Things to Come (Attn: Miahala Sedai)
Posted: August 27th, 2016, 7:06 pm
The Tower Ghost (Bryn Sevia Riverstone Walker)
It was a simple room, in a simple house. It was one the red-haired woman sitting in a chair had grown up in. The front was the shop, a bookbinder and engraver’s business filled with so many smells and so many books to study.
It was at the heart of Cosamelle in Ghealdan. Wars came and went, as did kings and queens and lords and ladies, but this small city still stood. Her gold-flecked green eyes looked around, noting every book that her adopted grandfather had ever mended. Here she would learn, as much as he paid to have a tutor do that for her.
A soft light emanating from everywhere and nowhere suffused the place, making the lit lantern moot.
She returned her on occasion, rather than the halls of the place where she lived and eventually died in. For this purpose, she found it more convenient and perhaps less crowded.
To any person’s eyes, the young woman was perhaps just shy of six feet, with her red hair falling to her waist. To call her beautiful was a simple statement of truth, her heart-shaped face now forever young. To most of the world, she might have been seen as an Aiel, if not for the simple fact that she was dressed like a simple Ghealdanin woman. A simple white blouse and green skirts divided for riding were all she was dressed in, fitting her just right as opposed to an ill-fitting white dress she wore in life. The only thing out of place was the long knife at her side, its pommel shaped like a fox’s head and fixed with two amethysts for eyes.
In front of her was a pot of tea, two cups and a stone board with pieces scattered erratically across its surface.
It was her turn to observe. The older man with the silver glasses and words of insight was gone now, again passed into ... wherever he went. The young woman did not know if that man — Trae Elien he called himself — would ever return.
And she observed. And she wept. And where she could, she would help as best she could. She found herself unlike Master Elien, who observed and rarely interacted. In many ways, he was selfless, and she more selfish. She was at the edge of reality and she would act as a guide to those who needed her help.
If there was to be the ghost of the Grey Tower and Hama Valon, then she would fill that role.
Tonight was one of those nights — to help, or at least chat.
The door to the shop opened, sounding the bell above it, and she looked up, her full lips curving in a smile.
There she stood, a woman who had long since borne the ageless look, her face beautiful even now. Those blue-green eyes were fierce and intelligent, her auburn hair bearing a sense of regality for its grey highlights. But she didn’t carry herself like a noble. No, there was more a sense of simple pride and stubbornness in her than anything else, and by the way she cocked her head, she looked like an owl pondering her circumstances.
The woman extended a hand, her gold-green eyes dancing in delight for a woman she had never met in life.
“Aes Sedai, please sit, and enjoy some tea,” Bryn Riverstone Walker murmured. “And tell me, how is my beloved brother Sojin doing? He’s proposed finally, I take it, because if he hasn’t I’ll haunt his dreams until he does.”
Her voice was jovial, but there was a undercurrent that was more serious. And far more worried about other things.
It was at the heart of Cosamelle in Ghealdan. Wars came and went, as did kings and queens and lords and ladies, but this small city still stood. Her gold-flecked green eyes looked around, noting every book that her adopted grandfather had ever mended. Here she would learn, as much as he paid to have a tutor do that for her.
A soft light emanating from everywhere and nowhere suffused the place, making the lit lantern moot.
She returned her on occasion, rather than the halls of the place where she lived and eventually died in. For this purpose, she found it more convenient and perhaps less crowded.
To any person’s eyes, the young woman was perhaps just shy of six feet, with her red hair falling to her waist. To call her beautiful was a simple statement of truth, her heart-shaped face now forever young. To most of the world, she might have been seen as an Aiel, if not for the simple fact that she was dressed like a simple Ghealdanin woman. A simple white blouse and green skirts divided for riding were all she was dressed in, fitting her just right as opposed to an ill-fitting white dress she wore in life. The only thing out of place was the long knife at her side, its pommel shaped like a fox’s head and fixed with two amethysts for eyes.
In front of her was a pot of tea, two cups and a stone board with pieces scattered erratically across its surface.
It was her turn to observe. The older man with the silver glasses and words of insight was gone now, again passed into ... wherever he went. The young woman did not know if that man — Trae Elien he called himself — would ever return.
And she observed. And she wept. And where she could, she would help as best she could. She found herself unlike Master Elien, who observed and rarely interacted. In many ways, he was selfless, and she more selfish. She was at the edge of reality and she would act as a guide to those who needed her help.
If there was to be the ghost of the Grey Tower and Hama Valon, then she would fill that role.
Tonight was one of those nights — to help, or at least chat.
The door to the shop opened, sounding the bell above it, and she looked up, her full lips curving in a smile.
There she stood, a woman who had long since borne the ageless look, her face beautiful even now. Those blue-green eyes were fierce and intelligent, her auburn hair bearing a sense of regality for its grey highlights. But she didn’t carry herself like a noble. No, there was more a sense of simple pride and stubbornness in her than anything else, and by the way she cocked her head, she looked like an owl pondering her circumstances.
The woman extended a hand, her gold-green eyes dancing in delight for a woman she had never met in life.
“Aes Sedai, please sit, and enjoy some tea,” Bryn Riverstone Walker murmured. “And tell me, how is my beloved brother Sojin doing? He’s proposed finally, I take it, because if he hasn’t I’ll haunt his dreams until he does.”
Her voice was jovial, but there was a undercurrent that was more serious. And far more worried about other things.