The Grey Tower

Illyria Malkom It was a rather lazy morning. The newest novices had been settled in, and she had finished scraping the ashes of their old clothing out from her large fireplace and their possessions were carefully locked away for when they were either turned out or became Aes Sedai. Both of her newest charges had potential, she could sense it - but they would only become Aes Sedai if they allowed themselves to be forged by fire and trial. They both had long roads ahead of them, but as she had already received her shawl, Illyria could look back on the experience with a thin veil of fondness clouding how miserable her years as a Tower-trainee had been.

Her life had changed so much since then, it was nearly impossible to remember what it had been like to be in whites. She had a Warder-husband, a squealing infant to love, and had settled in the world. But, that did not mean that she was never surprised.

For instance: her door had never, not once in her near decade reign of the novices, been slammed open, nor had anyone had the audacity to barge in and make demands of her. The ink had barely dried on the ledger where Mirin Ronaile had signed her name, and already, it seemed as though every warning she had been given about the difficulties of Tower life had already fallen out of her head.
"I need a single room," she gasped, heaving as though she had run all the way from her quarters, "I have irreconcilable differences with my roommate."

Illyria could only stare at her, cold and icy: the Mistress of Novices may have been shorter than most Cairheinin, but she had become a fearsome opponent over the years. She did not bother gracing the child with a response, and she hoped dearly that her message would sink in, and that Mirin would escort herself out of the office and back to the kitchens, where she might could earn redemption. The girl did not seem to get the message, and instead stared wide-eyed out of the still-open doorway.

A shrill cry pierced the air, and in a flurry of white skirts and flailing arms, another novice stumbled into her office. "She hit me!" That was Betrys Cadwallader; she had not been here more than a week! She turned he profile towards Illyria, so that a definitive hand-print could be seen stretching across her cheekbone. "SHE HIT ME!" Betrys screeched, and looked as though she wanted to return the favor as soon as possible.

Mirin looked as though she might open her mouth to defend herself, but Illyria put a full stop in the conversation before it could truly begin. She stood with such force from her chair that it scraped harshly as it compensated for her movement and she stared daggers at the pair. "Enough," she hissed. "You are Novices of the Grey Tower, not squabbling toddlers in a pigsty. Explain yourselves. Now."

The girls stumbled through their stories. The Indigo was very seriously displeased.

"You will remain roommates indefinitely," she snapped, "I'm tempted to tie your wrists together with the One Power, so that you're stuck to each other, but I will not inconvenience your instructors with class schedule shuffling so that you can learn something you should have learned before you ever set foot outside of your homes. And you, Mirin, will teach Betrys to read. Should I hear one foul word, you will wish you had never been born." The crop sat on her desk, menacing as ever. "And Betrys? I will be watching. Don't think that you can get away with stretching the truth before you've even begun to understand what it means to be Aes Sedai."

"Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?"