LOG: Air's Sirdye??

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Location: Practice Yard: The White Tower, Tar Valon

Cast: Kradan Jessnaov, Sang Rialle, Alteri n'Aijma

Scene: Cooped up in the Infirmary for too long, Alteri has convinced the Healers to let her outside for a little bit of fresh air and sunshine. A Sworn she meets helps explain some of the strangeness she has found herself to be in the middle of.

Summer morning. The Tower is bustling, as it always is, the low clamour of petitioning crowds lending a hum of white noise to the environs outside the practice yard. Occasionally, a daring thrush or sparrow darts between feet shuffling in impatience, picking at crumbs fallen from hasty breakfasts being had by those hopeful to finally get to see an Aes Sedai today. Wending through the throng of bodies, a tall figure, leaning heavily on a shorter one, emerges. Slowly, they make their way to the practice yard.

The taller figure, now seen to be a somewhat gaunt-looking woman, is pale under her tan, the shadows around her eyes belying her current state of health. Helping her stay relatively upright is a Novice, who sees the woman to a shaded spot under one of the many trees outlining the Practice Yard, carefully seating her down and speaking a few words before departing.

Clack, clack... The sound of practice lathes fill the air of the yard that the bellows of Gaidin. Trainee and Sworn sweat, huff, and puff beneath watchful eye of Gaidin in morning ex cerise or sword practice or bow practice or endless laps around the track.. Whatever myriad of training comes to the mind of the Gaidin is inflicted upon the students in a merciless torrent to burn away the remnants of their normal life and forge them into Gaidin- The Best.

"You slack-jawed, wool headed, flaming worthless piece of hock!" Bellows a deep voice from a training ring where two Trainees are present with weighted practice lathes in their hands and the rest of the class sitting around a quarter of the circle. The source of the voice is Kradan who troops into the ring and grabs both blades in his hands as the Trainee's to strike. His movements swift and sure and the cold fire in his eyes enough to sear the skin off the poor students bones is levelled onto them. "In all the years I've been here, you two have got to be the worst swordsmen I've ever seen." He growls in a voice cold enough to crack steel as he shoves the blades with his hands- pushing the two back two steps. "You counter ~Boar Rushes Down the Mountain~ with ~Arc of the Moon~ one more time and I'll personally see to your late night training." The tall Kandori growls to one green eyed lad of no more then thirteen (the look of the North in him) and the Gaidin has him shaking in his boots. "AND YOU!" He continues to roar as he rounds on the older looking trainee with brown eyes and the look of Andor in him, who was starting to smirk- until Kradan dropped his attention onto him. "You try and pull that two-timing trick around me and we'll see how well you fare against a real swordsman!" The two properly subdued and Kradan strides out of the ring with his cloak snapping in his wake and he barks, "Continue!"

The hubbub of the crowds outside seem to fade the closer one gets to the centre of martial activity in the Tower, replaced by the expected noise of boys and men being beaten into acceptable shape by the Gaidin. Drawing her knees up to hug, the woman, easily deduced to be one of the many patients populating the Tower's infirmary, drops her chin to rest on them, eyes drinking in the sights and sounds as if being seen for the first time. And perhaps that is so. For if talk is to be believed (and talk always finds time to fly about the hallowed confines of the White Tower) this is the problem patient that was brought back along with the rest of those on the recent field trip to Kandor.

Word is that the Thakan'dar taint had so great a foothold upon her that more than one Yellow sister had come close to collapsing in the bid to claw her back from death's grasp. What a commoner woman with no ties to the Tower was doing in the way of a Fade's blade was never explained and speculation is rife with guesses ranging from a death-wish from a broken heart to a foolish attempt to get an Aes Sedai to bond her. All this, she herself knows not, confined as she has been to the Infirmary. This is the first day the Yellows have loosed their apron strings on her, thus here she is, outside for some sun and fresh air. It just so happens that the Novice had seated her under the tree closest to the training ring and she watches avidly, the bellowed ire of the tall man actually putting a faint smile upon her pale lips. Studying the boys in the ring, her head tilts one way, then the next, an absorbed expression on her angular face that also holds the look of the north.

Clack, clack, clack.. The two Trainees sweat and grunt as they strike at each other with the real-weight practice lathes. Practice lathes with a metal, which means one doesn't want to get struck by these blades, as they tend to leave more then just a welt- at times a broken bone can happen. The two trainees in the ring seem well aware of this as they work -very- hard to not let those swords touch skin and under the hawk-eye attention of Kradan- they better not slack. Only back for, maybe, a week and already the tall Kandori is setting his reputation back into place- his teachers would be proud.

Clack, clack, CRACK! The older looking Trainee crumples to the ground as his eyes roll back into his head and he slumps to ground with a split scalp. "Good! You see that, boys?" The Gaidin suddenly bellows as the green eyed lad shudders and squeaks in surprise. The tall man strides over to the Northern looking trainee, growling all the while in a tone of voice that would seem more suited to a battle field than the training yard. "Gerald tried ~River Undercuts the Bank~ -while- Rasha's blade was up! A poor choice in attack and none he pays for it." A slap to the Rasha's shoulder, "Sit with the others." The Kandori growls and he points one of the trainee's sitting, snapping a finger. "Joshua, drag this piece of meat to the infirmary." A hard growl as he motions to Gerald. "Jacob! Halord! Front and center!" He bellows as he steps out of the ring and cuts hard eyes to those he calls for.

A blonde haired boy scampers up quickly with his practice lathe in his hand as a black haired boy scampers to the center of the ring as well. Both have the look of the South and both grip practice lathes in hands. "Begin!" Comes the command and the two begin to attack each other with practice lathes a blur.

A look bordering on delight paints itself across the woman's planed features. Though unlike the few Green Sisters twittering in their own Aes Sedai fashion over the sight of straining, sweaty bodies, she seems far more interested in the forms than in anything more prurient. Pale eyes peek out from under unruly bangs, the woman following every move with an intense scrutiny, barely blinking in her apparent need to take in... everything. "Oh, close one." Shifting along with the flurried moves being played out upon this martial dance floor, she tsks and shakes her head when the one named Gerald attempts that foolhardy move. "Mmph, lucky." Lucky the injury was not worse, she means. Idly plucking at the hem of her ill-fitting dress, the woman observing the sword practice holds an unconscious conversation with herself as she hmphs and mutters, "Should've used Moon Rises Over the Water..."

Sang comes through the Courtyard entrance of the large wall surrounding the Practice Yard.
Sang has arrived.

The trainees work the lathes with a little more skill then the last group. It seems this pair are much further along in their training as the two work the lathes with a -almost- practiced ease, even if they lack the fluid grace of a Sworn- to say nothing of a Gaidin. The duo work through basic forms with air of ease. "If I don't see some Tier two or Tier three forms soon. -I- will bloody help you!" The Gaidin bellows in a voice sharp enough to cut hair with and the Jacob and Halord pick up the pace. The forms becoming more intricate and complex, which in turn earns a nod from the tall Kandori.

"Hast! Join them!" The tall Kandori barks sharply as dark eyes snap to red headed lad with the look of Andor on him. The young man jumps to his feet quickly with practice lathe in hand. He dives right into the melee with energy only the youth seem to hold. "Enjoying the display of children playing at being men?" Kradan growls as dark eyes flit to Alteri and he studies the woman with those dark eyes. He adds, "You must be the lass everyone speaks of. You took a Fade's blade and lived."

The higher level of skill this new group of trainees displays has Alteri sitting up a little and she gives off the impression of a fox pricking its ears up in added interest at the flowing moves unfolding before her eyes. Still thoroughly unconscious of her self-directed mutterings, she hums thoughtfully, nodding at various points in the mock fight. "Hnn, little more spin and would've hit. Oh, should've gone for the pivot joint. Least he didn't over-extend." The instructor's bellowing does not appear to affect her much even as she observes the way he runs the boys through their paces with merciless hardness.

Alteri about misses being addressed by him and it takes a long moment for his words to sink in. It takes effort but she manages to tear her eyes away from the trio to look up at the man, mild confusion colouring her features, "I.. don't know. It looks fun." Giving a light shrug, that is all the explanation she can muster. Meeting his dark gaze with one that is utterly guileless, her eyes then flicker to the side, considering the rest of his words, "That's what the hag, um, I mean the healer Garissa Sirdye said. I don't remember what's a faid." Of their own volition, her eyes return to the boys duking it out in the ring, the subject at hand easily being dismissed for something more interesting. The summer morning begins to warm her and she pushes up the sleeves of her ill-fitting dress, exposing yet more scars that litter the surface of both her arms. Not that she notices as her chin drops back down to her raised knees to watch.

Sang makes his slow way through the Practice Yards, stopping here and there to speak quietly with Trainees or Sworn that he knows. The sight of the woman in the Practice Yards has him ducking his head into something of a bow and starting to turn away--and then he spots the ill-fitting dress and recognizes the woman. Padding over towards Alteri on soft-soled shoes, the Mayener dips his head and gives a little wave, although he remains silent for now.

Situated on a small rise and shaded from the full glare of the summer sun by a leafy oak, Alteri makes an odd picture in her seemingly hand-me-down outfit. There is a gauntness in her cheeks, matching the word being spread that this person was the problem patient that returned with the rest of the Tower contingent from Kandor. Hugging her knees, she blinks when someone enters her line of sight. A small man, who bows, then makes to depart. But then he does not, and small form or otherwise, he is blocking her view of the practice ring. Unable to see around him, she forces her eyes -to- him. The wave he gives appears to puzzle her, "Good day." A pause, "Why are you waving?"

Sang blinks, his thick brows knitting together in confusion. His hand drops back to his side, "Hello?" He glances behind him, then steps aside, clearing the line of sight to the practicing Trainees. Just a hint of jealousy is hidden away within his gaze as he turns back, and then a smile blossoms on his features. It too passes away, but leaves his face open and friendly again in its wake, "I am glad to see you up and about, Mistress Alteri."

A hint of curiosity now, and Alteri shifts where she sits to face the young man. "Hello?" She echoes back, deciding to follow whatever protocol this person practices. She does not catch that hint of jealousy, busy as she is in studying Sang from head to toe. A blink, here and there, indicating internal gears turning in her head. Then he smiles and she returns in out of reflex, letting it peel away as soon as his disappears. "All terry." she echoes again. "So that is who I am?"

Sang frowns again, then pushes the expression away with a smile that is certainly a little forced. Crouching down easily just to one side of the seated woman, the little man rests his elbows on his thighs, his fingertips just touching. "Do the Aes Sedai know you are out here, Mistress Alteri?" The words are soft and quiet, concern clear behind them for all that they are perfectly polite.

Alteri shuffles as unobtrusively as possible on her bottom, making a little more space between herself and the small man. Mild suspicion colours the pale eyes that watch him hawkishly though she makes no other movements other than to clasp her twitching hands together, forcing them to stop doing so in the process. "That old hag, er, I mean, healer sirdye said I could come out for a bit." she states a little defensively, "She said so, she did." In her need to protect her right to be outside, she misses the man's quiet concern, simply hugging her knees more tightly as if that would make her less easy to eject from the place.

Sang frowns again at the tightening of the woman, and then a smile flashes across his face and he unfurls from his crouch. He moves smoothly away from the woman to ensure he doesn't frighten her further, extending backwards until his hands plant on the ground, arching his body, and then he kicks up so that he balances neatly on his hands. Palming his way around so that he faces the woman, now watching her upside down, he lightens his voice a bit, "Then being out must be a good idea." He jerks one leg towards the practising Trainees, "You like watching them, Mistress Alteri?"

Caught flat-footed by the move the man pulls, Alteri's eyes widen to the size of saucers, her mouth dropping open. Despite herself, a laugh bubbles up from deep within her, marred then by a wince when that jars her still healing wound. That detracts not from her wonder, however, and she tries to turn her head upside-down to properly view the man, much like what falcons do on occasion. Except her neck joints are not built the same, thus all she accomplishes is to look far sillier than the hand standing man himself. "Hmm?" Nodding her awkwardly tilted head, she agrees, "Out is good. It smells funny inside there." The infirmary, she means. Another nods when he kicks towards the trainees, "It looks fun. I wish I could do that." Thinking a moment, she sticks out a paw to the man, "I am All-terry, I think. Who are you?" Upside-down introductions. This White Towel place is interesting.

Sang grins an upside-down grin at the laugh, then nods at her comment about the infirmary, "Too many herbs." The outstretched hand gets a long look, and then the Mayener takes a sharp breath and shifts his weight to his left hand, holding out his right. He maintains the poise for a moment, almost long enough to clasp Alteri's hand, and then has to bring his hand back down to catch himself. "Sorry... the hill is a little to steep." He lowers himself down out of the handstand, righting himself and then reaching to take the offered hand, "Sang Rielle. I am a Sworn here." He frowns a moment, "You know this. We have spoken before." He blinks sharply, "Or you were hurt even worse than anyone thought?" That would be quite badly indeed, given how close to death the whole camp assumed the woman was.

A blinding grin and she shakes his hand. Alteri might wish the shake was a vigorous one but it really is just a tightening of clasping fingers - the reserves to do more have yet to be rebuilt. Then she gives a small sound of agreement, "Makes me want to sneeze all the time." A glance down then, as she places her hand gingerly over the spot the still burns under the thin surface of her skin, "Sneezing hurts. Made it break open." She pins the man with a serious look, "The hag got mad. It's not good to make her mad." she notes with the air of sharing an important fact. "The sirdye are in charge of the white towel, so you don't want to make them mad." Giving the man a forgiving shrug when he apologises, she absorbs the information he recites, "Sang Rialle." Then a blink, "Swan? You don't look like a swan to me." The additional information, however, has her expression closing up, "I -don't- know this. People keep saying I should know this or that. I don't, all right? I don't know you. I don't know any white towels and I don't know why sirs should be dyed." And she is back to hugging her knees with an almost desperate tightness, refusing to look at the one named Sang now.

Sang nods at the cogent points of the explanation, although confusion wrinkles his brow as he does some translation. The comparison to himself to a swan--based on a misunderstanding or not--draws a chuckle from him though. He shrugs helplessly, "You did not know me until just now then." He steps back, allowing the woman some space as he accepts her predicament. His left hand presses to his chest, "Sworn. I am Sworn to the White Tower." The terms are emphasized, "It means I will serve the White Tower, and the Aes Sedai," once more, emphasis is given and the words carefully enunciated, "when my training is done." He smiles again, "I could be a swan though. I float well."

Lips thinning, Alteri nods once, firmly. "I did not know you until just now," she affirms. A sense of fairness, however, impresses itself on her and she loosens up a little, "S'nice to meet you. I know..." Releasing her hold on her knees, she counts slowly, "Three names now. No, four. I forgot to add my own." This, she states with an air of satisfaction. Turning back to the Sang person, she listens to his explanation. "Sssssworn. Like, swearing?" Something pings in the back of her mind, but it is faint and she shrugs it off. "Is it only the Air that has Sir... Sedai? What about, um, Mud? Does Mud have Ssssedai too?" Sang's last has her offering a tentative smile back. For all she knows, he -does- float with the Air Sedais.

Sang nods slowly, "Like swearing an oath. Making a promise." The mention of Air Sedai draws a sharp blink, "-Aes- Sedai." He glances over his shoulder, and a mischievous grin flits across his features, "Mud only has Aes Sedai if they trip on a rainy day." He flushes a little at the image, looking down, then shrugs his shoulders, crouching down once more as the blush slowly starts to fade away.

Alteri mirrors Sang's slow nod, it is just easier to do. "Oath. I... I know what that is." Surprised that she does, she tries to figure out why. Her disappointment is palpable when her attempt fails. She exhales a small sigh. Peering at Sang as if he may be slightly daft, she yeas slowly, "I said that didn't I? Air's Sedai." Hunkering down to share in the revelation, she mmphs, covering her mouth when mirth threatens to spill over. Whispering loudly, she asks, "So they too can trip on air? Does that still make them Air's Sedai then?"

Frustration writhes across Sang's face, an expression rarely seen on the open features except when a sword is in his hands. "Aes Sedai. It means Servant of All. It has nothing to do with air." The bitty Sworn's dark eyes close, he takes a long, deep breath, then opens his eyes again, most of the frustration gone, "Apologies. That was sharper than I meant." The little man looks down, his embarrassment plain to see.

If Alteri had a reflecting glass, she might recognise the frustration on Sang's face as being something that is spread across her own more often than not since she gained consciousness. Since she does not, she simply looks on, accepting his explanation that is writ on the blank slate of her existence now that someone has taken the time to properly explain the term. "Ae...es. Aes." Brows lifted in query, she repeats it back to him, "Aes Sedai? No air?" She gives him another forgiving shrug. "It's all right. You explain stuff. Almost no one else does. They just say what I should. Know." His embarrassment escapes her scrutiny as she falls into a moment of melancholy.

Sang nods his head, "No air. It is the Old Tongue. Another language." He relaxes slightly at the almost-spoken forgiveness, "People tend to be more focused on their own problems than those of others." He rocks slightly back and forth in his crouch, going silent for a long moment as if the long sentence wore out his store of words. Finally he adds, "Aes Sedai and their Warders are very busy. Important doings."

"So these," Alteri touches callused fingertips to her lips, "Words we say. Is New Tongue?" It appears she takes his next words to heart, for she straightens under the ill-fitting drape of her dress. "You're right. I don't want to do that." Pausing, she adds, "I wanted to help... I have no money," she painfully admits, "And I eat, and eat - all the time, I do nothing but eat." From her expression, the fact of this bothers her greatly, "But one Sir.. -Sedai- refused to let me." The fall of her crest is easy to see. And then, "What are warters?"

Sang puzzles over the first question, opening his mouth to answer immediately, then stopping, closing his lips, and thinking about it for a moment longer. Eventually he admits, "I do not know. It is just what we speak." The mention of eating draws another nod, "You have been Healed. Used a lot of energy. Need the food." Training with the Warders is rough business, after all, and Sang has felt that cool touch more than once himself, if not so strongly as Alteri. Shifting on his heels to face out to the yards, the bitty Sworn points out a few of the wolfish men directing training, "Warders. They protect Aes Sedai, train Trainees and Sworn. Very skilled fighters."

"So... there is no name for it." The corners of Alteri's lips curl up a smidgen, "I feel a kinship to our tongue then." she says most dryly. "Healed.. healing. It is normal then? Always having a hole in here?" She uncurls from her knee hugging position to pat her lace-covered belly, which has begun to rumble again, much to her dismay. As the Sworn points the men out to her, Alteri peers with undisguised curiosity, seeing a few with the same cloak she had seen before. "So those are Warters... They look skilled." She agrees, then frowns, wondering how she would know what skilled would look like. Valiantly ignoring the grumbling of her stomach, she shrugs off the puzzlement again, returning to her knee hugging occupation to watch the boys go hammer and tongs at each other under one of the men Sang points out to her, "Aes Sedai. Sworn, to the towel. With Warters." A good student, repeating her lessons for the day.

Sang nods his head at the description of the Gaidin, "They are." The little man pretends not to notice the grumbling of the woman's stomach, going back over the statements with a great deal more patience this time, "To the Tower." He points up to the alabaster monolith hanging over them all, "Like a high building." He points to the nearest Gaidin again, "Warder. Someone who wards, protects."

Alteri also pretends not to notice the grumbling of the woman's stomach. It is nice to have company in these types of things. Looking up at the blindingly white piece of architecture Sang points out, she makes a soft 'oh' of understanding as she tugs uncomfortably at the ill-fitting dress when just that, causes it to ride up her too long frame. "Tower. Not towel. It's pretty. Descriptive." Like a chick being shown a big bad fox to avoid by her mother hen, Alteri follows the tip of Sang's finger, studying the predatory man in question. Feeling the need to whisper, she again hunkers down. "And they protect the servants from falling into Mud?" She actually sounds proud of her powers of deduction.

Sang nods his agreement at the first deduction, and a grin flashes across his lips at the second. Pondering that for a moment, the Sworn finally nods, "More or less." However much Alteri may feel the need to fidget, the bitty Mayener apparently doesn't, remaining crouched nearby with his arms resting on his thighs lightly. He doesn't even seem to notice any riding up of any dresses, "What do you like to do besides eat? Dance, sew, play music, ride a horse, use a sword?" The friendly voice flattens a little at the last, dark eyes studying her gaunt features carefully.

And again Alteri fidgets, this time messing with her too-baggy sleeves, pushing them back up and taking a moment to study the odd latticework of scars peppering her arms. One finger circles her wrist, curiously following the angry lines tracing it. Sang's words flit past her consciousness at this point, and it takes effort for her to pull herself back to the present. "Huh? Oh. I don't like to eat." She thinks, then amends, "So much." Drawn features growing serious, she contemplates the list he gives her, eyes slipping down the small hillock to regard the trainees with lathes being put through their paces. The barest moment of raw hunger flickers across her face, gone as swiftly as it arrived. Eyes dropping, she pulls listlessly at an inoffensive patch of weed grass with a shaking hand, "I don't know." she lies.

Sang doesn't look away from the lean face, and so he nods when he sees that hunger. There is something vaguely self-satisfied about that nod, and he rocks back on his heels. "You should talk to the Warders about trying out a lathe." His head tilts to one side, and he smiles gently, "It might help you remember some things." His left hand rises to touch his chest again, "I feel the most 'me' when I am running exercises."

Not realising how easily readable she is, Alteri shoots Sang a sharp look, brows drawn together tightly. Her head begins to shake, the movement growing more and more vehement with each passing moment. "S'not right." Remember some things? "No it won't," comes her too-swift rebuttal. All this shaking is tiring on her zero reserves however, so she has to let the almost panicked gesture stop. "You are very you." she agrees, just to make him stop saying such incomprehensible things. Drained, she hugs her knees, a favourite posture of hers, and lets her face drop into the threadbare surface of her skirts, shrugging glumly, "The hags will not let me." Muffled by lace and velvet, she adds, "Won't even let me weed the garden."

"Mistress Alteri, it be time to go back." A Novice steps carefully into the practice yard, slippered feet taking her swiftly to Alteri's side.

Sighing, Alteri nods into her skirts and allows the sturdy girl to help her to her feet. A moment of awkwardness hits her as she realises how much she towers over the Sworn. "Um, thank you for telling me." She flaps one arm, at a loss for the proper words, "Stuff."

Sang rises up to offer his own hand to help the woman up, but drops it away at a slightly scandalized look from the Novice. He doesn't seem uncomfortable to be so much shorter than the woman--then again, he often is. "The Warders have their ways, Mistress Alteri." He pauses a moment, then nods, "Perhaps 'hags' is not the best word to use." Shrugging slightly, another smile flashes across his face, "Or use it so long as you can get away with it. Light Illumine. Thank you for the talk."

Alteri offers the man a dubious look and she gives the Warters... Warders, she mentally corrects, a second look. Unconvinced, she merely shrugs as best she can while her arm is hooked over the neck of the Novice. Turning to leave, her steps pause at the odd farewell the man gives her. Giving him another look to ask if he is daft, she looks pointedly up that the sun. Light. That is shining on them. About to say something, she is interrupted by the insistent Novice who is already sweating at being in a place forbidden to her and her ilk. So Alteri just nods and shuffles out of the yard.

-- Scene End --

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