Closing time [Attn: Miahala Aes Sedai]

[Jack]

Two weeks before The Children MRP
Jerid Walker Asha'man Jerid looked around the personal, private antechambers, noting their appearance. He’d been in these suites many times before, as a guest and sometimes as an unknown guardian.

My, how the decor changed with Amyrlin Seats, he thought.

Most considered it treason for what he did, entering the Amyrlin Seat’s chambers unbidden, unsummoned, and perhaps most of all, without her knowledge.

But Jerid had been among those who re-designed the Wards following the Battle of the Lights, and the war against the first Fiery Serpent. He’d redone them again after Amora took the Amyrlin Seat for the second time. And a third time, he’d fine-tuned the weaves as First Seeker when a very dear friend was named to the post.

But of course, the bottle of Saldaean brandy would probably change her mind. At more than a century old, it was a hard find, and he’d parted with an extremely valuable piece of art to obtain the bottle.

Rare were the days when Jerid Walker was seen in the Tower proper or the Indigo Ajah Halls anymore. Since he abdicated the role of First Seeker, he and Lys were taking every opportunity to enjoy life in Camden Corelle.

Their son Cade perhaps suffered the most, with the lack of a library as massive as the Grey Tower’s, but the one at Camden held some rare works not even the Tower possessed. When he wasn’t busy learning how to rule. At 27 years old, the young man found himself suddenly responsible for the duties that came with the role of a noble’s son.

Jerid didn’t think to set foot so soon again in the Grey Tower, but a little bird had spirited some invaluable whispers his way, ones he couldn’t sit on and needed to inform the Amyrlin Seat about. He couldn’t refuse. With Lys’s blessing, he opened a gateway and stepped through.

And there were some things he needed to inform the Amyrlin Seat about, given his recent trips to the Yellow Ajah Infirmary (before and after his granddaughter's recent episode). Those who knew Jerid well also knew his aversion for the flaming place, especially since Aden's death thirteen years ago. For a man who could have been a skilled Healer, Jerid found he didn't like Healers much. But in this case, it was warranted and Nyoma Aes Sedai had come to a few conclusions that were disturbing.

And here he was, in the chambers of one the most powerful women in the Westlands. Had he been any other man, the Wards put in place by the finest channelers in the Tower would have burned him to a crisp.

The door opened and Jerid turned slightly.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, less formal than Amora, more ... welcoming,” he said. “It’s very you in a way, less 'I'm going to hunt down soulless minions orthodoxy and convert them' and more 'I'm going to burn them all.'"

He held up a pair of drinking glasses and the bottle as a gift/shield to ward off her irritation. Everyone knew the former First Seeker could never bring himself to harm Miahala Sha’hal, no more than he could ever raise a hand against an en’Damier he liked.

However, he knew the mercurial temperament of a woman who had become one of his closest friends.

“Your betrothed I imagine is still in the Yards running a group of trainees ragged for the day, and I thought it fitting we catch up on old times with a fine vintage,” he murmured.

[Bella]

Even though it was not a ward of the One Power that alerted her, Mia's senses had been too longed burned a fiery green to not just...know when something was awry in her personal space. Thus so it was that she was not truly surprised--surprised yet not--to find one of her oldest friends standing uninvited in her antechambers.

"I should tell you to get your bloody arse out of my rooms and return when I've asked you here," she said with a smirk. "Or that your brandy is welcome but you are not."

She crossed the room and lightened his load of both the bottle and one glass. She moved to the table, opened it, and afforded herself a long inhale of the fragrance. Home... "However, we both know that I will not," she said over her shoulder, pouring herself a glass and turning back to him with a light dancing in her eyes that said he had to pour his own damn self a drink.

A recent dream was not far from her mind, and stayed itself there now. However, it did not give voice through her. She just watched him with the same keenness as he'd watch her. Old habits, old dogs, old friends...

Just old.

"So, what brings you by? I can't imagine you trespass to catch up and chat alone." She was a smarter woman than that, of course.

OOC: I got the reference! Do I win Star Trek DS9 bingo?

[Jack]

Jerid smiled wistfully, a sight that was rarely seen on the man these days. It was gone however, as he poured himself a drink.

After all, it would not do to have the Amyrlin Seat serve a lowly Asha’man.

“There is always a first for everything, for we soldiers do have lives on occasion, or so I’m told,” Jerid murmured as he took a sip. Honestly, there was not much rest these days for the Indigo, even after relinquishing the First Seeker chair to someone far more capable of leading.

As he had said, he was a soldier, and the best way to keep a soldier busy was to give him a war to fight. He did this in his own way at Camden Corelle by transforming it into a place that would draw commerce and become the gateway through which everyone traveled on their way to Hama Valon.

He sipped his drink, and did a twirl, showing off the lack of Asha’man black in favor of a simple blue shirt under a red jacket and black trousers. The long knife at his side was an always constant companion.

“I found myself simply without any Asha’man black, so I had to make do,” he said with a chuckle. Truth be told, they were stored away, ready to be dragged out in case the Hall decided to call him back for whatever flaming reason. Truth be told, he thought they would be happy to see him leave. The Asha’man was perhaps as big of a headache as Saphire en’Damier had been.

“I came to visit my grand daughter and see how she is faring, now that she isn’t trying to bring the Novice hall down around everyone’s heads,” he said with some mirth. “I also came to offer your daughter a place in Camden Corelle as its resident advisor for when the day Cade takes his place as its lord and the first High Seat.” He grinned in amusement. “I dare say by the look she gave me that she was looking for 50 different escape routes or the quickest way to dispose of my body should I decide to press harder. You Sha’hal women are a practical bunch.”

The truth was, he extended the invitation to Miahala’s daughter as a token of goodwill and would bear no ill feelings if she turned it down.

He sat down then, sipping his drink casually, but there was a heavy look in his eyes, along with an age that defied his youthful appearance.

“Do you ever wonder, all those years ago when we first started, that this was what we would become?” he asked casually. “I always pictured myself in some dusty tomb, or some ruin in the Aiel Waste. I never saw myself as the Master of Soldiers, some flaming Keeper or a soldier for that matter. My Arches never placed that burden on me burden on me at all. Rather it was one much more tame.”

He hadn’t thought about the Three Arches in a very long time. He’d only been called in a few times to guide those Soldiers who became Dedicated since leaving the role of Master of Soldiers.

“I rather pictured myself living out my days in Camden Corelle, ruling in some peace, this time around,” he added. He took another sip and smiled. Grimly. “Then the world comes crashing down when a Yellow Aes Sedai provides news you wished you never heard.” He tilted his head and murmured, “I envy the decision you two made, Caden and yourself, the decision to leave the Tower. Things would have been simpler if Lysira and I did the same thing, all those years ago. Weren’t they for you?”

OOC: Bingo!

[Bella]

OOC: I blame you for the ear worm I get every time I look at the title of this post.

When he referenced Sadie and about Sha'hal women being a "practical" bunch, she couldn't help but laugh. It was no raucous sound, of course, but enough to be heard and genuine in its mirth. He was right, of course, but that was what actually made it humorous. Truth could be stranger, and funnier, than fiction at times.

"For a time, I suppose," she replied to his question, the mirth fleeing her eyes and replacing it with something else--not something bad, per se, but distance and a little rueful. "Yet we did not stay away long, did we? What did we truly achieve?" She paused, taking a long sip of the brandy and relishing the spicy burn it gave on the way down.

Her blue-green eyes moved with the rippling liquid in her glass as she spun it slowly. "I suppose we gained a few years of simplicity and something like peace, but the fight did not end and so neither could we." She lifted her head to glance at her old friend with a faint smile. "But I will never say that made it not worth the try, and the time we did have. Even if it ended, it was worth it."

[Jack]

“The time we have together,” Jerid whispered, almost echoing Miahala. He smiled as well, but it was the same bittersweet one. “But what if the time we have becomes precious for some?”

When he saw the flash of concern in his friend’s eyes, he raised a hand to ward off any worries.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, in the sense that I’m dying or unwell,” the Indigo murmured. “They say for a man who has been poisoned as much as I’ve been, been through war after war, battle after battle, and Dreadlord after flaming Dreadlord that I should have more scars and less limbs, and a drinking habit that should have exceeded even Saphire en’Damier’s constitution.”

Jerid took a deep pull from his glass, almost unphased by the taste. He’d had Aiel concoctions much stiffer and harsher than the worst rotgut produced by the human race.

“Two months ago, I woke and was preparing for the day, was preparing to shave off a few days of gruff,” he murmured. “When I looked in the mirror, I saw this face looking back at me, and it hit me that it hadn’t changed a day ... not since the day I used the Portal Stone all those years ago.”

Miahala was perhaps one of the few people who knew of this circumstance, the others being Sojin and Lysira. The rest were dead. And it was perhaps for the best. What was known widely was that the Asha’man had been seriously injured and the bond with his Warder snapped. What wasn’t known was that the man he was became merged with another man ... and that was a war that raged inside his head for years before peace settled the dispute.

“A few months ago, “I went to visit Nyoma Sedai here in the Tower,” Jerid murmured, holding his half-empty glass of brandy. Nyoma was perhaps the best specialist in the Tower in terms of the combined subject of mental afflictions and poisons.

“What she found at first surprised her, and she insisted on regular check-ups, and that she bring in a White Aes Sedai and Indigo Asha’man to confer with,” he murmured. It was an odd team, but something this strange demanded answers.

He took a deep drink from his brandy and smiled bittersweetly.

“Since the day I meddled with that Portal Stone and I was ... merged ... with another me, since the day it robbed me of my first bond with Lysira, I found myself not aging,” he continued in his soft voice. “Not one grey hair, not one line on this face. I took it as a sign of just being a channeler who aged normally, free of the Oath Rod.”

He fooled himself into thinking that anyway. He didn’t dare think of the consequences beyond what his own foolishness had wrought, including driving Lysira away and all the lives he had harmed or turned upside down. He lived two lives, in his mind, two paths that strayed away from one another after the death of Catieri, but always out of sync before then.

“What they determined they said at first was impossible, so they poked and prodded and asked questions so intimate I’m not even sure Lysira knows the answers to,” he said. “They determined I was ... frozen for lack of a better word at the time of the incident.”

“Frozen” was a pale comparison to say the least, but perhaps the most accurate. “I will never age, they said, that I will go on, long after loved ones are turned to dust and the Grey Tower in ruins, long after this Age is forgotten and rewoven.”

He lifted a finger and added, “They said it would just be me not aging. I can still die by whatever means, that I could still burn to a cinder, that I could become a flaming corpse by sheer accident.”

His smile faded as he took another deep drink. “The Indigo and the White both agreed on one thing, something that Nyoma called a balancing act for this ‘gift,’” he murmured, his voice mocking the last word. It was more a curse than anything else. “This version of me, this face, is the last one I shall ever wear. The Indigo, Jados, rationalized that I was yanked from the Pattern, almost like a crude form of balefire. I will live and I will die in this life, and that will be the end, save for what memories exist in this world.”

Jerid’s gold-green eyes betrayed a deep acceptance of this. In his own time, he had become a legend so terrible that mere mention of his name sent chills running down the spines of Seanchan on both sides of the Aryth, and sent Black Ajah in schemes of how to kill him or bring him down.

In the end, he walked away, leaving nothing but death and ash and fire. He couldn’t imagine it any differently in any other life he had lived before.

[Bella]

It was a lot to take in, and she listened to all he had to say with her usual placid expression. Yes, she knew of what had happened to him, and what he said all made sense. Still, it was its own bitter sort of drink. Turning to the one in her hand, she looked into the liquid for a long few moments as she nodded slowly.

"Then to making the most of our time, my friend," she said with a faint, sadly sweet smile as she lifted the glass. "Make the most of those you love, and let them make the most of you. If just memories are to be what remains in the pattern and your spirit not returned, then be sure that they are the memories worth keeping."

Something...distant filtered into her eyes, almost like she was somewhere else; or that she saw herself in the reflection of her words. The idea that something like that may have happened to her, when she was brought back to life, had lingered in the depths of her mind, but she had no desire to have that verified.

To her, she wouldn't know it in the next life or not anyways...

"Memories of the destruction we've left in our wake are fine, for it means that we have blazed paths through the Shadow so the Light may rein, but in the end..." She sighed, a soft, quiet sigh. "In the end, I believe it's the memories of love that will last the longest, and the best, and ultimately be what saves us all.

"To fight is all well and good, but to love...that is everything." With another lift of the glass, she inclined her head and took a long drink.

OOC: wtf, Mia XD

[Jack]

Jerid would have smiled at Miahala’s toast and he did raise his own in support, but he knew better than to embrace such a philosophy with an open heart. He’d been through too much and wrought so much destruction in his life to think he would be remembered as anything but a soldier.

And if he was to go on with no sight in end... how many more times before the Tower called on him in its hour of darkest need? The Seanchan were thrown back, but they could very well return, and it would only be a matter of time before House Walker would need to marshal its entire forces to ride to the aide of its greatest ally.

Another Fiery Serpent could emerge, or one like the men who held the title, and take control of the disparate Black Ajah factions. Selan had tried once, and so had Zae, but both proved they lacked the force of willpower.

He almost shuddered at the thought that someone with such discipline and force of will could bring the Shadow in this Tower under its control again.

“To love, and those we love,” Jerid murmured, taking another long drink. His cup was soon empty and he was up, grabbing the bottle so as to pour another one for his friend and himself. “I will very much intend to love my Warder and wife and ensure that our son turns into the lord Camden Corelle needs.”

But his eyes betrayed a secret that was already on his lips. His gold-green eyes danced in the dim light of the room as he took another drink.

“The life of a channeler is already long and cursed, and I knew I would age much slower than those bound by the Oaths,” he murmured. “I’d at least hoped to see some aging with Lysira, but I fear that is no longer the case. I will have to tell her, and I worry that it might make her heart break a little.”

He knew better of course. They both did. Lysira was one of the finest Warders Caden Ives Yards ever produced. But this news was different. She knew the impact it would have on her Asha’man, who already saw the expanded lifespan channelers bore as a mixed blessing.

“You’ll find a sealed letter on your desk come the morning,” he said. “Rodric and Riahana will find similar letters. It’s a simple request and methods of approach should I decide to become a risk to the Grey Tower. If granted, it will order my immediate banishment from the Grey Tower and authorize the Red Ajah to take measures to protect the Tower.”

He raised his glass to forestall any argument from Miahala until he had spoken his peace. “I doubt that it will come to it. I know this world and the lives we lead, and should Lysira die before I do, or I survive and she die of old age, I plan to use the Portal Stone at Camden Corelle and leave this world, and see what else exists.

“It’s a better alternative than what could happen, because I know what immortality, or the search for it, does to people. They become obsessed, despotic, and cruel, especially if they are pursuing it. If we live too long, that would be our same fate I imagine,” he said simply before taking a strong gulp of his brandy. “I will not become Lycos al’Sep, and I will not put others through the nightmares he put you and Lysira through. She, Cade, you and Sojin are perhaps the last remaining ties I have to what it means to be a person.”

[Bella]

"And we shall see that it remains so," Mia said, impassive and yet her sobriety brought the truth of her words. Perhaps to another, it might seem to make her callous. He would understand, of course. She'd had to do many hard things in the course of her long life, and she had no doubt that she would have to do many more. It was a burden of this existence that she accepted. "What must be done will be."

She took a step nearer to him and rested her hand on his arm. "Yet that time is not now," she said softly. "We should not live all our lives in the future, eh?" This was followed by a long drink of her own.

"You do need to tell your wife sooner than later, however," Mia then continued, her voice returned to a normal, if almost stern, pitch. "I look on that girl almost like another daughter and friend or no, I will not see you foul up this second chance you've both gotten. Secrets are a necessary part of our lives, but not from those we love best. Especially of your nature. You need to tell her, and soon."

Having been married a few times, and able to look at issues through the eyes of a wife, she felt safe in offering advice. Oh, let's be honest, she felt the right to speak on any matter she chose. She stopped worrying about such trifles like people thinking she shouldn't speak a long time ago...if she'd ever felt it at all.