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Site Picks Avaiya She'ar: "The Final Arch" I - Memory
Choren- Day one,
Week one.
I remember the nights of this day in Arad Doman, when the Festival of Lanterns dotted the horizon with a display to shame the stars; animals running amuck in their purple paper skins, yellow giants wafting in the air as to give the illusion of life, the breeze of the Aryth spurring forward their facade. I was a child, then, running red-faced and out of breath through the cold Autumn nights, rapping my tiny, dirty fists on the doors of the homes whose windows were illuminated by the reds and green and blues of the holidays most festive procurements, all in the hopes that they might drop a bit of candy into the bag that mother and I decorated so fitfully the night before. It seems so long ago, now. Though perhaps that is because it has been nearly fourteen years since I last saw the lanterns of the season decorating the windows, since I last laughed as the paper and glue stuck to my brothers hair as we made our own lanterns and mother had to cut it out. We laughed at Cyril for weeks until his bangs grew back. Fourteen years since the scent of pumpkin bread woke us up in the mornings and the exhaustion of the days festivities saw us to a deep and dreamless sleep at night. How long since my sleep has not been plagued by the Foretellings of Ages through my dreams? It seems to me that the world from which I came, and that which I have emerged into are so vastly different, yet they collide with one another all the same in those dreams. I remember talking to Ravyen about Shaoman, how we would plan out which songs we would sing door to door to get the better gifts and the most sweets. We would have our second youngest sister, Meira, the third of seven children, sing most of the part. She had such a beautiful voice. Sometimes I feel as though I can hear it at nights, when I sit alone in my bed, staring up at my white-plastered ceiling and wondering what I’ve made of my life. I remember so much of home, and at times I can still recall lifting my youngest sister, Elivia, onto my shoulders to see the paper dragon, and the many human legs that fueled it, winding its way through the crowded streets of Bandar Eban. I remember my annoyance as she pounded on my head with her tiny fists, and yet how I laughed as I sighed in irritation. Has it been so long? So many memories, of nights in eager waiting for our trips to the city and the country alike. where father would take us out on the luxury schooners and point out each of the ships as they passed in and out of harbor. I wonder how I keep them all straight anymore, with everything else that has entered into my thoughts. How I remember as father took me up in the crows nest of the Windwaker and pointed out the small, shining ribbons of light that cut into the plains of the country, the rivers that divided our estates from those of the general public. I remember his hoarse voice, telling me that as the eldest I would own them all in time. And in time.. I did. It is an amazement that I don’t cry anymore, though it is a vast relief to me. I don’t have the time for it. Sometimes I feel as though I don’t even have the capacity. There are things which can be changed, and things which cannot, and logic tells me not to fret over those which cannot. What point would it have? What purpose? I cannot change it, and I shall not dwell on it. I remember them, my family. But they are dead. And I? I am Aes Sedai. Avaiya She’ar II - Summons
Choren- Day one,
Week one.
Seeing the Tower again was like seeing Arad Doman, for me. I recall shunning it with the greatest of ease that day when Keitva walked me down the path of the main courtyard. I thought so little of it. So little of Hesper L’Pree Aes Sedai and of the customs and courtesies of the Tower she led. I look back now and laugh at myself, but I know well the hollowness of my own expressions. I was a child, even then. A foolish concept, that a matter of a month could change so much. Foolish, and yet true, a fact which defies the logic that I have already chosen to set my life by. Yet one can not always follow the beaten path of philosophy, and I for one will be the first to admit that to do so is suicide. When I walked up that path, I did not expect things to progress so quickly. Nor did I expect them to return to a state of normalcy. But they did, in time, as one will find they always do. Life cannot always be fast paced and rigorous, and at some point, things must settle into the smooth and corrupting flow of monotony. And they soon did, once the questions had stopped flowing and Sisters had stopped pulling me aside in their attempts to weasel out every bit of information despite the Amyrlin’s strict and open concern that what had happened not get out of hand. Fact is, many Sisters cannot let a thing like that go, particularly not Sisters of the Ajah which had lost one of its own. Though after a while, things did settle. The Whites laid Keitva’s memory to rest in a proper ceremony, and the Tower donned it’s mourning ribbons for a day. It seems unfit to me, that they should simply don such a pretty show of mourning, when some obviously could not have cared less. Yet I suppose that is simply the way things work. And after that day, I, too, began to let myself get over what had come to be that day in the Jangai Pass. I cannot dwell on that, and I certainly could not on the night in question. It was the night of the Mystery Ball, doubly exciting due not only to the event, but to the arrival of Madeline Sedai amongst our quarters, all dolled up and dressed out for the occasion. I thought it might be me, honestly, that first time. But as I stuck my head out my door, I saw the famed Mistress of Novices stop in front of Aiyaela. I can’t say I was too disappointed, really, except in the fact that I like Aiyaela, and had intended to miss her company greatly within the Accepted quarters. There was a strict habit of losing touch that occurred when one Accepted was raised to Sisterhood and another was not. But in recent days I had decided to settle into the mentality that what will be, will be. If Aiyaela was to be raised, I would be all the happier for her, and curtsy just as I would have to any other Sister when her time came to grace the halls. Besides, I had the Ball to worry about. It was foolish, but I felt a bit sorry for the Aethan’Tar who had asked me. He was not an attractive boy, but most of the Aethan’Tar aren’t. They are still children, the majority, and I’ve no need of children to waste my time. In the end, it was his smile that made me say yes. Timid as he was, he managed a weak smile as he stammered out his request, showing a good deal of bravery in risking rejection in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. Though perhaps it was not him at all, but the boys who jeered at him from one table that made me finally acquiesce. A pity date, perhaps, but a date nevertheless. And so I was in my room, dragging coils of Fire and Water across my red silk gown, the one that Mayra had had made for me for our first ball when we became Accepted together, which had been gathering wrinkles in my closet ever since. I felt bad, as all I had gotten here was a ring that matched my own. She claimed to have loved it, but Mayra always was more of the material girl than myself, and I fear the emotional weight of my gift simply did not stand up to the lacking material value. Still, it was the thought that counted. Nevertheless, the night passed swiftly by, with dancing and drinking and all of the merriment that one could expect from such an affair. I admit, I spent most of my time away in one corner declining invitations for dance. I had other things to worry about. I always did. Those years when I was a Novice, things seemed so easy in the beginning. Who was I to know then the troubles that passed in the world around me. Tarmon Gai’don seemed an eternity off, and yet now I see it nightly in my Dreams, though never does the end finally grace me with the answers I so desperately seek. Will the world survive this? Can the world survive this? I returned to my rooms with this thought, amongst others, rebounding in my skull. Tomorrow was just another day, another task, another step closer to the ultimate ending that I would face in time. I would be Aes Sedai, that much I knew. Keitva had said so, amongst countless others, putting my trepidations aside for me. A good thing, because even now I am not so sure I could have done so myself. There is great danger in the Testing, more so than any Accepted could ever know. To practice the ninety-nine weaves is one thing, to perform them is entirely another. So imagine my surprise as I readied myself for bed, placing the last sheaf of parchment from my completed Ajah study away beneath my book, and the cold rush of air that came as my door swung open brought with it the shawled and ceremonial Madeline Sedai. Avaiya She’ar III - Beginning
Wed Sep 8, 2004 12:49pm Choren- Day one,
Week one. One thirty-four AM.
Was I ready, girls have asked me since my return. Time and time again. The answer? Silence. I had not the time nor patience to answer childish inquiries. But had I answered, it would have clearly been with a yes. I followed behind Madeline Sedai with the practiced silence of years, the stone of the Accepted quarters frigid beneath my feet. I knew this ceremony like the back of my hand, though I was admittedly afraid of making so much as a whisper. My slippers would scuff the carpet, and I would nearly wince in response every time, just as I would every time the linen of my Accepted‘s dress ruffled with each step. The White Tower was all stern faced propriety, so my fear of crossing that line was as great now as it ever had been before. Yet I maintained my infallible expression of apathy, heeling the Mistress of Novices with a mix of excitement and trepidation. I was ready for that moment, more so than I ever expected myself to be as we arrived in front of those carved doors. The Great Serpent stared down at me with the knowledge of ages, seeming as infallible in wood as it had in the gold of my ring. A fear symbol if there ever was one, the Great Serpent had always meant a bit more to me than simply the continuance of time. It was the continuance of the Tower, however up or down my opinion on it may have been at the time. Ambivalent as I have always been, I find myself now prided by the ring on my hand - I have admittedly shifted it several times already to see where I might place it, and I fear it will stay where it has been for the past several months. Call it a force of habit. Madeline Sedai spoke in gravely formal tones, as would be expected, and I answered just the same. Those words had been etched into my brain while other girls had learned to channel. If there was one useful thing about my block, it was that it forced me to learn nearly everything about the Tower that an Accepted possibly could. History, legacy, all of it, from the first recorded birth of an Aes Sedai to the death of the last Amyrlin, everything had been thrown at me time and time again in hopes that I might be useful even with my handicap. And useful I most certainly became. My words were flawless, my tone perfect. Nearly fourteen years of preparation had all lead to this very moment, and I would burn before allowing myself to fail. Some say there is no embarrassment in the failure of the Testing. They say this because if there is failure, it is followed by death. I could not fail. I would not. And so it was without trepidation that I entered that glowing archway, having settled my shift upon the floor in a small pile. I left my Acceptance behind me along with the friends I had gained over the years. I knew well enough then, just as has been proven to me now, that a void would open between us that would not be closed until those friends either rose with me or died trying. At least Aiyaela would be with me. Avaiya She’ar IV - Home
Wed Sep 8, 2004 1:24pm Choren- Day one,
Week one. Two seventeen AM.
The sand was warm beneath my feet, and I could smell the salt upon the air before I had ever opened my eyes. I knew that smell, just as I knew the wind that graced my cheeks. Granted, I had not felt it in years, but I knew it. I knew it all, and as I opened my eyes to the union of the Aryth and the gently sloping hills of Arad Doman, I almost grieved to see the six-pointed star not so far in the distance, lain in stone on one gently sloping . Much as I wanted to take moment to smell the ocean wind and bask in that bright and brillaint sunrise, I could not. I could neither hurry nor hang back, and I took my first steps with steady determination. The ocean crashed in upon my left, and the plains called to me in gentle whispers of wind and the lulling scent of newly cut grass. How I remembered that smell from my childhood, a sing of approaching fall, when our gardeners would trim down the shoulder-high grasses that use to encase us as we played hide and seek amongst them. I was home once more, for the first time in years, but why I stayed away so long I could not remember. Why I could not stop to pluck a daisy from amongst the thistles I did not know, but I continued walking, embracing saidar as I neared the stone star. I’m not sure when the Seanchan arrived in Arad Doman. Nor do I hope to ever find out if they do. But they did at that moment, springing up across the horizon in blackened rows. I embraced, though my steps did not change. I moved with the grace of a Sister and the patience of the Creator, making my way up that dune as the Seanchan moved forward, coming towards me with a speed vastly greater than my own. An amazing speed, for any human army. Then again, it has often been said that the Seanchan were not at all human. As saidar coursed through me, it sprang up in a line of golden auras amongst several of those gray-clad women. Damane I knew. I knew, because I had been one for several months, and had learned in time the pain of that process. There was pity, but I had no time for pity, as weaves of fire and air began to reach towards the sky, and lightning proceeded to flash down about me, setting ablaze those once harmonious fields. My heart jumped into my throat, but I knew I could not lose the serenity that gripped me tighter than fear itself. Even as a bolt seared so close to my skin that the flesh reddened and blistered, I could not give way. I was infallible. I reached that star in short time with my steady pace, with Seanchan still advancing on me. I began the weave that I knew I must, a useless ensemble of Spirit and Air and the horrid Earth in which strength had always eluded me. All the while, damane had begun to get within range of more proficient attacks, and I silently thanked the Creator for my strength in Spirit. Had I ever attempted two weaves at once prior to breaking my block, I likely would have channeled myself unconscious, but now it was a minor task. Though as the third, fourth, and fifth shields were slid into place, as a blade of Spirit cut this weave or that, I felt the rigor through and through. Yet I maintained serenity. My face was a mask to make a White proud. To make Keitva proud. I nearly lost control of that most vital weave once, though I did manage to catch it shortly before a blade of Air sliced across my cheek. I knew I was cutting it close, and as I slipped the last knot of Earth into place, I began to wonder exactly why I was standing in the middle of the Blight. Avaiya She’ar V - Continuance
Wed Sep 8, 2004 1:51pm Choren- Day one,
Week one. Four thirty-one AM.
Rotting trees and the scent of decay welcomed me as I entered the Blight, though I cannot say it was an entirely unfamiliar scent. I had only ever been so far North once before, and that had been on a business venture with Father to Saldaea. I remembered it distinctly, though I could not for the life of me recall why my arm ached and bled, and why the skin there was pebbled with blisters. Nor could I remember why my cheek had been sliced cleanly open. The reasons for many thing eluded me, yet as I chanced a look at my surroundings and sighted a six-pointed star carved into the trunk of one unhealthy and sap-oozing tree, I did not need a reason to move towards it. Nor did I need a reason to embrace as soon as Trollocs emerged from the tree, one directly before me. I won’t deny now that chaos gripped my insides, but I can pride myself on the fact that outwardly I made not so much as a flinch. My hands moved with the deft motions that I had been taught over the years, and fireballs flew into hoards of beak-faze and muzzled bodies. My pace would not, could not, be impeded by the savage beasts, and it was because of this that I worked my way through them at the same pace at which I walked. I did not recall then why I felt so strongly that I must keep moving forward, or why once I reached that tree I spun quickly about and began weaving what I knew to be the proper mix of Fire and Air for a pretty little flash bang. But I did, keeping up that simple weave as a Trolloc blade came far too close, sliding down my ribs and laying open a small gash in my side. My shoes had vanished long ago, and yet I neglected the thorns that stuck into my feet. I could smell the breath of the beak that was torn off by a blow of Air, and I felt the fur of a singed body as it fell down beside me. Yet I do not recall why, after that flash of purple light and the small popping noise, I was standing in noble garb amidst the Amyrlin’s office. Sometimes I found myself clothed, at other times not at all. Sometimes I would find myself faced with terrors of an emotional level, of my brothers and sisters beckoning me to come play. They are dead now, I know. Dead and buried along with my parents. I wanted to cry as they beckoned me, just as I wanted to cry as I watched Keitva die. I wanted to run and save her and help her. But I could not, because the six-pointed star etched into the rock ahead of me was vastly more important. It overruled the cried of Madeline herself as I neglected the Mistress of Novices’ as she was beaten and murdered. It overpowered my desire to destroy the men who had destroyed my family. It overpowered everything. I remember- The
knock on the door halted Avaiya’s hand, leaving a dark blob of black
ink on the perfectly practiced calligraphy of her hand. Sighing faintly,
in the last moments of her Acceptance, Avaiya picked up the stack of
papers that had occupied her midnight hours - or at least those not
spent with Aiyaela making their last night as Accepted a bit more memorable
- and tossed them into the fire. A single glance back, before her fingertips
alighted upon the cool brass of the door handle, upon the other side
of which an eternity bound to the White Tower awaited her. VI - Become Wed Sep 8, 2004 6:21pm They moved in
quiet unison down the halls of the White Tower, moving first from the
Accepted quarters amidst the creaking of jealous doors. Only on rare occasion
did they dare chance a look at such a ceremony, but with Aiyaela and Avaiya
both being lead out that morning, it was a rare spectacle. Rarely were
two accepted raised so closely together, and even more rarely did both
make it through their Arches. Many a woman, both powerful and not, had
fallen to that final Testing. There were many reasons why Aes Sedai were
famed and fabled, and the long and rigorous process in becoming one was
only a part of that reason.
“Who comes here?” A Sisters voice rang out, shocking Avaiya back into the reality of what was happening. They had arrived before those vast double doors, and the sister who had posed the question was one she only vaguely recognized. Her answer was swift and formal, as she had long since been instructed that it should be. “Avaiya She’ar.” “For what reason do you come?” “To swear the Three Oaths and thereby claim the shawl of an Aes Sedai.” “By what right do you claim this burden?” “By right of having made the passage, submitting myself to the will of the White Tower.” And so the formalities went on, as Avaiya suppressed the desire to sigh heavily. “Then enter, if you dare, and bind yourself to the White Tower.” And enter they did, those vast doors pulled open by a touch of Air from the speaking Aes Sedai. Before her was a sight that many girls longed to see. The Amyrlin, Hesper L’Pree herself, and Elienna Sedai, Keeper of the Chronicles, her somewhat glorified secretary. Avaiya knew this ceremony like any other, thought the grave formality of it was etched into her like words upon a headstone. This was it. She was Aes Sedai at the end of this, and there was no turning back. No giving up. “Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will speak no word that is not true." Avaiya began, suppressing a gasp as the air tightened around her. Even she, having studied so much under the burden of books and parchments, had had no idea of what an Oathe felt like. Nevertheless, she continued. "Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will make no weapon for one man to kill another." Even tighter, the air pressed in around her as the oath settled, fitting her snugly. “Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will never use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme of defending my life or that of my Warder or another Aes Sedai." And so it was done, with a renewed stiffness in her bones and the Three Oaths settled upon her. “It is half done, and the White Tower is graven on your bones. Rise now, Aes Sedai, and choose your Ajah, and all will be done that may be done under the Light.” Hesper recited the words by rote, and Avaiya half wondered if she had had any idea of what Aiyaela and herself had done only hours ago in their last moments of Acceptance. Avaiya did rise, making a beeline directly for the White.
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