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The Halls of the Grey Tower students are energetic and bustling with initiates. Novices, Soldiers and Drin'far'ji marvel at the new-found miracles of this place while Accepted, Dedicated and Ji'alantin teach classes and help others on their way to become Aes Sedai, Asha'man, Gaidin or Gaidar. The Mistress of Novices, Master of Soldiers, and Master of Training would remind students of all ranks to mind their manners and be on their best behavior at all times. There are to be no childish pranks, no consumption of intoxicating substances, and absolutely no entanglements in inappropriate, distracting relationships of a romantic nature. (On an out-of-character note, we'd like to strongly encourage all these things, as getting caught at them is lots of fun.)
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| "...Not again..." | |
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Lucien Mantear Posted on: May 5, 2010 08:28:49 |
Lucien swallowed the lump of lead that had formed in his throat with an effort, smiling at her softly and and dipping his head. Hiding his distress, he gave her a wink and bid her good night, closing the door and retaining his reassuring smile until it clicked firmly shut, before he turned slumped backwards against the door, eyes falling shut and palms resting numbly against the wood behind him. He stared without seeing at the bed, his lips moving as he recounted her words. "I have given my word to another." That single sentence stayed in his head, repeating over and over in an increasingly frustrating and hurtful rendition of her meaning. Curling his fists against the wood, he pushed himself up and snarled, pacing to the bed and back, thumbing his signet ring furiously, eyes staring without seeing at the ground. His jaw was locked, a strange anger bubbling up within him. It wasn't fair, not one flaming bit. The first time he'd met a bloody woman he actually had a vested interest in, some flaming blacksmith from a bloody hole in the ground leeched her from him before he had a chance to stop it from flaming happening. Snarling to himself, he found himself filled with a sudden desire to break something. To just lash out and crush whatever was nearby. Everything built up suddenly. His terrible first week at the tower, his failure at grasping saidin, his monumental loss with Cerawyn, his lack of respect, the utter void of friendship that he had tentatively filled only to have fate spit in his face. The fact he was forced to lie to his baby cousin purely because of the way the White flaming Tower had preached against men who could channel. It all built up and, finally, he snapped like a wire pulled too tight and finally broken. The pressure erupted and saidin flooded him. Without thinking, he wove fire and air and lashed out at his desk, igniting it in flames and smashing it into a far wall with a roar of flames. His chair he lifted into the air and without a second thought, ripped off each leg and slammed the main body repeatedly into the ground. He was going to use it to burn everything, wipe away everything, rid the world of this filthy stain on existence and when it was done, he'd find that insolent blacksmith and--. And what? He thought suddenly, Murder him for loving her? As fast as it had come, his anger drained away and with it went the power. His legs went weak and he collapsed to the ground, staring at nothing. "Not again. I can't kill again. Oh Light he's screaming." He tucked his head into his legs, gripping his ears as if to block out the distant howls of the bandit he had incinerated with the power so long ago. "...Not again..." |
| This message is a reply to: A Rock and a Hard Place posted by Cerawyn. | |
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Based on an Orca Script.