Post by Aoife Siochanta on Apr 27, 2019 3:20:31 GMT
Name: Aoife Siochanta (eef-ah she-hawn-tuh)
Age: 28
Nationality: Tuatha’an
Place of Birth: North of Far Madding
Place of Residence: Tar Valon
Affiliation: White Tower, Tuatha’an
Rank/Title: Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah
One Power Strength: 4
Air: 8 | Earth: 1 | Fire: 2 | Spirit: 5 | Water: 4
Years as Novice: 99 - 106 FA
Years as Accepted: 106 - 111 FA
Years as Aes Sedai: 111 FA - present
Talents:
Weapon Skills:
Martial: 0 | Hand-Held: 0 | Stave: 0 | Thrown: 0 | Ranged: 0 | Mounted: 0
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 120 lbs
Build/Complexion: Softly feminine / Ivory
Eye/Hair Color: Hazel / Blonde
Aoife is a woman of average height with soft feminine curves. She is not plump, but neither is she thin. Her hair is the color of wheat left to dry in the sun and cascades in large, loose curls to the middle of her back. She rarely ties it back and frequently plaits flowers into it. Her eyes are a shade of hazel that leans golden-green in direct light. Her nose is on the thinner side and straight, and her mouth is full with a defined cupid’s bow. Her lips naturally pull up at the corners, making her look like she is always on the verge of a smile, which is usually accurate.
As is common with most Tuatha'an, Aoife loves to dress in bright colors, often several at the same time regardless of whether or not they go together. She prefers her dresses to be loose and flowing, the better to swirl around her when she dances. She is frequently dripping in often gaudy jewelry that makes its own music with every movement.
Aoife can best be described as bubbly, which is most unbecoming for an Aes Sedai. She moves with a spring in her step. When alone, she frequently sings to herself, sometimes swaying and swirling along with the music.
People usually genuinely like Aoife. It’s hard not to. She genuinely likes people as well and believes there is good in everyone. That does not mean, however, that she lets people take advantage of her. She is intelligent and good at reading a situation. She has spent her life avoiding violence and is acutely aware of potential danger at all times, whether it comes in the form of an actual physical threat or is hidden between the lines.
Aoife was born in a Tinker camp somewhere north of Far Madding, in the foothills of the Hills of Kintara. She did not stay there for long, as it is in the Tuatha’an’s nature to never stay in one place for too long. Before she was a month old, the camp was on the move, continuing northward into Andor then southwest through Murandy and what was once Ghealdan before dipping farther south around the Mountains of Mist and into Tarabon, angling up the western coast to round the northern reaches of the Mountains of Mist and moving southeast into the Caralain Grass. It was a slow journey, what with the frequent stops, sometimes for months at a time. The Travelling People never went anywhere in a hurry.
Not much of note happened during the years that it took her people to cross the Westlands. She had a happy childhood spent playing with the other children and the large dogs that her people kept. When she was three, a sister was added to her family followed by twins, a boy and a girl, when she was five. Her Nonni passed when she was eight, followed shortly thereafter by her Papa; she grieved for them for a long time, but time heals all wounds and eventually she returned to her typically carefree disposition.
By the time the caravan reached the Caralain Grass, Aoife was nearly a woman grown. She was days shy of her fifteenth birthday when they drew up camp on the banks of the River Haevin, some two hundred leagues west of Tar Valon. Their eventual path would take them around the southern edge of the Black Hills, beneath the shadow of Dragonmount, south of Tar Valon, through Cairhien and Haddon Mirk, and eventually back to the Plains of Maredo south of Far Madding near to where Aoife had been born. But there were still many years of travel ahead before they had circumnavigated the Westlands. There was not much of note where the Tinkers made camp along the Haevin; they had passed a respectably sized town some leagues back whose main industry was exporting grain along the river and the next town would take days of continuous travel to reach. They were alone in this part of the world for all intents and purposes.
Aoife was sweet on a boy named Paedar and the two went walking along the river one evening as the sun sank low in the western sky. They were more than a mile out from the camp when they heard hoofbeats in the distance, fast approaching. There was little cover along the river, only small shrubs, but Paedar grabbed her by the hand and dragged her into the bushes. The men on horses had seen them from a distance though and they slowed their horses as they approached the spot where the couple crouched, trying to steady their breathing.
Paedar bristled beside her as the men shouted lewd suggestions back and forth. They yelled that they weren’t looking for trouble, but the things they suggested doing to Aoife gave the lie easily enough. She shivered with fear so hard that the shrubs around her shook, giving them away. It seemed a heartbeat and an eternity as one man swung down off his horse to yank her, screaming, from the bushes. He pinned her against his chest and inhaled the scent of her hair deeply as his cronies swung down from their horses to circle around and yell encouragement to him. His breath smelled sour on her face; her stomach turned. She rolled her eyes to where Paedar still crouched in the bushes, his face white as death. He seemed to be struggling with himself; should he help her or run to fetch others? In a moment, he seemed to realize they were too far from camp for him to make it in time and he clenched his jaw and fists as he stepped out of the bushes.
The group of men laughed like hyenas and threw taunting insults at him. What was he going to do, this Tinker boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly?
“Leave her alone,” he growled, but they only laughed harder. Several of the men detached from the main group to advance on Paedar, who stumbled backward and fell. They surrounded him, fists and feet drawing back to hurt him, to kill him.
A white-hot rage filled Aoife, but she felt oddly calm and detached. Suddenly, the man holding her gasped. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. He released her and clawed at his throat. What was happening to him? His eyes bulged; his clawing became more frantic. His accomplices finally noticed something was wrong and turned from Paedar just in time to see their leader hit his knees.
“Aoife!” Paedar cried out at the same time the thugs took up cries of “Witch!” and “Aes Sedai!”
Her attention broke and the man on the ground gulped in air as he struggled to his feet. He was still staring at her, but he no longer looked like a fox contemplating a rabbit. He scrambled to his horse without ever taking his eyes off her, yelled for his cohorts to mount up, and kicked his horse to a gallop before Aoife crossed the distance between herself and Paedar.
She knelt down beside him and reached out a hand to gently touch a bruise forming on his cheek, but he recoiled from her.
“Paedar?”
“You almost killed him. You...you channeled? And you used it to harm another.”
He was right, she realized. The realization shook her and she sat back on her heels, pressing her fingers into her eyelids. Light blossomed behind her lids as she pressed, but it was not enough to erase the look on that man’s face as he choked on nothing. When she opened her eyes, Paedar was on his feet.
“Paedar, please don’t say anything.”
He didn’t respond, just turned and started back toward their camp. Aoife watched him for a moment then fell in behind him. Neither spoke the entire way to the camp. As soon as they set foot in the camp, people noticed that he was bloodied and bruised and her dress was dirty and torn and came running to help them. Aoife stood helplessly as Paedar told everyone what had happened and what she had done. She wanted to hate him for it, but she couldn’t; she was a danger and he was right to warn the rest.
The Tuatha’an broke camp the next morning and made haste to Tar Valon. It was the fastest Aoife had ever seen them move in her life and in just over a fortnight, she stood at the base of the Alindaer Bridge to Tar Valon watching her family walk back to the camp. She carried only a small bag of her belongings and a pouch with a little money in it. She didn’t have to go to the White Tower, they wouldn’t force her to, but the caravan was no longer her home. She wandered the city for several hours but eventually found herself staring up at the colossal ivory pillar. She didn’t have to go in, but there was nowhere else for her to go, so she did anyway.
As it turned out, her first encounter with the One Power had caused her to create a block against touching it again. She viewed it as a weapon, something that she abhorred, and she could not bring herself to touch saidar again. It took a long time for her to break her block, which stretched out her time in novice white considerably. Eventually though, she came to see saidar as a healing force and was able to continue her studies. She was not a very strong channeler, she would learn, but she was quite talented in the manipulation of Air.
After eight years, she finally became Accepted. Aoife was just slightly stronger than the lowest requirement to attain the shawl and there were those who doubted she would. Once her homesickness had passed and she returned to herself, Aoife returned to her spritely manner and there were many who did not believe she was capable of the dignity required of an Aes Sedai. She proved them wrong, but just barely.
Upon becoming Aes Sedai, Aoife joined the Yellow Ajah, much to no one’s surprise. Her days since becoming Aes Sedai have mostly been spent in the Tower herb garden or attending the sick and injured in the surrounding city and nearby towns, but her feet have been starting to itch for a change of scenery as of late.
Books Read: All
Age: 28
Nationality: Tuatha’an
Place of Birth: North of Far Madding
Place of Residence: Tar Valon
Affiliation: White Tower, Tuatha’an
Rank/Title: Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah
One Power Strength: 4
Air: 8 | Earth: 1 | Fire: 2 | Spirit: 5 | Water: 4
Years as Novice: 99 - 106 FA
Years as Accepted: 106 - 111 FA
Years as Aes Sedai: 111 FA - present
Talents:
Weapon Skills:
Martial: 0 | Hand-Held: 0 | Stave: 0 | Thrown: 0 | Ranged: 0 | Mounted: 0
APPEARANCE
Height: 5’6”
Weight: 120 lbs
Build/Complexion: Softly feminine / Ivory
Eye/Hair Color: Hazel / Blonde
Aoife is a woman of average height with soft feminine curves. She is not plump, but neither is she thin. Her hair is the color of wheat left to dry in the sun and cascades in large, loose curls to the middle of her back. She rarely ties it back and frequently plaits flowers into it. Her eyes are a shade of hazel that leans golden-green in direct light. Her nose is on the thinner side and straight, and her mouth is full with a defined cupid’s bow. Her lips naturally pull up at the corners, making her look like she is always on the verge of a smile, which is usually accurate.
As is common with most Tuatha'an, Aoife loves to dress in bright colors, often several at the same time regardless of whether or not they go together. She prefers her dresses to be loose and flowing, the better to swirl around her when she dances. She is frequently dripping in often gaudy jewelry that makes its own music with every movement.
PERSONALITY
Aoife can best be described as bubbly, which is most unbecoming for an Aes Sedai. She moves with a spring in her step. When alone, she frequently sings to herself, sometimes swaying and swirling along with the music.
People usually genuinely like Aoife. It’s hard not to. She genuinely likes people as well and believes there is good in everyone. That does not mean, however, that she lets people take advantage of her. She is intelligent and good at reading a situation. She has spent her life avoiding violence and is acutely aware of potential danger at all times, whether it comes in the form of an actual physical threat or is hidden between the lines.
HISTORY
Aoife was born in a Tinker camp somewhere north of Far Madding, in the foothills of the Hills of Kintara. She did not stay there for long, as it is in the Tuatha’an’s nature to never stay in one place for too long. Before she was a month old, the camp was on the move, continuing northward into Andor then southwest through Murandy and what was once Ghealdan before dipping farther south around the Mountains of Mist and into Tarabon, angling up the western coast to round the northern reaches of the Mountains of Mist and moving southeast into the Caralain Grass. It was a slow journey, what with the frequent stops, sometimes for months at a time. The Travelling People never went anywhere in a hurry.
Not much of note happened during the years that it took her people to cross the Westlands. She had a happy childhood spent playing with the other children and the large dogs that her people kept. When she was three, a sister was added to her family followed by twins, a boy and a girl, when she was five. Her Nonni passed when she was eight, followed shortly thereafter by her Papa; she grieved for them for a long time, but time heals all wounds and eventually she returned to her typically carefree disposition.
By the time the caravan reached the Caralain Grass, Aoife was nearly a woman grown. She was days shy of her fifteenth birthday when they drew up camp on the banks of the River Haevin, some two hundred leagues west of Tar Valon. Their eventual path would take them around the southern edge of the Black Hills, beneath the shadow of Dragonmount, south of Tar Valon, through Cairhien and Haddon Mirk, and eventually back to the Plains of Maredo south of Far Madding near to where Aoife had been born. But there were still many years of travel ahead before they had circumnavigated the Westlands. There was not much of note where the Tinkers made camp along the Haevin; they had passed a respectably sized town some leagues back whose main industry was exporting grain along the river and the next town would take days of continuous travel to reach. They were alone in this part of the world for all intents and purposes.
Aoife was sweet on a boy named Paedar and the two went walking along the river one evening as the sun sank low in the western sky. They were more than a mile out from the camp when they heard hoofbeats in the distance, fast approaching. There was little cover along the river, only small shrubs, but Paedar grabbed her by the hand and dragged her into the bushes. The men on horses had seen them from a distance though and they slowed their horses as they approached the spot where the couple crouched, trying to steady their breathing.
Paedar bristled beside her as the men shouted lewd suggestions back and forth. They yelled that they weren’t looking for trouble, but the things they suggested doing to Aoife gave the lie easily enough. She shivered with fear so hard that the shrubs around her shook, giving them away. It seemed a heartbeat and an eternity as one man swung down off his horse to yank her, screaming, from the bushes. He pinned her against his chest and inhaled the scent of her hair deeply as his cronies swung down from their horses to circle around and yell encouragement to him. His breath smelled sour on her face; her stomach turned. She rolled her eyes to where Paedar still crouched in the bushes, his face white as death. He seemed to be struggling with himself; should he help her or run to fetch others? In a moment, he seemed to realize they were too far from camp for him to make it in time and he clenched his jaw and fists as he stepped out of the bushes.
The group of men laughed like hyenas and threw taunting insults at him. What was he going to do, this Tinker boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly?
“Leave her alone,” he growled, but they only laughed harder. Several of the men detached from the main group to advance on Paedar, who stumbled backward and fell. They surrounded him, fists and feet drawing back to hurt him, to kill him.
A white-hot rage filled Aoife, but she felt oddly calm and detached. Suddenly, the man holding her gasped. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. He released her and clawed at his throat. What was happening to him? His eyes bulged; his clawing became more frantic. His accomplices finally noticed something was wrong and turned from Paedar just in time to see their leader hit his knees.
“Aoife!” Paedar cried out at the same time the thugs took up cries of “Witch!” and “Aes Sedai!”
Her attention broke and the man on the ground gulped in air as he struggled to his feet. He was still staring at her, but he no longer looked like a fox contemplating a rabbit. He scrambled to his horse without ever taking his eyes off her, yelled for his cohorts to mount up, and kicked his horse to a gallop before Aoife crossed the distance between herself and Paedar.
She knelt down beside him and reached out a hand to gently touch a bruise forming on his cheek, but he recoiled from her.
“Paedar?”
“You almost killed him. You...you channeled? And you used it to harm another.”
He was right, she realized. The realization shook her and she sat back on her heels, pressing her fingers into her eyelids. Light blossomed behind her lids as she pressed, but it was not enough to erase the look on that man’s face as he choked on nothing. When she opened her eyes, Paedar was on his feet.
“Paedar, please don’t say anything.”
He didn’t respond, just turned and started back toward their camp. Aoife watched him for a moment then fell in behind him. Neither spoke the entire way to the camp. As soon as they set foot in the camp, people noticed that he was bloodied and bruised and her dress was dirty and torn and came running to help them. Aoife stood helplessly as Paedar told everyone what had happened and what she had done. She wanted to hate him for it, but she couldn’t; she was a danger and he was right to warn the rest.
The Tuatha’an broke camp the next morning and made haste to Tar Valon. It was the fastest Aoife had ever seen them move in her life and in just over a fortnight, she stood at the base of the Alindaer Bridge to Tar Valon watching her family walk back to the camp. She carried only a small bag of her belongings and a pouch with a little money in it. She didn’t have to go to the White Tower, they wouldn’t force her to, but the caravan was no longer her home. She wandered the city for several hours but eventually found herself staring up at the colossal ivory pillar. She didn’t have to go in, but there was nowhere else for her to go, so she did anyway.
As it turned out, her first encounter with the One Power had caused her to create a block against touching it again. She viewed it as a weapon, something that she abhorred, and she could not bring herself to touch saidar again. It took a long time for her to break her block, which stretched out her time in novice white considerably. Eventually though, she came to see saidar as a healing force and was able to continue her studies. She was not a very strong channeler, she would learn, but she was quite talented in the manipulation of Air.
After eight years, she finally became Accepted. Aoife was just slightly stronger than the lowest requirement to attain the shawl and there were those who doubted she would. Once her homesickness had passed and she returned to herself, Aoife returned to her spritely manner and there were many who did not believe she was capable of the dignity required of an Aes Sedai. She proved them wrong, but just barely.
Upon becoming Aes Sedai, Aoife joined the Yellow Ajah, much to no one’s surprise. Her days since becoming Aes Sedai have mostly been spent in the Tower herb garden or attending the sick and injured in the surrounding city and nearby towns, but her feet have been starting to itch for a change of scenery as of late.
Books Read: All
