The Grey Tower

Jerid Walker Asha'man He sat amidst a clearing in the Garden’s more forested area, his gold-green eyes sparkling in the soft glow of silver-blue light, and a pipe of Two Rivers tabaac in his mouth. Small motes, so much like stars, danced in the air around him, almost with a life of their own.

The strange channeler, dressed in Asha’man black and with the Indigo cord around one shoulder, seemed almost a statue if not for the occasional indication of his breathing. Standing, he was nearly six feet tall, slender but broad shouldered. He might have been a young Asha’man, given the lack of an ageless look and the fact that he looked in his mid-thirties.

But the man with forest green eyes that danced with flecks of gold was anything but what he seemed. Jerid Walker Asha’man was a rare sight these days in the Grey Tower, more so since he stepped down as First Seeker, even more so after the destruction of the Serpent Building and his decision to dedicated his time as lord of Camden Corelle.

No, those eyes held a look that flashed between solemn insight and a cold fire few ever saw and fewer still lived to tell. There sat one of the longest-lived Asha’man in Tower’s history, yet a man few today knew about beyond the fact he had fought in three wars the Seanchan underwent, a man the Seanchan this side of the Aryth feared and perhaps the only Indigo acted like a Green when it came to Dreadlords, most of whom came up against him died or vanished.

Tonight, however, he sat alone, his eyes on the small pillar of stone in front of him, and a candle burning brightly on top of it. Many names were engraved in it. The pillar itself was wrapped in Wards to dense in order to preserve and protect it.

Beric Cuelaen-Walker, Soldier of the Grey Tower,Tower born, who died in defense of the Grey Tower during the first Seanchan Siege
Angel Cuelaen-Walker, Tower born, beloved daughter, mother, lost but never forgotten

More names adorned it, the names of four grandchildren. Three friends.
The last was among the more prominent because it was among those freshly carved.

Bryn Sevia Riverstone Walker, Novice of the Grey Tower, beloved daughter, lost but never forgotten.

Each of those names were all those who had died in defense of the Tower or because of it. He’d lost two daughters and many grandchildren to the Shadow, a son to the Seanchan army who laid siege to the Tower so long ago. Three friends.

And after each death, he placed their name on this stone. And came here each year to visit.

Most of his days were spent as lord of Camden Corelle, as a soldier, or very rarely as the Asha’man who struck from the shadows to eliminate a threat before it could enact plans that threatened the Grey Tower. And even rarer was it to see him without a Warder.

No, tonight, the diminutive Gaidin who was his wife and Warder was attending to other matters. Lysira Walker knew where her husband was, and knew his wishes not to be disturbed. She also knew that he was more than capable of taking care of himself most days. The long knife at his side was not just an ornament. He knew how to use it with lethal effect.

His eyes fell on the last name, on Bryn’s. His daughter had died for no more reason than someone’s misguided vengeance and perceived slight. The Black Aes Sedai ultimately responsible was dead, her body nothing more than ashes and her name struck from the lists of the Indigo Ajah, one of the last acts as the First Seeker.

So as he puffed on the pipe, he couldn’t help but reflect on the things that had made those names appear on the list. It was one day where he could be left alone. But then, it also left him wondering. He’d spent more than 150 years as the Tower’s soldier, in one form or another. He’d fought Seanchan, dreadlords, and had gone to war against the White Tower after it kidnapped many of its ranks, among them the Amyrlin Seat herself. And when the dust settled, he walked away and the enemy was on the blood-soaked earth.

And then there was a day when he was gone when he and Lysira took their son Cade and left. Soon after, destruction came, and he did not reappear as a soldier of the Tower, despite loved ones who had been directly impacted. He did what he could after the Great Serpent building came down and killed so many learning ranks, but his obligation was now as lord of Camden Corelle.

The star-like motes pulsed suddenly, stopping for a heartbeat before they resumed their dancing. His free hand fell casually to the long knife at his side as he more sensed than heard the presence of another person. Saidin entered him, a trickle of what he could hold, but enough still to react if need be. A storm of burning ice and freezing fire danced inside him, and he simply forced it to his will.

“Welcome,” was all he said.

(Me: im not gonna start another thread with av
Me: *sees this*
Me: this could... be good
Me, internally: what are you doing)

Avyra could feel the chill in her bones as she walked, her steps cracking through the frost that had begun to coat the ground. It was nearly sundown, and she probably shouldn't be out here. But still, it was nice to walk. The walk distracted her. The small falcon perched on her fist fluffed up to block the cold, dark gaze fixed on nothing in particular. It was a bird thing, to fall asleep when not needing to fly or hunt. They never truely rested like a human, they just fell into an energy conserving dazed trance. But that was fine. Theta was a good listener. "So what do you think?" The orange and gray bird blinked up at her, sharp beak clicking. "About everything?" He bobbed his head. "I know I can move on. It isn't that hard. I've been rejected before. I just... thought it was something special this time, you know?" He tilted his little head, suddenly fluffing even bigger and shaking all his feathers out before settling back down. "Maybe I was just dreaming." He pulled one tiny taloned foot up to hide in his puffed out plumage. "You're a kestrel. You have no idea what I'm saying." He bobbed his head and tail. Avyra sighed. As much as she denied it, the small Accepted did feel better after talking to someone, even if it was a tiny pile of feathers. Especially if that tiny pile of feathers was the only thing between her and a complete mental breakdown. "Theta, can I ask you something?" She got no reply. "Do you think it was me?" He put his foot down and hunched his shoulders. Then he began to wipe his beak on her leather glove. "Was it my fault?" She reached up and scratched him under the chin. The small falcon leaned back, giving a soft, shocked, peep. She paused, realizing her steps had taken her someplace she had never been before. Avyra paused, looking back to the Tower before hesitating, then she continued forward. She wasn't alone, she could feel it in the air. It was, in all honesty, unsettling. "Welcome." She gave a small squeak, Theta ruffling his feathers with a startled cry. There was a man standing there, dressed in dark Asha'man clothing. She had never seen him before. "I.. hello. Asha'man. I... I didn't see you there. I'm sorry for intruding. I didn't think anyone would be out at this time."

The Asha’man looked sideways at the new arrival and he released the grip on his knife. His grip on saidin remained intact however.

His gold-green eyes danced in the eerie light. The star-like motes that danced around the pair of humans and the feathered companion pulsed once more, almost as if unison with the Jerid’s eyes.

“Accepted ... “ he racked his mind in recollection of a name to a face that was only ever a ghost of what he could recall. There was a time when the Indigo could recall every name of every learning rank, every Soldier and Novice, Dedicated and Accepted.

But the days when he was Master of Soldiers were so long ago, and so too were the days when even the lowest ranks knew his name and dreaded being caught by him. Even years had passed since he relinquished the mantle of First Seeker and departed.

He could see the unfamiliarity in her eyes, and found it slightly amusing.

“Avrya, you are up, out and about late,” he said, finally recalling a name. It was about all he knew. He only kept tabs on learning ranks while his daughter Bryn was here and then when his granddaughter Cassie took the white. One was dead and the other ... she vanished, considered a runaway by the Tower and her location unknown.

After so many years, the Indigo could still pull a few tricks of his sleeves, but the longer he wa away from the Tower, the fewer the faces he recognized. The soft light around them that suffused this particular small clearing, seemed almost connected with and separate from the star-like motes dancing in the air. The work of the One Power was a weave of Jerid’s own creation, one refined over years, one part fanciful wonder, one part practical Ward.

He removed the pipe from his mouth, his gold-green eyes flashing once more with an age that all but contradicted his youthful appearance as he studied the Accepted with a falcon on her fist.

“What brings you to these parts, and up so late?” he asked.