, and then Aes Sedai, you will have a choice to seal yourself to the Three Oaths. Not every brother and sister do. In fact, most have unbound themselves, free to make weapons or use the Power offensively without first being in danger. I wonder if you have given it any mind, given..." "Given your sister" were the words she had almost said. Internally she hissed at herself - for the part of herself that was Black Ajah - for trying to be manipulative. Respectfully, Elia carefully kept herself from looking at the novice, to give her the privacy of reasoning out her own thoughts on the question just posed.

“I…” Elia’s question brought Velvaen up short. Her bitterness at the Seanchan had not faded in the year since she’d arrived at the Tower–in fact, it had smoldered into a hateful ember, hissing for her to crush the Seanchan by any means necessary. But, if one of their insectile soldiers appeared before her now, could she bring herself to kill him? Light, she’d never even hit anyone. What other way is there?

Once she achieved the shawl and returned home, they wouldn’t just leave. They’d had hundreds of soldiers when she’d left–how many more would there be by now; in ten years from now? Twenty?

An image of herself rose in her mind–fully-raised, blasting rank after rank of Seanchan. A sick feeling washed over her as she realized how similar it was to what she pictured Mirin Ronaile had looked like with her fifty-one. No–no, this is completely different! But the pair of thoughts ignored her and continued mixing in her head. Then… maybe the Seanchan could be bargained with? But, no, they already had access to all the resources Tremalking had to offer. She wanted to be resolute, to focus, but she couldn’t push down the wave of hopelessness that engulfed her. How can I, Oaths or no Oaths, defeat an entire nation?

“I…” Velvaen repeated, voice cracking. She couldn’t stop the line of tears. “I don’t know, Elia Sedai. I don’t know!” The last came out as a wail.

Instinctively Elia drew Velvaen into an embrace, giving the shorter girl comfort as she worked free her emotions. This was not the reaction that the Mistress of Novices had intended, and yet she had succeeded in spite of her best efforts.

"There child, there," she cooed softly. Elia held Velvaen in a motherly embrace, applying timely pats of consolation to the novice's back. "Please, don't give yourself unnecessary tears. You have a long way to go before you need to make that decision, a long way. Plenty of time to give it quiet, reasoned thought."

Elia wasn't sure what else to do, aside from let Velvaen cry it out. It hadn't just been the question that had upset the Amayar, but the Indigo didn't know which other avenues of encouragement would garner less tears or more. Probably concerned about her sister. Rightfully so when it came to the Seanchan. Inwardly she scowled at how casually she accepted Velvaen's sister's fate, but that was both in the past and outside her sphere of influence. It was easy to sidestep grief for yet another victim of the Seanchan. Less so when that victim was your sister.

When the tears seemed to ebb, Elia parted slightly from the novice. She could feel the dampness on her dress, and made a silent prayer to the Dark One that it didn't leave an indelible mark.

"I'm sorry that my question upset you. Please, give it no more thought for now. Let us speak of something else. Your choice. Maybe you have questions for me?"

Forcing herself to loosen her white-knuckled grip on Elia’s fine garment and scrubbing at her eyes furiously, she slowly began to regain some of her composure. Velvaen turned away to hide her face—pink, both from the tears and from embarrassment at breaking down in front of a Sister. Elia’s voice was calming; ’Plenty of time, plenty of time,’ looped in her head, brushing at her gloom. With eyes clenched closed in an effort to keep from weeping further, she began to murmur one of her people’s many litanies. "Water cleanses wish and worry; wash my fears away." It was less comforting now, after—Darkness, wind rushing closer—...after she’d left home, but she continued; pushing through the occasional hiccupping 'til her face was dry, her back straight, and her voice steady.

Then Velvaen turned back to the Aes Sedai, wearing a small, grateful smile that only slipped a bit upon seeing the teary blotch her woe had left upon Elia’s gown—turning the fabric from mint to emerald green. “Thank you, Elia Sedai, I… I just miss her.”
Velvaen listened to the Sister’s thoughts, and took a moment, considering what to ask. “Would you tell me of your Ajah, Elia Sedai? I know that I still have far to go, but I’m not even sure which to strive for.”

"Of course." Elia started to walk down the path again, waiting for the novice to step alongside before continuing. "The Indigo Ajah is the only Ajah without a counterpart in the other place, although our Red Ajah bears little resemblance to the one in Tar Valon. In that way, I like to think of the Indigo being the principal jewel crowning the majesty that is the Grey Tower."

A comforting Shienaran accent accompanied the fondness with which she spoke about her Ajah. "We have many roles, but broadly speaking anything to do with the One Power is of interest to us. That may be angreal and ter'angreal, which is my own speciality, or in the study of Talents. Between those two fields lies a myriad of different opportunities for research and invention. Some of us are archivists, interesting in procuring and cataloguing objects of the Power. Others like to study the vast amount of knowledge accumulated within histories and chronicles that may point towards lost Talents. I enjoy thinking up new ways to place the wonders of saidar into mundane objects in order to better our lot, if we do not already have ter'angreal to share that purpose."

One slender hand rose to her hairline to pull out the glass flower. She held it tenderly, cupped in her two palms, although it was far from fragile. "This is just one example of what I hold a passion for. It is an angreal. Observe." Elia opened herself up to the One Power, although she only grasped onto a small rivulet of the potential strength she could sustain. With that sliver she channelled through the angreal, not doing anything purposeful, but from the centre of the rosebud, a soft pink light started to bloom.

"The exquisite sight of the Creator's light made manifest, combined with the sublime aesthetics of an angreal. This is what delights me as an Indigo."