An Early Evening Run

[Eidolon]

Byron

Well that was an interesting thought; had he managed to keep hold of the young boy that had come to the Tower so many years ago? Byron dwelled in his thoughts and memories, one hand shooting to the table, one finger stabbing down. He began to trace some nonsensical pattern across the table top, one finger becoming two to branch and join again as he thought over all the aliases and men he had been. Eventually his confident smile returned as one lone finger reached the edge of the table, and he snapped his fingers decisively, clearing deciding that whatever decision was positive.

He kept the 'real' Byron out of sight, neatly tucked away somewhere no one would see him, the Byron that existed before he had come to the Tower, before that fateful night and the fever dreams that had changed everything for him. Before he could give the topic any more thought, and risk learning things of himself he didn't wish to ever face, he switched his attention to her question. And a heavy one at that.

He chuckled warmly, watching her with a friendly smile, "Only an Aes Sedai could count a 'few hours' as a trip. A few hours and you can appreciate the architecture, certainly. But a city is more then mere buildings. People, stories, food! Which has more depth? A breath-taking mural of an important battle, or a tired old man missing a hand dusting the tables? Hours studying the mural and who would think to ask the old man a thing about it? Who would think that maybe, just maybe, he served in that battle? Lost his hand in the fighting, and for his valiant service was given a job in the palace rather then be left begging on the streets?"

"I couldn't suggest any one place, and I apologize for that good Lady Malaika. An Ogier Stedding? The forests are beautiful. And quiet. Creator's blessings but they are a comfortable place to visit, and they have no end of stories and history to share if you can find one willing to. Which usually isn't hard. There are no end of ruins and forgotten places all throughout the lands. I've never seen it myself, but I have read there might well be a city atop a mountain in the Spine of the World. Rumour and legend says it could well be from the Age of Legends. Whitebridge is always a pleasant sight, and the local brew is quite tasty."

He was silent a moment, one hand scrubbing through his hair before finally looking to her curiously, eyebrow perked, "So, of all the books you've read...where do you want to go? There must be one thing that always stood out, peaked your interest. Maybe a certain place you've read about more then others?"

Malaika

She watched him trace patterns on the tabletop curiously, gaze moving between the pattern itself and the expression on his face, as she finished her third cup of tea. At first she thought it was some elaborate joke - that he was running through his many characters in search of the 'true' one as if he himself was not sure who he was, but then his reverie ended, with neither punchline or conclusion, and he responded to her questions. She didn't wonder too long, but it was hard not think again of the little boy who had killed his master and fellows, the one who's mother was gold light and sunshine.

“Oh, I agree. I saw next to nothing of those places, but it was enough to shift my entire understanding.” One could read of the lure of Domani women; could even see it at the Tower in women such as Fate or Sooriya, but it was nothing like living it in context; golden skin brushed by sheer, supple fabrics, the sultry voices and thick accents calling wares upon which their livelihood had depended. She remembered staring at a soldier’s insignia; one she had seen dozens of times printed in books, but it had never had meaning before she'd seen it stitched on his breast. Then it had meant a King and country he would die for, a family he loved and protected, comrades he laughed and cried and fought with. It all went to show how closeted her life had been up to now, that she should find such small details so poignant.

Her entire purpose in the city today had been one of speaking to the locals, and it had been born of the marked differences she had finally realised between books and people. She had nothing left to learn about the history of Tar Valon from an academic point of view, but it was only a facet of understanding a place. Her lack of experience with people and culture - with living - had been a gaping black hole she’d never realised needed filling until recently. A single drop falling on a still pond, and now the ripples had alighted a curiosity not easily sated. She felt like a child seeing things for the first time rather than an Aes Sedai with twenty years of education and tutoring behind her.

When he spoke of the mural and the one-handed servant, she looked knowingly amused. “You never know what you might uncover from the most unlikely of sources,” she agreed. Like strangers who tied meat to their ankles turning out to be well-travelled gaidin. His perceptions were interesting, though; not least to a Brown who was only just starting to discover a world beyond the pages of her books. The turn of the conversation had led to a subtle but noticeable shift in her manner; she was no longer a quiet and thoughtful observer, but something more active, and closer to the way she was with her sisters. The focus was still there, but the light in her eyes was closer to glittering excitement than piercing seriousness. And, of course, she was beginning to speak more freely.

“I would like to travel everywhere,” she said. “Will, one day. But I couldn’t name one place above the others, any more than you could.” It could not be yet, not quite. There were still lessons one only learned when they wore the shawl, and the complexities of ajah life that one did not see when they wore the banded hems. It was not exactly forbidden; she could leave tomorrow if she really wanted to, and no one would stop her. But rushing blindly and alone would only prove dangerous, because she knew she was not worldly enough to rely entirely on herself. Not to mention the Seanchan occupation in Tarabon and parts of Ebou Dar, and the constant threat to Arad Doman. She would probably have to involve herself in the interests of other sisters for a time; travel and explore within a safe network before she could truly branch out on her own and go where she pleased. Malaika was not prone to impatience, but the thought of all those things undiscovered set her heart to longing. If she had not been so used to maintaining self-control, she would have sighed.

"I know everything about the mainland, and yet I know nothing about life here aside from the Tower." A strange place, the Tower; Malaika had tasted dishes from countries she had never been, and seen plants and animals from across the continent. Some Aes Sedai wore the latest fashions (or even historical fashions, which was equally as fascinating), or spoke in thick regional accents, and the colours of their skin, hair, and eyes ran the entire spectrum. Malaika wasn't ignorant in that sense, but all that foreignness was displaced here, all neatly packaged and diluted by the weight of the Aes Sedai, who were supposed to cast such ties away.

"I’d like to see sky lights the way the illuminators do it, feel the scorching heat of the Waste and the frozen winds of the north. Compare the methods of fishing in Tear and Altara, and share stories by the fires of the Tuatha'an. I'd seek out the forgotten places and visit the grandest of city libraries." She was aware she probably sounded childish, or at the least naïve, but she was very honest with it, and very clearly passionate. "And the Ogier..." Her lips twitched into a smile; she had a suspicion that should she ever visit one of the Ogier Steddings, she would not want to soon leave. "You have visited a Stedding, then? I watched the Ogier, sometimes, when they were here rebuilding the Warder Compound, but I was still an Accepted at the time. I didn't have the luxury of being able to speak with one. They are very... different from the Ogier of Seanchan."

Byron

"It is rather common opinion that Tar Valon, and the Tower even more so, is the center of the world. People both noble and common can be seen on it's steps, and is one of the few places I can think of where a Noble might willingly rub elbows with some 'low-born dog' simply because they are country men in a place so intimidating." While the reasoning for it wasn't so pleasant, the image was always heart warming; that complete strangers who might never speak in the day-to-day of their lives might be brought together so openly.

He laughed warmly, kicking his feet off the chair to sit properly again...in part because the door to the kitchen had started to swing open, "So you've never seen an Illuminator's display before? But I suppose Tar Valon does have other sources for feast days and celebrations. And as for the Aiel Waste...as I understand it, having not been there myself just yet, a quick trip to the kitchens in the height of summer and stand before the hearth for an hour or so might just do the trick. A dry heat, I hear. Dry the sweat off your back before it can even soak your tunic."

"I would like to see the other side of the Spine some day. Meet the Aiel on their terms? How they live and hunt and survive. And I've been told that 'Maidens Kiss' can be a very worth while gamble. Details are fuzzy, but I have heard it involves spears. Or knives." His attention seemed to drift as he once again wondered as to just how the particulars of that one worked, and just as often wondering if he would volunteer if the opportunity were to ever arise. In the end, he just shook his head and looked to her again.

"And the Tuatha'an! Some say their choice of colours is off putting, but I find it perfectly suited for their like. Music and fine food, stories and song. They've a dance that I wager would rival a rather infamous cousin performance in Saldea. Meant to boil a man's blood in his veins, it is, leave both his mouth and eyes naught but dust in the fire's light and smoke. That is, unless, you might have had a drink or two too many and decide to join in, yes?" His grin grew bold and he even offered her a wink. Truth be told, he hadn't had too much to drink by any interpretation of the word.

"My visit was short by their terms. A few days. My horse had been struck by a snake, but those Ogier are right handy at just about anything. Someone can tell you just how long lived they are, but it holds no meaning until they start talking about things that happened a hundred years ago and were actually there. Or at least, alive and heard it second hand. They never were much for travelling after all. And as for Seanchan Ogier...I've yet to cross blades with one..." His brow furrowed and he peered off into the distance briefly, before starting up again, "Not that...well, I doubt I could cross blades with one to begin with. My sword arm isn't near strong enough for something like that. But I think I much prefer -our- Ogier over them that hail from across the ocean."

Malaika

Byron seemed to approve of the mingling of classes, or perhaps disapproved of the fact there were classes to begin with. Given his background, she could sympathise with that, if it seemed an odd and rather anarchic concept. For all their painted evils, the one thing the Seanchan did not do was let their people go hungry or homeless. It was another way in which Byron simply wouldn’t have existed where she came from. He appeared to have a very fluid idea of people’s places in society; one that was at odds with the structure that had controlled Malaika’s entire life. She would think about that, but later.

The Tower did not observe all festivals, but the ones it did celebrate were always lavish affairs. Malaika had seldom attended any of them, and she imagined an illuminator’s display was something she could witness without ever leaving Tar Valon, if she so choose. It was the method itself that interested her, though she knew it was a closely guarded secret of the guild. In Seanchan, sky lights were made through damane and saidar - in fact she knew enough of the weaves involved to perform something passable herself. How many other tricks of the one power could be recreated through other means, though? That was what really intrigued her, and why she had numbered it among her curiosities.

She gave a half-smile at his depiction of desert heat, and was not much surprised at which facet of Aiel culture he professed to be most curious about. The only one of the Aiel Malaika had ever met - and that being in the very briefest sense of the word - was Kaiya Gaidin, and him only because he was Aliray's Warder and had unintentionally walked in on a fragile meeting between the two former damane. Mostly she remembered looking up for what had seemed forever, to a face as if carved from stone. A strange people. And fascinating, though there was little that couldn’t capture a Brown’s interest in one form or another.

She enjoyed the idea of the Tinkers, if it didn't seem very practical in this day and age. The idealism appealed to her, as did the richness of their forgotten history. She noticed that he’d once again brought the topic back to women. The thought of him joining in the infamous dance - aside from the fact that it was quite ridiculous - brought warmth to her cheeks. No doubt he would find it endlessly amusing to have made an Aes Sedai blush, and with such a tame comment too. She turned her gaze to the kitchen door, as though willing Mistress Osilia to choose such a fortuitous moment to interrupt. When she did not, Malaika was thankful that he moved the subject along swiftly.

The way he spoke of the Seanchan Ogier amused her for no reason she could properly identify. Few on the mainland spoke of her people … well, they were not her people anymore, she supposed, but a force invading her new home … but few spoke of them in favourable terms. She had been ashamed of her nationality in the past - the Tower looked upon the Seanchan’s practices with the same abhorrence they gave to Darkfriends - but these days she was more inclined to look back fondly at the face of society that Seanchan kept for herself. In her experience, many seemed to assume (or liked to believe) that Malaika rejected everything about her past, but it was not so. She would not often share the beautiful things she remembered - and certainly not without some kind of prompting - but he was a traveller, and she thought he might like to hear some small recollection of a country he might never be able to visit.

“I don’t suppose you’ve ever been across the sea?” Unlikely, but not entirely impossible. What most mainlanders knew of Seanchan was comprised of what they or others had seen of the invading force. Leashed channelers and exotic animals. “It is a beautiful and vast country.” Old memories tugged, pulled and blurred. “And the lopar.” She smiled in a slightly vague, reminiscent way. “More loyal and intelligent than any hound you would find here. But my favourite were always the torm. Such a fierce animal, and terribly unpredictable. If one chose you, though, you would not find a more stalwart companion.” She tilted her head, and whatever nostalgia had overcome her receded. “Morat’torm. It’s what I would have been, else been killed in the process. If I’d not been born a channeler, of course. Not many survive the taming of a torm anyway.” Looking at her fragile, bone-thin frame, it was difficult to imagine her as a rider of one of the huge three-eyed beasts, but she spoke no lie (and couldn’t have, anyway) that it would have been the course she would have pursued, had the collar and all the events that followed it not intervened. She shrugged as if to brush the thought away. ”Where do you plan to travel next?”

Byron

Well that had been the most readable response he had gotten out of her thus far. No need of finely honed awareness or trying to read the subtle shifts of her eyes, but an actual, even physical, response. A blush. His smile flashed warmly and was quickly schooled again before she glanced back from the kitchen door, no doubt hoping for a reprieve, but then she managed to subtly deflect the conversation onto an even more interesting topic.

"Cross the sea?! Oh Creator's Blessings no. River travel is fine and well, but out onto the open sea I've had less then sparkling success. One sunken ship is enough for me. At least in a river, shore isn't really all that far away." As she described her childhood dream and the myriad animals of the Seanchan, he couldn't help but smile in amusement. "I've heard Warders described much the same. I suppose smell is about all that might tell us apart then?" His grin widened and he strengthened his point by delicately plucking at his less then pristine shirt. Smells of food and tea and the subtle scent of dried leaves and wood chips did wonders for hiding it.

It was an interesting topic he had often dwelled over on some grassy hill or isolated balcony with a warm sky full of fluffy clouds to watch. Where would he have been had he not ended up at the Tower? Likely dead, or following in the ill fated Master Dekar's foot steps. With what few paths that had once marked his future, he was certain he had gotten the upper hand with his life at the Tower, doing some good rather then serving his own greed and self interest. Then there was the delicate question of where he might next go. An interesting thought, that was...he had various things in mind of course, especially involving one too-tough-for-her-own-good Accepted that he had taken to keeping an eye on (Whenever their writers finally have time to go about it).

"I've never been much of one for plans, per-say. Creator strike me deaf if I haven't let him make the call before. Coin toss, which way the wind blows, a cloud that looked suspiciously like a pointing hand. The opposite way of the hunting dogs. There are many subtle things that go into such decisions for me. The alternative is to wait about the Tower until some Aes Sedai scoops me up for some errand or another." He was never opposed to being put to use...what point was there for him to have so many skills if he never had to use them for anyone? He was a Warder after all.

Malaika

Her own journey across the sea had not been pleasant, and Seanchan was not a place she could ever return to unless the world changed vastly. The other continents were equally inaccessible, and the ships and isles of the Sea Folk were one of the few places Malaika was not sure she dare tread. She filled her cup with the last of her tea, reheating it with a few strands of fire, and held it with both hands while she reclined back in her chair. He did not make travelling across water - the sea or by river - sound any more enticing than her own experiences dictated, so she supposed it was fortunate that channelers had other methods of voyaging long distances. And fortunate also because she did not find riding a horse comfortable for long periods.

The torm were magnificent beasts, but they were still just beasts, and the comparison he made alarmed her. She had heard the association before, though usually from the lips of Aes Sedai and with herd animals like cattle. All in jest, of course, just as it was now, but it sat a little uncomfortably with one who had lived as no more than an animal, and had believed it to. A frustrated part of her wanted to vehemently point out the difference between animal life and human life, but it seemed inappropriate to snap at such a joking comment. He had not meant to strike a chord, and she was taking his words too literally and too close to the bone. That, she knew. Still, she didn’t bother to hide her unease, or the slight crease of her brow. An insistent voice in the back of her head wanted to ask why. Why he and others like him gave up their lives like that. Not to the Tower or the Light; that she could understand. But to a single woman? Like a torm to the master he chose, and a damane to the mistress she was given. It seemed unthinkable…

But it was not a subject she wished to bring up, so she sipped her black tea and let herself fall back into calm, green gaze absently running over the last of the dishes resting on the tabletop.

She was not very surprised by his answer to her question. She should have guessed he’d be like a leaf on the wind, following whim and Tower orders indiscriminately. What would a life like that be like? Enough fodder for a myriad daydreams, but not something Malaika was ever likely to experience, she supposed. She liked a chaotic order, but it was still order. Leaving such choices to the toss of a coin? It sounded amusing, but she was not sure she could ever bring herself to such flippancy.

“I wish you luck in that, then.” She smiled that curious half-smile, and didn't doubt that he would find himself something to do, nor that should she ever happen upon his company again, he would have a multitude of new stories to tell. "Although I could ask my sisters if they have need of a strong pair of hands if it's boredom you wish curing." The smile had changed to more of a smirk, and the words had an edge of mirth. Oh, she would ask if he truly wished it, but she doubted he would find much excitement in the dusty domain of the Brown's, nor in the sorts of tasks most Brown Warders ended up doing. Although, with what little she did know of Byron, he would probably make his own entertainment.

Byron

Well that was certainly a strong reaction, a rarity certainly but not quite what he had been hoping for. Of course he hadn't meant to upset her, but on the other hand it was an interesting insight to her mind and beliefs...although he would have to ponder it some to get a solid grasp on the words and the reaction. Then she moved on, expertly guiding to a less unpleasant topic and even a joke! Wonders of wonders but he seemed to be drawing her out of her curious walls.

He clearly gave her joking offer some thought. He'd likely be stuck carrying books and running simple errands. And Creator's protection if any discovered his skill at penmanship! None would likely care that he could mimic near any type of scrawl with a bit of practice, but more so that he could adopt a clear crisp hand easily enough. Writing was a tedious thing...unless he was forging a writ of some sort. That sort of thing was always exciting. "Well, I would certainly never turn down a request for help, but I could always hope it would be something that I'm particularly talented in. There isn't much to interest a Brown in my repertoire, asides from my penchant for long windedness and stories?"

Likely that was exactly the sort of things a Brown might be interested in most. His experiences and memory. Not many would care so much on how to play cards or dice, or seem to drink heavier then the rest of the players and show all the signs without any of the hamper. Not being drunk made you much better at gambling when everyone thought you were, after all.

Malaika

She hadn't explicitly told him she was Brown, so clearly he had been paying attention to the things she had said. It wasn't unobvious given the eclectic state of her curiosities, but it amused her that he should bother trying to fathom it out at all. She was much more used to drawing out unseen conclusions in others, rather than having the tables turned on her.

"Oh, I don't know. I should imagine you would be surprised." Funny that he should phrase it as a question. Her brows rose, and she smiled behind the rim of her cup. The public and private faces of the Brown Ajah were two different things, and most of the world only saw the Browns as archaic scholars and librarians. It was true, in part, but as with many things about the Aes Sedai it was not nearly so simple. Where did people suppose all that knowledge came from?

Of the Sitters, Aubrey and Razamira were the most traditional - although Razamira had spent a number of years travelling the Blight of all places, and they said Aubrey had won the Lord Dragon difficult allies without ever lifting her attention from the pages of her book. Fate was another matter entirely; many had apparently thought she would aspire Green, but Malaika couldn't think of a more perfect fit than the Brown. She liked the woman; had known the unusually pale Domani almost since her first day in the Tower, and she was the most likely Sitter for Malaika to turn to should she need to.

She leaned forward to put the cup back on the table, clinking it into the little groove of its saucer. “Of course, if you truly have no other plans, I would be grateful of a guide to the city.” The thought came from nowhere; she had planned to ask her sisters for help in that regard, but she thought Byron could show her a side of the city that they could not. Only if he had no other pressing duties, though; she had placed subtle emphasis on that, because she did not think he was the sort of man who could say no to an honest request like that, even if he should wish it. Especially as she was Aes Sedai. She had also left room for him to refer her to someone else if he preferred; it was not a gaidin’s responsibility to play guide, after all.

“Not quite the calibre of adventure you’re used to, I’m sure. But in the meanwhile, I will promise to keep my ears open for any that might make use of your rather unique talents.” Of which she was quite sure she did not know the half.

Byron

Now what was that reaction about? Wide eyes, hidden smile. Amused? So then, his suspicions were likely more enlightened then he had believed. For all the Brown Ajah's reputation for being out of touch of the modern world, the common belief of their lack of real-world knowledge and interest...well, you couldn't gather any group of women together without their being some sort of scheming, plotting, planning, and underhanded trickery behind those expert masks of lost gazes and bookish natures. Maybe they were more outgoing then some people believed, if properly interested of course.

He wasn't exactly surprised by her request. It made sense really, since he had already proven to be surprisingly knowledgeable. But, that an Aes Sedai had finally, FINALLY, asked something of him, even if it were little different then a trip to some far flung land for some clothes shopping on his expense, was so unusual that he couldn't help but smile proudly and even sit up a bit straighter.

"T'would be my honor, good Lady Malaika! I'm sure most Warders would be more interested flaunting statues of heroes or maybe even architecture. Battlements and defenses and all that good stuff. But no, not I!" He held a finger up, gesturing grandly to the air to strengthen his point, "No, for you will be a tour of the people! Merchants and workers and craftsmen and Innkeeps. Perhaps, if you play your cards right, you could come away with no end of friends and pleasant acquaintances with whom to share stories and adventures should I be absent on my escapades...or in the stockades somewhere."

He ended with a wry smile and a wink, implying it should not be so surprising that he might be a bit too familiar with the inside of a cell. "I would recommend, however, a good pair of shoes. If I am to be your guide, you will have to indulge me with a dance or two, if the mood strikes you to be willing of course. One cannot enjoy a true tour of this grand city if you've too much starch in your collar." His tone and expression were friendly; as was his style, he expected nothing more then pleasant conversation and a dance or two, no strings attached. He often preached that Aes Sedai too often denied themselves a chance to relax and simply be women. And what woman didn't like to dance?

Malaika

Malaika was surprised by his display of enthusiasm, because at least part of her had suspected that he might find the request menial, even if he did accept it. Politeness, she had expected, but outright gusto? She couldn’t fathom why he should be so keen, but she smiled anyhow, and was glad that she hadn’t appeared to place a burden on his shoulders by asking. She had worn the shawl for two years, by now, but still did not like to bid people unwilling, whether she had the authority to do it or no, and had she thought Byron was indulging her out of respect of her rank, it would have made her uncomfortable.

Her ignorance of the city meant she was not particularly fussy as to what he wished to show her, and she was as curious as to his choices as she was about Tar Valon itself. A tour of the people. Probably the area in which she struggled the most, and was the least easily remedied with books. She was not quite so optimistic in his assessment of gaining new friends and acquaintances, though she did not share that doubt aloud. Malaika was not unsociable, but she was quiet, and often it meant strangers did not warm to her quickly. A fact, not a complaint. She had formed few friendships over the years, and was not sure she even knew how, though neither was she preoccupied with the notion. She would enjoy the tour whatever it brought, through sheer inquisitiveness and the rarity of the situation.

She wondered, briefly, if he very often found himself in the stockades these days - it was quite the contrary image to his title, but then it did not seem as though he were the type to flaunt the cloak and medallion, even to save his own skin. And in fact he did seem to rather enjoy his roguish reputation. It only served to make a tale more interesting, she supposed, and had she not known he was gaidin, she would not have questioned it at all - even without the grin and wink.

--Dancing? The thought intruded quite suddenly, and she had been nodding absently to the mention of good shoes - presuming, of course, that they would be doing plenty of walking. Light above. She had never danced in her life, not through any particular dislike, but simply given the nature of most of her life. One of the few residues from her time as damane was an aversion towards touch and proximity, though that was another thought she kept to herself. If the mood strikes you to be willing, he had said. Well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

“I think you will be needing a strong pair of shoes, if that's the trade you wish to make." It had the sound of a warning, perhaps intended to put him off, but she appeared amused too - as the very words themselves suggested. Light forbid an Aes Sedai admit to a flaw, but he would have very sore feet if he insisted on a dance with her.