11-06-2017, 10:30 PM
When the Master at Arms recognized Nythadri, if he saw anything beyond an Accepted summoned by his Aes Sedai, his manner did not betray it. This time of day might typically see him nearer the warders' building, but if his schedule were repurposed to accomodate this appointment, he shielded such truth from dampening his response. "Come in."
He was polite, but never skirted the lines of propriety, especially when it was his Aes Sedai's honor at stake. However, Blakeahle was not a butler, he was a warder. One of the greats, at that. He strode gracefully away from the Accepted, in one way revealing the path to Lythia and in the other returning to her presence as protector. A trait in her gaidin that Lythia adored, her stately predator.
Over all, her quarters were equal in size to others of the Ajah portioned out in the same manner as the seven Ajahs themselves, excluding that of the Sitters of course. Heavy curtains drawn back on the far wall filled the room with a comfortable warmth. A rug defined the seating area spread before a stone fireplace. None of the upholstery or finishings were ornate, but elegant and simple with their earthy tones. They played second fiddle to her unique decor, both highlighting and complimenting the feeling of harmonious antiquity. Symbolic of the rugged lands of her youth. Every day items were often stone or other metalwork crafted into something functional and beautiful. The surface of a table might be smoothed granite, iron log pokers were curled into artistic handles, and rare stones of speckling colors reveaeled Lythia's taste for the earth's labors.
However, as great as the space identified its decorator, Lythia was not in it. Not to be seen in the archway leading to her personal office, another room of rich woods, boasting almost as many artifacts of Baerlon's Ironworks than it did actual books nor gliding down the corridor that led to the sleeping chamber. At the last moment before disappearing himself, Blake gestured one graceful hand at a tea set waiting on a table in the center of where Lythia and Nythadri would speak. "Help yourself."
Jars containing a few varieties of dried leaves were there as well as a Tower-delivered platter boasting some finger snacks - soft cheeses, crusted bread, tangy marmalade, crunchy carrots.
Which left the Accepted alone. Personally, at least. There were times even for Lythia when she felt like the weapons displayed above the hearth, like others often hung paintings, seemed to howl with the war cries of their former owners. None of them were hers, after all. The double curled horned bow mounted on the left and a crossed pair of Bo Sticks on the right once belonged to a Stone Dog of the Reyn Sept. In the center rested perhaps the only evidence that remained of a friendship between Rand al'Thor and the man he chose to succeed Michael Whiteraven as M'Hael. The hand and a half longsword seemed more elegant than intimidating, although that judgement did not include the image of the man who once wielded it. The scabbard and hilt were branded with herons entwined with the serpent on the Dragon Banner. The only one of its kind, sadly never to be used again. Asha'man al'Mere was trained by White Tower warders and so turned into the most honorable and deadly combination a man could possibly be. He was also Lythia's reason for living. And he was dead.
Lythia turned from her mirror to squeeze Blake's hand and kiss him gently on the cheek when he brought her news of Nythadri's arrival. "Thank you, my friend."
He smiled gently, but affectionately, while brushing back one waving cord of her hair to fix in her favorite pin. The petals of a small five point flower were black-flecked turquoise and curled outward with tendrils of tiny jade stones. Her only jewelry, aside from the serpent ring. By many standards Lythia was never ostentatious, even at her grandest. Although, all these years later, compared to her childhood she felt like a princess in disguise. No matter how she felt, though, it jumped pleasantly against her red-gold hair, through which Blake tucked behind her ears. "You.... Are adorable."
She smiled broadly when he left.
The front door to her quarters opened in the meantime. Through it strolled a dark haired beauty with a face as famous as Lythia's. Lianora and Lythia often helped themselves to visiting one another, Sisters in friendship and name despite what awkward rumors encrusted their reputation. She paused upon seeing an Accepted in the company of a tea set, smiled a pleasant greeting and said she would call upon Lythia later as there was no hurry to her correspondance as to require interrupting what was clearly an appointment. The white haired gaidar in her company nodded a quiet greeting before accompanying Lianora out.
Some minutes later Lythia was standing quietly on the edge of her main living chamber to watch Nythadri. No subterfuge was involved, she was merely an Aes Sedai interested to see how an intriguing Accepted might wait. Would she help herself to afternoon tea or wait for Lythia to join her? Lythia guessed a girl raised by Andor's nobility would wait. As much as the White Tower required one to forsake former lives, certain traits lived forever. Would Nythadri study the culture mounted on Lythia's walls? Any novice could identify the Dragon Symbol, for instance, and were not ignorant of history. Perhaps she would fidget, in agitation or boredom. Lythia knew all about Nythadri, but she knew very little about her.
Blakeahle finally broke the quiet, not by accident, when he brushed gracefully past Lythia. The other Gaidin in the Ajah hall waved inside on a subtle bow when Lythia caught his eye. She entered the room fully after that, "To the winner go the spoils,
" she called after their disappearing backs on a laugh.
"Nythadri, welcome."
She opened her palms with a pleasant smile. As soon as she was close enough, a sense of Nythadri's strength in Saidar touched her knowledge as happened upon reunion of all channelers. "The Games are today."
Spoken as though that explained everything, she crossed over to the rug as her eyes drifted upward. To the sword, "beautiful, isn't it? If only you could have met the man that owned it."
She drew a recentering breath of air and sat. "Please, take your choice of blends, I was not sure what you might like. The first is Saldaean, very flowery. The middle is Cairhienin, dark and bitter. The last is Domani...I suppose there's no need to describe that one."
Her expression hinted at knowing more than she was letting on, "In case you've acquired a taste for it,"
and potentially their topic of discussion for the day. Or at least, the theme for the day. Lythia was no pawn wielding Blue, but she was not without her intrigues.
He was polite, but never skirted the lines of propriety, especially when it was his Aes Sedai's honor at stake. However, Blakeahle was not a butler, he was a warder. One of the greats, at that. He strode gracefully away from the Accepted, in one way revealing the path to Lythia and in the other returning to her presence as protector. A trait in her gaidin that Lythia adored, her stately predator.
Over all, her quarters were equal in size to others of the Ajah portioned out in the same manner as the seven Ajahs themselves, excluding that of the Sitters of course. Heavy curtains drawn back on the far wall filled the room with a comfortable warmth. A rug defined the seating area spread before a stone fireplace. None of the upholstery or finishings were ornate, but elegant and simple with their earthy tones. They played second fiddle to her unique decor, both highlighting and complimenting the feeling of harmonious antiquity. Symbolic of the rugged lands of her youth. Every day items were often stone or other metalwork crafted into something functional and beautiful. The surface of a table might be smoothed granite, iron log pokers were curled into artistic handles, and rare stones of speckling colors reveaeled Lythia's taste for the earth's labors.
However, as great as the space identified its decorator, Lythia was not in it. Not to be seen in the archway leading to her personal office, another room of rich woods, boasting almost as many artifacts of Baerlon's Ironworks than it did actual books nor gliding down the corridor that led to the sleeping chamber. At the last moment before disappearing himself, Blake gestured one graceful hand at a tea set waiting on a table in the center of where Lythia and Nythadri would speak. "Help yourself."
Jars containing a few varieties of dried leaves were there as well as a Tower-delivered platter boasting some finger snacks - soft cheeses, crusted bread, tangy marmalade, crunchy carrots.
Which left the Accepted alone. Personally, at least. There were times even for Lythia when she felt like the weapons displayed above the hearth, like others often hung paintings, seemed to howl with the war cries of their former owners. None of them were hers, after all. The double curled horned bow mounted on the left and a crossed pair of Bo Sticks on the right once belonged to a Stone Dog of the Reyn Sept. In the center rested perhaps the only evidence that remained of a friendship between Rand al'Thor and the man he chose to succeed Michael Whiteraven as M'Hael. The hand and a half longsword seemed more elegant than intimidating, although that judgement did not include the image of the man who once wielded it. The scabbard and hilt were branded with herons entwined with the serpent on the Dragon Banner. The only one of its kind, sadly never to be used again. Asha'man al'Mere was trained by White Tower warders and so turned into the most honorable and deadly combination a man could possibly be. He was also Lythia's reason for living. And he was dead.
Lythia turned from her mirror to squeeze Blake's hand and kiss him gently on the cheek when he brought her news of Nythadri's arrival. "Thank you, my friend."
He smiled gently, but affectionately, while brushing back one waving cord of her hair to fix in her favorite pin. The petals of a small five point flower were black-flecked turquoise and curled outward with tendrils of tiny jade stones. Her only jewelry, aside from the serpent ring. By many standards Lythia was never ostentatious, even at her grandest. Although, all these years later, compared to her childhood she felt like a princess in disguise. No matter how she felt, though, it jumped pleasantly against her red-gold hair, through which Blake tucked behind her ears. "You.... Are adorable."
She smiled broadly when he left.
The front door to her quarters opened in the meantime. Through it strolled a dark haired beauty with a face as famous as Lythia's. Lianora and Lythia often helped themselves to visiting one another, Sisters in friendship and name despite what awkward rumors encrusted their reputation. She paused upon seeing an Accepted in the company of a tea set, smiled a pleasant greeting and said she would call upon Lythia later as there was no hurry to her correspondance as to require interrupting what was clearly an appointment. The white haired gaidar in her company nodded a quiet greeting before accompanying Lianora out.
Some minutes later Lythia was standing quietly on the edge of her main living chamber to watch Nythadri. No subterfuge was involved, she was merely an Aes Sedai interested to see how an intriguing Accepted might wait. Would she help herself to afternoon tea or wait for Lythia to join her? Lythia guessed a girl raised by Andor's nobility would wait. As much as the White Tower required one to forsake former lives, certain traits lived forever. Would Nythadri study the culture mounted on Lythia's walls? Any novice could identify the Dragon Symbol, for instance, and were not ignorant of history. Perhaps she would fidget, in agitation or boredom. Lythia knew all about Nythadri, but she knew very little about her.
Blakeahle finally broke the quiet, not by accident, when he brushed gracefully past Lythia. The other Gaidin in the Ajah hall waved inside on a subtle bow when Lythia caught his eye. She entered the room fully after that, "To the winner go the spoils,
" she called after their disappearing backs on a laugh.
"Nythadri, welcome."
She opened her palms with a pleasant smile. As soon as she was close enough, a sense of Nythadri's strength in Saidar touched her knowledge as happened upon reunion of all channelers. "The Games are today."
Spoken as though that explained everything, she crossed over to the rug as her eyes drifted upward. To the sword, "beautiful, isn't it? If only you could have met the man that owned it."
She drew a recentering breath of air and sat. "Please, take your choice of blends, I was not sure what you might like. The first is Saldaean, very flowery. The middle is Cairhienin, dark and bitter. The last is Domani...I suppose there's no need to describe that one."
Her expression hinted at knowing more than she was letting on, "In case you've acquired a taste for it,"
and potentially their topic of discussion for the day. Or at least, the theme for the day. Lythia was no pawn wielding Blue, but she was not without her intrigues.