11-17-2017, 07:47 AM
Empty. Had she been less restrained, she might have sighed at the icy sensation of a perceived trap upon seeing the vacant tea setting. Aes Sedai were not late; and presumably if her warder was in residence, Lythia herself was here somewhere. Watching, waiting, testing the boundaries of an Accepted not unknown for her arrogance. Nythadri murmured thanks and watched Blake leave. She didn’t sit, though only because it would necessitate rising when the Aes Sedai presented herself. Neither did she look discomfited to be left alone or in uncertain limbo. Lythia was a legend. Most Accepted would use the time to drink every aspect of these apartments - in order to barter details with friends later, or even to bask in the secrecy of the knowledge – but Nythadri’s glance was only cursory. Her gaze drifted to the window, and waited patiently for the seconds to filter towards the Green’s arrival. She was an expert at this sort of stillness; detached, slightly bored, but relentlessly patient.
When the door opened, she turned reflexively to provide an appropriate greeting, but was inwardly surprised to see that it was not Lythia. Lianora’s face was as infamous as Lythia’s, if for vastly different reasons. Kentrillo Orander had ruined Lianora. Though the man in question had ruined quite a bit more than his Aes Sedai wife. Pale eyes followed the Green and her warder out again unperturbed, though she thought it odd the woman did not stay simply because of the presence of an Accepted; even if her business was unimportant, Aes Sedai were not usually so accommodating. Not that Nythadri lingered on wondering this point. When the door clicked shut, her disinterested vigil of the window continued. Posture relaxed but still, like she was no more than an additional piece of furniture.
Until Lythia finally arrived. She turned to watch the gaidin leave, but paid no apparent interest to the snippet of conversation or its explanation. Her greeting to Lythia was cool but polite, much as she would extend to any Aes Sedai despite the warmth of the other woman’s welcome. Her gaze moved to the mounted sword once she realised what was being spoken about, but stayed there only for a moment before turning to Lythia’s expression. Little and less to see in the façade of an Aes Sedai, but who didn’t know who that blade had belonged to? And how the roots of that tale must still burrow in the woman’s heart, smooth face or not.
Her lips flickered at the choice of tea; she’d already understood a subtext from those carefully considered offerings, but the Green did not seem content with the subtle. A hum of laughter left her throat as she sat, fading to an amused smirk. “They are fond of spice,”
she agreed. “But my tastes are perhaps closer to home.”
Nythadri could architect words with the best of them, though Lythia would find her surprisingly blunt if she chose to be the same. After asking after and preparing the Sister’s tea first, she poured her own - the black and bitter blend, though she was free with the sweetener. The amused smirk was not far from her lips, the only ounce of personality beyond her rather carefully controlled exterior.
When the door opened, she turned reflexively to provide an appropriate greeting, but was inwardly surprised to see that it was not Lythia. Lianora’s face was as infamous as Lythia’s, if for vastly different reasons. Kentrillo Orander had ruined Lianora. Though the man in question had ruined quite a bit more than his Aes Sedai wife. Pale eyes followed the Green and her warder out again unperturbed, though she thought it odd the woman did not stay simply because of the presence of an Accepted; even if her business was unimportant, Aes Sedai were not usually so accommodating. Not that Nythadri lingered on wondering this point. When the door clicked shut, her disinterested vigil of the window continued. Posture relaxed but still, like she was no more than an additional piece of furniture.
Until Lythia finally arrived. She turned to watch the gaidin leave, but paid no apparent interest to the snippet of conversation or its explanation. Her greeting to Lythia was cool but polite, much as she would extend to any Aes Sedai despite the warmth of the other woman’s welcome. Her gaze moved to the mounted sword once she realised what was being spoken about, but stayed there only for a moment before turning to Lythia’s expression. Little and less to see in the façade of an Aes Sedai, but who didn’t know who that blade had belonged to? And how the roots of that tale must still burrow in the woman’s heart, smooth face or not.
Her lips flickered at the choice of tea; she’d already understood a subtext from those carefully considered offerings, but the Green did not seem content with the subtle. A hum of laughter left her throat as she sat, fading to an amused smirk. “They are fond of spice,”
she agreed. “But my tastes are perhaps closer to home.”
Nythadri could architect words with the best of them, though Lythia would find her surprisingly blunt if she chose to be the same. After asking after and preparing the Sister’s tea first, she poured her own - the black and bitter blend, though she was free with the sweetener. The amused smirk was not far from her lips, the only ounce of personality beyond her rather carefully controlled exterior.