The Grey Tower

The air was filled with birdsong. Nestled in the trees all around the Tower's gardens were chirps and warbles and shrill cries. It also helped to mute the soft swishing of a training blade being moved around in strikes and slashes, in a hollow between various bushes and flowers, well concealed from the prying eyes of others.

Only partially protected by the shade of a leatherleaf, Zarayne moved around the open space, dancing in and out of sunlight. Her wooden sword did not move with the practised grace and beauty of her father, but there was a competence in her forms. She practiced when she could, in most of those few free hours that novices were afforded. It meant sacrificing additional contact with her fellow novices and soldiers, or even her father, but this was important. Important for her, not a directive handed down from on high.

The cry of something unlike the rest of the birdsong halted Zarayne mid-swing. She looked up as a shadow flew overhead and seemed to crash into the branches of a tree overhead. Leaves fluttered down towards her.

The novice's attention was interrupted yet again as something moved towards her through the underbrush. She turned, raising her sword up into a mid-guard. Dax Gaidin had been successful in warding away her previous 'teachers', but she wouldn't have been surprised to see those Drin coming back in here to taunt her further.

Fortunately, the figure that emerged from the thicket was not grey-clad. Zarayne spotted the band of colour around the Accepted's dress and dropped the point of her sword down towards the ground immediately. It was a struggle to keep a touch of red from her cheeks, but she otherwise held herself quite still, unsure what punishment or the like was about to be unleashed upon her.

Zarayne tried to follow the emotions that beamed out from the Accepted. The novice felt at ease when she received a smile, then concern when there was the mention of a punishment. Now she was struggling with the laughter. Wetlanders... Zarayne squeezed her eyes shut for a half second just to straighten out her thoughts.

Honouring wetlander acquiescence, Zarayne dipped into a formal curtsy. Her free hand raised one half of her skirts, whilst her other remained on the hilt of the training sword. The bottom of her white dress was already marred from kicked up mud, but at least one half was held off the ground. "I am Zarayne, Accepted."

Straightening, the Aielwoman's interest shifted towards the animal on the Accepted's glove. A falcon? She'd seen plenty of birds at home, and plenty more here in the Grey Tower, but never this close up. Nor anything so intimidating. The way it savaged the meat proffered to it reminded Zarayne of a two-step. Death can be found in the smallest things.

Looking away, Zarayne spotted the Accepted's interest in her sword. Rather than wait for chastisement, the taller woman hurriedly spoke. "I have permission to train from one of the Gaidin." She paused to consider how to phrase the rest of her defence. Being allowed to train was one thing, but why wasn't she in the Yards? She wouldn't lie, but she wouldn't incur any toh neither. Her lips pursed together before she happened upon a suitably Aes Sedai answer. "I train better alone," she admitted, "that's why I'm here."