Participants: Jaice, Maeve, Yurinar, Morden, Cassandra, Nata, Micana, Jelanna, Ellorin and Gould.

Background:

For weeks now, Jaice had been wandering about the Tower like some kind of animated corpse; severely depressed about not breaking her block, she felt she had failed her people and failed in her duty. In fact, she had not had a class in almost five months as her Novice classes were done, and her block prevented her from being Raised to Accepted.
Thus, Jaice has spent long hours poring over any information she can find on blocks, but the wear of winter and the stress of failure looming over her had taken its toll, and the Atha'an Miere remained a pale shadow of her former self.
Concerned about her friend, Maeve decided finally to do something about this, and took it upon herself to give Jaice a break from her self-imposed drudgery...

Maeve:
Darkly reddish-brown - the rust-red shade of dried blood - her glossy wealth of hair, bound into a loosely twisted, by green ribbons ensnared plait, though like sunlit autumn leaves or burnished copper glitter straying strands which escape to curl about her face. There bold angles and sharp edges, a slightly prominent nose and stubbornly set, narrow chin combine with high cheekbones and a nobly fineboned structure to create a distinctly triangular, vulpine shape. Full, deep-red lips seem perpetually curved into a sly smile, a glint of white showing occasionally, and within tilted, almond-shaped eyes the colour of a shifting, stormy sky - framed by slender brows, not seldom arched in a manner either challenging or inviting, and shaded by a curtain of long, dark lashes - dance gleaming sparks of silver, warning of this red vixen's mischievious and capriocious, even mercurial disposition. Her demeanor never fails to reveal prideful confidence and a fiercly willfull nature, but one moment her movements are smooth, suggestively lazy - exuding an alluring air of feral sensuality - and the next lean muscles tense and her sleekly toned and supple body -youthfully willowy, despite her far from tall stature and lush curves, but in no way delicate - display the born dancer's enviable grace and fluency of motion.
A golden serpent sinuously wrap its slender form about the third finger upon her left hand, locked in an eternal struggle with itself, and seven coloured bands, one for each of the Ajah's, line cuffs and hemline of her otherwise stark white gown, denoting her status as an Accepted of the White Tower. The simple garment seems to have been cut to be as demure and unflattering as possible, but no matter how plain and proper it nevertheless fails to fully hide the sleekly toned limbs and lush curves of the youthful but womanly body it drapes over. Nor does the pale garb impair her graceful, characteristic way of moving - like every step she takes is part of a slow, sensual dance. One additional, small detail might catch an onlookers eye. Between her breasts a tear-shaped pendant nestle, carved from deep-green jade and polished to a soft glow.

Jaice:
Tall, slender and darkly tanned, this young woman's sinuous grace of movement proclaims her to be Atha'an Miere -- Sea Folk -- almost as much as her richly exotic appearance. Pale blue eyes appear large in contrast to her deeply tanned skin and raven-black hair, the latter plaited in numerous tiny braids that trail down her toned back. Her hands, calloused from years spent at sea, have been tattooed with intricate designs that taper to her slender wrists; a stylized star and knot on her right hand, and a beautiful sworled wave-like pattern on her left. No jewelry adorns her, though several small holes in her ears indicate rings used to indicate her rank aboard ship. By the thin tan lines around her neck, she she also used to wear numerous small chains. Every movement, every gesture she makes is lithe and catlike, a rolling grace that makes her appear aboard ship even when she is far from sea. She holds herself with the confident, proud air of her people, her expression usually unreadable to those she does not know well. Occassionally however, one might catch a spark of mischief behind that sharp gaze.
This woman is clothed strangely for one of her people, wearing pure, plain white instead of bright colours. A vibrantly white Novice dress clings to her slender form, hanging loosely from her shoulders and cinched close at her trim waist. It falls in loose folds down her tanned legs, and her feet are adorned with shoes of the plainest sort. Today Jaice has dark circles under her lifeless eyes, and her skin is unnaturally pale. She moves lethargically.

Maeve pokes her head in through your door, a faintly concerned look on her face. "Busy Jaice? If not... I was just going for a walk, the Tower was feeling a bit... cramped for my tastes today." A heavy, woolen cloak already hangs over her shoulders, so it seems she's determined to brave the chilly weather.

Jaice is seated on her bed, staring blankly at a text on her lap. It looks as though she's probably been staring at the same page for hours, and as she looks up, unusually pale skin and dark circles beneath dull eyes meets your gaze. She blinks a bit, listlessly, as she makes out your features, and she peers down at her book again. It's so dark in the room it's a wonder she can make out what's on the page. "I'm... supposed to study blocks..."

A frown darkens Maeve's expression a touch more, and a quiet snort escapes her. "And who told you to? Likely one of those Accepteds or sisters who have never even been blocked themselves." A faint smile touch her lips. "It won't happen as long as you think about it, and a break wont hurt anybody. If they ask, I will say I needed someone to help carry... something. We can talk of blocks if you want to, or we can just ignore it for a few hours."

Almost regretfully Jaice slips the heavy tomb from her lap; you get the sense that it wasn't a Sister or an Accepted who makes her study these long hours alone, but her own desperation to somehow continue her duty. She nods finally, silently getting to her feet, and lifts a heavy white cloak from the peg on the wall, slipping it about her shoulders. "Maybe a break would help." By her lifeless voice and dull gaze though she hardly seems convinced, yet she follows you into the hallway and down the stairs.

[The two meander down the stairs, and emerge into the Courtyard.]

Jaice walks silently beside you, her gaze down, her boots making a soft crunching sound on the snow beneath her feet. You sense though that with you her manner eases a bit, becoming more relaxed.

Maeve has no doubt noticed your mood, though as you walk down the stairs she doesn't comment on it. Not until you reach the courtyard does she stop and turn to you again. "Will's perhaps? A pity we cannot risk having anything stronger than a bit of warm cider, Altaran brandy would probably have been more appropriate for both of us." She smiles a little wryly at you, tugging the cloak closer about herself.

Jaice nods blankly, still remaining silent for a time as she walks beside you. Her cloak swirls about her legs in the slight wind, and she tugs it around herself again with a free hand. Brows furrowing, she opens her mouth to say something, but pauses; and says instead, "I haven't had cider in... a long time."

"Well, it's about time then." Maeve gives you a long look, a concerned and thoughtful one, then with a nod of her head heads towards the southharbour gate. "It should do wonders.. in large enough quantities."

Maeve passes through the SouthHarbor Gate under the watchful eyes of the Tower Guards.
SouthHarbor Road: Tar Valon, Tar Valon
Contents: Maeve

With the temperature going up somewhat in the afternoon, the square is fairly busy as you walk into it. People mill about, children playing in the snow stacked up against the houses. Around the tavern there's a small gathering of men, talking somewhat excitedly amongst themselves.

Jaice seems disinterested in the goings-on of the townsfolk, only avoiding them with a belated side-step when the crowds get tight.

"At least it seems we're not alone to care for a bit of fresh air, even if it is almost a bit too much on the fresh side for some." Maeve doesn't chatter, but tries to at least break the silence with the occasional, not too gloomy comment, and it seems it might be just as much for her own as for your sake. "Would you believe that Diar caught a cold, and has refused to leave the Flaming Arrow for a week?" She snorts, obviously not as amused by it as she tries to sound.

Stray words drift your way like falling snow in a light wind. "... fireworks ... ... taken from ... ..." They seem to be coming from the gathering of men by the tavern, when occasionally one of them forgets himself and raises his voice. "Dangerous but... ... sell ... ... secret." A tall, dark man shakes his head, glancing about the square, then rejoins the gossiping little crowd. Whoever got the idea that men don't gossip?

A small smile quirks Jaice's mouth, and she glances at you with a hint of amusement; not for your story, but for the obvious way in which you try to lighten the mood. She lets out a sigh, the most noise she's made since she's left the Tower gates. "Thanks for hauling me out of there, Maeve... I... I guess I hadn't realized how much I needed to get out of that place." Still not herself, by any means, but better for friendly company and a little diversion from her present problem.

"Oh, dont waste too much time thanking me Jaice, I had to get out myself." Again Maeve snorts faintly, giving her head a sharp toss as if to clear it off unwelcome thoughts. "I feel more trapped in there for every day. Like a hunted fox, who knows its on its way to get cornered... I can see it when they look at me." She looks as if she's about to go on, though cuts herself off rather abruptly, turning in the direction of the gossiping crowd. A single, slender brow arches faintly as more words reach your ears, and she glances back at you. "Did you hear that Jaice? Fireworks... think they mean the illuminators, I know there's a smalll chapterhouse near Tar Valon..."

Jaice frowns slightly, turning her back toward the group of men so you can have a better look at them. She glances suprrupticiously over her shoulder, intrigued by the idea of fireworks. Her usually darkly tanned skin seems surprisingly pale over her white cloak, but at least now there's some life to those blue eyes. "I thought they kept everything a closely guarded secret. Locked up tighter than the Tower, even."

Maeve nods, a thoughtful look on her face but a gleam of curiosity in her eyes. "Its is what I have been taught as well..." She falls silent for a moment, likely trying to overhear something more, but the men seem to be done sharing secrets in the cold for now and instead open the doors into the tavern. "I suppose we could trail after them, but likely they'll be consuming most of the ale available, and for some reason I don't think we'll learn much more from them." Her voice betrays a faint hint of disappointment, though she glances at you inquisitively. "What say you? Share the tavern with a bunch of soon to be drunkards, or stroll down to... the harbour maybe?"

Jaice considers the backs of the retreating men, obviously wanting to know more about rumours of the Illuminator's Guild as much as you do. But she nods, turning her back on the Tavern as she takes a few steps toward the Harbour. She doesn't notice at first the scrawny looking man emerge from Will's behind her, once a member of the group of gossiping men.

"Bloddy Flamin' Frekkin' smuggling," the man mutters under his breath, obviously not all pleased as he hurries toward the harbour himself. His voice rises in a pitched, mincing tone, imitating another's command; no doubt whomever is in charge of the disreputable fellow. "Guard the cargo. Mustn' let anyone steal the fireworks. Nyah nyah." His voice drops then to a more normal tone, and he mutters gutterally to himself. "A nap in the foc'sle is more of what -I'll- be havin'." With that, he scurries off down the street, toward Waterman's Plaza.

It seems at first as if Maeve regrets her idea of leaving the tavern and what secrets might be revealed in there in favour of the harbour, she even pauses and looks over her shoulder, back towards Will's. But then, with the man scurrying off towards the plaza, her decision is made for her. Silver brightens grey eyes, and she looks over at you again, nodding her head in the direction the whining fellow disappeared. There's an... adventurous look on her face all of a sudden, any troubles.. or potential dangers completely forgotten.

Jaice's brows arch slyly, and she too peers after the scurrying little troll-like man. "They don't make sailors like they used to," She comments wryly, and her cloak swirls lightly behind her as she begins to tail the little fellow. "We're only doing the Illustrious Guild a service, right?"

"Of course... and we get some fresh air with the bargain." A wicked grin plays over Maeve's lips as she matches her strides to yours, smoothly making her way towards the plaza while carefully sidestepping the patches of ice which make the street so treacherous.

You branch off to the southeast, heading for Waterman's Plaza.
You take a road that branches away from Waterman's Plaza and turns southeast, to the SouthHarbor Docks.
Southharbor Docks: Southharbor, Tar Valon

Maeve pauses a moment for the Dockmaster, after entering the docks area from the northwest.

The two of you reach the docks just in time to see the little man scamper across a thin, extended gangplank to a ship moored about fifteen feet into the harbour. By the bedraggled looks of the craft, they probably didn't want to risk damaging it against the docks; a fish might put a hole in the thing. The man searches around for his pipe, muttering to himself all the while, then finds the familiar object in his pocket and scampers below decks.

"I trust you don't plan to take us swimming today Jaice, it's cool even for a hardened Saldaean." Chuckling softly, and keeping her voice down, Maeve enters the dock area together with you. Despite the light amusement seemingly hinted at by her words, her narrowed gaze follows the skulking little man with a hawk-like intensity. Again she looks to you, and inclines her head in the direction of the ship. "Too good a chance to pass up, yes? Especially since once out there, we'll both be able to channel."

[OOC] Maeve says "sheesh, these two would walk into Shayol Ghul if they saw Lanfear sneaking in there ;P ;)" (Jaice's note: left this one in the log 'cause it's so funny -- and not far from the truth. ;) )

Now all those lessons down here have paid off; though she hasn't been here in a while, those usually at work on the docks easily recognise the two of you, so don't pay you any special attention. Jaice approaches the edge of the dock where the gangplank rests, and casts you a wry smile. Something about adventure, actually -doing- something, has brought back Jaice's miscievous, inquisitive attitude. "Personally, I think we owe it to those hardworking Illuminators to see if these men have what they say they have." That's obviously a load of bull... Jaice wants to see what Fireworks look like the same as anyone else. She peers toward the bow of the craft, her voice a low murmur. "I think he's the only one aboard." Well, no use waiting for those other drunkards to get back. She hurries across the gangplank, her steps light and soundless.

Quietly Maeve follows you across the icy gangplank, mutter something about that a pair of proper snowshoes would be good, though she crosses without anything but a minor slip. Once she sets her feet upon the deck she does, however, look a whole lot more confident than moments ago. "Now... where would they be keeping them? Down below somewhere I guess, out of the cold and moisture." Wryly she adds, "Now that Talent of Chiara's would have been handy... but embrace anyhow." Once you do, you will see that she's already surrounded by the soft, golden glow.

A white nimbus suddenly appears around Jaice, and she raises her finger to her lips as a signal to keep the noise down as she peers through the back hatch. That doesn't last long though... she straightens immediately, gesturing toward the back cabin with a nod of her head. The little troll is in there. Soft, agile steps take her along side, and she peers through a small porthole.

Soundlessly Maeve slides up to just behind you, leaning in to see as well. Far too curious to stay back after all, and let you have all the fun of discovering what that little thief is up to down there. The golden aura about her flickers faintly, growing stronger as she allows herself to hover upon the brink of actually drawing upon Saidar, so close and so alluring now. She's not about to let some simple little rat take her by surprise, and judging from that gleam in her eyes she isn't too worried, just excited.

Jaice straightens from the porthole, a bewildered expression on her face. Her terse whisper carries to you, her gesture indicating the porthole. "Maeve, aren't you supposed to be careful with fire around those things? There's a crate of 'em all right, on the far side from us... but the little idiot is leaning over 'em and trying to light his p--" Her words are drowned out as a sudden blast rocks the ship, and a spout of fire roars skyward through the cabin roof. Jaice is thrown against the rail, and one arm grabs for one of the stays to steady herself. Not that that does much good... the mast is already falling, the sails are in flames, and bits of flaming wood are flying about everywhere. Undoubtedly, the little troll is dead... but so will you be, if the two of you don't make tracks fast.

Flung back by the explosion as well, Maeve doesn't get around to answering your question.... as if it would be needed now. Lightly stunned by the impact and the shockwave from the explosion she loses her hold of Saidar, the glow about her winking out of existance, but moments later she regain enough composure to at least embrace it again, wincing as it only emphasizes the pain in her all of a sudden throbbing head."Bloody, flaming idiot!" she gasps, quite a proper comment considering that the little thief is likely finely crisped by now. "We've got to --" Get off? Sure, but the gangplank is gone, and manhigh flames are licking the side of the railing closest to the shore. "Jump!" she shouts, struggling to get to her feet and rush towards a yet not burning part of the ship.

Now Jaice can handle a lot aboard a ship. She's Atha'an Miere, after all. The prospect of clambering onto a craft that looked as wobbly as this one did didn't phase her one bit. Storms? No problem. But this... she looks around, eyes wild as she takes in the mass destruction on every side of her. This she can't handle. She pauses just long enough to help you to your feet, and makes for the rail at the stern; which, thankfully, is still intact. The boat lurches dangerously, sending Jaice with a muffled thud into the ship's wheel, but she uses it to lever herself to the rail and then over it. "C'mon, Maeve!" She glances behind to make sure you're following, then launches herself with a clean dive into the icy water below.

Far less carefully than usual, betraying the haste and her headache, Maeve weaves a rather poor shield of Air to shelter herself from the falling debris, much of which is on fire. "Shield yourself, " she shouts, "there might be more explosions if there were enough of that stuff down there!" Perhaps she should have been more concerned with her own safety though, for while you make it over the railing just in time, she only reaches it. A second explosion throws her off balance... and straight into a fallen mast, head first. There, slumped over the railing and quite obviously unconscious she's stuck, with a hastily tied off shield her only protection against the rapidly advancing flames and the rain of broken off pieces from the ship.

OOC: @name ship=The Titanic? ;)

Cold. Icy coldness wraps its frim grip around Jaice, infusing every pore of her, so shocking that she forgets to move, forgets to think, except to wonder if her heart will stop. The glow of saidar left her long ago, with the blast; now her focus is entirely on survival. That, and how very, very cold this water is. Forcing her limbs into activity, she gathers her skirts in one hand already turning numb from the chill, and with short gasps of breath, surfaces and swims to the icy docks. Ice is already forming on her hair and eyelashes, her movements becoming lethargic. With a shudder she pulls herself to the dock, and is helped up by sailors who came running at the blast. With a cough, she clears her lungs, shivvers making it almost impossible to speak, to move. "Maeve, we've gotta get warm... Maeve?" Alarmed, she glances toward the water, searching for you. Not there. Panic. Her eyes just light on your still figure slumped against the rail. "MAEVE!"

Once again, for the second time within just minutes, Maeve doesn't reply. How rude... but then again, I suppose she's got her reasons. Like that she's currently hanging unconscious over the railing of a boat which is more on fire than not, with the first flames already licking the the end of the mast which so wickedly got in her way. The shield seems to be holding still, but surely it cannot for much longer...

Yurinar pauses a moment for the Dockmaster, after entering the docks area from the northwest.

Morden pauses a moment for the Dockmaster, after entering the docks area from the northwest.

Morden very slowly and even more quietly follows along

The, at this time of the year, normally quiet harbour is a fiery and chaotic inferno this afternoon. Of one of the ships less than half seems to remain, as if the rest has been torn away by some sort of explosion, and what remains is mostly on fire. Only the stern remains fairly intact and unscarred, which is rather lucky for the whiteclad shape hanging slumped over the railing.

Wooden planks rattle again as a huge figure runs along the docks, eyes fixated upon the flame gushing into the air. A steady stream of curses accompanies his run while he tries to dodge the last remnants of the falling debris.

Jaice staggers to her feet, using whomever is standing nearby as a crutch. Her hair is now almost white from the frost on it, the fabric of her dress stiffened into slabs of ice where the water has frozen. Jaice, however, doesn't seem worried about that. Her entire focus is on the figure on the boat, and she only half hears the yells of sailors to row out there. "No time, no time...!" Helpless fists press against her sides, and as she stares at Maeve's still figure so far out of reach, she opens herself to the Source... and succeeds.

The fact that Jaice is doing this on land doesn't seem to occur to her. Cable-thick strands of air reach toward Maeve, wrapping about her to shield the girl's still figure from falling debris. A mast falls, only to be knocked aside by the invisible shield about Maeve, but Jaice's soaking wet -- or rather, ice-covered now -- form still frowns to herself. "Not enough." Her words are barely distinguishable with the chattering of her teeth, but she clenches her teeth and draws upon still more of the Power.

Morden follows along behind and takes up a fairly distant position by some undisturbed crates. He leans back against them and watches the very large gaidin go thundering down along the dock. His eyes go to the ship and he frowns ever so slightly.

It seems a miracle that Maeve has not been buried by the falling debris by now, that the hasty shield she fashioned hasn't given in. But even so, has it bought her enough time? Even if the flames, marching closer quickly, can be kept out for a time the heat itself will be dangerous enough.

Morden mutters to himself..."Definately not enough...an arrow might do the trick." He smiles noting the vainest of the vain accepteds, all banged up.

Yurinar's lumbering figure rumbles down the docks, but is still too distant to provide any useful assistance. A burning chunk of wood crashes into Yurinar's shoulder, knocking him nearly to his knees. With a stumbling effort, he continues toward the lone figure at the end of the dock.

The crackling sound of the raging fire is almost deafening now, and smoke rises high towards the sky as the ship is consumed... the stern now looking dangerously close to collapsing though the creaking noises made by the dying vessel are drowned in the other sounds.

Jaice opens herself up to the Source, drawing still more, more than she ever has, more than is safe to -- but she doesn't know that, she's a Novice. The shaking planks beneath her feet don't register to her as Yurinar thunders up, her focus entirely on her shield about Maeve. More thick cables spread from her as she sways on her feet, invisible to all except Maeve; and, well, she's off in her own little world at the moment. Almost unconciously, a delicate weave of water and air form, the same Talent she used with the Atha'an Miere to create that telling storm that ended up bringing her here. Only this time she means it to happen. The intricate weave stretches into the sky until it fades from view, and soon winds blow in, pushing stormclouds that looked so innocent minutes ago. Tying the weave, Jaice returns her gaze to Maeve, and tightens her hold around her as thick strands of Air begin to lift the girl from the boat.

Well, if the tales from the Age of Legends are true, Aes Sedai could fly. However, those stories likely didn't mean like this, trussed up by weaves of Air and floating unconscious up from a burning ship. It isn't, after all, a very practical or elegant way of moving about.

Yurinar's lumbering run tapers off as he slows to stand beside Jaice. He spares her a cursory glance before his attention is draw toward the white shape floating from the boat toward the docks.

Especially the way the flying accepted wobbles in the air like that, as Jaice slumps to her knees. She braces her fists against the ground, exhaustedly feeding more of the power to the flows about Maeve as she carefully draws the girl toward the docks. Being hurried, now, might make her falter; and that she must not do. Maeve's still figure wavers again over the turbulent water, falling bits of ship still plunging past her into the icy waves. Jaice isn't going to make it. The weave she set up earlier begins to do its work, the clouds overhead dropping a steady, cold rain over the harbour. But still Maeve's form falters, and Jaice lets out an exhausted groan.

Just as well, perhaps, that Maeve is unconscious still... she would likely not have enjoyed waking up while hovering a few feet over the partially iced-over harbour and the cold waters below. As the rain starts to fall it soon soaks through her gown at least, so it doesn't flap about like she was some giant bird off course.

Jaice's strangled words seem more than desperate, her gaze never leaving the faltering form of Maeve over the water. She's filled herself with so much of the Power it's a wonder she didn't still herself, and has done more now than she's ever done in even three weeks. It's taking its toll. "I'm going to drop her," she moans, under her breath. "It's too far... almost there..." The exhausted girl slumps still more, but Maeve's still figure inches its way still closer toward the waiting group.

Yurinar chances another glance at Jaice's strained face, then clamps his teeth around the bit of his pipe before kneeling at the edge of the docks himself. He reaches out toward the idle punt in the water and grasps it by the bow. With a soft grunt, Yurinar manouvers the boat so that it serves to extend the dock's length. Holding the boat steady, he glances over his shoulder at the strained figure of the novice. "Here lass, set 'er down in th'boat."

Jaice almost cries with relief and fatigue as Yurinar steers the little punt toward Maeve, and she lets the girl settle into it before releasing her hold on Saidar. Her arms shake as she tries to hold herself enough to watch the unconcious girl, her teeth still chattering against the cold. "Is she... Is she okay?"

No longer so white but dark with smoke and soot, the soaked gown clings to a just as soaked and dirty Maeve, still with her eyes closed and her form quite limp as she is dropped into the small boat.

Yurinar pulls in the small boat until its side bumps the end of the dock. Leaning, the large arms of the Warder gently fish her out of the punt. Water pools on the dock as he lays her down. He leans over the small figure, his ear searching for the sound of breathing...

The steady rain continues, bitingly cold as it falls upon the dock's occupants, but nevertheless the downpour does manage to extinguish the worst of the flames so the fire doesn't pass to nearby ships. Jaice's eyes begin to close, her body curling into a ball on the dock as she just manages to watch for Yurinar's reaction. Ice coats her cheeks, her hair, her eyelashes, her soaked dress, and a blue-grey cast becomes more noticible on her skin, made to glisten unhealthily with the cold rain.

Truth be told, considering the winter weather, Jaice is lucky her efforts at creating the rainstorm didn't result in a very pretty but entirely useless snowfall. Certainly Tar Valon residents will be wondering later at the freakish storm that blew in to the SouthHarbour docks and blithely ignored the rest of the city.

Breathing? Well, barely. And the faint sounds which come from Maeve seem to suggest that not only is this because of the blood trickling from a wound to the back of her head which keeps her unconscious... but also the fact that she's likely inhaled more than a little smoke.

The rain pelts the stooping figure of the Warder, but the biting cold is lost upon him. He chuckles at both prone figures while he scoops up the unsconscious Accepted once again, "Ye both are as bad as m'lads. 'Lways tryin t'catch a nap 'ven tho there's work t'be done." He spits out his pipe to prevent it's hindering his carrying her. The small wooden tool skittes across the docks, then drops of the end, plunging into the icy water below. Cradling Maeve, he turns to Jaice, "Come on lass...on yer feet now."

Jaice is still huddled on her side in a ball, very nearly unconcious herself from the strain of using too much of the Power. Likely she won't be able to do squat for days. Her dress lays against her in icy sheets, though her shivvering has subsided, her body too cold now from her dive in the ice-ridden harbour to care one way or another about warming itself up. The young Atha'an Miere manages to open her eyes a touch at the sound of the huge Warder's voice, but the chill has set into her limbs, and now that Saidar has left her, she finds it quite impossible to do as she's told.

A weak cough escapes the still limp form of Maeve as she's lifted, and a greyish mixture of water and soot drips from her wet gown, the still falling rain cleaning her face off somewhat at least.

The lines of age at the corners of his eyes crease with worry, but he still manages a chuckle, "Now's no time fer a nap. Ye'll have time 'nough fer that later lass." He crouches again and his hands sneak underneath the icy figure of the novice. Ice crackles as her frozen dress snaps free of the dock reluctantly. The warder cradles her figure in his arms as well, her form almost on top of Maeve's like a bundle of firewood. Legs nearly the size of tree-trunks push the Warder to his feet. Despite his frozen smile, the cords of his neck distend, telling of the strain of carrying the load.

Morden watches the warder with his hands full.

Yurinar begins his characteristic lumbering down the length of the dock. He chuckles once more, but the warmth of his demeanor is lost to the cold impassiveness of the void, "Well ah can no promise ye a smooth ride lasses, but ah'll try."

Cassandra wanders in from the plaza and looks around.

Morden is leaning against a bunch of crates under an awning, looking out to the docks at the remnants of a burning ship and a gaidin slowly approaching carrying 2 frozen novices.

Maeve and Jaice are being carried away by Yurinar, both with their white gowns soaked. They don't seem to be in particularely good shape. Cassandra arches an eyebrow at the scene then looks around for somewhere to continue watching out of the way.

Jaice doesn't seem to mind what the ride is, where it's going, or if it includes her or not. Her slender figure is completely limp, save for where ice has frozen to her skin, and the blue tone to her lips and fingers and the pale cast to her skin indicates she won't be caring about anything for quite some time.

Cassandra heads for the awning to get out of the rain.

Yurinar's feet thunder down the dock before he vanishes into Waterman's plaza. The speed of his gait and the weight of his load no doubt would have since dropped a normal man to his knees since, but the towering Warder lumbers on.

Yurinar passes by the Dockmaster, after showing him his pass, and enters Waterman's Plaza to the northwest.

[Yurinar runs as fast as his feet can take him, and brings the two girls to the Infirmary in the Tower.]

Yurinar, ignoring the looks of surprise from the patrons of the infirmary, settles each small figure upon a bed

Jelanna enters the infirmary.

Two soaked novices adorn the nearest beds; Maeve, however, is covered in soot, while Jaice is covered in ice and looks blue from head to toe. Both seem in rough shape.

Micana enters the infirmary.

Jelanna enters with several bandages and such, she appears somewhat overburdened and she says without looking up "Nata Sedai I got the ban......." and then looks with consternation at the novices and Accepted.

An occasional, weak cough is the only apparent signs of life coming from Maeve where she lies on one of the cots. Sot-stained water drips from her greyish gown, her face a lot paler than the fabric right now.. in fact it sports a lightly blueish tone, even in here in the warmth.

Micana walks into the infirmary and looks around, a few papers in her hands. She glances toward the group. "What has happened?"

Yurinar barks quickly at an idle infirmary hand a he stands between a pair of beds, each holding the form of a frozen novice, their dresses solid with ice. "Here lad, go fetch some...." his words trail off as the Keeper enters. He clears his voice, trying to suppress the harsh edge of concern that gives him temptation to bark, "Yer pardon Aes Sedai, but there was an 'xplosion down by th'docks." He indicates Maeve, "this one here is 'njured, ah don't know what, but both are frozen t'the bone."

Some instinct, or perhaps the training from Nata Sedai seems to kick in and Jelanna hurries over to grab towels to at least start drying them off. Fortunuately these towels have been lying near the crackling fire and so are warm and toasty.

The stack of invoices presented by the Yellow Ajay members is set on a table to the side, a few items circled and notes jotted beside them. She speaks quickly. "Jelanna, go get Nata if you please. She should be in the practice yard. I give you permission to enter for that purpose only.

Jelanna nods and curtsies as she says "Yes, Micana Sedai."

Jelanna has left.

Micana moves toward the beds and concentrates.
[Channeling] Micana embraces the source. A health delving probe of water, air, spirit is spun and used on each of the girls.

Jaice's ice-clad form remains completely motinless, her eyes closed against the exhaustion of spending herself too much. The ice that has matted itself to her hair and lashes begins to melt, dripping down her cheeks. In fact, her whole bed seems soaked now with the melting ice that drips from her, and occassionally a shudder runs through her.

Yurinar unclasps his own cloak and tosses it aside in a heap. As soon as the warder's cloak crumples, sheets of ice flake to the ground. The dribbles of ice trickling down his chin slowly begin to warm, and the water continues it's trek uninterrupted to soak his collar. "Pardon Aes Sedai, ah've no skill fer this, but ah'll do what ye ask."

Micana reaches out to touch the brows of each laying on the beds as she seeks to see what if any injuries there are before deciding where to spend her strength.

Jelanna enters the infirmary.

Nata enters the infirmary.

A nasty sort of coughing sound comes from Maeve, whatever caused it being enough to make her otherwise limp from stir slightly, and her head rolls over from one side to the other.

Jaice's forehead is ice-cold under Micana's touch, and she doesn't move, unconcious from either hypothermia or exhaustion or both. Her breathing is very shallow and very slow, a distinct grey cast to her skin.

Jelanna enters, with the Yellow Sister in tow, a bit out of breath as she evidently ran from the practice yard and back.

Yurinar stands by a pair of beds, each supporting a frozen young woman, their dresses plastered to their skin with ice. He looks on with concern, the lines of age at his eyes stretched. He remains quiet, despite a temptation to pull off his own frozen clothes.

Micana glances up as Nata arrives. "Good, you are here. Apparently there was some sort of explosion at the docks and Maeve may have been injured, has need of you. Jaice has channeled too much and ....I hope...has not permanently impaired herself. I will work on drying and warming them so you cna concentrate on the others.

Nata nods as she assesses the situation and moves quickly over toward Maeve first.

[Channeling] Micana spins water to pull all the water from around Jaice and Maeve, drying them, hair, and bedding. Fire is spun in a gentle grid to warm the air around them gently ane evenly.

[Channeling] Nata fills herself with the glowing warmth of the source. A healing probe is spun to check Maeve, then converted to a complex healing weave of water air and spirit. Lungs are first cleaned. Bruises are healed, and other injuries are checked for.

A thick gray gooey expectorate roils out of Maeve's nostrils as Nata works on her. She gestures to Jelanna to catch this nasty stuff and discard the smoky smelling mess.

As her lungs are cleared by Nata, Maeve starts to cough again, each cough racking her limp form. She still seems more unconscious than not though, and this is mostly just her body responding.

Jelanna puts the bucket out to catch the nasty remnants ash and such that flow from Maeve's orrifices, she takes a warm cloth and gently cleans her face, rinses it in a bowl of warm water and starts the proceduce again, until the last of the soot is cleaned away.

Nata continues to work on Maeve, working carefully now as she observes her.
[Channeling] Nata continues the healing weave, now working on the 'brain bruise' of concussion, swelling reduced, clot absorbed, etc.

Micana continues to concentrate on what she is doing "I am keeping the weaves active to warm them since I do not want to tie them off. Good thing fire is one of my stronger powers.

Nata says "Good you are here then. Fire is not one of my stronger ones. Was anyone else hurt? How did this happen?"

With her lungs cleansed and the concussion dealt with, Maeve seems to rest more peacefully on the bed, her breathing still faint but at least steady.

Nata glances toward Yurinar to see if he can answer her question.

Yurinar's rumbling voice betrays his presence if his ominious figure had already not done so, "Ah can no say 'xactly what happened, but there was n 'xplosion down on th'docks. A ship was torn 'part 'nd 'pparently these two were on it. Maeve here was left 'nboard while Jaice swam t'safety. Once on th'docks she channeled andd pulled Maeve t'the shore. It was rainin' hard, 'nd with the cold, it froze t'their clothes. Ah ran 'em here as fast as ah could."

Although the sickishly grey cast does not leave Jaice's skin, her body does warm enough that she beings to shivver again, and her fingers twitch against the pain the new life brings to her extremities.

Gould enters the infirmary.

Ellorin enters the infirmary.

Gould enters with the Novice in tow, "I've brought your novice back." He stands and asses the situation calmly, looking to Nata to determine if he or the Novice can be of service.

Ellorin enters, lagging a little behind Gould. She curtseys to everyone in the room, and stays near the door, looking around uncertainly.

Now that Maeve's face is clean again, Jelanna moves over to Jaice, warm water and cloth in hand and starts to clean her face as well.

Nata loks over toward Ellorin. "Can you and Jelanna help wash these two and get them in clean gowns? They seem to be coated in soot and the usual dirt from the water around the docks.

Yurinar's blue eyes rest upon the dark skinned figure of the Novice, "Quite a brave lass here. Channeled herself' t'xhaustion t'save th'ccepted. Ah've no seen 'nythin like it."

Ellorin curtseys again. "Yes, Aes Sedai," she says, and hesitantly approaches the injured girls.

Gould cocks a brow and looks at Jaice, he then looks to Nata with an obvious question in his eyes.

Nata nods to Yurinar as he explains the situation. She smiles faintly toward Gould to reassure him. Screens are placed around the beds for privacy for the bathing process and dressing.

Micana says "just the two of them on the boat? It seems there shall be some answers to be gotten." Her expression hardens somewhat. "It is possible they brought this on themselves if I understand you correctly Yurinar.""

Ellorin picks up a washcloth and looks from Jelanna to Nata and back again, searching for some kind of guidance

Yurinar rolls his shoulder as if the limb gives him trouble, but no pain reaches the elder lines of his face. He leans down to snatch his soaking wet cloak from the ground before replying to the Keeper's inquiry. The deep rumbling voice of Ashlynn's Warder softens somewhat, so as not to disturb the two slumbering young women, "Ah can no say fer certain Keeper. No doubt th'xplosion started in th'ships Cargo Bay. From what ah say, these two lasses where on th'upper decks, no below.

Jelanna continues to wipe Jaice's face as she directs Ellorin "Why don't you start on her arms, and when I get finished I'll start on her legs." She takes her filthy washcloth, goes to clean it with warm water and continues to gently clean.

Ellorin nods. Very carefully, she begins dabbing at Jaice's arms.

Nata nods toward Ellorin. "Behind the screens..strip them, bath, clean gown, fresh sheets. They are warm and dry but filthy." She looks over at Gould. "They should wake up before to much longer as they rest. Ellorin and Jelanna can get trays from the kitchen of nourishing broths and light foods for a few hours, then more filling foods as they recover. They will both be very hungry...and need sleep."

Jaice's eyelids flutter as her body begins to warm, and as she starts to regain conciousness her body curls in on itself, huddling against the chill despite the warm water and blankets on her. She squints at the light, her words slightly slurred. "Where...?" It seems an effort even to keep her eyelids open.

Micana inclines her head as she listens to what Yurinar has to say. "Do you know whose ship? If it is known these tow were to be there, was it aimed at killing them?

Ellorin calls, "Aes Sedai! She's waking up!" She takes a step back away from the bed, frightened.

Jelanna doesn't step back, she continues to gently clean, evidently having been around the sick before. She carefully tells Jaice "You are in the infirmary...in the White Tower."

Yurinar shakes his head, "Nay Keeper. The bow with th'name of th'ship had long since sunk b'fore ah reached th'docks 'nd ah did no have much time t'nquire of it from th'sailors."

Slowly, as the warmth and the healing takes effect, Maeve drifts back to the world of living, well, the conscious anyhow. Her breathing grows steadier regularely, but she's still quite obviously very weakened by her ordeal.

Gould watches all this quietly, a silent sentinel by the doorway, keeping his eyes on his Ward, the Keeper, the Gaidin, the students.

Nata nods at the expected reaction. "That's good. Finish with the cleaning then you can get her some food as I mentioned." She checks Jaice quickly then nods. "She seems just exhausted from channeling. In fact...it may be several days to a week before she can touch the source at all and then it is possible she may have a week or more of not being able to do much at a time before she recovers.

Ellorin nods. "Yes, Aes Sedai," she says in a small voice, then steps closer to the bed again.

Jaice just casts Jelanna -- or rather, the fuzzy figure over her who sounds like Jelanna -- a confused and bewildered stare. She blinks several times, working the image into focus. "...Oh." To never move again. That'd be nice. Just to lie here, till she's about... oh... ninety.

Jelanna gently strokes back beraggled braids and hair from the Jaice's face as she continues, again in that calm even voice "Are you feeling a bit hungry? Nata Sedai said the Healing would have that effect?"

Micana nods. "Yurinar, could you go down to the docks to see what if anything you can discover? And see if any others show up injured? She glances over toward the new Master at Arms, Gould, and nods to indicate he may choose if to go with them or not. Her phrasing shows it is a true question to which refusal would be accepted, not an order."

Ellorin continues cleaning the soot from Jaice's arms, keeping her eyes on her work and not looking up, even at Jelanna.

"Don't... wanna... move." Jaice's slurred words come haltingly, and her eyelids flutter shut again, no matter how much she might want them open. Too exhausted to do any more, she drops off into sleep again.

A faint sort of moan comes from the cot where Maeve lies, though her eyes remain closed even if a slight stirring of her eyelids might be detected.

Yurinar rocks his left shoulder once more, then shakes his head, "Yer Pardon Keeper, but ah should change m'clothes 'nd warm m'self a bit b'fore ah venture out 'nto that freezin rain 'gain. Ah can go t'night t'see what's t'be found."

Gould looks at Micana, "ah...I also believe Shamus is dealing with one of the students, I'll go, however."

Nata moves toward Yurinar after noting his motion. "that shoulder bothering you again? May I see about fixing it?"

Ellorin glances up quickly towards Nata, hearing that last comment. Then she looks down again, focusing on the matter at hand.

Micana fully accepts what is said and nods. She releases the warming weaves once the two girls are stable and spins a weave around Gould's cloak wiich will repell rain nicely and help keep him dry and warm.

---

As the Gaidin head out to see what information they can dig up about the blast, the rain begins to abate in the harbour, and sailors there begin to clean up what's left. Nothing is ever heard of again about the little troll-like man, or his companions; they seem to have skipped town at the news of what happened.

Within the Tower, Jaice and Maeve spend a few days recovering, mostly sleeping. When at last they have eaten enough for the Yellow's standards, and of course after they've been interrogated thoroughly about the event, they're permitted to go back to their rooms... but not, of course, before being made to promise never to sneak onto questionable ships again.