by Rylea » Tue Jul 09, 2024 9:08 pm
Summary: The return of a long lost Gaidin to the Westlands and Tar Valon.
A lone trudging figure tops the along the Spine of the World, looking down into the hills then the Cairhien plains far below. Shaking off the dust clinging to the worn and battered armor, though the shifting cloak of colors remained, as always, free of the clinging grit. She pulls down the scarf wrapped about her mouth and a pull from the waterskin that usually hung at her side, spitting out the chalky water before taking an actual drink.
Turning her head this way and that, eyes constantly roving for danger, she sits on a small boulder to rest and think about how the Wheel brought her to this point. Sighing wearily, remembering meeting the strange Aiel woman and following her on her self-appointed task of going to the White Tower, the training in arms and combat, the days of being bruised black and blue for the affront of being a woman trying to do a “man’s job”. The feeling of pride in being chosen to be Near Sister and then Warder to her Aiel friend. ‘Wool gathering.’ She snorts to herself.
‘It’s a long road ahead of me still, suppose I ought to keep moving.’ Rylea didn’t start immediately though, thoughts spinning back to the years spent following her Near Sister and Aes Sedai, Wynoa into the Three-Fold Land. What or even who she was looking for was never said, she’d asked once and gotten a pointed silence in response. Years spent going from sept to sept, clan to clan, visiting strongholds and various ruins buried deep in the unforgiving sands. Marveling at the constant state of warfare between the clans over this or that, concluding that the Aiel were mad long ago. Fantastic fighters, but utterly mad.
The ruins they explored were just as deadly, if not more so, than the above ground travels. Most lairs for dread and deadly beasts or even pockets of shadowspawn that had gotten past the Aiel though usually not unscathed. Trinkets turned over, pottery looked through, one or two items pocketed that didn’t conform to any pattern she could see. Always on the move, talking to various people about goings on and hidden nooks to look into. Then two weeks ago, handed a sealed letter.
“Deliver this to the Amyrlin Seat as quickly as you are able. Light willing and if the Wheel turns as its supposed to, I’ll follow and meet you again in Tar Valon. Now go!”
Turning to look back along her trail, to where she could feel Wynoa, if not see her, her countenance grew troubled. ‘If the Wheel turned as it should?’ Shaking her head, she set her feet towards the Wetlands and the Shining City. Slipping past beast and the occasionally very lost Trolloc or two,heading downwards towards the plains. One thought at the forefront of her mind: ‘Deliver this to the Amyrlin Seat as quickly as you are able.’
Summary: The return of a long lost Gaidin to the Westlands and Tar Valon.
A lone trudging figure tops the along the Spine of the World, looking down into the hills then the Cairhien plains far below. Shaking off the dust clinging to the worn and battered armor, though the shifting cloak of colors remained, as always, free of the clinging grit. She pulls down the scarf wrapped about her mouth and a pull from the waterskin that usually hung at her side, spitting out the chalky water before taking an actual drink.
Turning her head this way and that, eyes constantly roving for danger, she sits on a small boulder to rest and think about how the Wheel brought her to this point. Sighing wearily, remembering meeting the strange Aiel woman and following her on her self-appointed task of going to the White Tower, the training in arms and combat, the days of being bruised black and blue for the affront of being a woman trying to do a “man’s job”. The feeling of pride in being chosen to be Near Sister and then Warder to her Aiel friend. ‘Wool gathering.’ She snorts to herself.
‘It’s a long road ahead of me still, suppose I ought to keep moving.’ Rylea didn’t start immediately though, thoughts spinning back to the years spent following her Near Sister and Aes Sedai, Wynoa into the Three-Fold Land. What or even who she was looking for was never said, she’d asked once and gotten a pointed silence in response. Years spent going from sept to sept, clan to clan, visiting strongholds and various ruins buried deep in the unforgiving sands. Marveling at the constant state of warfare between the clans over this or that, concluding that the Aiel were mad long ago. Fantastic fighters, but utterly mad.
The ruins they explored were just as deadly, if not more so, than the above ground travels. Most lairs for dread and deadly beasts or even pockets of shadowspawn that had gotten past the Aiel though usually not unscathed. Trinkets turned over, pottery looked through, one or two items pocketed that didn’t conform to any pattern she could see. Always on the move, talking to various people about goings on and hidden nooks to look into. Then two weeks ago, handed a sealed letter.
“Deliver this to the Amyrlin Seat as quickly as you are able. Light willing and if the Wheel turns as its supposed to, I’ll follow and meet you again in Tar Valon. Now go!”
Turning to look back along her trail, to where she could feel Wynoa, if not see her, her countenance grew troubled. ‘If the Wheel turned as it should?’ Shaking her head, she set her feet towards the Wetlands and the Shining City. Slipping past beast and the occasionally very lost Trolloc or two,heading downwards towards the plains. One thought at the forefront of her mind: ‘Deliver this to the Amyrlin Seat as quickly as you are able.’