02-01-2024, 11:06 PM
The hustle and bustle of Tar Valon was cathartic in a way she couldn’t put into words, except to say that the multitude of life around her brought perspective to her own perceived problems. She liked the freedom of wandering outside the Tower, coupled with the assurance that she was not far from safety. The city might not have been as foreign and new and exciting as it had once been, but she still drew curiosity from its denizens and tourists, still found something to satisfy her interests each time she visited.
Today she spent some time wandering the open markets, politely declining the calls and charms of merchants. She had never had materialistic tendencies in relation to herself, but she did appreciate beauty; she liked to look, to explore, to contemplate, but not to own. These days she was careful not to let her curiosities land her in trouble; few sellers took kindly to a browser who appeared interested, even asked questions, but did not buy. A few times, in her early explorations of the city, she had bought items she had no need or desire for, because she had suddenly become aware that she had spent considerable time asking after curios she had no intention of purchasing. It was more beneficial to smooth feathers than ruffle them, and coin was no issue.
At first glance, one might not realise that the wanderer was Aes Sedai, though this was an unintentional deception. As with most aspects of her appearance, Malaika cared little for aesthetics. She did not dress extravagantly – her gown was neutral, unadorned and loose about her frame – but the workmanship and cloth was fine, as one would expect of one wore the ring. Aside from the natural softness of her features and luxuriant fall of black hair down her back, there was nothing to accentuate her femininity. There was no indication of a waist beneath the light beige fabric, and there was no embellishment at the bust. The neckline scooped, revealing her collarbone, but only because she disliked the constraint about her neck. No jewellery, no face paints. She cut a very plain figure, which was perhaps the only conspicuous thing about her.
As was often the case, at some juncture of the outing, Malaika found herself at Mistress Osilia’s teahouse. It was her habitual sanctuary outside of the Tower, a place she gravitated to for comfort as surely as her own rooms – though they, of course, were not as comforting as they had once been. Cosy as an Aes Sedai’s sitting room – if a touch less extravagant – it was ornamented with arrangements of stuffed chairs and low tables. Flowers adorned sidetables, and bowls of dried herbs infused the heat of the hearth with the scent of relaxation. The clink of china, the low buzz of conversation; the familiarity eased her worries and centred her back to herself.
The place was rarely empty – it was too popular for that – but it was more gentile than a tavern or inn, and more suited to Malaika’s tastes. Truly, though, it was the memories that had cemented her loyalty to the place. She had promised she would return after that first night, and had kept to her word and then some. Her visits were frequent – if punctuated with weeks, sometimes months, of absence, depending on her duties at the time. Mistress Osilia knew, by now, that Malaika was no high born noble, but an Aes Sedai. Still, their relationship maintained the amiable nature it had
begun with – and that was another aspect of the place that drew the young Aes Sedai. Mistress Osilia spoke to her like a person, not a title, and she was the only woman Malaika ever indulged in ‘chatting’ with, without feeling it a chore – even enjoying it.
More often than not Malaika dined alone, but Mistress Osilia did not seem to mind her taking up a whole table. As she had today, she often brought Tower work with her – the sorts of projects she indulged when more serious or private matters were proving frustrating or unattainable. Anywhere but Tar Valon, the sight of a lone woman surrounded by books and journals in a teahouse would have been odd. But here, in the city that cupped the shining walls of the White Tower itself, there were plenty of odder sights. Amidst the books were various plates of pastries (the beef stew she had consumed for lunch had long since been cleared away, before her books had appeared from her shoulder satchel), which she nibbled at from time to time. A pot of black tea sat on her left, the cup in its delicate saucer half-full, steam still gently roiling about its surface.
For the past hour or so, now, she had been consumed in a hand-sized novel spread out on her lap, head bowed, dark hair pushed over one shoulder. From time to time her fingers paused at her lips before she turned the page, eyes narrowed in contemplation. Her mind drifted to the stars in moods like this, a blessed release from the darkness that had consumed her thoughts this morning.
Mistress Osilia hadn't a single issue with Malaika taking a table to herself. Even had Malaika not been Aes Sedai, the invitation would have remained extended, as the woman was a fine addition to Osilia's regular clientèle, and there was always a chance that Malaika's continued presence could draw that fool Byron back at some point. The lad had been absent for some time now, but such things were common for the supposed Warder.
As always, the tea house remained neat and clean, and Mistress Osilia had even taken to employing some added help. A pair of women of disparaging backgrounds, a single mother that needed the income and was a diligent worker, although the cook made no shortage of hollow complaints of having a baby in the kitchen during the day, and an old widower of equally amiable personality. This day, Osilia deigned to let her hired help run things, at least for a bit, as she finally drifted over to Malaika's table, a tray with a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits.
Of late, Osilia had been beaming, and been noticed to be paying a touch more attention to her appearance, and might even be described to have a bit more bounce in her step. She took the chair opposite Malaika much as a friend might simply invite themselves to a friend's table, after setting the tray out in the centre and being so forwards as to top Malaika Sedai's cup then readying her own.
She was well aware how much Malaika enjoyed her books, and wasn't the type to force conversation, but to any aware of such things Osilia clearly had something she was eager to say. But, she simply sipped her tea in silence waiting for Malaika to spark the conversation. The young Aes Sedai was a wonderfully intelligent woman, but a touch naive when it came to others...it simply wouldn't do, in Osilia's opinion. No, especially with an influence like that fool absentee Byron. That lad was always willing to lend an ear, if you could keep his mouth shut long enough to get a word in edge wise at least.
Malaika didn't notice, at first, the addition to her table; it was not rudeness, if it might be construed as such by one who didn't know her, just that she was lost in the leather-bound world in her palm. She always felt outside of herself when she studied, like she physically sorted facts and theories into associated piles in her mind's eye. It was such a consuming feeling that the actual world around her was of muted sound and colour, and very little could draw her back to it before she was ready. That was the result of years of tuning out distraction, and of late, the regularity of studying alone. She was working on that; being conscious of what was around her without compromising her reading - in mind of her own safety, if nothing else - but it was a slow transition.
She actually caught Osilia's presence by accident, when she looked up from her pages, frowning softly, contemplating the implications of the sentence she had just read in relation to something she had read in another book. It was a moment before the stupor of thought cleared from her gaze, and Mistress Osilia's features grew sharper in her line of sight. Malaika's greetings to those whose company she genuinely enjoyed - particularly the shy smiles - were subtle but heartfelt things. Her eyes crinkled warmly, but the lift of her lips was negligible.
"Mistress Osilia," she said, book folding over her thumb. She had watched the teahouse mistress bloom over the past few months, and nurtured where she could that budding relationship with the blacksmith. Not that she would ever push for information, or even interfere at all if not for Byron's lead and her shared belief that it was what Osilia and her blacksmith truly wanted. That subtlety she noted, the fact Osilia clearly had something to say escaped her; but she had Malaika's attention now anyway. "The Light finds you well?"
She set her tea cup down and gave Malaika her full attention. "It does. Light shine on you as well, Aes Sedai." She smiled broadly then and leaned in a bit, pleasantries of greetings aside. "He wanted to meet my parents." She seemed on the verge of a fit giggles but managed to keep it contained with an equally powerful air of frustration. "Wool headed fool of a man that he is wanted to meet my parents. Does he understand how foolish that is? We are both much too old to worry about those sorts of things. And besides, I haven't spoken to my parents in almost twenty years. Honestly, what was he thinking?"
Her excitement had taken over for the moment, and she went on without hardly a pause, "So of course he explains, and shows how much of a wool-headed lumox he is, that he cannot possibly propose without asking my father for permission. So I had to explain to him that my father passed away years ago, and being a fool man he thought that because he had been so insistent, that obviously I must hate him."
She took up her tea cup and sipped in a clear attempt to settle herself, but she couldn't help herself. "So then he kept trying to impress me and only made a fool of himself. And when I set him straight, he got upset for no good reason and refused to listen to how much a fool he was acting. So then we weren't talking." She sniffed in irritation and took another sip of her tea before barrelling onwards.
"It took me a week to get him to listen to me, and only after I told him to come here of course." Of
course, she had indicated there had been some sort of emergency, but that was only because the fool man obviously wouldn't listen to reason. And of course she could not possibly slump so low as to go to him. "So then we argued for hours. But he finally saw how wrong he was." Or more likely had given up on arguing.
Another sip of tea, clearly reminiscing on how foolish a man he was. "Well, the reason I had my eye on him all this time is that he has at least moments of intelligence. And once he saw the error of his ways, he proposed." She was beaming again, sipping her cup of tea and watching Malaika, eager to see the Aes Sedai's reaction to the news, although there was a fleeting understanding that the woman seated opposite her was not quite the social butterfly as some.
The sudden spill of words took Malaika a moment to comprehend. She had never seen Mistress Osilia so excited, so fit to burst, and in that instant she just marvelled at the unadulterated display of emotion, and found it quite beautiful. “Proposed…” There was the hint of question in her voice, as if to ask ‘propose what?’ before the slow dawn of realisation lit her eyes. “Marriage?” Now that the tumbling words had coalesced into something intelligible, she felt embarrassed she had not understood from the off.
“Mistress Osilia…” She had little idea how one was supposed to react in these circumstances. Marriage at the Tower was either clandestine or non-existent, and though Malaika was not so cloistered that she did not understand that this was not the case beyond the Tower’s walls, her emotional reactions were so inhibited that she was suddenly worried she might offend the woman – her friend, if she might use such a word – by seeming so unaffected. “Congratulations, congratulations to you both.” The blessing was sincere, if somewhat timid, and the gentle smile that graced lips and eyes was something rarely seen. Earnest as she was, it somehow felt lacking, and in a motion half forced, half instinctive, she reached across the table to grasp the woman’s hand – and that, willing contact, was rarer still.
Light! Would that Byron was here to diffuse the situation with exhalations and flailing, his congratulations imbedded in the good humour and grins beneath the mockery. After a moment and a fond squeeze of the fingers, she retracted her hand, cheeks strangely flush, as though she was concerned she might have offended the woman by touching her at all. “How did Byron take the news?” In much the way she imagined, she suspected, though secretly he would be very pleased; it had been his gentle persuasions that had pushed these too along the path to each other in the first place, if the feelings themselves had already been there.
Mistress Osilia's beaming made a sudden turn for the worse, as only a woman could do. One moment she was ecstatic with Malaika's seemingly awkward yet heartfelt words, then she was trying not to scowl as she took up her tea cup with a sniff of displeasure. Byron indeed! The man hadn't made an appearance in days, and after spending so much effort in getting the two of them together! "I wouldn't know how his high and mighty Byron has taken the news. I've yet to tell him. He's off on one of his adventures, I suspect. Getting into trouble someplace."
She had asked around, and learned from the goods-master she dealt with for some of her imported food stuffs that Byron had been looking into ships north bound a week or so ago, but that was the end of the trail as far as she could tell. No one seemed to know where the man had gone off to, but she was certain he was not still in the city. It wasn't his style not to stop by at least once a week when in Tar Valon. And if Malaika Sedai had no idea he was away, then clearly he was up to no good. "Honestly. Fool man, you just cannot rely on him for anything can you?"
"Enough of him though. Fool wool-headed sack of moldy hay that he is. The wedding is to be in six months and three days, and have a list twice as long as as my arm of things that need doing." She shook her head ruefully, hiding a small smile as she sipped her tea.
Oh Light... The Brown felt as though she were walking on a lake of ice without knowing which way to tread to shore. No sooner had she said something to make Mistress Osilia beam, she had obvious said - or done - something to provoke the emotion to suck from her face. A moment later, she realised it had been the mention of Byron. It did not surprise her that he had gone off galavanting, but it did slightly that he had not said goodbye to Mistress Osilia, given the high regard he held her in. Then again, he was gaidin, and the Tower did not always allow for such things. She didn't deign to answer the question, only used it as an opportunity to sip at her recently refilled tea.
"Six months and three days," she repeated, unsure if this was a long or short amount a time for such a thing, but assuming from context that it was less than ideal. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I'm going to have to try and find out where he is. Six months and three days, and Mistress Osilia would never forgive Byron if he missed her wedding. Not that Malaika had the eyes-and-ears for such a thing, but as one also of the Tower, she might have a better chance of finding him. Perhaps.
Today she spent some time wandering the open markets, politely declining the calls and charms of merchants. She had never had materialistic tendencies in relation to herself, but she did appreciate beauty; she liked to look, to explore, to contemplate, but not to own. These days she was careful not to let her curiosities land her in trouble; few sellers took kindly to a browser who appeared interested, even asked questions, but did not buy. A few times, in her early explorations of the city, she had bought items she had no need or desire for, because she had suddenly become aware that she had spent considerable time asking after curios she had no intention of purchasing. It was more beneficial to smooth feathers than ruffle them, and coin was no issue.
At first glance, one might not realise that the wanderer was Aes Sedai, though this was an unintentional deception. As with most aspects of her appearance, Malaika cared little for aesthetics. She did not dress extravagantly – her gown was neutral, unadorned and loose about her frame – but the workmanship and cloth was fine, as one would expect of one wore the ring. Aside from the natural softness of her features and luxuriant fall of black hair down her back, there was nothing to accentuate her femininity. There was no indication of a waist beneath the light beige fabric, and there was no embellishment at the bust. The neckline scooped, revealing her collarbone, but only because she disliked the constraint about her neck. No jewellery, no face paints. She cut a very plain figure, which was perhaps the only conspicuous thing about her.
As was often the case, at some juncture of the outing, Malaika found herself at Mistress Osilia’s teahouse. It was her habitual sanctuary outside of the Tower, a place she gravitated to for comfort as surely as her own rooms – though they, of course, were not as comforting as they had once been. Cosy as an Aes Sedai’s sitting room – if a touch less extravagant – it was ornamented with arrangements of stuffed chairs and low tables. Flowers adorned sidetables, and bowls of dried herbs infused the heat of the hearth with the scent of relaxation. The clink of china, the low buzz of conversation; the familiarity eased her worries and centred her back to herself.
The place was rarely empty – it was too popular for that – but it was more gentile than a tavern or inn, and more suited to Malaika’s tastes. Truly, though, it was the memories that had cemented her loyalty to the place. She had promised she would return after that first night, and had kept to her word and then some. Her visits were frequent – if punctuated with weeks, sometimes months, of absence, depending on her duties at the time. Mistress Osilia knew, by now, that Malaika was no high born noble, but an Aes Sedai. Still, their relationship maintained the amiable nature it had
begun with – and that was another aspect of the place that drew the young Aes Sedai. Mistress Osilia spoke to her like a person, not a title, and she was the only woman Malaika ever indulged in ‘chatting’ with, without feeling it a chore – even enjoying it.
More often than not Malaika dined alone, but Mistress Osilia did not seem to mind her taking up a whole table. As she had today, she often brought Tower work with her – the sorts of projects she indulged when more serious or private matters were proving frustrating or unattainable. Anywhere but Tar Valon, the sight of a lone woman surrounded by books and journals in a teahouse would have been odd. But here, in the city that cupped the shining walls of the White Tower itself, there were plenty of odder sights. Amidst the books were various plates of pastries (the beef stew she had consumed for lunch had long since been cleared away, before her books had appeared from her shoulder satchel), which she nibbled at from time to time. A pot of black tea sat on her left, the cup in its delicate saucer half-full, steam still gently roiling about its surface.
For the past hour or so, now, she had been consumed in a hand-sized novel spread out on her lap, head bowed, dark hair pushed over one shoulder. From time to time her fingers paused at her lips before she turned the page, eyes narrowed in contemplation. Her mind drifted to the stars in moods like this, a blessed release from the darkness that had consumed her thoughts this morning.
Mistress Osilia hadn't a single issue with Malaika taking a table to herself. Even had Malaika not been Aes Sedai, the invitation would have remained extended, as the woman was a fine addition to Osilia's regular clientèle, and there was always a chance that Malaika's continued presence could draw that fool Byron back at some point. The lad had been absent for some time now, but such things were common for the supposed Warder.
As always, the tea house remained neat and clean, and Mistress Osilia had even taken to employing some added help. A pair of women of disparaging backgrounds, a single mother that needed the income and was a diligent worker, although the cook made no shortage of hollow complaints of having a baby in the kitchen during the day, and an old widower of equally amiable personality. This day, Osilia deigned to let her hired help run things, at least for a bit, as she finally drifted over to Malaika's table, a tray with a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits.
Of late, Osilia had been beaming, and been noticed to be paying a touch more attention to her appearance, and might even be described to have a bit more bounce in her step. She took the chair opposite Malaika much as a friend might simply invite themselves to a friend's table, after setting the tray out in the centre and being so forwards as to top Malaika Sedai's cup then readying her own.
She was well aware how much Malaika enjoyed her books, and wasn't the type to force conversation, but to any aware of such things Osilia clearly had something she was eager to say. But, she simply sipped her tea in silence waiting for Malaika to spark the conversation. The young Aes Sedai was a wonderfully intelligent woman, but a touch naive when it came to others...it simply wouldn't do, in Osilia's opinion. No, especially with an influence like that fool absentee Byron. That lad was always willing to lend an ear, if you could keep his mouth shut long enough to get a word in edge wise at least.
Malaika didn't notice, at first, the addition to her table; it was not rudeness, if it might be construed as such by one who didn't know her, just that she was lost in the leather-bound world in her palm. She always felt outside of herself when she studied, like she physically sorted facts and theories into associated piles in her mind's eye. It was such a consuming feeling that the actual world around her was of muted sound and colour, and very little could draw her back to it before she was ready. That was the result of years of tuning out distraction, and of late, the regularity of studying alone. She was working on that; being conscious of what was around her without compromising her reading - in mind of her own safety, if nothing else - but it was a slow transition.
She actually caught Osilia's presence by accident, when she looked up from her pages, frowning softly, contemplating the implications of the sentence she had just read in relation to something she had read in another book. It was a moment before the stupor of thought cleared from her gaze, and Mistress Osilia's features grew sharper in her line of sight. Malaika's greetings to those whose company she genuinely enjoyed - particularly the shy smiles - were subtle but heartfelt things. Her eyes crinkled warmly, but the lift of her lips was negligible.
"Mistress Osilia," she said, book folding over her thumb. She had watched the teahouse mistress bloom over the past few months, and nurtured where she could that budding relationship with the blacksmith. Not that she would ever push for information, or even interfere at all if not for Byron's lead and her shared belief that it was what Osilia and her blacksmith truly wanted. That subtlety she noted, the fact Osilia clearly had something to say escaped her; but she had Malaika's attention now anyway. "The Light finds you well?"
She set her tea cup down and gave Malaika her full attention. "It does. Light shine on you as well, Aes Sedai." She smiled broadly then and leaned in a bit, pleasantries of greetings aside. "He wanted to meet my parents." She seemed on the verge of a fit giggles but managed to keep it contained with an equally powerful air of frustration. "Wool headed fool of a man that he is wanted to meet my parents. Does he understand how foolish that is? We are both much too old to worry about those sorts of things. And besides, I haven't spoken to my parents in almost twenty years. Honestly, what was he thinking?"
Her excitement had taken over for the moment, and she went on without hardly a pause, "So of course he explains, and shows how much of a wool-headed lumox he is, that he cannot possibly propose without asking my father for permission. So I had to explain to him that my father passed away years ago, and being a fool man he thought that because he had been so insistent, that obviously I must hate him."
She took up her tea cup and sipped in a clear attempt to settle herself, but she couldn't help herself. "So then he kept trying to impress me and only made a fool of himself. And when I set him straight, he got upset for no good reason and refused to listen to how much a fool he was acting. So then we weren't talking." She sniffed in irritation and took another sip of her tea before barrelling onwards.
"It took me a week to get him to listen to me, and only after I told him to come here of course." Of
course, she had indicated there had been some sort of emergency, but that was only because the fool man obviously wouldn't listen to reason. And of course she could not possibly slump so low as to go to him. "So then we argued for hours. But he finally saw how wrong he was." Or more likely had given up on arguing.
Another sip of tea, clearly reminiscing on how foolish a man he was. "Well, the reason I had my eye on him all this time is that he has at least moments of intelligence. And once he saw the error of his ways, he proposed." She was beaming again, sipping her cup of tea and watching Malaika, eager to see the Aes Sedai's reaction to the news, although there was a fleeting understanding that the woman seated opposite her was not quite the social butterfly as some.
The sudden spill of words took Malaika a moment to comprehend. She had never seen Mistress Osilia so excited, so fit to burst, and in that instant she just marvelled at the unadulterated display of emotion, and found it quite beautiful. “Proposed…” There was the hint of question in her voice, as if to ask ‘propose what?’ before the slow dawn of realisation lit her eyes. “Marriage?” Now that the tumbling words had coalesced into something intelligible, she felt embarrassed she had not understood from the off.
“Mistress Osilia…” She had little idea how one was supposed to react in these circumstances. Marriage at the Tower was either clandestine or non-existent, and though Malaika was not so cloistered that she did not understand that this was not the case beyond the Tower’s walls, her emotional reactions were so inhibited that she was suddenly worried she might offend the woman – her friend, if she might use such a word – by seeming so unaffected. “Congratulations, congratulations to you both.” The blessing was sincere, if somewhat timid, and the gentle smile that graced lips and eyes was something rarely seen. Earnest as she was, it somehow felt lacking, and in a motion half forced, half instinctive, she reached across the table to grasp the woman’s hand – and that, willing contact, was rarer still.
Light! Would that Byron was here to diffuse the situation with exhalations and flailing, his congratulations imbedded in the good humour and grins beneath the mockery. After a moment and a fond squeeze of the fingers, she retracted her hand, cheeks strangely flush, as though she was concerned she might have offended the woman by touching her at all. “How did Byron take the news?” In much the way she imagined, she suspected, though secretly he would be very pleased; it had been his gentle persuasions that had pushed these too along the path to each other in the first place, if the feelings themselves had already been there.
Mistress Osilia's beaming made a sudden turn for the worse, as only a woman could do. One moment she was ecstatic with Malaika's seemingly awkward yet heartfelt words, then she was trying not to scowl as she took up her tea cup with a sniff of displeasure. Byron indeed! The man hadn't made an appearance in days, and after spending so much effort in getting the two of them together! "I wouldn't know how his high and mighty Byron has taken the news. I've yet to tell him. He's off on one of his adventures, I suspect. Getting into trouble someplace."
She had asked around, and learned from the goods-master she dealt with for some of her imported food stuffs that Byron had been looking into ships north bound a week or so ago, but that was the end of the trail as far as she could tell. No one seemed to know where the man had gone off to, but she was certain he was not still in the city. It wasn't his style not to stop by at least once a week when in Tar Valon. And if Malaika Sedai had no idea he was away, then clearly he was up to no good. "Honestly. Fool man, you just cannot rely on him for anything can you?"
"Enough of him though. Fool wool-headed sack of moldy hay that he is. The wedding is to be in six months and three days, and have a list twice as long as as my arm of things that need doing." She shook her head ruefully, hiding a small smile as she sipped her tea.
Oh Light... The Brown felt as though she were walking on a lake of ice without knowing which way to tread to shore. No sooner had she said something to make Mistress Osilia beam, she had obvious said - or done - something to provoke the emotion to suck from her face. A moment later, she realised it had been the mention of Byron. It did not surprise her that he had gone off galavanting, but it did slightly that he had not said goodbye to Mistress Osilia, given the high regard he held her in. Then again, he was gaidin, and the Tower did not always allow for such things. She didn't deign to answer the question, only used it as an opportunity to sip at her recently refilled tea.
"Six months and three days," she repeated, unsure if this was a long or short amount a time for such a thing, but assuming from context that it was less than ideal. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I'm going to have to try and find out where he is. Six months and three days, and Mistress Osilia would never forgive Byron if he missed her wedding. Not that Malaika had the eyes-and-ears for such a thing, but as one also of the Tower, she might have a better chance of finding him. Perhaps.
![[Image: cherry-blosson.png]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/08/cherry-blosson.png)