08-09-2018, 11:35 PM
There was once a time when Lythia imagined she would never rise so far as to shrug aside that sacred obligation to the next generation that was the duty to teach; perhaps the draw of legacy when one senses the coming of her end led her to organize these experiences for those initiates who would accept it. She saw the burden of Arikan's life leering down at her then, both his silent accusation once he realized what she was after and herself realizing what she was willing to pay to get it. Sensing that, she knew her days were limited now. In that depressing epiphany there was also a cohesive bond. She knew something of Rand's burdens then. She could stretch forth towards the future and understand an Asha'man's looming horizon. The fear of death was natural as the desire to live, and if Lythia had her way, she intended to live as long as possible, but on the other side waited arms she ached to again feel them bundling her close and hear his voice whisper words of love in her ear. It had been so long, she feared she was soon to forget what his voice actually sounded like? Why did I never think to memorize it before? Why had she never memorized everything about him? The way his eyelashes brushed when he blinked. The way he tilted his cheek into the pillow when he slept. The way his hands felt so rough, a working man's hands, hard and cracked around his knuckles but the pads of his fingers soft when they grazed her skin.
Lythia knew love and loss. She knew the sacrifice and the guilt that it was to continue waking up everyday, as though part of her thought it was a dishonor to his memory to put on her shoes and brush her hair, let alone embrace the masculine arms of another. Her heart though was sealed away for that day, hopefully the same day the Dark One died, and she could remember the sound of Shadow's voice again. Until then, though, shawl set her direction and the Tower set her pace. Her shawl was Green, and in her family there was comfort, but only for those of like mind. Nythadri had to be forged into a Green just like the rest of them. And like the way a girl of the ring knew a novice couldn't truly comprehend what the serpent cost them, an Aes Sedai knew something similar of the Accepted.
Nythadri had to learn patience. In the face of the hardest of temptations. Of course Lythia knew she'd not scribed her own name to the list. If Mai hadn't seen to that then Lythia would have, either way, Nythadri didn't have a choice. Just as she didn't have a choice that she was going to have to accept Lythia's leadership in these matters; and trust that it was for her own good in the way they were unfurled at the child's feet. Where a Green shawl waited at the end, a Green Sister would shove an aspirant forward step by exhuasting step, but it wasn't until this very moment - the moment Lythia rolled out the long list of updates - that she knew how the Accepted would handle it.
She looked devastated. Not for the news, or lack thereof, concerning her family. Ellomai did not bat more than an acknowledging eyelash. For that, Nythadri was a statue, lifeless as marble, her pupils as reflective. A child of nobility indeed.
No, what minimal color there was melted from her face, snowflakes upon glass. It struck, then iced angrily, then absorbed and slid away, transparent and forgotten. She seemed to take the news well, and if Lythia guessed correctly, likely implied a bit of self-preparation to hear such news. The violence and hardship of the Black Tower was not unknown to those of the White inclined to learn of it. Not simply because of moments like this, where an Aes Sedai was intending to impart some insight into the delicate cantilever of Black Tower politics, but because of the sheer commonality of knowledge regarding their life. A man who was found to channel was not given a choice, he would turn away, take the black uniform, and become something else. Tinkers became the very weapon they despised. Aiel realized the enormity of toh they could never meet. And the lighthearted, green-eyed boy from Falme would wake up one day and find himself scarred, within and without, unrecognizable from what he once was and unseeking to rediscover him. Kent, you will find your peace as I will find mine. Someday soon my brother.
Yes, Black Tower politics Nythadri was going to have to learn. Aes Sedai of the Green or any other Ajah, she was intwined with them now. The moment she'd captured the attention of one of them, the gears were set into motion. Where they were headed, Lythia could only surmise, her own experience likely biasing that end point, but if that were the case, and she knew the end of that tale, would she want it changed? In the interests of foolishly believing she knew what was best for a Sister? Or the opposite, a foolish nod to the alter Lythia herself could no longer serve? Love and devotion. For a someone, not a cause. Standing there, weighing Nythadri's every nuance, trying to decide how the child was accepting the news of an Asha'man's bloody struggles, well, she wasn't sure even she knew the answer to that question. She caught the dogged look of a dare though, of a silent threat looming behind the seeking eyes of a child just out of the loop enough to be aware of what she was missing. Lythia met that stare back, daring her to voice the demand stabbing at her. You may question me child but you will not like the answer. The Aes Sedai was met with only silence, however, and Lythia turned away, inwardly praising Nythadri's control. Though, for half a heartbeat, Lythia worried it was about to spiral out of hand.
"Lennox." She'd earned the answer. Spoken plainly because the child struggled and overcame. What simmered briefly to the surface calmed down again, and Lythia rewarded her effort. An inch of trust shown on her part, and another inch of the path forward was revealed. She knew the answer though, unneeding of Lythia's affirmation of a logical conclusion. If Jai were the sort to pick a fight, Lythia was unaware of it. All she knew was Aileen's accounts. All protocols were otherwise followed the night before. Black bodies trickled from the 'Throne Room' and a broken man was dumped before the boots of a rare Healer. He was confined to solitary and a watch posted. Somehow though, alcohol trickled into a quiet room, and the next day chaos left it.
Lythia supplied the answer quickly, without thinking over whether to do so or not. Nythadri earned the support, but things were not so simple. It had been Lythia Sedai who stood in the Chair of Remorse at Lennox's trial. The Greens voted against the Blues at the last three meetings of the Hall. Lythia was entangled with Lennox now, and where one brother pulled the threads of time around him, the other brother pushed the Pattern into his will. Kent was a member of the same family as Nythadri now, who the child would not know the complexity of everything involved, she someday would. Lennox earned himself a treacherous enemy now, and if implicating Lennox's brutality against Jai did not do it, what came next seemed to.
Nythadri finished the sentence that Lythia was about to roll from her tongue describing the threat of action she would take, of seeking justice for such a grave wrong, and Lythia shot the child the first disappointment in their brief interactions. Sacrifices that separated an Aes Sedai from an Accepted was a cold dose of the same reality which separated an Accepted from a novice. Nythadri jumped too quickly to the conclusion Lythia did not sympathize with such an insult, And when you lose your first warder child, you will know something of it as well.
Then contemplative serenity smoothed things over. Lythia chastized herself for the harsh snap, subtle as it had been. She was pushing Nythadri harder than she'd pushed any Accepted before, and then surprised when the child resisted the premature growth. The bond aided her then, Blake protecting her as a true warder protected his Aes Sedai from a fearsome enemy: herself, and she was able to absorb what Nythadri revealed.
She was right, of course. About leaders knowing who they led. Spoken ironically, did she realize how Lythia was doing the same thing with her? At this stage, and tentative balance Nythadri seemed to hold, that snowflake fighting a bloody battle against the windowpane, holding on to every shard until the last agonizing moment. She had to learn..experience was only captured one way. "What abstract lesson does a leader feel obligated to teach an Asha'man, Nythadri when obliterating him of identity brings more reliable results? They are not servants to guide the world with a steady hand as we are, widsom and temperance are not mantles they need carry. They're forged into men of instant obedience not free thinkers: the Last Battle depends on their unflinching obedience and subconscious training. Picture also of the man who must give those orders, then picture the Dragon Reborn. It does not make it right, you and I may see a flesh and blood man where others see only a vessel of fate, but that is the way it is. Such it becomes our place to coax our brothers back when they drift toward insanity.. because we can handle it." Responsibility was a heavy burden, but an Aes Sedai wore it like a shawl.
All of it.
Lythia knew love and loss. She knew the sacrifice and the guilt that it was to continue waking up everyday, as though part of her thought it was a dishonor to his memory to put on her shoes and brush her hair, let alone embrace the masculine arms of another. Her heart though was sealed away for that day, hopefully the same day the Dark One died, and she could remember the sound of Shadow's voice again. Until then, though, shawl set her direction and the Tower set her pace. Her shawl was Green, and in her family there was comfort, but only for those of like mind. Nythadri had to be forged into a Green just like the rest of them. And like the way a girl of the ring knew a novice couldn't truly comprehend what the serpent cost them, an Aes Sedai knew something similar of the Accepted.
Nythadri had to learn patience. In the face of the hardest of temptations. Of course Lythia knew she'd not scribed her own name to the list. If Mai hadn't seen to that then Lythia would have, either way, Nythadri didn't have a choice. Just as she didn't have a choice that she was going to have to accept Lythia's leadership in these matters; and trust that it was for her own good in the way they were unfurled at the child's feet. Where a Green shawl waited at the end, a Green Sister would shove an aspirant forward step by exhuasting step, but it wasn't until this very moment - the moment Lythia rolled out the long list of updates - that she knew how the Accepted would handle it.
She looked devastated. Not for the news, or lack thereof, concerning her family. Ellomai did not bat more than an acknowledging eyelash. For that, Nythadri was a statue, lifeless as marble, her pupils as reflective. A child of nobility indeed.
No, what minimal color there was melted from her face, snowflakes upon glass. It struck, then iced angrily, then absorbed and slid away, transparent and forgotten. She seemed to take the news well, and if Lythia guessed correctly, likely implied a bit of self-preparation to hear such news. The violence and hardship of the Black Tower was not unknown to those of the White inclined to learn of it. Not simply because of moments like this, where an Aes Sedai was intending to impart some insight into the delicate cantilever of Black Tower politics, but because of the sheer commonality of knowledge regarding their life. A man who was found to channel was not given a choice, he would turn away, take the black uniform, and become something else. Tinkers became the very weapon they despised. Aiel realized the enormity of toh they could never meet. And the lighthearted, green-eyed boy from Falme would wake up one day and find himself scarred, within and without, unrecognizable from what he once was and unseeking to rediscover him. Kent, you will find your peace as I will find mine. Someday soon my brother.
Yes, Black Tower politics Nythadri was going to have to learn. Aes Sedai of the Green or any other Ajah, she was intwined with them now. The moment she'd captured the attention of one of them, the gears were set into motion. Where they were headed, Lythia could only surmise, her own experience likely biasing that end point, but if that were the case, and she knew the end of that tale, would she want it changed? In the interests of foolishly believing she knew what was best for a Sister? Or the opposite, a foolish nod to the alter Lythia herself could no longer serve? Love and devotion. For a someone, not a cause. Standing there, weighing Nythadri's every nuance, trying to decide how the child was accepting the news of an Asha'man's bloody struggles, well, she wasn't sure even she knew the answer to that question. She caught the dogged look of a dare though, of a silent threat looming behind the seeking eyes of a child just out of the loop enough to be aware of what she was missing. Lythia met that stare back, daring her to voice the demand stabbing at her. You may question me child but you will not like the answer. The Aes Sedai was met with only silence, however, and Lythia turned away, inwardly praising Nythadri's control. Though, for half a heartbeat, Lythia worried it was about to spiral out of hand.
"Lennox." She'd earned the answer. Spoken plainly because the child struggled and overcame. What simmered briefly to the surface calmed down again, and Lythia rewarded her effort. An inch of trust shown on her part, and another inch of the path forward was revealed. She knew the answer though, unneeding of Lythia's affirmation of a logical conclusion. If Jai were the sort to pick a fight, Lythia was unaware of it. All she knew was Aileen's accounts. All protocols were otherwise followed the night before. Black bodies trickled from the 'Throne Room' and a broken man was dumped before the boots of a rare Healer. He was confined to solitary and a watch posted. Somehow though, alcohol trickled into a quiet room, and the next day chaos left it.
Lythia supplied the answer quickly, without thinking over whether to do so or not. Nythadri earned the support, but things were not so simple. It had been Lythia Sedai who stood in the Chair of Remorse at Lennox's trial. The Greens voted against the Blues at the last three meetings of the Hall. Lythia was entangled with Lennox now, and where one brother pulled the threads of time around him, the other brother pushed the Pattern into his will. Kent was a member of the same family as Nythadri now, who the child would not know the complexity of everything involved, she someday would. Lennox earned himself a treacherous enemy now, and if implicating Lennox's brutality against Jai did not do it, what came next seemed to.
Nythadri finished the sentence that Lythia was about to roll from her tongue describing the threat of action she would take, of seeking justice for such a grave wrong, and Lythia shot the child the first disappointment in their brief interactions. Sacrifices that separated an Aes Sedai from an Accepted was a cold dose of the same reality which separated an Accepted from a novice. Nythadri jumped too quickly to the conclusion Lythia did not sympathize with such an insult, And when you lose your first warder child, you will know something of it as well.
Then contemplative serenity smoothed things over. Lythia chastized herself for the harsh snap, subtle as it had been. She was pushing Nythadri harder than she'd pushed any Accepted before, and then surprised when the child resisted the premature growth. The bond aided her then, Blake protecting her as a true warder protected his Aes Sedai from a fearsome enemy: herself, and she was able to absorb what Nythadri revealed.
She was right, of course. About leaders knowing who they led. Spoken ironically, did she realize how Lythia was doing the same thing with her? At this stage, and tentative balance Nythadri seemed to hold, that snowflake fighting a bloody battle against the windowpane, holding on to every shard until the last agonizing moment. She had to learn..experience was only captured one way. "What abstract lesson does a leader feel obligated to teach an Asha'man, Nythadri when obliterating him of identity brings more reliable results? They are not servants to guide the world with a steady hand as we are, widsom and temperance are not mantles they need carry. They're forged into men of instant obedience not free thinkers: the Last Battle depends on their unflinching obedience and subconscious training. Picture also of the man who must give those orders, then picture the Dragon Reborn. It does not make it right, you and I may see a flesh and blood man where others see only a vessel of fate, but that is the way it is. Such it becomes our place to coax our brothers back when they drift toward insanity.. because we can handle it." Responsibility was a heavy burden, but an Aes Sedai wore it like a shawl.
All of it.