The Grey Tower

There was a unique sound one heard, when firm clean bristles scrape the dirt off of the old well used floors of the Grey Tower's kitchens. The rhythmic scrubbing, accompanied by sister sounds, of ventilation channels getting scrubbed clean by long handled brushes. The sister sounds were accompanied by yet other siblings, bristles upon steel pots and pans, blades sliding through vegetables and hitting well maintained cutting boards.

It was a sound every novice knew like the back of their hand, a sound deeply desired, because it was the sound of safety, it was the sound of peace. It was a sound that even every Aes Sedai remembered, with proper humility, from ages long past. It was the silence from the Mistress of the Kitchens, after a thorough inspection.

Not a single complaint, not a single one. Instead, the Mistress was directing her attentions towards the next task, towards the next item on her list. As the elder woman moved on, not a single girl within the kitchen's walls dared make a single sound, not a one tempted fate. The job met expectations, was there no safer feeling?

Senna's heartbeat slowed for a step, as the deep fear within her chest subsided, at least for the moment. The tension etchen upon her expression lessened, her mismatched eyes no longer showing the strain that had been clear to all for the past several hours. Her lips adopted the more natural shape of a barely visible pout.

"I'm with people, people!" She whispered angrily to herself, self awareness kicking her in the gut. The moment her mind realized that she had been scared of the woman's judgement, conflicting emotions raged deep inside. She could not remember her name, but the Mistress was a person, not one of those… things.

With the sound of a short handled brush splashing into it's accompanying water bucket, the novice shivered, slender arms wrapping around herself a bit too tightly. The novice's eyes closed for a moment.A long moment. All it took was a deep, cleansing breath. The young novice opened her eyes, and reached out with a shaking hand for the brush. There was work to do.

"It's nothing new. Orphan, tavern girl, food, or novice. You just keep quiet and do as your told." She told herself encouragingly.

"Do you think these pots will ever be clean enough for her taste?" Avander asked, leaning over to speak quietly once he was certain the Mistress was out of earshot -- better yet, once she was out of the room altogether (he certainly did not want to be heard by the Mistress for saying such things). It was not really a complaint in anything more than technical words he had said. He sounded merry enough to be reading a good book or playing a friendly game of stones, not elbows deep in the burnt remnants of someone's kitchen mishap from earlier in the day. Really he did not mind cleaning -- he wasn't used to it, certainly not as often as he was now expected to do it, but it was a good task for daydreaming or conversation and most importantly it gave him a chance to stretch his muscles in a way different to the same sword forms he had been practicing over and over and over again. Light, but he was sore!

He knew this girl only as a face he recognized from the halls. She wore the white dress of a novice, and was certainly young enough to be a novice -- he thought that perhaps she had come to the tower around the same time that he had, though he had no real evidence for this. He supposed he didn't have much evidence for what age a novice ought to be, either, except that most of the novices he had seen around were quite young. The Soldiers -- or were they... ah, he couldn't remember. The Asha'man novices that he had seen were on average much older than the Aes Sedai novices. Perhaps the power manifested at different ages? "I'm Avander," he said with a smile. "I think I've seen you around, but I don't know your name! Strange how so many people can stay strangers in a place like this, isn't it?"

Senna jerked involuntarily, her entire body having one brief yet very obvious spasm of shock. Dark red strands of hair fell out of place, nearly black in the indoor lighting, framed a pale visage. A tone far too pale than it should be. Bicolored pupils narrowed, as the girl grasped control of the moment. Her eyes regained focus, narrowing into a guarded gaze. it was apparent her mind had been somewhere else. Some other place, somewhere where…

The novice shook her head. She could not help but internalize herself as she felt entire body feeling just, odd. There were the remnants of tingles on her cheeks, numbness in her fingertips, and was realizing she was out of breath. There were too many flowing emotions on her face, and even a few wet streaks down her cheeks. She felt shock, a more controlled, and discreet shock, at realizing what had happened.

And she felt the fool for it.

She had forgotten all about the present moment. Not remembering a word the boy had said. She had forgotten about, well, far too much for her liking. There had been a war deep within, where two different versions of this girl had fought. There was something painful deep within, dwelling, festering, and that war was clear to all before her. But her lips thinned, as something returned. She did not remember what he had said, but she remembered his tone. Peaceful. Nice. And then came the recollection she realized suddenly she had wanted.

His name. Avander.

She took a deep breath, and the voice of the survivor spoke out. She was a survivor. The girl looked unsteady, but there was a glint of a resolution will In that cold, unsteady voice. The sound of a still young girl's voice rang out; "I was, am, I am Senna. Sorry, um, Avander. Avander?" She nodded to herself when she saw the boy's reaction to the name she called him. "When doing simple, but long tasks, my mind… tends to wander. I, sorry what were you saying again?"