| Profile(s) | Character & RPer details | Short summary of the character |
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a'Roihan Amyrlin Seat Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
A woman of many layers, Elaida. The first look at her showed a beautiful woman filled with dignified reserve, the second a woman of steel, stern as a bared blade. She overwhelmed where others persuaded, bludgeoned where others tried diplomacy or the Game of Houses. Anyone who knew her saw her intelligence, but only after a time did you realize that for all her brains, she saw what she wanted to see, would try to make true what she wanted to be true. Of the two indisputably frightening things about her, the lesser was that she so often succeeded. The greater was her Talent for Foretelling. So easy to forget that, erratic and infrequent; it had been so long since the last Foretelling that the very unpredictability of it made it strike like a thunderbolt. No one could say when it would come, not even Elaida, and no one could say what it would reveal. |
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Keeper of the Chronicles Also at Darkfriends Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Alviarin murmered to herself as she rifled the folder. "This can go through, I suppose. But not this. Or this. And certainly not this!" She crumpled a decree, signed and sealed by the Amyrlin Seat, and tossed it to the floor contemptuously. Stopping beside Elaida's gilded chair, with the Flame of Tar Valon in moonstones atop its high back, she slapped the folder and her own parchment down on the table. And then she slapped Elaida's face so hard she saw black flecks. "I thought we had settled this, Elaida." The monsterous woman's voice made the snowstorm outside seem warm. "I know how to save the Tower from your blunders, and I won't have you making new ones behind my back. If you persist, be assured that I will see you deposed, stilled, and howling under the birch before every initiate and even the servants!" |
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Sitter Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Seaine waited for more, but the Amyrlin only looked back at her, slowly smoothing her red-slashed skirts. "Exactly what inquiry do you wish me to make, Mother?" she asked cautiously. Elaida bounded to her feet. "I charge you to follow the stench of treason, no matter where it leads or how high, even to the Keeper herself. Yes, even to her. What you find, whoever it leads you to, you will bring before the Amyrlin Seat alone, Seaine. No one else must know. Do you understand me?" "I understand your commands, Mother." Which, she thought, once Elaida had departed even more swiftly than she had come, was about all she did understand. In order to think she took the chair the Amyrlin had vacated, fists pressed beneath her chin in just the way her father had always sat thinking. Everything fell to logic, eventually. |
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Sitter Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Pevara's eyes, as dark as her own were blue, became stone and swept up to the mantel above her fireplace, where miniatures of her own family made a precise line.They had all died while she was a novice, parents, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and all, murdered in a quickly supressed uprising of Darkfriends who had become convinced the Dark One was about to break free. That was why Seaine had been sure she could trust her. That was why Pevara had chosen Red--though Seaine still thought she could have done as well and been happier as a Green -- because she believed a Red hunting men who could channel had the best chance of finding Darkfriends. She had been very good at it; that plump exterior covered a core of steel. And she possessed the courage to say calmly what Seaine had been unable to bring herself to utter. "The Black Ajah. Well. No wonder Elaida would be circumspect." |
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Sitter Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
Searin fingered her knife hilt and eyed them quizzically, not shifting a step. "A puzzle," she murmured. Suddenly she glided forward, her free hand dipping into Seaines lap so quickly that Seaine gasped. She tried to keep the Oath Rod hidden, but the only result was that she ended with Saerin holding the Rod waist high with one hand while she held the other end and a fistful of her skirts. "I enjoy puzzles," Saerin said. Seaine let go and adjusted her dress; there seemed nothing else to do. The appearance of the Rod produced a momentary babble as nearly everyone spoke at once. "Blood and fire," Doesine growled. "Are you down here raising new bloody sisters?" "Oh, leave it with them, Saerin," Yuriki laughed right on top of her. "Whatever they're up to, it's their own business." Atop both, Talene barked, "Why else are they sneaking about -- together! -- if it isn't to do with the Ajah heads?" Searin waved a hand, and after a moment gained quiet. All present were Sitters, but she had the right to speak first in the Hall, and her forty years counted for something, too. "This is the key to the puzzle, I think," she said, stroking the Rod with her thumb. "Why this, after all?" Abruptly the glow of saidar surrounded her, too, and she channeled Spirit into the Rod. "Under the Light, I will speak no word that is not true. I am not a Darkfriend." |
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Ryan AIM: K r Y p T y C k Green Gummi Ry ICQ: 26350019 |
"Her horse." Gawyn stepped up from behind a wide-trunked paperbark, one hand on the long hilt of his sword. The blood streaking his face made exactly the same pattern Min had seen in her viewing, her first day back in Tar Valon. "I knew you must be up to something, Min, when I saw her horse." His red-gold hair was matted with blood, his blue eyes half dazed, but he walked toward them smoothly, a tall man with a catlike grace. A cat stalking mice. "Gawyn," Min begain, "we--" His sword was out of its scabbard, flicking back Siuan's hood, sharp edge laid against the side of her throat, all faster than Min could follow. Suian's breath caught audibly, and she was still, looking up at him, outwardly as serene as though she yet wore the stole. "Don't Gawyn!" Min gasped. "You must not!" She took a step toward him, but he flug up his hand without looking at her, and she stopped. He was tight as coiled steel, ready to burst out in any direction. |
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Apply now! AIM: ... ICQ: ... |
He stopped beside a tall gray gelding with a young rider. Young, as indeed all the Younglings were--many did not need to shave beyond every third day, and a few still only pretended even that -- but Jisao wore the silver tower on his collar, marking him a veteran of the fighting when Siuan Sanche was deposed, and scars beneath his clothes from fighting since. He was one of those who could skip the razor most mornings; his dark eyes belonged to a man thirty years older, though. |