The Grey Tower

Asan

Sinead ghosted through the Tower, a tall red-headed figure in white, her pale face showing her pain more than she cared to admit. Her chest throbbed, an ache of loneliness and grief that bore testament to her weakness. She knew now, having done some quiet inquiries, that the other Aiel novice had been a Wise One before she came to the Grey Tower, and had chosen to come to the Westlands to train to pay back toh. To Rhiale, wearing white was likely no source of confusion or shame, for she could see it as part of her effort.

To Sinead, her white gown still burned at her soul, confused her, kept her awake at night, tore at her very existence. If she was not Far Dareis Mai, nor Wise One, nor gai'shain, how exactly was she to behave? Honor and obligation had abandoned her, left her adrift in an unfamiliar culture. The temptation to cast it aside, to abandon ji'e'toh in the face of self preservation had become nearly too large to ignore. She cared for herself with mechanical precision, listened in lectures, practiced when told, and otherwise the Aielwoman simply existed, a husk of flesh surrounding a mind beset by chaos.

Today she walked to distract herself, her steps carrying her unseeing from the Learning Ranks' halls to the Tower proper, up and down long ramps, out into the Garden, and back. Her legs ached, her heart ached, her head throbbed. I want to go home. Even if it meant being cast out from her clan, being declared dat'sang...at least then she would know what she was supposed to do, and could strive to regain her honor within the frame she understood.

As the former Maiden approached the archway that led to the Grey Ajah courtyard, she heard a man's voice rise; she paused mid-step, listening. Should she continue? To her surprise, she realized that the man was singing.

"Are we so wrought with pride!?
Have we no humility left?
We can't just swim with the tide?
We can't go quietly to death?"

"I've asked the Creator to speak
With holy words illuminate truth,
He said: A boy's life can be defined as a Leaf
A man has to be the Root.'"

The words cut through the fog, pierced her heart. Her hand flew to her chest and she fell to her knees, huddled on the ground as her chest heaved, struggling to control the grief that had suddenly grown too strong to bear. Long moments passed as wave after wave of pain washed over her, until slowly it eased, and she was able to slowly relax, to open her eyes, to take in her surroundings. She struggled back to her feet, glancing around anxiously. When she ascertained that no one had witnessed her shame, she wiped her hot, wet eyes on her sleeve and entered the courtyard.

She found a young man with dark skin and the plain black uniform of a soldier sitting on the bench there, staring up at the stars. He did not seem to notice her, so she cleared her throat. "That was beautiful," she said simply, bowing her head. "Thank you for the gift of your voice." That seemed proper, but then she didn't know what else to say, and felt her face flushing pink in embarrassment.

Asan

It does not touch my heart as it should. The words resonated with Sinead. She had been at the White Tower for three years, and his song had been the first thing to reach her heart since her arrival. She took in the young man before her, her senses on edge from her recent break down. To her shock, tears streaked his face and he made no effort to hide them. She had spent several years west of the Dragonwall even before she came to the Tower, and yet it still surprised her how easily wetlanders displayed their emotions. Didn't they know how dangerous it was to reveal that part of themselves? Why is he crying? The thought wormed through her confused thoughts of honor and pride, and she blinked, pulling herself back into the reality of the moment.

"Excuse my rudeness, I greet you. Do you know the Song?" She stared at him in silence, and after a moment he added, “I am Asan. My voice reminds me of where I've been. Where I'm going.. I think I'll need it If it can help you in any way. say the word, and it is yours." The engrained disdain she felt for the Tuatha’an awakened as she realized what he was, and her feet shifted in preparation to depart. The Tinkers had no honor. They allowed their loved ones to be cut down before their eyes and did nothing to stop it save wring their hands. What possible use could she have for one such as he? Her lips thinned.

If you view the world in black and white, you miss the beauty of the line between, Aelyn’s cool voice rang in her head. What seems impossible today can become inevitable tomorrow, and those we hate could become those we love. She hesitated. Aelyn’s cool reason and interest in her studies had been her sole saving grace in the preceding weeks. If she remembered his words now, it was for good reason. And yet…Could she really put the philosophical teachings of an Asha’man over the wisdom of her people? I am not among my people. I am….no longer.

“I see you, Asan,” she said, her voice unsteady; it caught on his name but then she rushed on. “I am sorry, I do not know the song.” She saw his grey eyes widen –shock? disbelief?- and inclined her head. “My name is Sinead of the Nine Valleys Sept of the Taardad Aiel. I was once Far Dareis Mai…now I am a novice.”

The tall Aielwoman closed her eyes for a moment then added, “I was also reminded of where I have been by your song. Where I am going is not so easily understood, however.” She spread her hands in a gesture that could have been acknowledgment or dismissal.

“It is rare for one of the traveling folk to come to the Tower, is it not?” she asked curiously.

Asan

He wore his emotions so freely, unashamed of the glistening evidence of his turmoil on his face. Did the man defend himself against nothing? Had he no sense of decency, of privacy of pride? How did he survive? The censuring thoughts babbled in her head, trying to drown out what he was saying, but she heard every word, and found herself both discomforted by and yet also terribly attracted to Asan's open vulnerability. What was it like, to live as the wetlanders did? Was she doomed to someday sit in a garden and allow her tears to betray her to a stranger? She might dance alongside the spears in some distant future, but she would never truly be of the algai de siswai again.

What does that actually mean?

As if he had somehow read her mind, his last words fell, an eerie echo of her own thoughts. "I can never truly be Tuatha'an again. Not like I was." His eyes met hers with a mute appeal that she could not at that moment comprehend. She blinked, taken aback. Although she found many aspects of the Way of the Leaf to be beyond comprehension and had never held a single Tinker in anything but the deepest contempt, she could not find it in her heart to rejoice in his deliverance. Since the Way existed at all, it certainly existed for a reason. She could not deny its pertinence without also denying the Creator - a thought that sent shivers down her spin. Her new acquaintance seemed devastated by his loss, and it occurred to her how odd it was that a lifestyle devoted to peace would so callously deny participation to one of its own.

For some reason, her mind strayed to ji'e'toh, and the confusing thoughts she had had surrounding how to interpret it in this strange place. No provisions in that code for novice whites. No explanations for what happened if one became an Aes Sedai rather than a Wise One. She shied away from that thought process quickly. The two are not at all the same! A treacherous part of her mind seemed unconvinced however, murmuring quietly, Are they not? as she turned her attention back to Asan.

Although her thoughts distressed her, she could certainly appreciate that she and the man before her had both been set adrift by the sands of time, uncertain of where to go or what to do beyond putting one foot before the other. She also understood the grief he struggled with in a way she suspected few others could. "Duty gives inadequate comfort in the face of losing what one loves most," she commented quietly. "And yet you are here where you need to be, doing what you need to do. You have not given in to a desire that would surely put your people in danger if you were to listen to its call before your obligation has been met. Your Way may have no room for you any longer, but in my eyes you have much honor, Asan of the Grey Tower."

The silence stretched for a long moment after she spoke, but to Sinead it did not seem an unpleasant or awkward quiet. Rather...she perceived it as a pause of consideration and reflection while each of them processed what had just happened. She had just spoken to one of the Tuatha'an as she might a spear-sister or brother, had put her own honor in the balance of his. The shock of it coursed through her veins, and she was glad for the twilight that kept her face in partial shadow.

"An honor I'll not betray, Sinead of the Nine Valleys Sept of the Taardad Aiel. May you find water and shade, always." Asan's voice, uncertain at first, grew in strength until he said the last with confidence. She saw his shoulders lift, his back straighten, heard as he breathed slowly in and out. Something was happening inside him. Oddly enough, she felt a similar lifting in her own chest. Even as the shock of what she had done faded, something else replaced it: muted assurance and the barest twinge of relief.

He stood and stepped forward, the light illuminating his face and reflecting off the drying lines of salt on his cheeks. She realized he stood only a finger short of her own height, and smiled appreciatively- few enough men west of the Dragonwall could look her in the eye; this man and Kiellan of Altara had so far been the closest. His eyes caught and held hers, alight with some emotion she could not name. "Grey. I like that. Asan Grey." His musing tone and the long breath he released after told her more than he had intended about the tension he had had held inside.

The coiled spring of confused grief inside her core quivered, discomforted by the light in his eyes and the odd note of joy in his voice. There was something there that she desperately wanted, but she could not name it. Instead, she focused on the one oddity that occurred to her, the one safe thing she could say. "Can you take a new name?" she asked curiously. She knew wetlanders had many names, and sometimes changed them for others, but had not thought the Tuatha'an did the same.

Her companion thought for a moment, then shrugged dismissively. "Should I not? It is my name." He responded. He was looking himself over, as if seeing himself for the first time, and she found herself smiling in response.

The Aielwoman opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, her eyes thoughtful -and appreciative- as she watched him become acquainted with himself again. Why not indeed? His people had rejected him. Why not honor those who had taken him in by assuming their name? And you? Her mind whispered treacherously. You can never return to your people. What does that mean for you? She stamped hard on that thought. She had chosen to leave the Three-fold Land, but that did not free her from ji'e'toh.

Did it?

"That is true," she said once she had her thoughts under control. "It is a good name." He smiled.

"I have danced the spears many times, and will likely do so many more before I wake from the dream," she continued slowly. She saw him shudder. "I cannot change who I am anymore than you can change who you are, and yet somehow..." she hesitated thoughtfully, her eyes on his. "Somehow I think that by the very nature of our differences, we are also the same."

She paused, then smiled, abruptly realizing she sounded very much like one of Aelyn's books on philosophy. "All that to say- I would like to spend more time with you, Asan Grey. Strangely enough, I think we could be friends."

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OOC: I have no idea what to do next. If you have a great idea, please go for it. Otherwise, we both have four posts so this could count as an RR, and we could go get up to mischief somewhere else?