Spoils of War
Ramaes Gavron, Written by Renee
Posted on Tue, Aug 24, 2010 00:13 am
Ramaes knew the prohibitions against channeling as a novice without the watching eye of an accepted, Aes Sedai or Asha’man. He knew them, yet as he crouched in the balcony with the fiery-haired young woman he could not find it within himself to care.
He would probably get caught, despite the fact that only a handful of the people below could channel saidin — and therefore would be able to see his weaves as he formed them. His mind touched on the idea of a visit to the Mistress of Novice’s chambers, and shied away. There would be time aplenty to worry about his punishment if he were caught – right now he had a girl to impress. Or, if he did not impress her, to avoid earning her scorn. This Tahmelah seemed the kind of person that was always looking for a challenge, and was forever expecting anyone she decided to befriend to also accept challenges, rather than shying away from them because of rules.
Ramaes thought about all the things he had done as a young man on the docks of Tear, of all the rules he had bent and broken without thinking twice about it. Valerie had been his catalyst then, forever urging him to try new things, to leap without looking, to banish fear of reprisal and simply do it. He had heartily earned the few lickings his father had seen fit to give him, and he had never regretted the things he had done to earn them, not in all the time that he had spent in Tear.
Tear. It seemed a lifetime ago, now. The memory of his first experience channeling saidin would never leave him – he would never abandon the guilt that haunted his memories – but it was fading, slowly. The White Tower was an entirely new life for him, a life away from his old family and friends, a life that fairly well excluded them completely.
It did not keep him from being homesick, though.
On the other hand, this Saldaean girl had unwittingly brought Ramaes back to a place he had almost forgotten since he had come to the White Tower: she had retrieved his lost sense of adventure for him. So, perhaps he would get caught, but it didn’t matter at the moment. Whatever punishment resulted from channeling without supervision – well, he would deal with it when it came. For now, the most important thing was one of the simplest ideas of all: to have fun. It was an idea that had been foreign to the young Tairen for months now, and that he was eager to grasp once again.
“All right, I’ll do it.” He said, keeping his voice low despite the fact that no one could have possibly heard him. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to talk in a normal voice – it would have ruined the moment, if nothing else.
The weeks and months of practice made embracing saidin easier than he could have hoped for, cleansing his mind of all emotion and reaching out to grasp the source firmly, allowing it no room to escape or wrench free from his mental fist.
Threads of air appeared, whispering over the heads of the crowd to form a net of sorts around the items that were needed – if anyone happened to look up, of course they would see a strange little sight: a platter of cheese and meat and two bottles of wine floated quickly upwards, hovering at the edge of the balcony for a moment before traversing the banister, to land neatly at the feet of the two novices.
Ramaes stared at the food, grinning in foolhardy triumph. It was the first time he had done anything other than channeling fire in the privacy of his own rooms – and Air was not one of his best elements in the One Power. Looking down, he didn’t see anyone staring upwards at where they crouched, and so assumed that he had managed his little task unnoticed.
He was probably wrong, of course.
Tahmelah was staring at him with an odd expression on her face, and as Ramaes grabbed a hunk of cheese and stuffed it into his mouth, he couldn’t help but to question her.
“What?” The word was muffled, more vowels than anything else. Talking clearly around a mouthful of cheese was apparently a talent he had absolutely no skill in. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He finished, after swallowing the bit of cheese.
He picked up one of the bottles, proffering it to her while taking the other for himself. The meat on the plate smelled wonderful — he had not realized just how hungry he was – but he waited for Tahmelah’s answer before eating anything else, despite the fact that she was already grabbing for some of that meat herself.
In reply to Reconnaisance[show]/[hide]
Some things were just so self-evident that there was no sense lamenting them. As her new partner in crime hemmed and hawed, Tahmelah could read his innocence on his face. He had no 'diabolical plan.' No matter. She did. Narrowing her eyes at the crowd, milling together like a herd of sheep on the plains, flocking around its dubious shepherdess, she lost a pleasant moment considering what she could rain down on them. There was bound to be a latrine on this floor...and there was a balcony up above. What better combination would she ever find for a way to express her hatred at this imprisonment? Of course, the punishment would make her eyes pop, but she almost thought it would be worth it. Although, she would settle for revenge on just one Aes Sedai...Shooting her companion a bright, wholesome grin that he would soon enough learn to equate with "run! for the Light's sake, run!" she saved his brain from overheating as he tried desperately to think of something to distract her with.
There were some questions to be probed there, that was for certain: important ones such as why her, and whether or not he had decided that she would be an intriguing victim of whatever madness he had. Although she was engaged in a permanent vendetta against the Novice Rule Book, she did hold one rule sacred: the one that specifically warned against "inter-gender contact." There was no way in Shayol Ghul she was going to spend her free moments lingering over the fence, staring at boys doing what she wanted to do herself, and the ones wearing white - or black - were so far removed from her idea of "masculine" as to be ungendered. When you got right down to thinking about it, and Tahmelah tried not to, it would be safer to kiss a pit viper with a toothache. There was just the declaration that saidin was cleansed, not the personal guarantee that every male channeler in the Westlands had personally been examined for creeping dementia.
But for some mad reason she couldn't begin to explain, the giant lummox, now welded to her arm by her own fingers, made her feel safe. Perhaps it was his very slowness: he plodded along behind her obediently as she led him down the short corridor that led to the adjoining Hall of Petitioners. It was still early in the event, and so no one had yet crept into the dimly lit hall for "a spot of privacy." The fact that she might have been seen and considered the first to do so crossed her mind, but she tossed the idea and her hair alike. Although he was a pretty specimen, he could channel - no woman would ever want to kiss him. He should be dead, although he seemed rather a nice man now. Later, of course, when this entire experiment went belly-up, as Tahmelah expected it to, he likely would die.
Perhaps that was why she took a little pity on him.
Leading the way as she twisted aside priceless tapestries and peered behind precious porcelain, she took the closest ramp to the next level, and began her search again. In the end, her door wasn't even hidden, not properly: staring at it as though it led to certain doom, she reached out. The doorlatch didn't turn: of course, if it were easy enough to enter the little balcony, half the Novices would be up here snogging their trainee counterparts into a state of uncertain bliss. Snorting at how stupid that would be, Tahmelah plucked a pin from her hair and twisted it into the lock. Being an innkeeper's daughter had its little rewards. Pulling him into the dark vestibule beyond and down the narrow flight of steps, they reemerged into the party.
From above, it looked almost inviting. Wishing that she had thought to bring food up here to her lookout, as the scents rose on the air, making her stomach growl angrily, Tahmelah glanced down. Aware that she was visible from below, as was he - their white clothing might blend in, but her hair always gave her away - she gestured him down, and they knelt on the marble floor, staring through the stone balustrade. Although the reprieve from the party was welcome, she had no desire to lose face at all: she'd have to manufacture a reason why her balcony was so "perfect." Frowning back over the top of the wide stone sill, she cast her glance along the long tables situated below them. As unkind fate would have it, they were situated only over the drinks.
Well, people drink all the time to forget things that happened to them, she reasoned. Why not us? Or, more particularly, why not herself? Elbowing the boy beside her in the ribs, noting as she did that he was skinnier than he looked in his bulky Novice whites, she whispered, "It's probably better if you channel it up here." Every Aes Sedai or Accepted in attendance could see saidar, but saidin was invisible. Musing that she'd rather hurl a series of fireballs into the hateful faces in attendance, she whispered, "So are you doing it? In or out?"
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Apologies for suckage. I left it half done, went to take a shower, and Adia discovered that clicking twice in the box makes it all disappear...so I reconstructed so I could go to Costco. I might fix it later. For now though, I think they ought to get drunk. They're good at that.
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Replies to Spoils of War
- A Plan of Action — Ramaes Gavron, Wed, Aug 25, 2010 20:52 pm
