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Dillan al'Tierney, MoA and Accepted Twilla Donica din Tearin: "Upon A Wing"

Dillan al’Tierney Gaidar, Mistress of Arms
The Feast of Lights
Sat Dec 20 2003 12:00:14 pm

The newly-raised Mistress of Arms was finding it a lot more difficult to find any time to herself, especially around festival time. It seemed like everyone wanted something from her, particularly the trainees. Questions about what they could do, what they could not, what might draw an Aes Sedai’s attention – Dillan was only glad that she’d gone through all the same trials and tribulations, so she could answer them with some confidence. Still, it had all been so much easier before she’d been raised. Donica had loved her, then. There hadn’t been this strange distance between them, a wall she couldn’t break no matter how much she tried. In a way she didn’t dare to even try.

With a sigh, Dillan turned back towards the festival hall, scolding herself for even thinking of missing it. Appearances had to be kept up, or so it seemed, and that included turning up at the festivals. She’d be watched, too, so she couldn’t escape. But Light, it would be so nice to be able to stay in her room and not have to watch the happy couples dancing and canoodling, not have to see Donica dancing with the men…it was not like Dillan had a claim on her, any more, but the sight would hurt.

Even though she’d been here for seven years now, the sight of the Great Hall dressed up with all the celebratory trappings still stopped her in her tracks. The young Gaidar wasn’t the only one; almost everyone seeing the Great Hall for the first time paused, wide eyed, to stare at the decorations. The Mistress of Novices always let her young charges participate in the decorating, and the Novices and Accepted seemed to try to outdo themselves every year. The colours, the candles, the smiling men and women already there…in one corner, a band were trying to tune their instruments with varying degrees of success. Would a gleeman or gleewoman appear to brighten the night a little later? Dillan smiled at the thought, and turned her attention to the raised dais just as the crowds quietened. Their Amyrlin was about to speak.

It was strange, the Mistress of Arms reflected as the words washed over her, how similar and yet how different every speech was. She’d heard at least twenty-eight welcomes to one of the Tower’s festivals, and each time there were a few words changed while the basic outline remained precisely the same. Still, what could you expect? There were things that had to be said, things that had to be done, before a festival could begin. She glanced around, amused to find that the young man beside her was staring up at the dais as if the Creator himself stood there.

Only half-listening to what the Amyrlin said – she knew what would happen, so it didn’t matter quite so much – Dillan looked up to see where the rest of the twin Towers’ commanders had gotten to. Canin stood on the dais near Hesper, his arm linked through that of his pretty Aes Sedai wife. Briar Rose had stepped down only weeks before, to care for their son. Dillan approved, in a way; had she had a child to guard, she would not even keep her fancloak. The young Green’s former associates were bound to be somewhere nearby, although from her position in the crowd Dillan couldn’t see them. Nor could she easily pick the Tsorovan’m’hael, but he must be around. Rysor would be nearby, too.

And Donica, too, Doni would be here. Dillan wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Donica, not here, not now, not with everyone watching and so many things left unsaid between them. The Mistress of Arms sighed, turning away from the dais just as Hesper beamed and spoke her final words. "Let the festivities begin!" The crowd below let up an answering roar, turning to find partners or friends as the musicians struck up the first dance. Unnoticed, Dillan faded into the background, watching the happy celebrants, hoping no one would come to disturb her thoughts.

Twilla Donica din Tearin, Accepted
A Feast of Fools
Tue Dec 23 2003 7:13:59 pm

The voyage from Tear had taken far too long for Shaun’s liking. It was only a handful of days longer than it normally was, but those few days seemed like eternity. He had rapidly decided that it was hard to live once he had decided to die… even the small things had seemed unbearable. He had enough energy to sail the Fingers of the Dragon by himself, but it just seemed wasted by doing the ordinary, menial actions. The weather grew increasingly colder as he progressed northward, but the sun and wind accompanied him, giving Shaun a final look on the world that he was leaving behind.

The Tower seemed unchanged despite the four years that had passed since he left. It still stood like a regal monarch over the rolling hills, and its magnificence was enhanced – not decreased – by the shadow of the southerly-lying Dragonmount.

The sun had changed just enough that winter was setting in upon the lands, and it was high time for the Festival of Lights. Shaun almost wanted to stay on his ship and spend it with his crew, but he knew that the festival would be a chance for him to see and speak with Donica again without her running off to classes. That was if she didn’t kill him on sight as she had promised to do, of course.

The Tower – the ever-generous Tower – had given him one of their guest rooms. It wasn’t very large, just big enough for a bed, fireplace, a chest of drawers, and a chair, but more than suitable for what, undoubtedly, would be his last few nights of sleep.

And so, with one lingering look behind him at his room, Shaun exited and made his way for the ballroom.

Donica’s arms were folded snugly around her ribcage as she leaned against one of the cool stone walls in the ballroom. She had managed to slip in without drawing any attention to herself – in fact, she thought that for once, she was downright invisible. Her outfit didn’t bespeak invisibility, but her posture did. She wore a fitted beige satin blouse and dark emerald green trousers – with the necessary necklaces, bracelets, and slippers, of course. She didn’t plan on going outside during this Festival. She could remember snowball fights with Dillan from previous years; she could remember every fanciful flight that she and her lover – the Mistress of Arms – had enjoyed. Twilla had the feeling that none of that would be present this year. Something had changed between them. Life had gotten much more serious.

Last festival, she and Dil and rendezvoused on the dance floor, and had enjoyed prancing through several songs before heading off to celebrate the occasion in their own fashion. Uncharacteristically, Donica felt a small blush suffuse her cheeks as she recalled those warm nights. What changes had occurred to alter their relationship? She didn’t sneak off to kiss Dillan in the Gardens anymore – she had her studies, Dillan had her trainees, and the Tower would miss them if they disappeared. Instead, the Atha’an Miere girl devoted herself to her studies. She had been in the Tower for five years, now, and had been away from her people for the same amount of time. Doni had come across other men and women from the sea, but few made it to Accepted, and even if they did, they were barely more than acquaintances. Most people had left their ship because of some disgrace or another – they didn’t want to spend time with her, nor she with them.

And Dillan… her mind whispered as she studied the auburn-haired women on the dais, standing just half a step behind Rysor. The Mistress of Arms wasn’t a happy woman tonight. Donica doubted that many others would notice, but she did. She knew Dillan. Not as well as she had once thought, but quite possibly better than any other person.

As if by thinking her name called her to attention, the Gaidar’s eyes skimmed the ballroom. Twilla observed patiently, wondering if she would approach first or if Dil would. Would they be making a concession to each other by doing so? Light, did Dillan even want to see her here? Donica was, after all, only another burden that the Gaidar had to bear. It was possible that her very presence would ruin Dil’s evening, and that she had been dreaming when she thought that – perhaps – they were no longer angry at each other. Donica would never forgive herself for giving Dillan another duty, nor would she forgive herself for forgetting her own. There was nothing to be done about it now; the Wheel had already woven it into the Pattern, and she would have to bear the consequences as best she could.

Of her own volition, Dillan left Rysor’s side and descended into the crowd. Donica sensed that she was making towards the ballroom doors – to which she was fairly close – and shifted positions. Some Accepted in the crowd who knew her gave her sidelong glances, and some of the men shot her curious or hopeful looks, but even now the Accepted only had eyes for the Mistress of Arms. She wouldn’t even have noticed if Keir walked past her in plain sight.

Dillan’s progress went unimpeded until she tried to brush past a figure clad in an ungodly shade of red. Donica stiffened, recognizing one of the newer Aethan’Tar – Garnet. The male Novices couldn’t stop chattering about her – the Accepted had had to interrupt many a conversation in the Library that included details she didn’t want to know nor hear coming from their mouths. It seemed as if the younger woman had quite a reputation – and Doni didn’t want that whelp anywhere near Dillan.

The girl had slipped her arm through the Gaidar’s and appeared to be batting her eyelashes up at the older woman. Much to Donica’s relief, Dillan disentangled herself immediately, causing Garnet to wheel away in a most alarming manner. Perhaps it was unwise of her, but the Accepted decided that now would be the best time to impose upon her lover before anyone else decided that an unoccupied Mistress of Arms was a bad thing.

Though occupied with a woman from the Black Tower, Garnet was still watching Dillan – though warily – when Donica caught up with her lover. The Accepted couldn’t help but glance at the Aethan’Tar before greeting her lover – and was somewhat satisfied to see the girl’s puzzled expression.

"Dillan?" she murmured finally, glancing at the Gaidar. "Are you… I mean… Can we…"

Dillan, Mistress of Arms
Playing The Fool
Tue Dec 23 2003 8:51:05 pm

Light, but if it wasn’t safe at a festival when easily five hundred people crowded the room, where could she possibly escape from these dratted trainees? Dillan was prepared to swear that a quarter of the Aethan’Tar and Sei’Tar were taking advantage of every possible chance to try to seduce her into their beds, just because she and Donica happened to be temporarily not on good terms. Even the thought of the Sea Folk girl darkened her expression, turning her brown eyes into cold black pools of anger and hurt. When that girl, that young fiery one, had come near, she hadn’t even had to say a word.

Garnet, that was the girl’s name. Dillan glared at her retreating back, wishing she could just escape from all of this, go back into her room or out to the training grounds and practise by herself. But there was nowhere in this Tower, maybe nowhere in all the world, that would not remind her of Donica. In the training yards, they’d first met, and Donica had tripped and pinned her in the sand, her smile lighting up her face when Dillan found herself unable to get back up again. In the gardens, they’d kissed and giggled, trading secrets and knowledge of the plants and flowers they found around themselves. In her room – in her room, they’d done more than just kiss, and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t the same room anymore. All she needed was to see a bed, or a fireplace, and red suffused her cheeks.

If Doni had been around, the Atha’an Miere woman would have laughed and teased her. She loved to make Dillan blush, almost seemed to take pride in it. The Mistress of Arms sighed, allowing her gaze to become unfocussed as she looked out across the Great Hall. Light, but there was no way out of here. She would have to stay until the end of the festivities, not knowing where Donica was, not knowing who she was with, not having the chance to hold her and whisper her name, her lips touching the shell of the girl’s ear as she told her one more time of how much she was loved.

"Dillan?" The voice made her flinch, taking a half-step away even before she turned to look at Donica. Light, but the girl was beautiful. Even now she could take Dillan’s breath away, even now that there was no way Dil could presume to lay even a finger on her. The longing made her shiver, curling her hands into fists to make sure she didn’t touch the younger woman. "Are you…I mean…Can we…" Donica added, slightly incoherently. But as always, Dillan could understand what she was trying to say. She nodded, slowly, and went to take the Sea Folk girl’s arm before remembering herself and gesturing to the door to the gardens. They could always just find a quieter place in the Great Hall, but this conversation could turn into a fight, and she wanted them both to preserve some dignity.

They didn’t touch as they moved towards the doorways and out into the open, and the simple lack of contact brought stinging tears to Dillan’s eyes. She fought them back, more than conscious of how everything had to appear to the trainees, to the world within the Tower. It simply wouldn’t do to have the Mistress of Arms crying. She was supposed to be a warrior, now, stronger than pretty much everyone else in the White Tower. Warriors didn’t cry, particularly not when all that was hurting was their own restrictions. Light, how I want to…

The thought trailed off. There were so many different endings. How I want to touch her, how I want to hold her, how I want to kiss her, how I want to tell her that I love her, I always have and I always will…how I want to tell her that I never meant to hurt her, that if I’d had a choice… But her father would exclaim that she’d had a choice, she’d made her choice, and now she had to live with it. Dillan tilted her head up to the sky, taking a deep breath of the frosty air while stars masked the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

"You wanted to…talk," she said eventually, when she was sure that her voice wouldn’t betray her emotions. The Mistress of Arms bit her lip, glancing sideways to see Donica’s face. The Accepted was staring off into the darkness of the gardens, her arms folded across her chest. At the sound of Dillan’s voice, she looked back, her dark eyes catching the older woman’s. They stared at each other for a few moments, then glanced aside at exactly the same moment. Dillan bit her lip again, startled to find that she’d managed to make it bleed. The iron taste of blood in her mouth distracted her for a moment, almost making her miss a movement in the shadows.

It would have been a Novice, or a pair of them, off on some dastardly mission to seduce one of her trainees. Dillan couldn’t find it in herself to really care. The trainees would all just have to look after themselves, and she wasn’t the Mistress of Novices to go stalking after the poor white-clad children. Once upon a time, decades ago, years ago, months ago, that would have been her and Donica, sneaking hand in hand off into a private place in the dark just to be together. And now here they were, together but apart, closer than any other human beings in the world and yet further apart than the Creator and the Dark One. She, of course, would be the Dark One; Donica was far too good to play the part of such an evil creature.

Donica took a deep breath, apparently as unsure about what to say and do as Dillan was. She must be confused, unable to tell what the Mistress of Arms was thinking. If that was so, they were in the same position, since Dillan had no clue about what was to happen now. More than likely Doni had found her only to set her free from her vows, to explain that she had no desire to be tied to someone like Dillan, someone so bound to the White Tower. The Gaidar wrapped her arms around herself, partially to warm herself and partially as a weak form of comfort. She didn’t want to think of what she would do if she were released from those vows.

"Dillan, I…" Donica started, and then paused. In the shadows, a figure moved. Dillan stiffened, her hand going to her belt. No sword, but a dagger – she could do more than enough damage with a dagger if she had to. Beads rattled, and the sound did not come from Donica’s direction. The Gaidar tilted her head, feeling her body relax into a fighting position, as she stepped in front of Doni’s body without the need for any conscious thought. Protect her. It was burned into her mind, into her every breath. Die if you must, but protect her. There should be no one dangerous here, but somehow she didn’t feel comfortable unless she was standing between Donica and the presence in the shadows.

"Who are you?" the Gaidar snarled. "Show yourself."

Twilla Donica
Foolish Actions
Wed Dec 24 2003 10:18:25 pm

The night air was cooler than Donica had planned for, though it was warmer than last year and with less snow. She wished that Dillan would put her arm around her shoulders – that would keep her at least somewhat warmer. But no; the Gaidar hadn’t forgiven her enough… yet.

She did want to talk, as Dillan had mentioned, but she had nowhere to begin. Her previous attempt at speech hadn’t worked so well, and for some reason, she doubted that the rest of the evening was going to be much better. Donica hoped that Dillan would do the talking, because she was far too confused to make sense to even herself, much less others. There was only one problem – the Gaidar didn’t seem to have much to say. A quite distressing factor, when it came down to it.

"Dillan, I – " she began, then halted partway through the syllable when she caught sight of a figure just behind a tree. The dim light hid the person remarkably well, but not well enough. And there was only one person, so it couldn’t possibly be a Novice trying to hide while canoodling.

Dillan had already assumed the worst, assuming a stance a pace in front of the Accepted. "Who are you? Show yourself."

The garden was silent for a few seconds. Donica edged closer to Dillan – tonight didn’t feel right. Her weather sense had, yet again, indicated a storm on the way, even though the sky was clear. And a distraction out front would be all too perfect for an ambush from behind… she glanced over her shoulder, skimming the landscaped area behind them. Everything was still – but there remained the small factor of whoever was in front of them.

The shadowed figure slowly stood. Donica decided it must be a man, and a fairly well-built one. He was roughly a head taller than Dillan and wore a light shirt with dark trousers – surprisingly enough, in the Atha’an Miere fashion. Donica clenched her teeth, waiting for the man to show himself. If this was another of those idiot Novices who wanted to befriend her simply because she was from the ships – and a Novice out of uniform, too! – she was going to make sure that this one had a year of penance.

Her irritation grew into a deep, burning hatred when his face emerged into the light. Hatred, shock, pain… it was Shaun.

"I am Shaun din Kalkin Storm Heart, Dillan," he murmured. "And my business is with Twilla."

The Gaidar turned around slowly, facing the Accepted. They exchanged a long look – then Dillan asked, "What does he want with you, Doni?"

"I don’t know, Dil. I haven’t seen him since he was with Keir."

The change on Dillan’s face was small, but noticeable. Her mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed. Donica was unprepared when the Gaidar whirled around, and the glint of moonlight on steel was her only warning for what Dillan was thinking. There was good reason why the Andoran woman had been named Mistress of Arms – the speed with which her hand flew to the nearest dagger and then towards her target was alarming, especially for Donica.

"Dillan, no!" she lunged forward, arm outstretched to halt the dagger’s progress. Her hand contacted Dillan’s arm, but she was too late – the dagger raked the side of Shaun’s ribcage, then stuck six inches away from his heart. His dark blue eyes bulged and, as Donica watched, he stumbled backwards, hands grabbing at the dagger in his chest. Dillan stood still as he fell, and as the Accepted continued her forwards lunge to him.

"Nica, I…" Shaun murmured, squeezing his eyes shut, then opening them again. "Nica…"

"Don’t say anything, Shaun. Hold still – we’ll take you to the Infirmary."

"But Nica, I didn’t come for that…"

"Your life is in my hands, Shaun," she whispered. "Do not argue with me. I didn’t forget what I promised you four years ago."

His eyelids slid shut as his blood poured out of him, staining his shirt and the snow. Donica stood up, brushing the snow off of her pants and embracing saidar, weaving a cradle that could take him to the Yellows. Dillan caught her hand, face contorted into an unreadable mix of emotions.

"Donica… what did you promise him?"

"To kill him the next time we met."

Dillan
Action Stations
Thu Dec 25 2003 9:39:40 am

To say that Dillan was not impressed would be a serious understatement. The Mistress of Arms almost shook with her rage, clutching her bloodied left hand in her right, her dark gaze fixed on Shaun. Shaun. She hated him more than anyone else in the entire world. He was a Darkfriend, he’d worked with Keir, he wanted Donica! The last few moments were a little confused, in her mind. She’d seen him, and known at once who it was. The boy hadn’t even needed to say his name, but she was glad he had. Now she knew for sure that he was her nemesis, the only person in the world that she wanted to utterly destroy.

She would have, too, except – what had happened? She’d drawn her dagger, struck out at him, and it would have been a killing blow if Doni hadn’t interfered. The Accepted hadn’t needed to reach out to change the trajectory of her blade; the minute Donica had spoken, Dillan had been trying to stop the blow. She couldn’t have said why – it was simply wired into the way she worked. No matter how much she hated Shaun – and she really did hate him – Donica’s word could save his life. Part of the Gaidar’s shaking was fear, too. The only person she loved had tried to throw herself in front of Dillan’s knife, and if it were not for her quick reflexes Donica might have been hurt too. Had that happened, Dillan knew that the next person to die would have been herself. The Tower would not need to execute her; she’d do the job without being told to.

"Kill him the next time you met," she muttered to herself, casting a baleful glare at the immobile Sea Folk boy. "Had that under control. Should’ve let me do it." Donica didn’t appear to be paying attention; she was more focussed on Shaun. Dillan rubbed her hand, smearing blood across her pale skin, and glowered at the Darkfriend some more. How dare he come back here? Did he think Doni would have changed her mind, did he think he’d somehow be pardoned? So long as Dillan was alive, that was never going to happen. Once a Darkfriend, always a Darkfriend, and Darkfriends had to die.

As the Accepted concentrated, readying herself to lift Shaun, Dillan shook her head and stepped forward. Much as she hated the thought of touching him, she knew that it was difficult for any channeler to lift someone more than a foot or two from the ground, and she didn’t want Donica straining herself when there was a perfectly able-bodied Gaidar nearby. Gritting her teeth, she lifted Shaun carefully into her arms, almost wishing she could drop him. But she couldn’t; Donica wanted him alive for a while yet. Unfortunate, but there it was.

"Dillan?" the Accepted asked, sounding more than a little unsure. The Gaidar shook her head again, then walked off in the direction of the infirmary, making sure to take very gentle steps so as not to jolt the young man in her arms. He was certainly heavy, but no heavier than some of the weights she’d been asked to carry around for much of the past seven years. Among their many other talents, Gaidin and Gaidar had to be able to save each others’ lives, as well as those of their Bondholder. Had this boy been the Aes Sedai holding her Bond, she might have had to carry him to safety. Thinking that didn’t make her any happier about the process, but it had to be done.

"I could’ve killed him so easily, Accepted," she complained quietly as they trudged through the light layer of snow, their shoes crunching on the white flakes. "Why are you trying to save him now if you only plan to kill him later?" But she could guess. Donica had either found mercy in her heart, or she needed to talk to this Darkfriend before he left the Pattern forever. With any luck it would be the latter, because Dillan was going to find it very difficult to leave him alive. He’d come back to the White Tower, and that was a crime bad enough to justify her hunting him down if he left alive again.

Donica didn’t answer her; maybe she hadn’t heard. Dillan sighed again, and looked down at the boy in her arms. His eyes fluttered open, then widened at the sight of the Gaidar. The Mistress of Arms bared her teeth in what could possibly be seen as a grin. "Don’t worry," she whispered to him. "I’m not allowed to kill you yet. But if you touch her, if you try to hurt her, rest assured that I will make your death as slow, lingering and painful as I possibly can. Understood, Darkfriend? Watch your back." The young man stared at her for a few seconds, then shut his eyes again as if that could somehow save him.

It did not take too long to get to the infirmary, where a panicked Yellow found a bed for the Gaidar to lay her burden on. As the Aes Sedai fluttered around, asking questions, Dillan watched Donica. The younger woman’s eyes were fastened on Shaun, as if he were the centre of her universe. The Mistress of Arms snarled silently again, then snagged the Aes Sedai’s robe. If it were discovered that this Sea Folk boy were a Darkfriend, he might well be executed, and it didn’t look like Doni wanted that. So she’d have to keep him alive a little while longer, and that meant lying. So be it.

"An accident," she told the Yellow sister quietly. "He wanted to surprise us, he leapt out of the shadows. I thought he was attacking Accepted Twilla. He’s been breathing fairly easily, hopefully the damage isn’t too severe. Can you Heal him?" The Yellow glanced at her patient, nodded quickly, and then almost ran over to clasp her hands around the boy’s head. Dillan watched them in silence, her body perfectly still, then turned away as Shaun gasped and convulsed. Donica had heard every word she’d spoken, every lie she’d told, and the expression on her face when she’d looked at Dillan was not one the Gaidar would ever forget.

"So be it, love," Dillan sighed, too quiet for the Accepted to hear. "You want him alive, I’ll keep him alive. Light help me, I’m keeping a Darkfriend alive."

Twilla Donica
Battle Stations
Thu Dec 25 2003 10:44:52 am

"You’re not keeping him alive, Dil, you’re obeying me," Donica murmured as she watched with hooded eyes as the Yellow bent over Shaun’s body. Her comment made Dillan glance sharply at her, but the Accepted couldn’t – she just couldn’t – return the look. This was only the beginning of many years to come, when Dillan would have to listen while Donica played her silly Aes Sedai tricks on the rest of the world. The Accepted also hoped that it would be the beginning of many years of companionship, too; she had no intentions of leaving Dillan in the dark as many other Aes Sedai did with their Warders. Dillan’s mind was as keen as her own, once she knew what to look for, and another pair of eyes and ears would be most useful.

You’re as conniving and manipulative as an Aes Sedai, girl, her conscience whispered. But she hadn’t chosen this life – her parents had. It was their fault for sending her to the Aes Sedai, and it was the Aes Sedai’s fault for turning her into one of them. So you’re giving up all the blame? No, not all of it, but I can’t help being what I was trained to be…

She turned from the image of the bleeding man and, catching Dillan’s hand, tugged her out of the infirmary. She would visit Shaun later – right now, she had to decide exactly what needed to happen, what she was willing to do, and what the others would accept. If an Accepted of the White Tower, backed by the Mistress of Arms herself, declared a man to be a Darkfriend, no one would question her. Or would they? Anything could be questioned. She and Dil needed proof… or a confession. Donica knew that Shaun was a Friend of the Dark, but the word of an Accepted was not enough to balance the loss of a life. What confused her was Shaun’s return. She had promised to kill him if she saw him again, and Donica intended to keep that promise – but at the time of making it, she hadn’t thought that she would have to act on it. Light help her, what twisted pattern was she being woven into this time?

"You need to change, Dillan," she murmured, catching sight of the bloodstains on the Gaidar’s blouse. "You can’t go into Tar Valon like that."

"Into Tar Valon?" the Mistress of Arms repeated, withdrawing her hand from Donica’s grasp. "Why – no, I won’t ask."

"Daggers are too messy, that’s why," Donica replied calmly, even though calm was the furthest thing away from what she really felt. "I don’t intend to ruin one of the infirmary’s mattresses by stabbing Shaun while he’s asleep. I need to talk to him before he dies, Dil. I don’t know why, but I just… do. I need a proper way of killing him."

The Gaidar muttered something under her breath, then caught sight of the blood on her shirt. Donica smiled up at her, eyes dancing with an I told you so motif. Dillan exhaled sharply, then crossed her arms, hiding the majority of the stains. It wouldn’t do for the trainees to see their Mistress of Arms covered in blood. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see it, in fact. Some Aes Sedai had very weak stomachs.

Twilla walked next to the Gaidar, uncrossing her arms and willing herself to ignore the temperature. It wasn’t unbearable, and she needed practise ignoring the weather just as the Aes Sedai had taught her. It was a strange skill – why didn’t they enjoy feeling the warmth of the sun on a sunny day? Or the cool rain? Or an even colder breeze? Donica doubted that the trick would work very well with her, since she was so attuned to the weather. She would try, though. It would be nice to be able to ignore the heat on unbearable days, or the cold during winter. Not feeling the temperature didn’t mean that she wasn’t affected by it, though… she would have to grab something warm from Dillan’s apartment.

With a start, the Accepted realized that she hadn’t seen Dillan’s new rooms yet. They wouldn’t spend much time there tonight, but they might at other times. If you can forget all that’s transpired over the last few weeks, anyway, her head muttered. And killing Shaun will make it better? But he came to die, and he was already dead in my mind… I mourned for him when he left, and told him what he would get if he returned.

"Dillan," she said at last. "He won’t see another sunrise beyond this morning. I’ll let him have the sun, at least. He was my childhood friend, we faced everything together… but that doesn’t change what he is and what he’s done. Or what I’ve promised. It is my duty to kill him, and this once, I don’t mind my duty at all."

Dillan
Battling Emotions
Thu Dec 25 2003 11:29:29 am

Much as she longed to simply destroy the cursed Darkfriend as he lay helpless in his bed, Dillan turned away when Donica pulled her out of the infirmary. The touch of the Accepted’s hand in hers made her shiver again, then hide it when Donica looked back at her. No, she wasn’t going to give in, not this time. She would obey, as she had to, but she wouldn’t give in. It was so easy to be hurt when you were owned by someone, commanded by someone – but only if you let them hurt you. Turning her face away from Donica’s look, she set off down the hallways towards her room. Even now she kept almost heading towards the rooms she’d inhabited before they’d decided she was to become Mistress of Arms, and then halting in the middle of the corridor to find the right way.

It sounded like Donica was planning to kill her Sea Folk boyfriend – well, former boyfriend, Dillan supposed, but she’d seen the way he looked at the Accepted and she wasn’t impressed. That, more than anything else, was why she felt that he should go a very long way away from her as soon as possible. Did Doni think that the boy’s death would somehow repair what had happened between them, get the two of them back to the way they had been? Dillan knew that wasn’t going to happen. Look at me. Who would want me – and if someone did, why would I go near them, knowing what I am? She glanced down at the bloodstains on her shirt, then gave a complicated shrug. A killer, that was what she was, and no one deserved to be tied to a killer.

"My room," she said softly as they arrived in front of the door. Like the last room, it had her name engraved on a panel set at eye-height into it. This time, though, her new rank was engraved into it too. There was a dent in the panel, as well, legacy of all the times an angry Mistress of Arms had slammed her fist into the door as she passed it, hating the words. Sometimes she wondered what it might be like to simply walk out of the White Tower, take a new name and a new life. But that was an idle fantasy; she knew perfectly well that she had nowhere to go, and no reason to live once the Tower and Donica were taken out of her life.

Donica glanced around as she opened the door, dark eyes taking in every detail. Dillan looked around her room as well, noting once again how bare it was. It wasn’t any bigger than the last room she’d lived in, but it was a lot plainer. She’d had a few trinkets out before, but now – without Donica to make her decorate – there was nothing anywhere. A wardrobe, made of a wood Dil hadn’t bothered to identify; a fireplace, although she’d taken a blanket from the bed to drape over the mantelpiece to hide the fireplace; a double bed, with plain sheets and rough woollen blankets. Her clothes were in the wardrobe, her other possessions either in trunks under the bed or leaning against the wall beside her bed. Dillan’s eyes flickered automatically to check that her sword and bow were still where she’d left them.

There would be warm clothing inside the wardrobe, and a clean shirt. The Gaidar glanced at Donica. If the younger woman planned to go out into the snow, into Tar Valon, she’d need at least a cloak or something. Cloaks could be obtained easily; Dillan had three warm wool cloaks in her closet. She opened the wardrobe’s door and pulled a forest green cloak from its hanger, passing it to Donica before finding a clean linen shirt in one of the drawers. Ah, now, her thoughts told her, you have to get changed. This was a problem. Doni was in the room. Dillan glanced over her shoulder at the Accepted. She didn’t really want to take off her shirt while Donica could see her. It brought back too many memories.

But then, Donica had already seen her bare torso, and more, and it didn’t really matter any more. With a sigh, the Gaidar stripped her shirt off and inspected her body for further stains – she didn’t want to get blood all over the new, clean shirt. Some had seeped through her shirt and now decorated her chest and stomach in rather gruesome swirls. Dillan sighed again and headed for the washbasin, finding a clean towel to scrub her skin with and pouring water into the basin. As she dabbed the blood away, she could almost feel Donica inspecting the room carefully. The Gaidar washed her hands off, then turned back to the Accepted. She’d taken Dillan’s hand, so there would be blood on her fingers too.

Donica submitted meekly to Dillan’s ministrations as the older woman wiped blood away from her hands and gave her a clean towel to dry them on. All too conscious of her half-nakedness, the Gaidar dried her own hands and pulled her shirt hastily on over her head. Her fancloak hung just inside her wardrobe, and she wrapped it around her shoulders and lifted another dagger from the wardrobe floor before turning back to Donica, sliding the dagger into the empty sheath on her belt. The previous dagger was likely still stuck in Shaun’s body. A shame; she’d liked that dagger quite a lot. It had not had any real significance, but it had been well weighted and fitted her hand perfectly. If she were lucky, the Aes Sedai might give it back to her when they were finished with the man she’d tried to kill. Likely not, though; ‘accident’ though the stabbing might have been, it was cause enough to confiscate something of hers in recompense for the man who’d been hurt. She could survive without the dagger, but it made her twitch to think of it in Shaun’s hand.

"Tar Valon, then," the Gaidar said calmly, as if she didn’t know what they were likely to do there. Somehow Doni was going to kill the Darkfriend boy, and Dillan was pretty sure that she was going to be involved with it, even if it was nothing more than not speaking of who was responsible for his death. A large burden, but one she could deal with. She opened the door again, and gestured for Donica to walk out first.

Twilla Donica
Emotional Difficulties
Fri Dec 26 2003 1:00:03 pm

Light help her, what had happened to Dillan? It was almost as if the Gaidar had lost her will to live and function. Donica hadn’t seen any emotion behind the other woman’s eyes all evening, and usually – even if they were angry at each other – there was something there other than that burning anger and resentment. Dillan had no will to face whatever was hurting her, and Donica couldn’t press her for it. Whatever it was, could it even be fixed? Could she fix it, or did someone else have to? She shivered even despite the warm cloak that Dil had placed around her shoulders. Light, she had been so happy and carefree over the last few years – why did it all have to change now? Dillan wasn’t supposed to be acting like this. Nothing was supposed to be happening like this!

The guards at the Tower’s gate didn’t challenge them. They knew Dillan, and her rank, and Donica was an Accepted. Her ring confirmed that, even if her appearance didn’t. They eyed the two women nonetheless, but glanced away quickly when Dillan glared at them. Donica wondered, briefly, if the Tower Guard was under the Mistress of Arms’ command. Someone had to be in charge of them, after all. Her eyes studied Dillan for a moment, and for a second, the Atha’an Miere Accepted realized just how little she knew about some parts of the Tower. Light, she didn’t even know what her own lover was in charge of. When had everything become so much more complicated?

And then there was Shaun. He had chosen the perfect moment to appear – just when her life was at its most confusing, why not make it a little worse? The stars shone bright above them in the sky, but Donica couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever see the sun again. It couldn’t rise on a world sunk in chaos, could it? But the Wheel keeps turning… everyone else’s life must continue, even if yours is at a standstill. Her fingers tugged at the cloak’s warm folds, but accomplished very little when it came to warming her heart. Dillan could be blamed for not feeling enough, but Donica was the same – if she let herself feel more emotion, it was quite likely that she would go insane; she had to commit murder tonight, after all.

The Accepted didn’t know her way around Tar Valon, having only been into the city a handful of times on small expeditions and lessons, and all times guided by an Aes Sedai. One Yellow Aes Sedai had taken Donica and her classmates to an herbalist, and she was fairly certain that she could retrace the path. Most shops were open tonight, taking advantage of the people that the festivities attracted to the streets.

The city was alive with lights – houses, shops, inns, and other buildings had lanterns dangling around their premises. Some were just normal lanterns put up to honour the festivities; others were decorated with colourful paper and ribbons. Musicians and other entertainers dotted the street corners, attracting merrymakers with their lively tunes. Donica had heard rumours about how the festival was conducted in Cairhien – none of that was present here, but Tar Valon seemed to be rivalling it in colour, light, and noise. The herbalist’s shop was a little ways off of the main boulevard they were on, and they got cut off several times by large groups of costumed parades. Dillan, upon inspection, looked to be about to draw steel to get through the crowds. Despite her rather perilous situation, Donica was enjoying having the cheerful people around her. Was it not for their errand, she thought that she might have dragged Dillan into one of the stalls to get their faces painted and go romping madly about the streets as everyone else was. A small smile curved her lips at the pure ridiculousness of the idea – it was just like at home, but on a much larger scale.

"The shop is this way," she said, tugging Dillan off of the main street and onto a narrower one. Disgruntled, the Gaidar kept pace about half a step behind. Donica glanced at her, but Dillan’s eyes were scanning the area around them. Gaidar, through and through. Did you expect her to be doing something else? The Accepted sighed, and not for the first or last time, wished that she could be someone else somewhere else, able to live a long and happy life with her love.

A small sign creaked above the quiet street, a picture of a leaf and the engraved words Morion’s Herbs adorning the otherwise plain sign. "This is it, Dil." Donica pushed the door open and stepped into the well-lit herb emporium.

A squat woman sat on the other side of the counter, several jars and tins and spoons scattered across its surface. She seemed to be measuring and mixing, having nothing else to do. She glanced up when Donica entered, and smiled at the sight of the Accepted. "Come for a visit, Accepted?"

"On an errand, Mistress Morion. I need…" she sighed, realizing just how strange all of this was going to sound. "I need a poison."

It was unusual, Donica decided, for someone to be so direct with the shopkeeper. Morion raised an eyebrow, her expression becoming much more serious. "I do not deal in poisons, Accepted. That’s a dangerous and untidy trade. Whyever would you need one, anyway?"

"My reasons are my own, Mistress. Unlike the Gaidar, I can’t use steel to accomplish my goals, so I have to seek other methods. I know you have the herbs needed to make an effective drug – don’t you remember the lecture you gave us when my class visited with Sabin Sedai?"

"I do," Morion said quietly. "But…"

"I said I was on an errand from the Tower, Mistress Morion," Donica repeated, tone firm. "This is Tower business."

Morion’s mouth closed abruptly, and she looked at Dillan as if seeing her for the first time. The Gaidar looked straight back, her fancloak shifting in uneasy patterns. Donica’s fingers fiddled with her Great Serpent ring unconsciously as she eyed the other two women. Finally, Morion sighed and got up from her stool. "What do you need, Accepted?"

"One vial of rue and belladonna in a tincture of foxglove should do. I remember you talking about it from when I was here last."

Morion pulled down a small glass bottle filled with a greenish liquid. Her eyes focussed on the Atha’an Miere girl with an unsettling directness. "I won’t ask why you need a tasteless, scentless poison in enough of a quantity to kill a grown man in fewer minutes than I have fingers, Accepted, but if something wrong comes of this, I will not be shy in turning in your name."

"I have no fear of that, Mistress. I told you that I was on Tower business – the Aes Sedai will be well informed of my intentions and motives."

"Good." Morion glanced at Dillan again. "I’ll hold you as a witness if you don’t mind, Mistress of Arms." She nodded her head in courtesy. Dillan appeared taken aback at the recognition – she was only newly raised – but Donica wasn’t surprised in the least; Morion had close connections with the Tower. She passed over a silver mark and, with one last exchange with Morion, exited the shop.

"His life only cost a silver. That’s how much it costs to kill someone, Dillan," she muttered. "One bloody silver mark."

Dillan
Difficult Comprehension
Fri Dec 26 2003 5:02:37 pm

The Mistress of Arms stood in a herbalist’s shop at what was almost the middle of the night, watching an Accepted buy a poison that she knew would be used to kill a boy lying wounded in the White Tower’s infirmary, and wondered what in the Light had happened to make it all come to this. She was condoning murder, she was letting Donica kill a man. For some reason that seemed worse than if Dillan herself had run him through. Donica a killer, too – she should not have to deal with things like that. Someone who killed gave part of themselves to the Dark One, and she didn’t want Doni to have anything to do with the pain of the shadows. Dillan had already killed enough men and women to be in danger of being forsaken by the Light; one more death would not harm her.

"His life wouldn’t cost even a silver if you’d only let me…" Dillan murmured, her hand tracing the hard lines of her dagger’s hilt. "Accepted, you shouldn’t do this. If you’re found out, they’ll throw you out of the Tower. Let me do it instead. It doesn’t matter what they do to me." She glanced at the Accepted, saw the younger woman’s expression, and sighed. "Okay, okay, I know." Donica had a strong sense of duty, just as Dillan did, and her mind was clearly made up. Shaun would die by her hand, and there was nothing the Gaidar could do about it.

A reveller crashed into her, and Dillan shoved him away much harder than she needed to. The next person to annoy her was likely to carry a scar for the rest of their life as a sign of her displeasure, Mistress of Arms or not. Maybe if she misbehaved as much as she could, they’d make her leave, take her fancloak back. The thought brought a slightly insane smile to her face, her eyes feverishly bright. That would be the perfect solution. If they could break her vows for her, she had nothing left to worry about. She’d be free – not for long, since the Gaidar knew she wouldn’t live long if she were torn away from everything she held dear, but she would be free.

They found their way into quieter streets, away from the major parties that were being held, and headed back towards the Tower. Donica had said that Shaun would live to see the sunrise, and that was still quite some time away. Dillan wasn’t entirely sure what they’d do until then; most likely Doni would want to talk to her Darkfriend former love, and Dil would have to leave them be. She wasn’t comfortable with the thought of the Accepted being alone in a room with Shaun Trevallié din Kalkin Storm Heart, but the boy was weak and there were Aes Sedai nearby. Dillan was, as usual, superfluous.

Her fingers danced across the hilt of her dagger again, longingly. If only, if only… But no, she couldn’t. The Gaidar sighed and tucked her thumbs into her belt instead. Donica, walking half a step in front of her, didn’t seem to have noticed anything. Dillan let her eyes travel up and down the Sea Folk girl’s back, knowing that she wasn’t being watched. Strange as it probably seemed, she enjoyed being able to just watch Donica move. There was a sway to her hips, a dignity to the strength and straightness of her back, that the Gaidar had not seen in anyone else. Not even her trainees had such maddeningly attractive walks as the Accepted strolling in front of her.

At the moment, of course, Donica’s back was a little stiff, her shoulders tense. Dillan longed to stop her, massage the tension out of her body, but knew she wasn’t going to. This was Doni’s mission, and she could not interfere at any stage. What would Rysor say if he knew his brand new Mistress of Arms was pretty much allowing an Accepted to commit murder? Light, what would the Amyrlin say? Dillan shook her head, deciding she didn’t want to even think about it. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be at all pretty, and she had no reason to believe that they wouldn’t be found out. Even if they said Shaun was a Darkfriend, there would need to be proof, and they had none – not unless Donica planned to keep the boy alive until after he’d confessed. But then if she poisoned him, everyone would know who it was, and they’d be in trouble anyway.

The Gaidar sighed, unhitching a thumb from her belt so that she could rub her forehead as they turned into the White Tower’s gates. The guards nodded respectfully to her, recognizing her rank, and let her past. Donica’s serpent ring gave her access into the grounds without any questions, of course, although the White Tower guards very rarely turned anyone away. There were so many petitioners and suchlike that they were only required when someone had to be forcibly removed from within the grounds. That was rare, too…Light, now she was thinking about inconsequential things, when the girl she was sworn to protect was planning to kill someone. You have a great grip on your priorities, Gaidar.

"Accepted, I…" she said quietly, then rubbed her temples. "Accepted, I really don’t think…look, they’re going to know what you’ve done. Somehow they have to be distracted…I mean…what do you want me to do? Just say the word…I’ll create a distraction, I’ll guard the chamber he’s in, I’ll kill him if you need me to." The corridors were deserted, but she glanced around just in case. Murder was generally not a good thing to be discussing in the open. "There’s still some time until sunrise," Dillan added. "You said you would give him one last sunrise."

Sunrise. She glanced out of the nearest window, hoping to see the rays of sunlight that would tell her it was nearly morning. Strange, but she wasn’t anywhere near tired, not yet. Still, she couldn’t see the dawn. Shaun had perhaps half an hour to live; Donica would probably want to talk to him for his remaining time. Dillan leaned against the wall, running her hand through her auburn hair again. How could she let this happen? How could she not?

Light help me.

Twilla Donica
Comprehension of the Moment
Sat Dec 27 2003 3:46:03 pm

Their trip into the city had taken more time than Donica had thought it would. Their progress had been impeded by the revellers, and the trip would have taken half an hour either way anyway. She shifted on her slippers; they weren’t meant for walking long distances, and her feet were uncomfortable. She had spent many a long day following an Aes Sedai around the Tower, but that had been at a slow, sedate pace – not at the brisk one that she had set to Morion’s.

"You said you would give him one last sunrise," Dillan finished plaintively.

The Accepted’s eyes followed Dillan’s when they turned towards the nearest window. She wondered if Dillan realized that there were at least two more hours before sunrise – the sun rose late this far north, especially during the winter. Light, where had the night gone?

Any response she would have made to the Gaidar was delayed by the appearance of an Aes Sedai followed by three errant-appearing Novices. Dillan was leaning against the wall, hands still lingering in her hair. Donica stood in front of her, arms folded. The vial of poison was tucked behind her sash, and was invisible to onlookers. The Aes Sedai – a Red, if Donica remembered correctly – swished by them in a flurry of silk and lace. The Novices, however, lagged along behind, shooting glances at the two women. They knew that Donica was an Accepted, and probably knew that Dillan was the Mistress of Arms, but they obviously hadn’t been in the Tower long enough to hear the rumours going on about the relationship between the two. Donica watched them go, and was mildly amused when the Aes Sedai barked at the three girls to stop staring and to keep up. What had they done to earn such a harsh tone?

"Dil, let’s go somewhere to talk," she murmured, slipping her hand into the Gaidar’s – and this time, she didn’t let go. Dillan had remained too distant all night; back in the Tower, where there was no danger, the Gaidar would have to let down her guards some and let Donica in. Really, the Gaidar had no way to disagree – the Accepted could almost see the thought flitting across Dillan’s mind: If she wants to talk, then you have to talk. Was she a mere chore to Dillan, now? A child who must be humoured? It wasn’t a satisfactory arrangement anymore. It would change – and rightly so – when she became Aes Sedai, but until then… she really was left making the calls in private.

Without going too far, Donica found a small alcove at the end of a winding hallway. Very few people ever came to sit here, it was so far away – it should be safe, for the moment. Dillan settled down on one of the stuffed armchairs while Donica paced the perimeter. Embracing saidar, she wove a quick Ward around the area so that their voices wouldn’t travel. Dillan didn’t notice, for which she was glad – though allowed to channel unsupervised, Accepted weren’t generally allowed to channel whenever the whim took them.

"You wanted to talk." Dillan said flatly, eyeing the Accepted.

"Talk, converse, share – not lecture," Doni replied, settling down in the other chair. She pulled her feet up next to her, and fiddled with one of her bracelets. "Dillan… I was wrong to say what I did about you becoming the Mistress of Arms. I guess I was so… shocked… that I really couldn’t think of anything else to say. I reacted and I shouldn’t have. And I fear that my reaction caused more trouble than anything else has in a long, long while…"

"Accepted…" Dillan leaned forward, "you’re talking about an old conversation when you’re about to poison a man come sunrise? Aren’t there other things we should be discussing?"

"We could discuss anything," Twilla replied stiffly. "Why are you so concerned with Shaun, Dillan?"

"I don’t like the idea of you killing him," the Mistress of Arms replied. "I should. You could get into trouble –"

"For killing a known Darkfriend?"

"You’re still killing him…"

"He’s a Darkfriend, Dillan. His life was over the instant he swore allegiance to the Dark One. His life was forfeit to me the instant I told him to leave and he obeyed. I mourned for him while you were gone, Dillan… to me, he’s already dead."

"But you could get into trouble…"

"So could you, Dil. What will they do? Put me out of the Tower for killing a Darkfriend? We’re told to have no mercy on them… you know that."

"But why you, Doni?"

The Accepted cringed at the use of her nickname. Shaun had called her that once… no one but he and Dillan ever had. "Because it is my duty to kill him, Dillan. I already reported his name to the Tower and provided evidence of his guilt… when he left, in fact. His life is already over, and I have to kill him. The poison will cause him less pain than one of your blades would. I don’t need any more than five minutes to talk with him, and Morion said that the poison takes that long to work anyway. All I need to do is mix it with his food, he’ll eat it, and then…"

Dillan
Moment Of Silence
Sat Dec 27 2003 5:03:48 pm

I’m tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
I don’t know what you’re expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow
Every step that I take is another mistake to you!

As soon as she said Donica’s name – the first time since the explosion that had followed Dillan’s appointment to the post of Mistress of Arms – the Gaidar flinched, turning her head away as if the word burned her tongue. The Accepted cringed too, apparently remembering some connection, although whether it was something to do with Dillan or not the older woman couldn’t tell. She schooled her face to calm, trying not to shake her head in disbelief as Donica explained. The Accepted didn’t have to kill her former love; it was the Tower’s business. She’d done her duty already, and now it was time to let go. And as far as Dillan was concerned, the painlessness of Shaun’s death was a complete non-issue. The only reason she would have dispatched him quickly was that she disliked mess all over the place, and men tended to bleed rather a lot if you didn’t kill them fast.

"And then," the Gaidar said numbly, finishing Donica’s sentence for her, "you’ll be a murderer. Have you any idea, Accepted, any idea at all what it’s like to kill a man? It’s not like killing an animal – a man knows what you’ve done, and his expression will never leave your memory. Can you stand to betray someone who loves you? You’ll see it in his eyes as he dies. Do you really want to live with that forever?"

Unbidden, the faces of the men she’d killed appeared in her mind’s eye. Ley do’Jerard, the shaggy brown bear of a man she’d stabbed, the first man she’d dared to destroy. He hadn’t seen his death coming; he’d been asleep when she approached, and she hadn’t felt kind enough to wake him before stabbing him through the heart. Still, his eyes had opened before he took his last breath, and she’d seen the fear and shock there. And pleading…he’d wanted so badly to live, and she had denied him that. Colm al’Morad had been next, poisoned – just like Doni was planning to do to Shaun. Except Shaun would not slump, still warm and heavy, into her arms, his death pinning her down long enough to make sure she had no choice but to see the expression of surprise he wore.

I’ve become so numb
I can’t feel you there
I’ve become so tired, so much more aware
I’m becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

Alleyne Halcyon, the archer, looking arrogant and smug even as she loosed the arrow that would end his life. He didn’t haunt her as much as the others; he hadn’t pleaded for his life, hadn’t believed that he was about to die. It was when they knew that their faces changed, and returned to haunt their killer at night in dreams. Like Orsino, the cook, who had betrayed her. She’d let him choose his death, to be merciful – not so merciful that she’d let him live and remain a threat to her, but far more merciful than she could have been. He’d stared straight into her eyes as the blood leaked from his body, as if he knew she’d never be able to lose the memory of that gaze.

And then, of course, there was Keir. Unlike the others, she didn’t see his face when she shut her eyes to sleep. Maybe that was because his death was retribution; he’d never had a chance once he’d killed his daughter. Even if it had cost her life as well, Dillan could not have let him live. He’d never regretted Azaria’s death, either, and that made all the difference. She had hated him, and he had hated her; she’d seen it in his eyes while they fought just before his death. But Donica didn’t hate Shaun that much, Dillan was sure of it. She’d see the Sea Folk boy in her dreams, if she killed him.

She shook her head, rubbing her temples with cool fingers, and then lounged backwards on her chair. It projected an air of ease that she was not feeling, but at least anyone strolling past might think that this was a normal sort of conversation. Donica would be able to see the tension in her body, but then Donica already knew that all was not well with Dillan’s world. "Look, Twilla," the Gaidar said resignedly. "I’ll do whatever you want me to. I won’t even argue with you about this any more. You want to kill him, you can kill him. And as for the other…"

Everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
And every second I waste is more than I can take!

The Mistress of Arms paused, trying to find the right word. "The other problem. It doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to think and say anything you like." She couldn’t explain how it had stung her to find that the one person she had hoped would support her, believe in her, help her, had been so…but there was no word for that, either. "I am yours, as you know. I am sworn to support you, no matter what."

Catching Donica’s dark eyes with her own, she stood up and held out a hand to the Accepted. "So that’s sorted out. You may do whatever you wish to do, and I will assist you." The Gaidar knew perfectly well that nothing was sorted out, that it was nowhere near completed, but she had no desire to keep arguing any more. She was, after all, sworn to obey Donica – didn’t she owe the younger woman her life? – and Doni had made her decision. As for the Mistress of Arms business, there was nothing that could be done about that. And it would be better for the Accepted to be free, now; Dillan knew she had no claim. Once maybe she had had a right to demand things of Donica, but no more. Us had been replaced with me and you, and it was all over.

I’ve
Become so numb
I can’t feel you there
I’m tired of being what you want me to be
I’ve become so numb
I can’t feel you there
I’m tired of being what you want me to be…

Twilla Donica
A Silent Victim
Sun Dec 28 2003 9:18:09 pm

Perhaps… just perhaps Dillan knew what she was talking about. Donica had never killed a man; it was true – was she misjudging this? She could alert the Tower to Shaun’s presence and let someone else take his life, but that felt as if she was letting someone else do her dirty work for her. She didn’t need the Tower to do it for her; she was capable of doing it herself. If, later on in life, she captured a Darkfriend and felt obligated to put him on trial before taking his life, he could escape and commit more dark crimes. Or if there was no one to assist her in the trial, was she to simply let him live? No. Darkfriends had to be killed, and if she wasn’t willing to do it now, then when would she be ready? Dillan could protect her, but not all the time.

"Look, Twilla," Dillan said. "I’ll do whatever you want me to. I won’t even argue with you about this any more. You want to kill him, you can kill him. And as for the other… problem. It doesn’t matter. You’re allowed to think and say anything you like. I am yours, as you know. I am sworn to support you, no matter what."

Dillan stood and offered her hand to Donica. The Accepted eyed it warily as the Gaidar continued. "So that’s sorted out. You may do whatever you wish to do, and I will assist you."

There was no way for her to indicate how much that stung. Donica remained seated, ignoring the proffered hand. Her eyes shifted over the area relatively equal to Dillan’s knees – she couldn’t bear to look anywhere else, couldn’t bear to see the Gaidar’s face. Was that all she was now? Someone to be obeyed? Was that all? Could Dillan not see past all of this, could Dillan not see that Donica was only doing her duty as prescribed by the Tower? Why on earth was the Gaidar saying all of these things? When had being with Donica become such an iron shackle around her heart?

Slowly, Dillan retracted her hand. Donica still couldn’t move. She couldn’t make her mind, mouth, or body work. If Dillan had no will, then why should she? Here she was, trying to prove that she could take care of herself occasionally, prove that she could be an independent Aes Sedai, that she didn’t need Dillan all the time… the Gaidar didn’t have to take responsibility for everything that she did. It wasn’t right. As together as they were – and as much as Donica loved that – they were still separate entities in the eyes of the Tower. The Mistress of Arms couldn’t be responsible for the actions of an Atha’an Miere Accepted.

Donica finally lifted her head so that her eyes could meet Dillan’s. The beads on her braids clicked as they slid across her shoulder, a familiar and comforting sound. The Accepted drew slow breaths on the principle that oxygen was necessary for her survival – she might have been tempted to hold her breath, otherwise. Dillan’s eyes were frozen. No emotion at all was visible on her visage – her breaths were as slow and even as the Accepted’s; too even, given the circumstances. Their brown eyes met and locked, and in that gaze, no communication was made. Dillan backed away to the wall, leaning against it. Donica remained seated in her chair, wondering what under the Light she was to do. She couldn’t let Dillan do her duty for her, just as she couldn’t do the Gaidar’s. She couldn’t tell Dil not to interfere – the Gaidar would take anything she said as an order, and would probably carry it out to the letter. Obedience was something to be admired in a Warder – or so taught the Aes Sedai, anyway – but Dillan wasn’t her bloody Warder! True, Doni had saved her life once upon a time, and the Aes Sedai had too, once, but why did she have to take everything they said as some sort of… decree? What happened to the Dillan who could laugh and be silly with me? We’re allowed to change, but she’s taking it to the extreme. I want an equal, a partner, not someone who obeys me as if I’m a brig master… Donica let out a long, bitter sigh. This would never had happened had she and Dillan been on the ships. Out there, they would know exactly who was in charge when – here in the Tower, it was a bloody dance. And a useless one! They were only drifting around, trying to find some semblance of balance until one of them gained the necessary rank… oh, how much simpler it could be.

She allowed her eyes to study the Gaidar. Dillan was showing enough to appear slightly troubled – Donica knew that more must be bothering her, but it was obvious that the Gaidar wasn’t going to tell. "I’ll do whatever you want me to. I won’t even argue with you about this any more… It doesn’t matter." Dillan simply didn’t care anymore. She would do whatever Donica told her to do, and she didn’t want any of this silly conversation. Because the Light forbid that you get some input into your life, her mind muttered. Donica knew what she wanted Dillan to argue about, and what she didn’t. She wasn’t going to change her mind about Shaun, but if Dillan tried to convince her otherwise on other topics, Doni would be more than willing to go along. But since Dillan didn’t care anymore… since she wanted to leave everything to Donica, it would never happen.

Finally, the Accepted stood. Dillan straightened, facing her with an impassive expression. "We’ve reached an impasse, Dil. You and I have both changed since we were together – some for the good, some for the bad. There are problems between us, whether you want to face them or not. You say you don’t care, but I know that you do. You can’t have changed that much since I knew you through and through. I don’t understand you, now. Before, I was your friend and lover, an equal who you argued and bantered with. Now, I don’t seem to be any more than a mere duty to you, someone who you must obey. I don’t want to be obeyed, Dil. I don’t want to be a duty to you, I don’t want… this. I want you to care… I want…" she trailed off, at a loss for words a second time that evening. After a pause, she continued more quietly. "I want you to think about what we have. We can’t go on like this – there are too many small problems between us. Do you want to work through them, or are you just going to continue to obey me blindly, as if they don’t exist? We can’t be like that, Dil…"

She sighed and unslung the cloak from around her shoulders. "I need to go talk with a Yellow about Shaun. There are some things that you can change my mind about, but there are some things that you cannot. This is one of them, Dillan. I don’t know why you’re so worried about me – I am nearly Aes Sedai, I’ve been taught how to deal with these…" she shook her head, causing her tresses to click. "And maybe I’m turning into one of those bloody Aes Sedai… maybe you’re turning into the Mistress of Arms, and she’s a different person from the Dillan that I fell in love with…" She pressed her lips together slightly, then cut the ward from around them. "Think about it. Come to a conclusion, then come and tell me what you want… and that’s not an order."

Donica turned from Dillan and strode down the hallway, away from one problem and towards another. She couldn’t count the Gaidar as her supporter until Dillan returned to her with an answer – and she was about to kill Shaun. If Dillan didn’t come back, then she would be left with no one.

But I will be Aes Sedai…

Dillan
Victimless Crime
Sun Dec 28 2003 10:42:48 pm

Catch me as I fall
Say you’re here and it’s all over now
Speaking to the atmosphere
No one’s here and I fall into myself
This truth drives me
Into madness
I know I can stop the pain
If I will it all away

She was left staring open-mouthed at the Accepted’s retreating back, straight as an arrow, proud as the Aes Sedai she would one day become. Dillan shut her eyes, waited a few seconds, opened them again, trying to see, trying to understand. What had happened? She didn’t understand women, that was for sure. Donica didn’t want her to obey, but she didn’t want her to rebel too much either. She didn’t want to be the lover of the Mistress of Arms, but she was furious if Dillan offered to resign. Some sort of complicated logic was at work within the Accepted’s mind, but Dillan had no way to unravel it.

You’re a puzzle, Donica… The flash of a smile, white teeth against caramel skin, as the then-Novice moved closer, her eyes crinkled with amusement. But one you know how to put together and take apart, she had replied, as her gentle hands worked magic on the bruises that had marked Dillan’s pale skin. And it was true; once, a long time ago – it had not been that long, surely? – she had known how to put Donica together, how to take her apart when she needed to understand what lay within the younger woman’s motives. Not any more, though; this night was proof of that. A puzzle, a complicated puzzle, and she was almost afraid even to start trying to work it out.

Donica was gone, vanished into the shadows between pools of light. Dillan stared at where she had been, still unable to understand. Had she even heard the Accepted properly – was Doni offering to let this be over, to let Dillan go free? She shivered at the thought, wrapping strong arms around her body as if she could protect herself from such a fate. If Donica had decided, there was no way to halt the pain that was about to strike her, but it hadn’t sounded like Doni was sure. A…choice, then, rather than an order. For a change, she was to make a choice. How long since anyone had left her more than one way out?

Months. It had been months. She had walked the training grounds like a Grey Man, mutely obeying the orders she was given, unhesitating. They’d chosen her to be Mistress of Arms because she would obey orders, would do what she was told. Because she was tied to the Tower, with no way to ever escape. Dillan knew that she would have been watched, her actions since her arrival would have been catalogued. The Aes Sedai would have seen everything in her that they wanted. She was strong, she was brave – alone, risking the wrath of the Tower, she’d killed a group of Darkfriends. She was loyal; it had all been retribution, and she had not flinched carrying out that justice.

Don’t turn away
Don’t give in to the pain
Don’t try to hide
Though they’re screaming your name
Don’t close your eyes
Light knows what lies behind them!
Don’t turn out the light

Loyalty. They’d seen that she was tied to the White Tower, not just by her own life, but by that of the woman she’d fallen in love with. Had that been a factor in their choice? Dillan could just imagine Briar Rose being asked for her opinion, for the words that would seal the Gaidar’s fate. Love. It was such a little word, and yet it was so destructive. For love, Keir had turned away from the Light; for love, Dillan had killed her husband. For love, Donica would kill the Sea Folk boy lying injured in the infirmary. And yet for love, they had braved so much together, given up so much just for the sheer pleasure of being together. The Gaidar shook her head, rumpling her auburn hair with one shaking hand. Why, why?

She had to do something. She had to make a choice. For a change, there was even more than one viable option. The way to the infirmary was not difficult to find; she knew how to get there now, after the number of times she’d had to take trainees to be Healed or treated with arnica or comfrey poultices. If she went there, it was an unspoken – or spoken – decision to remain, to accept Shaun’s death and the change that must turn Donica into an Aes Sedai. But there was another way out, a way that led back to her office and to the bare existence that made up her life. It was far simpler; weapons were not difficult to understand, nothing like the beautiful bright Accepted who had given her this one choice.

The Gaidar looked down at her hands, turning them over so she could inspect the tanned skin and then the calluses that came from spending so much time holding a sword. She was definitely a warrior, no one could argue with that, and the job of a warrior was to defend and protect. To do that effectively, she had to follow the orders of the one she was sworn to guard, or the person in charge of what she was guarding. It was true that Gaidin had to think for themselves, but she had so very little experience that disobeying orders was liable to put her ward in danger. That was not possible. Obedience, silence – death, if it came down to that, a passionless death in the service of her commanders – that was what lay on the path she had been given.

But these hands had not just held a sword. Once upon a time she’d cradled a baby in the arms that were now taut with muscle, she’d crooned a song with a voice that now barked orders. Her body had been soft, gentle, designed only to give comfort. Even now she knew there was more to her than a fighter. It hadn’t been that long ago that her hands had traced a delicate pattern across Donica’s naked back, warming and soothing until the Accepted arched backwards to curl her arms around Dillan’s neck and giggle softly as her lover kissed her shoulder. She had held the younger woman safe in her arms, never once thinking of war, never once remembering that she was a killer. Could she give that up?

I’m frightened by what I see
But somehow I know
That there’s much more to come
Immobilized by my fear
And soon to be
Blinded by tears
I can stop the pain
If I will it all away

Azaria’s smile flickered behind her closed eyes. What would her child have said if she could see the woman who had been her mother? ‘Zari would never have believed that her mother could be a mindless killer, a warrior who obeyed any direction she was given, no matter how stupid. ‘Zari had trusted her, loved her, believed nothing but good about her. Dillan shook her head gently, wishing she could know what her life would have been like if she had somehow stopped Keir. It had been too late when he finally died, but how would she have felt if someone else had killed him instead of her? The Gaidar blinked. She had not thought of that.

Of course she would have hated it. He had betrayed her, wronged her; it was her right to deliver justice. No doubt that was how Donica felt, no matter that it would turn her into what Dillan had been. Much as she longed to protect the Accepted, keep her innocent and unmarked by the world, there was no way to do that. Donica was not a child; she was a woman, and one who could make her own decisions. Even if it meant taking a step further into the Dark, she had a right to decide what to do, and Dillan had no right to try to stop her. Yes, a right to decide…and she gave you a choice. An ultimatum.

When you thought about it, the choice was all too simple. On one hand, there was Donica, love, and life. On the other, obedience, silence and death. Dillan looked up, her dark eyes focussing on the end of the corridor. By now – she glanced through the window, surprised to see that the dawn’s rays were climbing the horizon, and she had been thinking for hours – Shaun would be dead, and Donica sitting alone, waiting to see if Dillan would return to her. The Gaidar compressed her lips, touched the hilt of the dagger in her belt, and straightened her back. The way ahead was clear now. Walking with the grace of a cat, or a fallen angel, she began to move towards the infirmary, towards Donica.

Don’t hate me
Don’t regret me
Don’t ever forget me
Wherever you go
Whatever you do
Don’t say I never loved you

OOC: Lucky, or unlucky, thirteen. Whisper, by Evanescence, and Vacuum Bag, by Stroke 9.

Twilla Donica
Crimes of Departure
Sun Dec 28 2003 11:52:14 pm

It was hard to simply walk away, Donica decided, and yet, far too easy. She disliked leaving problems behind her, she disliked leaving things unresolved – but sometimes, space and time were what solved the problems. What would staying with Dillan have gained her? In the Gaidar’s current frame of mind, not much. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Turning the corner, she disappeared from Dillan’s sight, but didn’t leave entirely… not yet. She leaned against the wall, just to pause and think. Had walking away been the right thing to do? Space and time – and the need to make a choice – were what Dillan needed, but it was possible that the Gaidar had taken her speech as her discharge, and Donica wouldn’t hear from her ever again. That hadn’t been her intent, but it was a very possible outcome.

Let Dillan think, she told herself. Right now, you need to go solve another problem. She pushed herself away from the reassuring strength of the wall and set off towards the infirmary. Someone would be there – someone was always there. She didn’t have to speak with Irian or Sabin – she just had to talk with someone. Donica didn’t know if going to a Yellow would be enough or if she had to go to someone higher, but she couldn’t delay this any longer. When someone had to die, it was best not to delay the act. And Shaun had come to die, had he not?

She shivered as she walked, regretting giving her cloak back to Dillan. It was a cool morning, and as the sun crept closer to the horizon, a stiff breeze came with it. The Accepted couldn’t maintain the concentration necessary to prevent the weather from touching her – she had too much on her mind to allow it to pursue such menial tasks. Instead, Donica walked faster and folded her arms tight against her body to preserve heat. She missed the warmth of the south – the winters weren’t sunny and warm like the summer, but rain and cool days were much better than the freezing weather in Tar Valon.

Fortunately for the revellers, it was customary for the Tower to give everyone the morning off from duties or chores, unless they were otherwise engaged. Novices in punishment didn’t get the morning off, but most others did. Lessons were cancelled and breakfast was prepared an hour later than normal. Right now, though, very few people were awake within the Tower, especially not in these parts. No servants were about, no Novices were darting through the hallways, and no Aes Sedai were sweeping through on their way to the Library. She could see the occasional figure in the Gardens, but didn’t pause at any of the windows to get a better look. Shaun was in the infirmary, and she didn’t – couldn’t – care about Dillan. Not now.

The doors to the infirmary were open, but no one sat in the waiting room just outside. Donica entered with tentative steps, soaking in the heat from the lit braziers. The goose bumps that had begun to pebble her skin disappeared and she regained her composure. The floor was still cold through her slippers, but little could be done to remedy that until she retrieved her boots from her room.

The Yellow currently on duty sat behind a large desk, peering down at what looked to be a book – but she could have been doing anything, Donica decided. There were herbs in jars all over the desk, small pots that probably contained salves, paperwork, and various other items. When her slipper scuffed the polished granite, the sister looked up – her eyes were bright for this early in the morning. She probably hadn’t participated in any late-night romps as Donica had; the Accepted was just beginning to feel the effects of her long night, and the long day in preparation for it.

"You’re up early, Accepted," the sister said quietly. Donica went over to the desk and bowed.

"Up late would be more accurate, Aes Sedai," she replied in a similar tone. The Aes Sedai nodded for her to take a seat. Though Doni couldn’t even remember the woman’s name, she knew that this Yellow was rumoured to be one of the friendlier ones, and for that, she was thankful.

"I won’t inquire, then. You don’t appear to be injured or sick – may I ask why you are in the infirmary so early in the morning, Accepted…"

"Twilla, ma’am. I’m… here about one of your patients. The Sea Folk man who came in earlier tonight."

"Ah yes. The one that Dillan Gaidar stabbed by accident?"

"Yes, Aes Sedai."

"He’s resting at the moment, Accepted Twilla, but he’ll make a full recovery. He won’t even have a scar, even though that was a bit of a nasty gash – as the other sister told me, anyway."

"I… yes, well, see, I’m not too concerned about his recovery, Aes Sedai. I know that man, and why he’s here."

"I wasn’t given a name… but he was an Aethan’Tar once, wasn’t he?"

"Years ago. His name is Shaun din Kalkin Storm Heart."

The Yellow paused. Her carefully shaped eyebrows drew together and down – she was quite pretty, even when frowning. "Shaun din Kalkin Storm Heart. If I remember correctly, that’s the name of a Darkfriend on the loose."

"He’s not on the loose any more, Aes Sedai… he came back."

"His life is already forfeit, Accepted Twilla. I hope – for your sake – that you aren’t trying to win him into my favour."

Donica’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "Far from it, Aes Sedai. The Tower has already decreed that his life is forfeit – as you said… And…" Here she paused. Would it be too much for her to ask if she could kill him? It would sound quite strange, coming from an Accepted, especially one who was known for her loyalty to the Tower. "And I brought this…" She produced the vial of poison.

The Yellow uncorked the vial and wafted the vial so she could smell it without getting too close. "A foxglove tincture? Accepted… I think I smell belladonna, too. This is a strong poison."

"It’s belladonna and rue in a foxglove tincture, yes, Aes Sedai. Strong enough to kill a grown man within a handful of minutes, and relatively painless."

"You’ll want to take him his breakfast, then?"

"Yes, Aes Sedai, I will." Donica could only hope that her voice was level enough to hide her nerves.

Twilla Donica
Departing From Time
Mon Dec 29 2003 10:29:31 pm

The sun rose in a brilliant array of gold and burnt orange that morning. The handful of wispy clouds that hung in the sky were stained with a pink that became purple the further they were from the horizon. Donica watched all of it as calmly as she could while waiting for Shaun to wake. Despite the cold, she spent most of her time on the infirmary’s balcony – she couldn’t stay inside with an Aes Sedai who knew her plans. Light, the Aes Sedai had come up with it! Yellows were supposed to help heal people, not help kill them. But a Darkfriend is a Darkfriend, Nica, she reminded herself.

Hearing a sound from inside, Donica turned from the sunrise and looked beyond the glass doors. A matronly-appearing woman had appeared with a trolley on which were stacked several trays with wholesome breakfasts. Donica entered the main room again, standing to one side as the Yellow chatted idly with the cook’s servant, and only came forward once she had left.

"Take a tray and take it to him, Accepted." Surprisingly, the Aes Sedai sighed. "I think I remember Shaun, now. He brought in other Aethan’Tar while he was here – he was a pleasant boy. It’s hard to believe that such a man as he was really a Darkfriend the whole time."

"It’s much harder to believe it when you’ve grown up with him, Aes Sedai," Donica replied calmly. "But if you saw his eyes, you might believe it. There’s a reason why he was given ‘Storm Heart’ as his salt name."

The Yellow inclined her head slightly. "It makes me queasy to think of it, Accepted Twilla. Are you sure that you want to be the one to do this? The Tower is capable of taking care of Darkfriends. You don’t need to do this. In fact, I could call a Gaidin right now to take him into custody, and he would be executed by noon – "

Even as the Aes Sedai was talking, Donica was shaking her head. "I… I already spoke to the Mistress of Arms about this, ma’am. He expects me to kill him – as much as I loathe the man, I will give him one last concession."

"Not many Accepted could do this, Twilla," the Aes Sedai murmured. "Your strength is commendable. I don’t recommend that you do it, but… you have my admiration." With that final statement, the woman returned to her desk. Donica chose one of the trays – it didn’t really matter which one she took – and went on her way to find Shaun’s room.

His door was unlocked, of course, so she went in with no difficulty. She stopped only to mix the tincture into the glass of orange and cranberry juice provided – some twist of fate had named the drink a ‘sunrise.’ Donica sighed and set the tray down on the small table next to the bed. Shaun remained asleep, but his eyelids fluttered when she sat down on the mattress.

"Good morning, Shaun," she said quietly, gently prodding his side. The window high in his room let in a sunbeam that brightened the bed’s coverlet.

His dark skin – almost an identical shade to hers – contrasted sharply with the white of the bed. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. "Twilla…" he said. His voice was husky, but after clearing his throat, it returned to normal. "Twilla, what are you doing here?"

"You know why I’m here, Shaun, just as I know why you’re here. Or at least, why I hope you’re here."

He let his head drop back to his pillow, having raised it. A groan escaped his lips, as if he had just remembered something unpleasant that he had forgotten. Donica watched all of this calmly, ignoring the odd squirming sensation in her stomach. "Shaun, I…"

"I still love you, Doni," he whispered. His eyes were shut. Except for his moving mouth, he appeared asleep.

The Accepted straightened her back unconsciously. She had only thought that she was prepared for this – Light help her, she really wasn’t! This wasn’t some cold-hearted fiend that she was killing, this was Shaun. Her Shaun. If Dillan were there, the Gaidar would have been shouting, I told you so! Donica clenched her teeth. You are ready. This is Shaun, but you know what he’s done, who he is, what he is…

He twisted his head on the pillow to look up at her. "I came here to die, Twilla. You’re still going to let me die, aren’t you?"

"Yes, Shaun."

"Then why didn’t you let that dagger pierce my heart? That would have been so much easier for you… and for me. It wouldn’t have wasted the Yellow’s efforts. Twilla, I’m ready to die. The dagger would have been so much easier…"


"I told you that I would kill you, Shaun. I won’t let someone else do it. I have enough of a sense of duty left for that."

He laughed. He laughed! "I was beginning to wonder."

"Here," Donica muttered, pulling the tray off of the desk and setting it in his lap. Shaun sat up, balancing the juice carefully so that it didn’t spill. "I brought you breakfast."

"I don’t want food, Doni," he muttered, pushing the soup to the other side of the tray. "I don’t need food anymore. Can’t you just kill me?"

"You’ll want the food for later, Shaun. Trust me."

His grey-blue eyes glanced at her, then settled on the food. With a sigh, he began on the soup, taking sips from the juice as he did so. Donica watched and waited in silence. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, and didn’t want to ruin it with idle chatter. When he had finished, she took the tray from him and returned it to its place on the bedside table. Shaun settled against the headboard. Donica watched him for a moment, then spoke. "You have five minutes left, Shaun."

Listen little child, there will come a day
When you will be able to say
Never mind the pain or the aggravation
You know there’s a better way for you and me to be

Goodbye my friend
I know you’re gone, you said you’re gone,
But I can still feel you here
It’s not the end
Gotta keep it strong before the pain
Turns into fear

His eyes widened slightly, then they skipped over to the food. The Accepted nodded slightly, watching his expression carefully. Shaun returned his chilling eyes to her, and for another few seconds, they sat in silence. She watched his eyes carefully as they wandered over her body and face.

"I meant it, you know," he said quietly. "I do still love you. I always loved you, Doni."

She touched his clean-shaven cheek. Even now, on his deathbed, he was warm. "I know, Shaun. I’m going to miss you."

"I won’t be too far," he whispered back. "Some part of me will always be with you…"

Look for the rainbow in every storm
Fly like an angel heaven sent to me

"The guilt from killing you?" she retorted. "But I promised. Shaun… thank you for everything that you’ve taught me over the years. It wasn’t perfect, but my childhood was improved with you in it."

"I thought I made it worse, personally," he replied. "Doni… can you forgive me?"

"No, Shaun," Donica whispered. Her voice caught. She looked down at her lap. The sun glinted off of a thin golden chain – the chain that he had given her upon his departure four years ago; it was the chain that his brother had given him. "I can’t forgive you."

I can’t forgive
Can’t forget
Can’t give in
What went wrong,
Cause you said this was right

His breathing was becoming shallower and his eyes were clouding over. "I didn’t think you could. Doni…" Shaun was labouring for breath, now. "This is it, Donica. I love you… good bye…"

"Farwell, Shaun. Thank you… I’ll still love you, in some way… good bye… Light bless you…" Against her previous inhibitions, Donica fell into his arms. Tears dripped from her eyes as she laid her cheek against his. Shaun’s arms had enough strength to wrap around her weakly. She knew that he felt the kiss that she pressed against his cheek, but then he was gone.

She sat for several minutes, studying his face. He was still warm – right now, it only looked as if he was asleep and would wake up any minute, but Donica knew that he was dead. There was no pulse on his throat, nor on his wrist. Shaun Trevallié din Kalkin Storm Heart, her oldest friend, was dead.

The times when we would play about
The way we used to scream and shout
I never dreamt you’d go your own sweet way

"The question, Shaun, is if you will forgive me." Standing at last, Donica touched her fingers to her lips and then pressed them against his – a final honour. Then, she pulled the sheet up over his head. The Accepted knew that tears were streaming down her cheeks and that they had made several dark splotches on her blouse, but didn’t particularly care. With as much serenity as she could muster, Donica walked out of his room and back into the main infirmary. She wasn’t terribly surprised to see an auburn-haired Gaidar there. Addressing both her and the Yellow, Donica said, "Shaun is dead. He has paid for his crimes."

Without saying another word, she left the infirmary. If Dillan wanted her, she could follow.

So glad we made it
Time will never change it
You know it’s time to say goodbye…

Goodbye my friend
I know you’re gone, you said you’re gone,
But I can still feel you here
It’s not the end
Gotta keep it strong before the pain
Turns into fear

OOC: And… he’s dead. Sorry if that was melodramatic or anything, but I did the best I could do. Songs are Goodbye by the Spice Girls and What Went Wrong by Blink 182, some words omitted.

Dillan
Time To Say Goodbye
Mon Dec 29 2003 11:23:38 pm

Quando sono sola sogno all’orizzonte
E mancan le parole, si lo so che non c’è luce
In una stanza quando manca il sole,
Se non ci sei tu con me, con me.
Su le finestre mostra a tutti il mio cuore
Che hai accesso, chiudi dentro me
La luce che hai incontrato per strada.

The silence in the room was almost deafening. Dillan gazed at the sunlight that had found its way through a window and now glinted off her hair, sending sparks of crimson and gold into her eyes. Neither she nor the Yellow had spoken since she had walked into the room, and the tension in the Aes Sedai’s body was making her wonder if the woman knew what Donica was doing. There was no real reason to suppose that Doni might have told her, apart from the fact that she was acting strangely, but Dillan had discovered a streak of real suspicion inside herself. She narrowed her eyes at the dark-haired woman, knowing the expression would not be seen through her curtain of hair.

When I’m alone, I dream upon the horizon and words fail…

The sun had risen, not all that long ago. The Mistress of Arms had watched its progress, leaning insolently against a wall near the infirmary’s door. If the Yellow sister in charge was not about to let her in to see what was going on, then she was not about to leave obediently. The time for obeying orders had passed. Now she would fight. There was no rule about Gaidin being kept out of the White Tower’s infirmary, and Dillan was certainly no ordinary Gaidin. Nor was she feeling especially benevolent; her lover was in there killing a man, and for all she knew Shaun might know what was going on and try to fight, and in the meantime she was being prevented from being the slightest bit of help.

Dillan shot another dark glare at the unfortunate Yellow and shifted her position, enough so that the Aes Sedai glanced up at her before returning to her books. At least she had books; Dillan was sure she would have been bored if she were not so worried about what was going on behind that shut door. Would Shaun find a way to persuade Donica to let him live, maybe let him escape? No one would be happy if that happened, except perhaps for the Dark One, but Dillan knew she could not prevent it. If it was to be, it would be, and her efforts would go unnoticed. Still, she was jittery. While she trusted Donica implicitly, she wasn’t quite sure whether the Accepted was strong enough for what lay before her.

Con te partirò.
Paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te,
Adesso sì li vivrò.
Con te partirò
Su navi per mari che, io lo so,
No, no, non esistono più,
Con te io li vivrò.

The Yellow at the desk let out a soft sigh, turning the page of her book as light began to flitter across her desk. Dillan looked up at the window again, her hair spilling back to reveal the perfect mask of her face. No one would ever be able to read her emotions again, not unless she wanted them to. If the White Tower had taught her nothing else, they had taught her that. Emotionless, expressionless; it truly was a mask that the Aes Sedai wore, and their Warders too. If one day she was ever a Warder, Dillan knew she’d never give away a single secret that her Bondholder might trust to her. No one would be able to tell what she thought. It was a kind of safety.

Sunlight had crept up into her eyes, dazzling them. Even as Dillan turned her face away from the light, the door that had been shut for so long opened, the dark silhouette of a woman standing outlined in its frame for half a second before Donica emerged into the room. The Gaidar noted the marks of tears on her lover’s beautiful face, the dark patches on her shirt, but didn’t bat an eyelid. She’d known it would hurt, and that Doni would almost certainly cry, but it would not benefit either of them for there to be a sudden show of emotion. Even if nothing else, they still had appearances to keep up. She could not go and congratulate the Accepted for having murdered someone, and in truth she did not feel like there was any cause for celebration. A Darkfriend had died, yes, and that was something good, but in the same instant something had been lost for Donica.

"Shaun is dead. He has paid for his crimes."

There was not even the hint of a wobble in the Accepted’s voice. Dillan bowed her head, allowing her hair to fall forward and cover her expression again, as Donica marched out of the infirmary. The Yellow behind the desk had stood up, looking rather stunned, almost as if she had not believed Doni would do it. She looked over at Dillan, who gazed steadily back at her.

"Did you…did you…?" the Aes Sedai asked. Dillan kept her mouth shut and her face expressionless, not knowing what the right answer was, not even understanding the question. Did she want Shaun to die? Yes, of course; he served the Dark One. Did she help? Yes, for she’d not said a word to save the boy. Did she know it was coming? Certainly. And she had not stopped Donica, so she was partially guilty. As the Yellow came out from behind her desk, Dillan fell in behind her, stepping like a cat into the room to look at her lover’s victim. Somehow, she wanted to be sure that he was dead, that there would be no return for Shaun Trevallié din Kalkin Storm Heart.

Quando sei lontana sogno all’orizzonte
E mancan le parole, e io si lo so
Che sei con me, con me,
Tu mia luna tu sei qui con me,
Mio sole tu sei qui con me,
Con me, con me, con me.

Donica had pulled a sheet over the Sea Folk man’s face, but the Yellow gently removed it. Dillan gazed over her shoulder, no emotion showing on her face as she looked down at Shaun’s equally lifeless expression. He was certainly not breathing, and no pulse beat in the hollow of his throat. Strange to think that he had been alive only moments before, possibly trusting Donica, loving the woman who would kill him. The Gaidar was not unobservant; she had known that Shaun loved Doni, and that a part of Doni was always going to love Shaun. Perhaps Donica knew that a twinge of jealousy still stung her lover. For no reason, Dillan had found herself wondering whether the Accepted would do the same for her, if it came down to that. Would she be allowed to go quietly, held by someone she loved, or would she be consigned to the Tower’s heartless executions?

She bowed her head as the Yellow made perfunctory, pointless checks to be sure that the man had truly died, then turned and walked smoothly out of the infirmary and into the pure white corridors of the Tower. Donica would not be far. There were not that many places that the girl might have gone; Dillan could count them on the fingers of one hand. The gardens, perhaps, or the library; she might have ventured into Dillan’s room, or gone back to her own. The Gaidar was willing to bet that it would not be the gardens, for despite the sunlight it was still below freezing outside. The library would be full of bustling Browns, even at this hour of the morning, even the night after a festival. Dillan’s room was not a place a grieving girl might easily retreat. It would be the Accepted’s own room, and she knew the way there very well.

Up the stairs to the Novice quarters, then up another floor to the Accepted. The Tower folk were either still at the ball or sleeping, and the corridors were unnaturally quiet. Dillan moved like a wraith through the white hallways, her hands loose at her sides instead of touching the dagger that never left her belt. The Mistress of Arms had no real reason to be allowed here, but no one would dare to question her after they saw the fire in her eyes. Dillan knew she could be terrifying if she chose, and right now she was definitely in the mood to frighten anyone who dared stand in her way. Safer for them all to remain in their beds, and allow her to do her duty.

Con te partirò.
Paesi che non ho mai veduto e vissuto con te,
Adesso sì li vivrò.
Con te partirò.
Su navi per mari che, io lo so,
No, no, non esistono più
Con te io li rivivrò.

Duty, duty, her mind grumbled at her. Is Donica always just a duty, now? Have you no thoughts except of what you must do? The thought made her flinch as she never had from a blow. No, Doni wasn’t a duty, she was a choice, a pleasure, and she needed Dillan. Or at least she might need Dillan; the Gaidar wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to take the chance that she might not arrive when she was required. If Donica didn’t want her around, she could always leave again, having faced the younger woman’s displeasure. Some people just wanted to be alone after such an experience, but others wanted comfort. She could not tell which Doni would prove to be, not yet.

The door was in front of her faster than she had expected, and Dillan knocked hesitantly. There was no answer from inside. The Gaidar paused, unsure. Perhaps she had been wrong, and Donica wasn’t here after all. Or perhaps she was here, hiding, wanting only to be left alone. Perhaps she was waiting for Dillan to arrive. There was only one way to find out. She knocked again, then tried the door’s handle. It was unlocked, turning easily at her gentle touch. Dillan steeled herself, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Donica," she said softly, allowing her voice to show the emotions she had been repressing. Love, reassurance, comfort, trust – it was amazing how much could be conveyed with three syllables, and Dillan knew perfectly well that Doni was able to read her voice better than anyone else in the world. She would know what the Gaidar was trying to say. There was no need for another word; the younger woman’s name was enough. Now the only question would be what Donica would say, what she would do, and where they would go now that their worlds had turned upside down.

Con te partirò
Su navi per mari che, io lo so,
No, no, non esistono più,
Con te io li rivivrò.
Con te partirò
Io con te.

OOC: That’d be Time To Say Goodbye. You can find a translation and other miscellaneous information here, if you’re inclined.

Twilla Donica
Goodbye Isn’t Forever
Tue Dec 30 2003 10:57:22 pm

The Accepted was unsurprised to find that the world was unchanged by Shaun’s demise. She hadn’t expected to walk out of the infirmary as a different person, and she hadn’t expected to watch the sunrise with a different gleam in her eyes. This time her duty had cut her to the quick – she had done it without hesitation or complaint, but the pain wasn’t any less. Pain always came – it was impossible to avoid, and Donica was no different from anyone else when it came down to facing the truth.

As she forced her steps to remain even and relatively sedate, Donica took stock of her current state. She was sad that Shaun was dead. The pain that his death had caused would take time to fade. It wouldn’t heal – Donica knew that, and in a way, she didn’t want it to. Pain was something that one had to live with and was not to be avoided. She would have to bear her daemons just as everyone else did. Though she felt a deep sorrow for the loss of her friend, the Accepted was – in all other respects – doing well. She felt no guilt for her actions: she would have felt guiltier if she had let him live. Shaun was a Darkfriend, he had committed crimes, and his just punishment was death. The White Tower would have put him to death as readily as Donica had. She felt no regret, either. The job was done. Even if she had felt regret, he was dead, and no twist of fate could bring him back.

Donica was aching with fatigue by the time that she reached her room. She had been awake for at least twenty-four hours, and they hadn’t been easy hours. On previous festival nights she had stayed up far longer to be with Dillan, but those hours had been full of fun and games, not stress as these had been. No one was stirring in the Accepted Quarters as she walked past the white-washed doorways to her own. She paused before entering, re-reading the brass nameplate. It read Twilla Donica din Tearin, and not for the first time, the Accepted wondered when she would earn her salt name. She couldn’t have it officially until she found a Sailmistress and proved her worth. She had done and gone far enough to deserve one, now. Only a few more years, a small voice reassured her. It was odd to be thinking about a salt name at a time like this…

She entered her room, shutting the door as quietly as she could behind her – many a morning she had been woken by an Accepted slamming her door somewhere down the hallway. Donica hesitated in the middle of her room, then slowly sat down on the edge of her bed. She removed her slippers slowly, pulling her feet up under her body into a cross-legged position. Donica sat there, staring down at the Great Serpent ring encircling the ring finger of her left hand. Slowly, she slid it off, and before long, her bracelets and necklaces joined it. The pile on her desk grew with each addition, becoming more and more colourful. It was an exotic contrast with her books and papers, but Donica barely noticed.

Having rid herself of her extraneous baubles, Donica lay back down on her bed, thinking. Shaun’s warm skin had left an imprint on her own. She could still feel the heat from his cheek on hers and the slow beat of his heart against her palm. His voice, broken by its inactivity over the night, haunted her room like a silent phantom. I meant it, you know. I do still love you. The Accepted drew a shaky breath. I did know, Shaun. I’m only now beginning to realize just how much you loved me. Your love was misplaced – I betrayed you as easily as I embraced you, even if you did deserve both. Another tear slid from her closed eyes onto her pillow, tickling her ear on its way down. They fell more and more frequently, and before too long, the Accepted counted it a blessing that she could still breathe – her throat was so constricted that she could barely whimper. Oh Shaun, will you ever forgive me?

Through the muffled sounds of her heavy breathing and whimpering, Donica could hear footsteps traversing the hallway outside of her door. They stopped just outside of it, and a light tapping sound echoed in her still-dim room. The Accepted moaned, rolling onto her side to find a handkerchief. She didn’t need to mourn for Shaun anymore.

Another knock sounded, followed by the door handle turning and Dillan entering. Donica looked up at the Gaidar, watching the woman with swollen eyes. "Donica…" the other woman whispered. Doni could see the concern written on the Gaidar’s face, but she didn’t want it. She forced herself to sit up, swinging her feet around to settle on the floor. Her toes wriggled on the cold surface as she dabbed at her eyes and nose again.

"It was easier than I thought it would be, Dil. It was so very hard, but he wanted to die. He knew what I was doing, and accepted it. He was Shaun until the very last minute… he still loved me, even when I was killing him…" She sniffled, looking up at the Gaidar. "And he’ll always be my closest friend. Until I die. Forever, Dil. I can forgive myself, but will he forgive me? I can’t forgive him. I…" Suddenly, she realized that she was babbling and sniffling like a Novice after her first day in the Tower. The comparison made her laugh bitterly. Leather creaked when Dillan shifted, making Donica look up. She wasn’t sure if she needed comforting – half of her wanted to fall into the Gaidar’s arms and never wake up; the other half was fine on her own. Dillan had come back. There was only one question – had the Gaidar come back because she still felt it was her duty to support Donica, or had she reached some other conclusion?

"Dillan," she said at last. "Why did you come back?"

Dillan
Forever Bound To You
Wed Dec 31 2003 11:48:23 am

Donica had been crying; the tracks of tears still marked her cheeks, and more dark patches decorated her shirt. She’d taken off her necklaces, bracelets, and even Great Serpent ring. Dillan gazed at the pile of jewellery for a moment, wondering what it meant, before turning her attention onto the Accepted again. Surprisingly, the younger woman seemed to be maintaining at least some of her dignity. Dillan had expected tears, but not the speed of Doni’s recovery from those tears. She could even speak, making sense, forming coherent sentences that the Gaidar understood. Dillan did not exactly like what Donica was saying, but at least it made sense.

Her laughter was surprising, to say the least. Only once before had Dillan heard someone laugh like that, as if something were so unbelievably cruel that it had a kind of sick humour to it. She shivered, bowing her head, huddling against the wall. Death could do strange things to people, and it had certainly done something odd to Donica. The Mistress of Arms was not sure that she recognized her lover any more, and the odds were good that Donica did not recognize her either. They had both changed so much since they had met, and somehow they’d managed to stick together as they changed. At least, until now.

"I came back because…" she started, then paused. It was difficult to explain. "I came back because I love you. And because you might want me, and I think you still love me. And because…I don’t want to say goodbye to everything we had, everything we fought so hard for. We’ve done so much…" Dillan stopped again, a half smile curving her lips. "We braved Briar Rose Sedai’s wrath, we put up with the gossip and the rumours and the stares, we dealt with Therran…Doni, I knew then that I wanted you, wanted you so much that I’d fight anything to be able to keep you. If that means…I mean…whatever it takes…"

I come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry
You don’t know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

"Whatever it takes…" Donica whispered, almost as if she were having to think about it for the first time. Caught off balance, Dillan glanced sharply at the Accepted. She couldn’t tell what was going through the younger woman’s mind. With luck, it would be what was sidetracking her own thoughts. It had already taken so much, and they had dealt with all of it. They could continue, they did not have to give up just because things were getting hard. Or at least, they could try to continue, until it was all too much. The question was when Donica would decide it had become too much.

The Gaidar let her gaze drop again, back to the pile of necklaces and bracelets on Donica’s desk. If she only knew a little bit more about the Sea Folk, she might be able to tell what that meant. As it was, all she had to go on was what might motivate her to remove her jewellery. Not that she wore much, save for the golden rings adorning her ears, but she could guess. When Keir had killed Azaria, she’d taken off her wedding ring, carrying it in her money pouch until she found a blacksmith who would melt it down and give the streak of gold it had become back to her. She had carried it until Keir’s death, until her mission was fulfilled, and then taken it to the walls of Tar Valon and tossed it into the Erinin. Had Keir’s body not disappeared, she would have buried it with him. But he’d been taken, and no one seemed to know where.

"Donica, what will it take?" she asked quietly. "I can’t be everything you want me to be, not always. I can’t be only yours, and I can’t be entirely my own. Whether you like it or not, part of me belongs to the White Tower, and to whoever Bonds me. One day I think I will be told to Bond, and when that day comes I cannot say no. In the meantime I must be their tame Mistress of Arms, and do what they tell me to, even when I don’t like it. It’s…hard to go from that to being completely autonomous again, to spend a week obeying instructions and then suddenly have to make decisions that could be wrong. And I am so often wrong."

Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Running in circles
Chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

"I don’t want to be a duty." Donica’s voice was surprisingly strong. "I only want you here if you want to be here. Not because you think you have to, Dillan."

Dillan let out the breath she’d been holding in a long sigh, shaking her head. Loose strands of hair fell down over her face, but she ignored them. For a few moments she watched the Accepted, then pushed off the wall and took the few steps needed to bring her to the edge of Donica’s bed. As the younger woman’s dark eyes came up to her face, Dillan knelt in front of her, placing both her hands gently on Doni’s knees. Her gaze travelled over the girl’s face, pausing for a moment on her soft mouth before moving upwards so that their eyes met. Light, but she wanted to kiss Donica. Now was not the right moment, though; there would be other times. There might be other times.

From this close, she could see every change in the younger woman’s expression. Pain and determination were flickering across Donica’s face, much as she tried to hide them. Her breath came faster than it normally would, tickling Dillan’s lips. The Gaidar watched her closely, trying to detect what her lover was thinking. It would be so much easier if she could only read the Accepted’s mind. Bonds could do that, or so she’d heard. For the first time in her life, Dillan wished she were Bonded, so that she could be useful to the woman she loved.

"I want," she whispered, "to be here." Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. It would take only a tiny lean for her to be able to kiss the Accepted. "I want to be with you," Dillan added softly, resisting temptation. "I always have, Donica, and I always will."

Nobody said it was easy
It’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
I was just guessing
At numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart…

OOC: Eighteen. The song is The Scientist, by Coldplay. And we’ll beat them anyway.

Twilla Donica
You Just Don’t Stop
Fri Jan 2 2004 11:37:58 pm

Romeo: Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear,
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—

Juliet: O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

Romeo.: What shall I swear by?

Juliet: Do not swear at all;
Or if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.

Romeo: If my heart's dear love—

Juliet: Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night;
It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say It lightens. Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart as that within my breast!
- Romeo & Juliet, Act I, Scene ii, Lines 111-130.

“Always is a long time, Dillan,” Donica countered softly. “You might not want to be with me for always. Ah, ah, ah” – she placed a finger on Dillan’s lips just as the Gaidar was about to argue – “don’t swear to me, Dillan. Don’t promise anything; don’t throw your future at me. Always sounds too definite for my tastes. I told Shaun that we’d be friends forever – and now he’s dead, and by my hand. You probably told Keir something of the sort, a long time ago, and he’s dead, too.” Donica tilted her head at the Gaidar, then smiled softly. “Don’t stay subservient on the floor, Dil. That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”

The Gaidar’s eyebrows drew together, but she stood slowly. Donica watched and waited, then caught the other woman’s hand and tugged her down onto the bed. Startled at the sudden shifting of her weight, Dillan couldn’t help but land on the mattress. Donica giggled, delighted by the successful execution of her plan. She doubted that the Gaidar would have let herself be toppled in such an unceremonious manner by anyone else – she was the Mistress of Arms, after all – but Donica had always known that she had a ‘special touch’ when it came to Dillan. Even though their bodies were practically on top of one another, she had no troubles bearing Dillan’s weight. The Gaidar had some of her weight on her arms, which lessened the burden slightly. The two were about the same in build – Dillan was a mere inch and a half taller than Donica – but the Gaidar’s muscles made her heavier than the Accepted. As Donica trailed a finger across the other woman’s thigh and hip, she could feel Dillan’s body tense.

“Scared, Dil?” the Accepted whispered in her ear. “I’ve done much more without you being scared.”

“Doni,” Dillan protested quietly. “You just…”

“…killed my best friend, cried about it, and made up with my girlfriend. And?” The Accepted couldn’t help but make her tone matter-of-fact. Killing Shaun had been her duty, and it had hurt – but the pain would subside. She was already feeling better, now that Dillan was here. It was odd… just a few hours ago, the Gaidar had downright frustrated her, and now she felt as carefree as the wind. But then, Donica reflected, that could be because you badly need sleep.

“And…” Dillan’s objection was silenced when Donica’s lips pressed against hers. The Accepted could feel blood rushing to her cheeks – not from awakening passions, but from the life force exuding from Dillan. Dear Light, how long had it been since they had physically been this close? How long had it been since they had shared a real kiss? Donica had almost begun to wonder if she had dreamt all of those long nights, but now she knew that her memory was functioning perfectly fine. As soon as the thought appeared in her head she tried to ignore it – but there was the inescapable fact that Dillan’s body was as warm as Shaun’s had been. Donica had always loved that about Dillan, even when they had been mere friends. When she couldn’t seek solace in Shaun’s warm embrace, Donica had gone to Dillan. She remembered – all too well – how Shaun’s dead body had lost its heat under her fingertips. She could remember just when his heart stopped beating. Shaun was dead, but Dillan was not – her Dil was very much alive, and warm.

Donica trailed a handful of kisses down from the Gaidar’s mouth to the pulse on her throat. There, she rested her lips just where the artery was closest – underneath her sensitive skin, she could feel Dillan’s steady heartbeat. The Accepted sighed happily, running her hands up the Gaidar’s back to hold her tighter. Though Dillan was submitting to Donica’s ministrations, the woman didn’t seem to be relaxing. Doni placed her lips against Dillan’s ears and whispered, “There was a time, once, when my hands didn’t scare you. There was a time when you relaxed when I touched you, and even when you kissed back…”

Donica sat up slowly, using her own muscle to support Dillan until the Gaidar understood that she was meant to be moving on her own. Dil backed off almost immediately, putting inches of space between herself and the Accepted. Donica sighed softly, reaching for Dillan’s hands. “Dil, I do want you here. I wanted proof that you loved me and that I wasn’t a duty. You came back because you thought I might need you… I didn’t, Dil. While I’m in the Tower, I don’t need anyone but myself. The Aes Sedai have trained me – they have succeeded in turning me into one of them. I needed someone to run to before, but I don’t anymore.” Doni traced her tattoo onto the palm of Dillan’s hand. “I don’t need anything from you, Dillan. But I still want you, now more than ever before…” Dillan opened her mouth to rebut, but for the third time, Donica didn’t let her continue. “I don’t want you that way right now, Dil. I’ve been awake for about twenty-four hours, and yes, I have had a trying day… to say the least, anyway,” her smile was wry. “But stay with me, Dil? I think that I need to be reminded of life… how it feels to sit with a living person, not a dead one. And I do want to be close to you… Light, Dil, if I have to climb into your lap to get some attention, I plan on doing it!”

Dillan
Stop, In The Name Of Love
Sat Jan 3 2004 12:54:25 am

Donica seemed to be everywhere; the scent of her, like spices and sunlight all at once, surrounding her Gaidar lover as she found herself pinning the Sea Folk girl to the bed. It was unintentional, but she was disinclined to move. It had been so long since she’d felt the fragile strength of Donica’s body close to hers, and she was surprised to discover just how much she’d missed it. And that was without even mentioning the sound of Doni’s voice, so warm and soft, the warmth of her body, the taste of her mouth. Despite herself, she held back, refusing to allow herself to sink into satisfying the lust that had suddenly found its way up past her defences.

No, no, no, she snarled at herself, forcing the feeling down as if she were trying to tame a wild animal. You will not. Reluctantly obedient, her emotions slowed to the point where she could control them, and Donica let her sit up. Dillan found herself watching the blankets on the Accepted’s bed, her cheeks scarlet with a mixture of suppressed desire and annoyance at her own inability to do what she was trying to. It was so hard, but she knew that this was not how it was supposed to go. Yes, things were better now, seemed better, but Donica didn’t need to sleep with her to make it all right again.

Something within her that she didn’t actually want to acknowledge had told her that, and the Gaidar was unhappily aware that it was right. Spending a night with Doni was fine; ending up naked was not. She didn’t think Donica really wanted it, either; the girl had to be tired. What she wanted was to be held, and now Shaun was gone – suddenly a fire lit itself in Dillan’s heart. A replacement for Shaun? She’d never be such a thing. That was not the way she was supposed to be, and if that was why Donica wanted her around, there was no reason for her to stay. She had almost convinced herself that she should leave when the Accepted spoke again, her voice almost too soft to hear.

“Stay with you?” she repeated, suddenly discovering a strange catch in her voice. “I am not always sure that I’m still alive, Doni, but I’ll stay. Maybe you’ll bring me to life, too.” The young Gaidar raised her face to her lover’s, letting a soft smile make its way across her mouth. It had been too long since she’d smiled because she was happy, and even now she wasn’t quite sure if it was delight that infused her body. But she felt like smiling, and here was Donica to smile at, and an equally hesitant smile had found its way onto the Accepted’s face. Dillan took a deep breath in, treasuring the scent in the air, that warm spicy smell that was Donica. She knew that if she raised her hands to her face, they too would have her lover’s scent clinging to them.

That was the thing about love. Once there was someone you loved, everything about them became that much more precious. She could spend hours watching Donica move, even watching her as she sat in silence and thought. There was an expression that the younger woman wore from time to time when she was puzzled or disbelieving, the tiniest wrinkle of her forehead, that made Dillan smile and wonder what her lover might be thinking of. From several hundred paces away, she could turn and look unerringly at the spot Donica would appear seconds before the Sea Folk girl actually arrived there. The scent of cinnamon made her close her eyes and breathe in deeply, remembering the girl who had that scent.

Her voice was identifiable even among a crowd of hundreds – instantly identifiable. When she was nearby, Dillan was alert to even the tiniest sound from her, ready to detect annoyance or happiness or boredom and do something to alleviate the bad emotions and amplify the good. Some tastes would always be connected to Donica, things that the Sea Folk girl had gotten her to try as well as the tastes of their kisses. As for touch, there was nothing quite the same as the feel of Donica’s skin on hers, silky smooth, or Doni’s mouth kissing her, or even the fabric of the Accepted’s clothing. Logically Dillan was aware that every single Accepted in the White Tower wore precisely the same clothing, but she was sure she could tell which was Donica’s without any prompting.

“Come here, love,” she said, not sure whether it was a command or a plea, and Donica came, climbing into her lap as promised. Dillan wrapped her arms around the younger woman’s waist, squeezing her close, and lay her cheek against Doni’s shoulder. Her eyes shut, the better to concentrate on the feeling of her lover’s body so close to her, and she smiled as sweetly as a child. Donica appeared to have been watching her expression; the Gaidar heard a soft sound that might have been the start of a laugh, and then gentle fingers stroked her cheek. Dillan turned her head towards the caress, kissing Donica’s hand when she came near enough.

“Better?” the Gaidar murmured, shifting her weight so that her lover slipped to one side of her. Over the start of a muffled protest, she wrapped an arm around Donica’s legs, pulling them up so that the Accepted lay across the bed, her arms still tightly around Dillan’s neck. Rather than hold her down – she had no desire to do that – Dillan allowed herself to slide down next to the younger woman, her head resting against Donica’s shoulder. To her amusement, Doni yawned widely, then tried to cover it with one hand. Dillan buried her laughter in her lover’s shoulder, but couldn’t stop her own shoulders shaking. The Sea Folk girl let out a haughty sniff and batted Dillan in retribution.

She knew Doni didn’t mind, knew the younger woman was as pleased to be close as she was. Dillan smiled, turning her head towards her lover, and pressed a kiss against Donica’s collarbone. It was not quite as it had been before, but then it never could be. They had both changed, and she was only lucky that they seemed to have changed in the same direction. How they were now was not bad; in fact, she could even believe that it was better than it had been. And Light, she was tired suddenly, almost as tired as Donica seemed to be. Dillan snuggled closer to her lover, somehow finding a way to be sure that their bodies were joined from head to toe, and wound a protective arm across the younger woman’s body.

Don’t want to close my eyes
I don’t want to fall asleep
Cause I’d miss you babe
And I don’t want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
I’d still miss you babe
And I don’t want to miss a thing…

OOC: The big two-zero. Song is I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing, by Aerosmith.

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