Post by Rymara Orelaev on Feb 7, 2022 18:36:26 GMT
A cold breeze whipped through the White Tower, shifting the various pennants and banners of the Ajahs and disturbing the otherwise pristine skirts of many Aes Sedai as Rymara stormed through the wing occupied by her and the sisters of her Ajah. Almost every Blue had chambers within the Tower and many emulated their superiors with ostentatious comfortable furnishings. Simple but thick blue carpets trimmed in gold covered the cool stones of the hall and dulled the rhythmic, determined click of Rymara’s boots as she rounded the corner and burst into her chambers. She skipped the antechamber, after all it was an uncomfortable facade, and instead stormed into the Spartan bed chamber beyond where only a simple mirror adorned the wall, a high backed X chair occupied the space before it and a large but bland bed sat before the balcony. The cool dusk sky danced beyond and the breeze cooled the chamber yet Rymara could not feel it, between her seething frustration and the loose grip she had upon the One Power which surged through her like life itself, enflaming her sense of control and thus her frustration at how matters continued to spiral out of her control. She could feel the thin silk of her dress rustling against her skin, the cream fabric trimmed with gem stones and golden embroidery leaving little to the imagination which frustrated many of her conservative sisters. She wanted to grab hold of the Power and drink it in until she could level the Blight itself and yet despite her seething frustration she kept herself reined in, to do so would be to burn out at which point she would simply be an administrator who once held power and influence.
Despite her fearsome reputation, one which she nurtured readily and often, the Sitters had no interest in her pleas for she could only assume helping the borderlands repel the Blight could not advance their own vapid ambitions. She could see the problems, not all of them of course to claim as such would be beyond arrogant, but Rymara had her finger on the pulse as it were. Salidar and the Borderlands were pressing logistical concerns, many of the rulers were in hand and the Seanchan were quiet if not brought to heel so there was one thing not under control; The Blight. One incredibly threatening region which would always supersede all other concerns even if the Dark One could never directly touch the world, which was becoming more doubtful to those battling the Shadow, it would continue to expand if they did not stop it and they might lose kingdoms like Malkier once again. That could not happen. Ever. Even as Rymara poured a glass of rich wine, from Malkier’s southern regions funnily enough, she stewed in her frustration and rage blind to the concern she could feel through the bond from both of her warders. If the Tower would not offer the aid she requested then she would have to look elsewhere, perhaps to influential rulers like Talana who had shown a hatred of the Shadow of late which few could rival. As she paced, Rymara sipped her wine, seething as she mulled over the rejection in her mind as if thinking about it would change the minds of those who controlled matters within the Tower. The only ones to stand behind her proposition, surprisingly, were the Whites who saw an increased presence of their Sisters within each northern realm as… logical.
She wanted to storm right back into the audience chamber and show them all the true force of will that dwelled within her tiny frame, to bully them into doing what was right for the world and not for themselves yet she knew she could not. She could make monarchs bend to her will but other Aes Sedai were a different matter, she was still young and many viewed her as inexperienced at best. She chafed against such assumptions and yet they were not unfounded, many of her sisters had decades of experience which she lacked. She only snapped out of her cycle of anger and bitterness when she stubbed her toe on the leg of her bed frame, letting out a flurry of vile curse words as she turned on the spot wincing in pain to face the now open door of her bed chambers, and thus the figure framed in the warm light of the fire within the antechamber.
Despite her fearsome reputation, one which she nurtured readily and often, the Sitters had no interest in her pleas for she could only assume helping the borderlands repel the Blight could not advance their own vapid ambitions. She could see the problems, not all of them of course to claim as such would be beyond arrogant, but Rymara had her finger on the pulse as it were. Salidar and the Borderlands were pressing logistical concerns, many of the rulers were in hand and the Seanchan were quiet if not brought to heel so there was one thing not under control; The Blight. One incredibly threatening region which would always supersede all other concerns even if the Dark One could never directly touch the world, which was becoming more doubtful to those battling the Shadow, it would continue to expand if they did not stop it and they might lose kingdoms like Malkier once again. That could not happen. Ever. Even as Rymara poured a glass of rich wine, from Malkier’s southern regions funnily enough, she stewed in her frustration and rage blind to the concern she could feel through the bond from both of her warders. If the Tower would not offer the aid she requested then she would have to look elsewhere, perhaps to influential rulers like Talana who had shown a hatred of the Shadow of late which few could rival. As she paced, Rymara sipped her wine, seething as she mulled over the rejection in her mind as if thinking about it would change the minds of those who controlled matters within the Tower. The only ones to stand behind her proposition, surprisingly, were the Whites who saw an increased presence of their Sisters within each northern realm as… logical.
She wanted to storm right back into the audience chamber and show them all the true force of will that dwelled within her tiny frame, to bully them into doing what was right for the world and not for themselves yet she knew she could not. She could make monarchs bend to her will but other Aes Sedai were a different matter, she was still young and many viewed her as inexperienced at best. She chafed against such assumptions and yet they were not unfounded, many of her sisters had decades of experience which she lacked. She only snapped out of her cycle of anger and bitterness when she stubbed her toe on the leg of her bed frame, letting out a flurry of vile curse words as she turned on the spot wincing in pain to face the now open door of her bed chambers, and thus the figure framed in the warm light of the fire within the antechamber.