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Where the River Goes, the Wind Blows
Tue Aug 8, 2006 10:19
71.36.38.218 (XFF: 192.168.1.3)

For her part, the young Dedicated had returned to her rooms, and for the majority of the small break had merely sat, sipping from a chipped ceramic cup. The tea she had brewed was as near to perfect as it could be with old leaves. Not stale leaves, not yet, but she hadn’t really had the time to go into the village and pay for some new.

The Black Tower bustled below her window, and as she slowly drank the tea, she watched it. Men, both young and old, dashed about in that curious manner that spoke of both confidence and urgency. Asha’man sometimes moved through those crowds too, as lean and hard as wolves. There were new faces, too. New recruits that couldn’t channel a whit, but the Black Tower still allowed them a place in the Dragon’s Army. That made sense. After all, wars were not won with channeling alone.

She even thought she saw a glimpse of Afailla, a flash of copper-red hair in the sea of black, but she couldn’t be sure. “She’ll probably get herself lost.” She murmured, smiling over the edge of her cup. She’d been lost more than once in the Black Tower herself, in the beginning. The smile soured, though, when she remembered her first visit to the Tower – and then, she hadn’t really seen much of the grounds.

As always, when Poettre touched her thoughts, Reese’s mood darkened. But she had spent too many nights wondering what the man was about to let an errant thought of him in the day ruin what was left of her calm. With an effort, she pushed Poettre from her thoughts, and set her empty teacup down on the scarred and beaten table she’d been sitting at. It was almost time, and it would do no good at all to be late for a lesson she was teaching.

She stood, taking only a moment to eye her reflection, and then walked out the door. The narrow stairs creaked as she went down them, but she paid it no mind. Those stairs had always creaked. Going back to the benches under the oak tree took her less than five minutes – though the ground-eating strides she was taking probably aided that, along with the silver pin at her neck.

She found Afailla almost exactly where she had the first time – sitting on the hard wooden bench. She looked as if she were trying to stuff more food into her mouth than could actually fit, and as Reese sat down on the other bench, she was sure she heard the woman cough.

“I hope you got enough to eat, Afailla.” She said, smoothing her hands over her loose-fitting breeches. Everything she wore was black, of course, save for that silver pin. “Before we begin again, I’m going to tell you a little more about saidar. At first, it won’t seem to make any difference – learning to use the Power is like meeting a new friend; it takes time to understand it completely.” The Shienaran nodded, indicating that she understood, and Reese went on.

One by one, she described the elements of saidar, moving through them quickly and without pauses that might invite questions. Questions could come later. She explained, in brief sentences, the uses for each; how Spirit was used primarily in Healing, how Air could be many things, from swords to gales of wind, and so on.

“When dealing with saidar, it seems that the threads of each element carry with them a certain … feel. For example, when I first used earth, I could have sworn to the Light that I smelled fresh-turned black farmland.” Afailla looked a little confused, but Reese wasn’t sure she could help in this particular regard. “It is different for everyone, so I am told.” A slow nod from the girl.

“Now, I want you to begin again, picturing the flower bud in your mind.”

She went on, saying much the same thing that she had before, when she’d been giving Afailla a chance to embrace saidar for the very first time. This time, though, she added something a bit different, once it was obvious that the young woman was coming close to holding saidar for a realistic amount of time. Time and again, that nimbus of light flared around her, flickered, and was gone. But each time, it stayed a little longer.

“Now all I want you to do is concentrate on making a tiny breeze. Just a puff of wind, enough to raise the dust on the ground.” She said, watching Afailla’s face. It was a picture of concentration, and determination. “Feel saidar flowing through you, like a great river. You must guide this river to do what you wish, and be guided by it.” She said, and continued the almost singsong speech as the girl concentrated.

Who knows, maybe she’ll be able to do it. It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened. It seemed like women were coming into the Black Tower stronger and with more potential than had ever before been seen. Even the White Tower’s ranks were thickening, strengthened by girls from every nation.



Woo! Alright, so you can have Afailla make it blow a little, a lot, or not at all. I figured Air would be as good a place as any to start. After this, you’re all done!

-Renee

  • I think I could eat a horse!Soldier Afailla Dafrin, Tue Aug 8 06:56
    Afailla listened closely to everything her instructor said, trying her best to commit it to memory, so that even if it didn’t make sense at just that moment, she’d be able to mull it over later and... more
    • Where the River Goes, the Wind Blows — Reese Laejah, Tue Aug 8 10:19
      • Autumn breezes.Soldier Afailla Dafrin, Tue Aug 8 17:04
        Once she’d managed to get over choking, Afailla could smile at the Dedicated and answer her questions with relative ease. “Yes, Dedicated Reese – quite enough.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but she ... more
        • Credit!Renee, Tue Aug 8 17:40
          And to answer your question, yes, she can channel all she wants. Obviously, if she doesn't have the strength to do something then it's not possible -- or if she hasn't been shown a complicated weave. ... more
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