Long Road to Nowhere (Attn: Andy)

[Craig]

Farah

Farah fell fully clothed into bed after a two hour stint in the Kitchens. Her arms, shoulders and back hurt from washing dishes continuously, and her fingers looked like her grandmother's. That was the only levity she could find in the situation, as her mind drifted back towards the endless, meaningless despair that was her existence.

Farah had anticipated change when she swapped the white robes of novicehood for the grey jacket and trousers of the Drin. There certainly was change when it came to classes. No more diatribes on the Panarchs of Tarabon throughout the years; instead she got to listen to lectures on historical sieges. Instead of feeling like a failure when it came to channelling, she now got to feel failure in a different arena. A literal arena, where she got thrown seven ways to Sunday.

She stared at the roof wondering why? That word started many unanswered questions. Why was she still here? Why was she not growing as a Drin? Why was she just as bad at being a Gaidin as she was at being Aes Sedai? Why?

A knock at the door made her jump. She pushed herself up so she was sitting on the bed, then desperately sought the calm needed to embrace the Source. The Gaidin called it the Void, but it was one and the same. Sliding off the bed, Farah moved towards and then opened the door, wondering what new failures awaited.

[Andy]

Strange times they were when he was chosen to see if he could give some pep to a somewhat listless Drin. It felt like coming full circle to that conversation so long ago with Ravak. He scratched his chin as he made his way towards Drin Farah's quarters he smiled faintly. He had no scissors but he supposed he was one of the warmer Gaidin. He was unsure of how to approach the matter - the lass in question seemed to have a problem with advancement. There usually is a reason, even if they don't realise it themselves. If the Yards could turn me out then this lass should be no problem. Just a matter of the right levers he mused, pausing as he found the door, two sword lathes in his free hand. When she opened the door he gave her his most reassuringly warm smile and against protocol inclined his head ever so slightly. He never liked rules and if he were to help her he suspected she would need to at least be slightly open towards him. Repeated stagnation was never good for the spirit or mind. "Drin Farah," he said with certainty, looking her over and noticing her hands, wrinkled from too much water, "kitchens was it? I remember that very well. It's a lovely day, thought you might like a stroll and time away from chores, no? Come with me" It was an instruction, though said with a firm kindness. He heard the door close behind him and assumed she was behind him. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, following it, "or why I might be here to pay you a visit?" He set a casual pace, taking them towards the Yards slowly.

[Craig]

Farah

The door opened, instructions were issued, and Farah followed. It was how she'd learnt to survive after the path of most resistance had failed in the face of countless inscrutable Aes Sedai. Being a Drin was different, as the Gaidin actually seemed like people, but habits formed long ago were hard to break.

There was a muted surprise when the Gaidin dipped his head towards her. His words brought forth a greater response, even if his questions were rhetorical. It was a lovely day according to the view outside her avendesora-etched windows, so a stroll and an escape did sound pleasing. She saw the swords though. Make that eight ways to Sunday.

Once in the corridor, she finally spoke in response to his questions. Strange how being outside her quarters brought her voice out. "A Gaidin? Otherwise no, sorry. And I'm guessing the training lathes means we're about to practice some sword fighting?" She sniffed softly. "I don't think I'll be up to your standards."