09-14-2016, 01:44 AM
Light above, what a strange turn the day had taken; moments ago she had been serving an ordinary morning in the Tower’s hall, and now she was basking in the gold light of Arad Doman. The second the door closed behind her, Nythadri stripped her thick stockings with relief, the marble floor blissfully cool under her bare feet; she then pushed the hair off her neck as she explored the room, attempting to cool herself. Sunlight streamed through wall high windows on one side, a door leading to a courtyard beyond; presumably shared by other such guest rooms. Her hair fell back down her shoulders like a curtain of warmth and she pressed a finger along the glass.
“All my life running from nonsense like this, and they send me here.”
Banish her back to the Farm for a year rather than to the heart of a political cesspit. The point of which was what, exactly? Fate was no Blue to test her in such a manner, for what interest did a Brown have in Domani court, even if her brother held the throne? Unless the plot went deeper than that; even a Sitter of Fate’s standing could not remove an Accepted from the Tower without Brynn’s permission. She recalled the Brown’s parting admonishments; her lack of Ajah. And how the Blues had dogged her since the day they had carted her to the Tower. Even the Amyrlin had made effort to shape and encourage her gift for the Game.
So I'll play it my way, then. The curl of a smile. Live, had been her advice, and she meant to take it herself. For now, though, with no looming authority inciting her to stand her ground, she flowed like water, content to simply grasp the opportunities that arose and in the meantime let the world beyond these walls pass her by. The silence and the beauty soothed her; she wished for her violin and the rise of inspiration made her fingers itch, but with nothing to record the lilting waves of music that way only lay frustration. And it’s too bloody hot anyway. She turned away from the window, shedding her dress to the thin shift beneath.
A basin held cool water for washing, and clothes were laid out on the bed, near-replicas of her own but for the material and adjustments for riding. She supposed it made no difference, though it roused amusement to think that they had gone to so much trouble – that clothes should be so intrinsic to identity. Another note lay waiting too, this one from Yui herself; an itinerary of sorts, just to remind her that no matter how far away the shining walls, the chains that bound her still held solid. She read through it while curling and pinning her hair up off her neck. Not that the heat was any less sticky, but at least she felt more comfortable.
The way Yui had spoken, the dignitaries were still arriving. Somewhere the estate held Liridia Sedai, but the woman was Brown; if Nythadri kept a low enough profile, the Sister might even forget her Sitter had charged her with the care of a wayward Accepted, so unusual was the task. She imagined Yui would be busy coordinating the influx of arrivals for the time being, and her instructions did not include this slice of time before the gathering for the hunt - except to say that Liridia would at some point seek her out, else that Nythadri should make some efforts to find her.
The reception was not something she was eager to attend, and if she could avoid it she would. Stepping out into the corridor, she decided that this would be an easy place to get lost, each sun-drenched hall looking much like the rest. With no-one to witness her wonder, pale eyes rose to the grand ceiling in appreciation for an architecture so far removed from her country-men. Apparently this split-second was all it took for capture.
"Accepted?"
Her gaze lowered to find a copper-skinned woman moving on silent slippered feet toward her. Light blast it. Nythadri plucked at her sleeves, the floating fabric rippling the seven bands at the cuffs. "Yes, I suppose that's me. Have you come to make sure I escape none of the fun ahead?"
If the sarcasm hit its mark, the servant showed absolutely no indication of it. "This way."
*
The room was abuzz when she entered, her company abandoning her almost at the door. With no retinue or importance to her name it was easy to slip in quietly - the only conspicuous thing about her the sheer paleness of her colouring and dress, at least to any who did not recognise the meaning of the seven stripes. Liberating a glass from a tray as she passed, it was surprisingly easy to locate Liridia; the only woman with her nose in a book. She sipped her wine and watched, but did not approach or interrupt; rather she listened to the conversations around her, seeking to put faces with the names Yui had earlier imparted.
“All my life running from nonsense like this, and they send me here.”
Banish her back to the Farm for a year rather than to the heart of a political cesspit. The point of which was what, exactly? Fate was no Blue to test her in such a manner, for what interest did a Brown have in Domani court, even if her brother held the throne? Unless the plot went deeper than that; even a Sitter of Fate’s standing could not remove an Accepted from the Tower without Brynn’s permission. She recalled the Brown’s parting admonishments; her lack of Ajah. And how the Blues had dogged her since the day they had carted her to the Tower. Even the Amyrlin had made effort to shape and encourage her gift for the Game.
So I'll play it my way, then. The curl of a smile. Live, had been her advice, and she meant to take it herself. For now, though, with no looming authority inciting her to stand her ground, she flowed like water, content to simply grasp the opportunities that arose and in the meantime let the world beyond these walls pass her by. The silence and the beauty soothed her; she wished for her violin and the rise of inspiration made her fingers itch, but with nothing to record the lilting waves of music that way only lay frustration. And it’s too bloody hot anyway. She turned away from the window, shedding her dress to the thin shift beneath.
A basin held cool water for washing, and clothes were laid out on the bed, near-replicas of her own but for the material and adjustments for riding. She supposed it made no difference, though it roused amusement to think that they had gone to so much trouble – that clothes should be so intrinsic to identity. Another note lay waiting too, this one from Yui herself; an itinerary of sorts, just to remind her that no matter how far away the shining walls, the chains that bound her still held solid. She read through it while curling and pinning her hair up off her neck. Not that the heat was any less sticky, but at least she felt more comfortable.
The way Yui had spoken, the dignitaries were still arriving. Somewhere the estate held Liridia Sedai, but the woman was Brown; if Nythadri kept a low enough profile, the Sister might even forget her Sitter had charged her with the care of a wayward Accepted, so unusual was the task. She imagined Yui would be busy coordinating the influx of arrivals for the time being, and her instructions did not include this slice of time before the gathering for the hunt - except to say that Liridia would at some point seek her out, else that Nythadri should make some efforts to find her.
The reception was not something she was eager to attend, and if she could avoid it she would. Stepping out into the corridor, she decided that this would be an easy place to get lost, each sun-drenched hall looking much like the rest. With no-one to witness her wonder, pale eyes rose to the grand ceiling in appreciation for an architecture so far removed from her country-men. Apparently this split-second was all it took for capture.
"Accepted?"
Her gaze lowered to find a copper-skinned woman moving on silent slippered feet toward her. Light blast it. Nythadri plucked at her sleeves, the floating fabric rippling the seven bands at the cuffs. "Yes, I suppose that's me. Have you come to make sure I escape none of the fun ahead?"
If the sarcasm hit its mark, the servant showed absolutely no indication of it. "This way."
*
The room was abuzz when she entered, her company abandoning her almost at the door. With no retinue or importance to her name it was easy to slip in quietly - the only conspicuous thing about her the sheer paleness of her colouring and dress, at least to any who did not recognise the meaning of the seven stripes. Liberating a glass from a tray as she passed, it was surprisingly easy to locate Liridia; the only woman with her nose in a book. She sipped her wine and watched, but did not approach or interrupt; rather she listened to the conversations around her, seeking to put faces with the names Yui had earlier imparted.