The Beginning

It had taken some time, but Atia finally approved of the stark white uniform that the Tower was forcing her to wear. It blurred against her pale Cairheinin skin, rendering her reflection almost ghostlike in the mirror. In stark contrast was her black hair, which she had piled carefully atop her head with the aid of another novice and about two dozen pins. She had never managed to figure out why women used cosmetics – considering her background, she would likely never feel any need to use them, herself. However, she had allowed one of the girls to pierce the lobes of her ears, and was now wearing a simple pair of silver earbobs, which was on loan for the night. Throughout her hair, white ribbons had been woven, lending a delicate look to the zealous young novice. All in all, she approved. It was as festive as she could get, considering the fact that her clothing was limited to a simple white dress. As she paced the room, waiting for the festival to officially begin, she caught herself wondering how she would be able to afford real dresses in the future – in the future, when she became Accepted. She had already seen some of the other Accepted in dresses of wildly varying shades of color – an amazing difference from the seven-striped dresses that they usually wore. Most of them looked human for a change. Her musing, however, did not keep her from the most important thing on her mind – the contents of a note that had been tucked inside her shoe sometime during the night. Tonight we will truly test your loyalty. Meet me at sunset, in the northeast corner of the Great Hall. Burn this note. -K Atia, of course, had burned the note, channeling for the first time without proper supervision. That in of itself had been something of a thrill, at least for her. It had been long weeks since the Creator – no, the Great Lord – had whispered in her dreams and thoughts. Perhaps He was waiting for her to take the Oath that Kipcha had spoken of, to solidify her part in the destiny that had been laid out for her. She could not know, of course, but she could most definitely speculate. So she paced her room, refusing to acknowledge the fact that she might be nervous, and waited for the bells to ring, signifying the start of the Sunday Festival.

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Upon descending the stairs, Atia realized that she had one small problem. In a sea of color, her novice whites would stick out like a sore thumb. There was no way to be subtle about the fact that she was meeting Kipcha in the Great Hall. Still, she suspected no one would think twice about it – friendships between novices and accepted were frowned upon, but not necessarily against the rules. It was simply that the Aes Sedai did not want any novice to feel as if she were competing against the favorite of an accepted – or even an Aes Sedai. Thus, most novices and accepted did not intermingle, not even at Festivals such as this. However, it was not unheard of. So, pushing aside her foolish worries, the young novice wove her way through the growing crowd, trying her best to ignore everyone around her. It took her longer than she wished to cross the threshold – sunset was barely an hour away, and she wanted some time to gather her thoughts before she spoke to Kipcha. She was stopped, eventually. In the White Tower, it was impossible to remain unnoticed, and Atia had been singled out as a ‘particularly determined young girl’ by more than one Aes Sedai. Other novices either ignored her or treated her with something nearing outright dislike. She had no friends among the novices, but that was to be expected. They are nothing, after all. It was not a novice who stopped her, however. In fact, it was an Asha’man, which shocked her enough to drive her to a standstill. It was the Asha’man she had spoken to in the library, those weeks ago, speculating on the choices that the Amyrlin had made in the past few months. Atia stared up at him (nearly everyone was taller than she was), and braced herself for yet another longwinded conversation about religion and politics.

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[OOC: Please note - at this point, whatever conversation happens between Locke and Atia will occur in another thread. It was simply a good way to introduce the moment before continuing on with this thread, thereby giving myself a method of posting on two different threads in one festival.]

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The hour had passed, and the last rays of the sun were just now beginning to feather into true darkness. Atia, standing alone in the northeast corner of the Great Hall, realized that she had never had a chance to prepare herself for Kipcha’s arrival, and whatever it betokened. Despite her doubts and worries, though, the girl felt calm. It might not be the Creator who had protected her all this time, but she was certain of the fact that she was still chosen for greatness, picked out from amid all the other chaff. Her destiny, after all, was the most important thing. How she got there mattered little. Finally, as the last streaks of red faded from the skies, Kipcha arrived. She drifted out of the crowd of people almost effortlessly, reaching Atia with what seemed far less trouble than the novice had experienced herself. To Atia’s surprise, however, the Accepted was not alone.