Setting: Ogier Grove, Tar Valon

Participants:
Jaice -- Accepted of the White Tower, ex Atha'an Miere deckhand
Celebril -- Lord Elendril; Blademaster. Former Captain of the Golden Eagles.
Kyra -- Accepted of the White Tower
Chiara -- Accepted of the White Tower
Sionil -- Accepted of the White Tower

Background: For months now, Jaice has been 'going it alone' at the Tower. With Maeve gone, she's found it difficult to continue her studies with the Aes Sedai, due largely to the lack of a confidant she trusts, someone she can speak to. But oddly enough, she's started to find that in someone else, someone unexpected whose introduction she made in a near-collision down a dark and snowy street. Since then, Lord Celebril of Andor has offered the young Atha'an Miere a rare friendship, and an open ear... and so today, Jaice hopes to offer a gift of thanks. She makes her way down the twilight-lit streets toward the Ogier grove, where the Blademaster can often be found practicing, and waits.

Late afternoon finds the sun low in the sky, a deepening red. As such, the glowing rays of sunset turn Celebril's scarlet cloak a deep blood-red as he moves between the trees, approaching his usual place by the pond.

Nearing the rock, he smiles in surprise on finding it occupied--by you, of all people!

Jaice is lounging on the rock, the setting sun turning her white dress more of a pale yellow. She leans back on one hand, watching you approach as though waiting, and an amused smile quirks her lips as you notice her. "I thought you would show up soon." A green bag lays on the rock beside her, something flat within it.

Celebril's blinking blue eyes betray his continued surprise at this turn of events, but the soft smile on his lips demonstrates it's a pleasant thing. "Did you?" Taking a knee beside where you lounge, he lowers himself to sit, one leg bent and the other folded beneath it. "I should expect such mysteries, I suppose, from one who works to be Aes Sedai," he says with a grin.

"Not hard to figure out, with the number of times I've seen you practising on this rock." She pats the hard surface beneath her with one star-sworled hand, and goes on as though... merely speaking of the weather. "I had an interesting class yesterday. Linking. It is where two or more women can link together, to become stronger in their combined power. It is not as strong as merely adding them, but... it makes a difference. We used four, and I was able to do things with Earth I had not been able to do before. So I made something, and afterward, I thought you might want it."

A slender, golden eyebrow arches in mild questioning. "Me? I am honoured..." Celebril seems uncertain of how to go on, not yet knowing what is in store--a gift made with the Power! Watching you warily, still trust is evident in his open expression... the comments about his practice and the questions they might give rise to forgotten for the nonce.

Jaice pulls the green bag onto her lap, and tugs open the clasp. "It is nothing spectacular... but you are a noble, are you not? I have heard Shorebound Nobles have a liking for fine collections of objects, and although this is nothing like the porcelain the Atha'an Miere make, this is something that might befit you." She pulls out the object; about two feet wide and round, it gleams metallically.

The object in Jaice's hands turns out to be a plate, but nothing like any craftsmanship you've seen before. Made of steel but polished to a high sheen, the edges curve outward slightly, and the two handles set at opposite sides are coloured in a gold sheen. They seem oddly familiar... until you realize that they resemble the two halves of the hilt and handguard of a sword. Here and there, crisscrossing along the plate's shiny surface, are lines that could have been formed from the sword's edge, although they blend in so as almost to be imperceptible. Etched in the surface are tiny, intricate designs, knotwork and sworled patterns, and in the exact centre has been stamped a heron.

Jaice cocks her head to one side, watching you to see if you identify what the plate once was. The knotwork designs, you might notice, seem similar to those tattooed on Jaice's hands.

A small gasp of total, uttermost astonishment is Celebril's only audible response as he turns the plate over in his hands, studying it... recognising the patterns, all of them. When he does look up to meet your gaze, his eyes are wide sapphires, bright even here at dusk. "This is--was--a heron-mark... who... how..." He trails off, amazed.

Finally, he is able to say, "Jaice, it--it's lovely. But it fills me with so many questions, and..."

Jaice shakes her head. "It wasn't a heron-mark. I doubt those would bend to the Power as easily as this one did. It was merely an old sword... and one of the many the Tower uses as tools in Earth lessons. I normally have little talent with Earth, but as an experiment, reshaped it into... that. When I was linked with the others. The designs I added afterward, with a little bit of a fire weave. But your herons seem important to you, so when I thought of giving it to you, I added that."

Celebril turns the plate so that it catches the flame of the setting sun through the trees, marvelling at the high degree of polish, and the heron-stamp. "Jaice," he breathes quietly, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You are most welcome," Jaice says, resting her chin on an upraised hand. "It is a nice use for an old sword. I could never do such a thing on my own, but... it was a fun experiment all the same. You can put it in your... estate, or plate-cabinet, or whatever it is you Nobles have."

Celebril's soft laugh in reply is kind, not mocking, and even perhaps somewhat ashamed; in the dark, it can't be seen if he blushes. "Oh, Jaice.. I don't have such things here, and home--well, in truth I am a very poor nobleman indeed. All I have, I have earned very literally."

Jaice's pale gaze studies you through the shadows, not seeming critical, not seeming to judge you for what you seem so readily embarrassed about. "Then you are more like the Atha'an Miere than you know," she says in a soft voice, "Because the Atha'an Miere have no nobility. You are what you make of yourself, and that is all."

Celebril can be seen to smile at you, despite the shadows, and shifts to lie on his side as well, head propped up in a hand. "That reminds me of what a friend of mine once said... one of my sergeants." Quiet, wistful, he tells you, "He believed that nobility was not in the blood of men, but in their deeds. I like to think he was right."

"Many times we would laugh at Nobles who would come asking the gift of passage," Jaice says, her tone turning wistful at talk of her old life. "They seemed to think they were the grease that kept the Wheel itself turning on its axis. But... they always seemed a little more humble leaning over the leeward side with green faces once the seas got a little wavy." Those blue eyes regard you again, levelly. "So I would say your sergeant was right."

Celebril chuckles deep in his throat, a grin being called forth by your observation. "I know many of that type... I have cousins of that sort. Most of them have never been afield, no world left but their friends and allies. When you learn to trust.. 'commoners'.. with your life, you learn they're no different than you are." returning your gaze, he adds, "I would think the same is true of all nations."

Jaice's brows furrow as she considers your words. "Perhaps. But among the Atha'an Miere, there is no division. Deckhands are to show respect to those senior to them, but they are also recognised as being vitally important to the running of a ship. Everyone is needed, so none are put down or scoffed at. It is not the same with Shorebound Nobles, or with those who feel like they are in power, like the Aes Sedai."

"Very true," Celebril agrees, "Yet this was not my meaning. I meant simply that despite our divisions, people--regardless of class and flag--are very much the same, in the end. Look at you--you're Atha--ah, Sea Folk," he amends, stumbling over your word with a definite flush, even in the dark. "Yet I trust you."

Jaice shakes her head, her expression unreadable in the dim light. "I am not Atha'an Miere anymore," she says, her voice barely reaching your ears. "I have been ashore too long, I think."

Celebril reaches out and sits up at this sudden softening in your voice, touching your shoulder in an assuring gesture. "It may be true," he quietly says, "That we can never go home again, Jaice. This is why it becomes all the more important to look to the future."

Jaice studies the designs on her hands, barely visible in the dim light. "With Maeve gone, it is more difficult to know what it is I am. Somehow it was easier with her here. Would my people turn me away were I to go to them? I do not know. But there has been a fear there, a small one, ever since my block was broken. And Atha'an Miere do not have that. And yet, I do not seem to 'fit' here, either." Her eyes search out yours then, her expression seeming surprisingly calm. "So this 'future' you speak of... is hard to imagine."

"I am not saying you have to become like them, Jaice," Celebril tells you, his voice solemn and earnest, "Nor must you return to your folk. You have been given a great gift.. take their training, take everything the Aes Sedai can give you that makes you stronger--" now, a smile flashes, "--and use it to your own ends."

Jaice plants her chin on her fist, staring into the darkness of the pond. "What end is that? I enjoy the learning... becoming more skilled, discovering new things. And if I had it in my power, I think I would travel, and explore some more. Beyond that... it is difficult, trying to find the task the Wheel would weave you to."

"One thing at a time, Jaice. That's what my mother used to say." This memory elicits a soft chuckle, and Celebril folds his hands together. "Complete your training first--it's the first step. After that--that's when you can think about where you'll go next. But I promise you this, Jaice din Coris Swift Sea..."

It is as if the wood goes quiet, but for Celebril's next and last whispered words: "Earn the Shawl and leave this city, and I will go with you."

Jaice's startled gaze is easily visible even in the shadows that fall across her face, her pale eyes intent on yours. It is only after a long, silent pause that you hear her murmur. "It is not a light thing that you offer, Celebril."

Celebril's answer comes after a moment of thought, not swiftly or rashly; his shining blue eyes matching yours for intensity. "Nor do I offer it lightly. This gift," he touches the plate, "This has decided my mind on a thing I have been considering since that night by the docks. I feel," he says, slowly, knowing the oddity of this, "...that this is somehow right."

"I know you are a man well-used to danger," Jaice says, her eyes never leaving yours. "Your heron-blade is proof enough of that, even without your stories. But travelling with an Aes Sedai -- should I make it that far -- can prove to be more than you've had to deal with before. You are willing to face that?"

Celebril nods once, gravely. His fingers seek the handles of the heron-plate idly, as if it might hold some inner symbolism; his answer is solemn. "I am."

There is no justification, no pointing out the dangers of simply *being* an Aes Sedai, on your part. Only that simple 'I am.'

"No one has ever offered so much for me before," Jaice says finally, her pale eyes studying yours. "I thank you. And..." She pauses, toying over her words in her mind before saying them aloud. "And I will finish my training, and I will find my place in the world. But it will be years before my training is completed, and I will understand should you want to take your life down a different path."

Celebril shakes his head, placing a hand over one of your smaller, tattooed ones. "You will not have to understand if I go, because I will not be going." Despite the solemnity of his tone, a swashbuckler's grin flashes across his face in the darkness now. "When I give my word, I keep it. And I will hold you to your goal as well--I will see you leave that Tower an Aes Sedai."

Now it's Jaice's turn to look amused, though those pale eyes still study you in that vaguely disconcerting, thoughtful way. "You sound like a man who intends to find out much more about us Tower folk, in the months to come."

Celebril holds up well under your scrutiny, as well he should if he's so stolid as he declares. "I will learn all I need to know," he answers, meeting that thoughtful stare with a smile that is almost playful, "...to see you through this, and whatever may come after."

Kyra walks in from the west, leaving Treesingers Avenue behind as she takes in the splendor of the Grove. Kyra has arrived.

Another thoughtful brow arches at that statement, and you might well think that Jaice doesn't exactly know what to make of it. And you might well be right. The slender Atha'an Miere merely nods once, a wry smile playing across her lips. "From what I am told, I may well need all the help I can get." Her blue gaze shifts toward the edge of the grove, where a white-robed figure can be seen moving.

Celebril and Jaice are seated upon the flat rock which overlooks the Grove's small pond, and talking quietly and gravely. Their tones would be difficult to hear from any distance. The former, after a comment from the latter, replies with a smile, yet quietly and for no-one's ears but her own.

Celebril whispers "It's all yours, naturally. Diar might think me mad, but I want to do this. I feel I should do this."

Soft footfalls barely make a sound on the floor of the grove, but Kyra's passage can certainly be noted by the mere contrast of white robe to the darkening night. She pauses just within the entrance to take a deep breath, planting the black staff on the ground beside her.

"It's all right," Jaice murmurs back to the man beside her. "Diar thinks I'm mad too. I don't like horses." Her voice rises as she catches sight of the white-robed woman, after studying the still figure for a few moments. "Would that be Kyra I see?"

Celebril grins at Jaice's comment about horses, a soft laugh escaping his lips before cutting off sharply, following her glance to the other white-robed figure. Suddenly quiet, he says nothing, only watching this newcomer.

Steel-grey eyes sweep to the grove's pond, narrowing slightly. A familiar figure and voice. "Peace favour you, Jaice." she replies as she crosses the distance in silent leonine strides. "And to you." Towards Jaice's companion.

Jaice's graceful gesture indicates the man beside her, and she makes murmured introductions. "Lord Celebril of Andor, this is Kyra, an Accepted at the White Tower." As if the dress didn't tell enough. "Taking an evening stroll?"

Kyra sketches a bow, rather than the customary curtsey. "M'lord." To answer Jaice, she shrugs "Needed to clear my head. It's a nice night for a stroll through the grove." She lets out a sigh, leaning black staff against her for the moment. "The Tower does get to you after a while."

Celebril's simple inclination of his head is a careful, silent greeting. Jaice seems friendly enough with the girl, no doubt the reason for his easy smile.

Chiara walks in from the west, leaving Treesingers Avenue behind as she takes in the splendor of the Grove. Chiara has arrived.
Sionil walks in from the west, leaving Treesingers Avenue behind as she takes in the splendor of the Grove. Sionil has arrived.

Chiara enters the groove, gently pulling the rather tiredly looking Sionil with her as they move between the quiet plays of the trees.

"Likewise," Jaice says dryly, exchanging glances with Celebril for the moment. One might almost think that's a conversation they had had before. "And the forest is soothing at any time of day." Her shoulders lean to one side as she glances around Kyra, taking in the figures who approach from the road. "As I'm sure others have discovered as well."

With her back to the entrance, Kyra has to twist around to notice the newcomers. An easy grin starts to form on her face, but she quirks a brow at Sionil's appearance. "By the looks of it, one would be better served at rest."

Celebril nods to Jaice, his thin lips forming an ironic smile as he catches her eyes--and the look grows even more amused at the appearance of another white-clad pair of girls. Yet to speak, he continues his silence, only placing a shiny, plate-like object in the folds of his unworn cloak, and wrapping it there.

Jaice's mutter of explanation seems to be for Celebril's ears as much as for Kyra. "Her Testing was hard, I hear." Her own eyes cloud a bit at a passing thought, but she shakes her head, clearing it. "But the Grove is plenty big enough for all. Maybe it'll help."

Chiara has't noticed others yet, but looks around as if feeling the distint presence of Channelers around, aside from her and Sionil then. MOving in that direction yet unsuere wther it would be good she glances down at Sionil with a reassuring genuine warm smile, She mutters to Sionil, "I am sure... the look... you... remember, she... my friend too. I hope so... need... rest... to help her with... choice... do not..." With that she looks back at the road, now noticing the others and she raises a faint eyebrow at the people yet smiles warmly at Kyra, "goodday."

Kyra nods in sympathy at Jaice's comment - she has yet to hear of a Raising that wasn't - then turns that nod into one of greeting for Chiara's. "Peace favour you," she says, encompassing both newly arrived in her gaze.

Sionil mutters to Chiara, "She... friend... too... a friend"

"And may you walk in the Light." Chiara responds to her fellow accepted with the typical greeting of her own country. "We have just had a rathe trying conversation and are now looking for some relief and rest in the Groove, it seems we are not the only ones." Her big gray eyes slide from the tall accepted to the even taller man and she smirks just faintly, yet interested to see whom he's with.

Chiara leaqns closer to Sionil, She mutters to Sionil, "... too... friend,... in... it... bring... problems... you... taking care... to... to... goals."

If Jaice noticed Chiara's interested glance, she doesn't show it. She inclines her head in simple -- if aloof -- greeting, her expression placidly unreadable. "Accepteds Chiara, Sionil, this is a friend of mine, Lord Celebril of Andor. We were just enjoying the music of trees ourselves. It is soothing, is it not?" And here, her pale gaze trails over Sionil for a moment.

Rising from where they sit upon the tall rock, Celebril offers Jaice a hand--more from courtesy, it seems, than from any belief she'd need help standing. Tucking the wrapped cloak beneath his arm, he glances at her peers and quietly wonders aloud, "Perhaps we--or at least, I--should be going..."

Sionil softly says towards the others "Good day. Yes, soothing."

Kyra chuckles wryly, quirking a brow at mention of trying conversations. Instead of pursuing it thogh, she volunteers "I have come from a trying session with Coranna Sedai. My advisor," she notes to those who may not know. "She gave me leave to wander and clear my head a bit." She remains silent on Jaice's introduction, choosing instead to glance around to deeper parts of the grove.

Chiara smiles at Sionil, "Believe me, things will be better." she tells her and then looks at the Lord, nodding her head cooly, "Nice to meet you." she too turns to Jaice with asmile and then back to Kyra and Sionil, "Then we all are here for the same goal and we might go walking about this, listening to the music of the trees and life around us." A quick glance at Kyra asks her not to talk about her project with Sionil now, it really isn't a good topic.

"I have never actually talked with her," Jaice says in passing, and cranes her neck around to try to spot the position of the moon through the trees at Celebril's mention of leaving. "Hrm. I suppose you're right, at that." Placing her tattooed hand in his, she gets up off the rock in one fluid motion. It's no wonder the Atha'an Miere are so adept at walking wind-tossed sailspars. Looping a green bag over her shoulder, she turns back once more toward the other three Accepted. "I'm back to the Tower, it seems. Have a pleasant evening." Jaice always did seem a little distant since Maeve left, and tonight is no exception. She turns then, walking out with the Andoran Blademaster, the two speaking quietly.

Jaice and Celebril make their way out, and begin to stroll along the more quiet city streets.

Jaice strolls along beside you, quiet for a time as the two of you leave the shelter of the Grove. Finally, she speaks up. "I do not often talk with other Accepted within the Tower, beyond daily niceties. I would not be surprised at rumours flying around now."

Celebril draws a deep breath of air in, probably ready to expound on just what a proper knight thinks of rumour--and releases it in a bemused laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, let them," he says, "They'll not hit the truth, I'm sure. You're better than that lot anyway--certainly different."

"Different." Jaice turns her head to look at you dryly, her gracefully swaying steps matching yours. "Different in that they all want to become Aes Sedai and do Grand Things for the Tower?" Her brows furrow then, her tone becoming more curious, wondering. "How do you see Tower folk?"

Celebril's own walk has the direct efficiency of a soldier, coupled with the deadly-yet-easy grace of a blademaster... a match, perhaps, for your Sea Folk sway. His words, at least, are an answer for your question. "I see the most of the girls--novices? They are silly things, and the ones who think themselves your peers fancy themselves Aes Sedai--it is why they are so arrogant with the novices. The Aes Sedai themselves..." He trails off, shaking his head with a grin. "You're already a better person than most of them will ever be."

Jaice is full of surprised glances today, and she casts you one before going back to studying the street before her. "You make me wonder what I've done to deserve such praise," she says, her tone only half-joking. "For from you, that is high praise indeed."

"True enough," Celebril answers, keeping in perfect step with you as he speaks. "You're honest, though, and down to earth. Those are qualities I learned to admire in my soldiers, my friends," he says quietly, "And I admire them in a woman as well. I've said nothing you haven't deserved." As easily as these words come, though, he watches the street ahead of him as he says them--as if perhaps mildly embarrassed.

Jaice pauses there, in the street, her darkly tanned skin illuminated by a lamp hanging overhead. She links one hand around your arm, making you pause to face her as well. "Any other," she begins thoughtfully, "and I think I would wave that off. But not you. From you, I know it is a true compliment. Thank you. It is a lot to live up to..." A wry smile begins to quirk the corners of her mouth then, lightening her intense expression, "But as I see many folk in the Tower as much the same as you have described -- your description of myself excluded -- ... I think it might be easier to live up to than it seems at first glance."

Celebril is stopped and turned by your small hand on his elbow, and a flush gathers rose in his cheeks beneath the dim lamplight. Your words, your action? Who can say... all he says is this, quietly, looking down into your eyes, all solemnity. "Compliments," he laughs softly, and adds, "I only tell you the truth. If I see you through rose-coloured lenses, still I see you--you do not change. When I tell you these things, I do not seek to flatter; I only tell you what is."

Jaice is silent for a time, and she begins to walk again, slowly, beside you. Her steps are light on the cobblestones, but her words hold a clarity to them in the quiet of the evening. "Would you tell me 'what is' even if it was something I didn't want to hear?"

The answer is swift and without thought; perhaps for the answerer no thought is needed. "Yes," replies Celebril, tone unequivocal, "I see nothing gained in the telling of lies." A few steps lead on; remaining beside you--more words come, quiet yet certain: "You are very special, Jaice, to me--but I will not hide things from your ears that must be heard."

"Good," Jaice says, giving a definitive nod of her head. "I would not have anyone hold back their opinion just because they think I did not want it. It is true that I am stubborn -- that I've heard often enough -- but it does anyone good to hear opinions that differ from their own." A few more steps, and Jaice is silent, but finally she quirks a slender brow amusedly and adds, "That's not to say that I want people to just disagree with me for the fun of it."

That comment brights quick laughter to Celebril's lips, and he must forget himself--for he claps you on the back like a comrade! Oof! Almost instantly his eyes widen and reality sets in and he cuts off what he'd been saying: "Yet it's so fun to arg--" and amends it to, "Light, Jaice, I'm sorry!"

The slender Atha'an Miere has to catch herself as you clap her on the back, and somehow she manages to do it with only a quick misstep and a muffled intake of breath, barely enough to notice, if one weren't paying attention. Her wry, sidelong smile is a rather lopsided one, and she gives you a firm poke in the arm in return. "Fun to argue, hrm? It's all right Celebril, I'm not made of porcelain. But you'd better watch it, 'cause next time, I might just give you a surprise in return!" Who knows what a channeller could mean by that? Whatever it was, Jaice is certainly joking by the amused light in her eyes.

Celebril raises his hands up, palms out in a defensive manner--as if to ward off a rain of blows from who-knows-where. Laughing, shaking his golden hair, the Andorman grins at you as he says, "No, Jaice, as much as I love surprises, I'm entirely terrified of what you might brew up for me!"

Jaice aims a finger in your direction, her brows arched in a mock-threatening expression. "Treat me like a china doll again, and you just might find out." Her tattooed hands end up in her pockets again as she walks along, and her soft chuckle turns into a murmur of wondering. "Of course... most shorebound women seem to -like- being treated like a china doll, do they not? Strange." She may seem to be watching the street before her, but that pale gaze is indeed on you, a sidelong glance from the corner of her eyes.

Celebril doesn't seem to notice your glance, staring mostly at the street ahead as he walks beside you along the paving-stones. "Well," he ventures, "I think that is because of the way in which we are raised, men and women alike. I do not think you are one to be treated in that way, myself."

"A wise decision," Jaice says bemusedly, though her tone turns more serious again as a thought strikes her. "Men and women alike. So then, you're saying men also like it when women act like that." She nods to herself then, and shrugs. "I suppose it's the only reason they'd do it, then. But it does vary. I have visited many ports, in my day. Not all act the same."

Celebril nods in understanding, glancing at you as he walks along. "This is very true. It's... rather unfair, really, to lump all who dwell on land in one category. We have different nations, and as such, different customs."

"Hrm. True. It is an easy habit to fall into." Jaice leaves your side for a few steps to avoid a puddle in the street, her voice light as she rejoins you. "What places have you visited, then?"

"Not many, really," Celebril replies, keeping pace with you as a simple thing. "I've lived most of my life in Andor, and fought along the Ghealdainin border.. I'm sure you've seen far more of this world than I."

"Probably," Jaice agrees. "But not so much of the inland countries. Very little of those. When you were in Andor, you spent your life fighting for Andor? Skirmishes and... political battles?"

Celebril makes a face as you ask that question, pressing his hands together and becoming rather thoughtful. "Political, in a way," he agrees--in a way. "Only in that the barons of Ghealdan liked to make quick grabs for land across our borders, and a swift force of cavalry has always been needed to put them down."

"So what were your years there like? I know very little of you beyond what I see before me." "You see," Jaice says, matching strides with yours, "I don't want you using me as a 'mission in life'." Blunt, isn't she?

As if he coughs, or has something stuck in his throat, Celebril makes a startled sound. Stopping, he grabs you firmly by the shoulders--apparently forgetting you've the Power at your fingertips--and turns you to face him. "Jaice, don't you ever say I'd 'use' you for anything. Again." Words fallen like bricks, he releases you just as quickly, and whirls; a few steps carry him broodingly away.

Celebril pauses, obviously angry though facing away from you, and does not move.

Jaice turns to watch you, the startlement at your abrupt actions fading from her eyes. One hand belatedly raises to rub at her shoulder, and her brows furrow with annoyance. "Well, what else does it look like? I'm sure you have the best intentions... but I don't want you trailing after me, as honourable as that may be, when you have your own life and own adventures to live. I've never done that to anybody, and I won't do it to you. I got through two of the most horrific experiences of my life without a handsome Andoran standing by, and I can get through the rest as well."

"Is that what you really want? Do you think I can explain this?" These questions, turned away as he is, seem addressed to the air--but Celebril turns again, fists clenched at his sides in helpless frustration at this sudden turn of events, to look at you. "You think I'm serving some Light-blasted mouldy ideal in this? No, Jaice--I'm here for *you*. I don't know why..."

His voice trails off, but before you can interrupt, Celebril continues his little speech. "It's not because you're kind, or you're in need of aid, or even because you're beautiful. Jaice, I feel this is right--" he sighs, "--Light help me if I know why, but burn it, when we're talking about the future, I know it's going to happen."

The darkly tanned woman across from you merely stares levelly at you, a sardonic expression gracing her features. "You're telling me now you have the Foretelling?" A light sigh escapes her, and her gaze drops, just a touch, to the sigil on your cloak. "Pledging your life to serve another? That is what always scared me about Warders. And perhaps, for them, it works; Light knows they seem to think they have some..." She waves a hand vaguely in the air, "...grand, important mission in mind. But I'm not worth that, Cel." Again, unconsciously, the affectionate nickname. "I'm only an Accepted, and a confused one at that. I haven't the right to ask so much of you."

"You're not asking," Celebril fires right back, half-smiling at the absurdity of it all through his frustration, "--I'm giving. Because I like you, Jaice, and not because of any silly forebodings or gaidin oaths I've never taken. When I say I know it will happen, it's not foretelling--it's faith in you." Taking a step forward, he touches your arms, clasps slender forearms with his hands, holds them. "Can't you see that?" His voice lowers, and his eyes soften; the golden Andorman whispers fervently, "I believe in you. I want to be there for you."

"But don't you -see-?" Jaice lets out a breath, closing her eyes against the frustration she's feeling. "It's too much to give. You're a -Blademaster-, for Light's sake. You have the world at your beck and call! And you've pledged years to sitting around and waiting for me to Raise? For what? Why? When you have so much else?" She shakes her head then, her eyes opening and locking with yours as though trying to stare you down. "I'm a strong woman, Celebril. If you think I can't do it without you behind me, you're wrong."

"Maybe too strong, Jaice," Celebril answers with that same ironic, I-can't-believe-we're-fighting-about-this smile. "Someday, you'll go charging in with the lions because you'll know you can do it--and something unlooked-for will catch you. You're right, you don't need me--but you're wrong to say you aren't worth it." Falling silent a moment, still holding your arms loosely, he asks in a sober tone, "Would you have me tell you where to place your loyalties? For that is what you do, when you say you are unworthy of mine."

Jaice bites her lip against the hot tears that threaten to well up in her eyes, and she pulls her arms free from your grasp, crossing them firmly over her chest as she turns away from you. "I would not ask you where to place your loyalties. You are my friend, and that I do appreciate." There is a long silence then, broken only by the sound of Jaice's deep, too-controlled breaths. "I can't have you sitting around, only for me." There. She said it. "I feel like... like I'd be the only purpose to your life. And that would be fine, if I -was- an Aes Sedai and off fighting Light-knows-what. But... burn me, I'm not! What trouble am I going to get into in a -classroom-?" Long braids sway as she ducks her head, slender fingers rubbing at her brow. "You ask a lot of me, to devote so much."

A long pause ensues, in which no words are spoken nor action is taken; Celebril only listens to the sound of your breathing, and maybe, seeks to understand. Finally, the first words are spoken: "I am not so certain that you will remain in those classrooms," he admits with a sigh. Then, with only a footfall for warning, his strong arms circle you from behind, just under yours; it is a hesitant but sympathetic embrace as he whispers, and his voice is near your ear yet soft as cotton. "I wish to see you through these trials. If I leave, and you turn away from them, I blame myself."

"You wish to take my honour from me?" Jaice, who seemed so thankful at your comforting embrace a moment ago, stiffens in your arms. "To say that -my- decisions are -your- responsibility... that says I am a child, that I am less than I am. Would you take my independence from me, what little of it I have?" Those words are little more than a whisper, yet they bite with the intensity of Jaice's emotions.

"To stay, or to leave. They are my decisions Lord Celebril, and will not be swayed by you. I succeed, or I fail, on my own. My own merit. My own choice."

Celebril stiffens noticeably behind you at this sudden shift, yet still holds you as he answers--after a stunned moment--"Light, Jaice, that isn't what I meant. Don't turn things around on me because I'm no poet, and my words come out wrong!" A soft murmur, his voice somehow manages to remain charged with the energy of his feelings. "Then make your choices, but burn me, Jaice, I'm going with you. I care too much for you now to turn away. I..." His voice falls short, and you can sense him shake his head, biting his tongue.

Jaice squirms in your arms, turning to face you, to stare demandingly into your eyes. "Care for me? Light, Cel, you barely know me! What under StormBringer's Beard are you trying to tell me?!"

"I don't want to lose you, know that I've found you," Celebril finally admits, his face falling as he stares off over your shoulder, into the dim pools of lamplight and the Ogier-wrought architecture of the city. The sound of his words, hushed and torn from his lips as though he is uncertain whether or not to give them voice, is one wrought with emotion. "I barely know you. You're right. I just--I want to go on knowing you. I want to learn about you and your people. You haven't lived my life--you can't understand why it was so empty before. Just know that you've filled something, and I don't want to go back to where I was."

Jaice's defiant expression fades, slowly being replaced by one of mild annoyance; but this seems more directed at her inability to handle situations like this rather than at you. "Well, you won't lose me," she says in a low tone, absently brushing a touch of dirt from the fabric across your chest. "We're friends, good friends, and those I don't look upon lightly. I've few enough of them. But--" And here she looks up at you, her eyes almost imploring. "You don't have to keep watch on me, or guard me with your sword, just to make sure. I want you to be your own person. You -need- to be your own person. You tell me constantly to live my dream. Well what's -yours-? It can't be me. I won't let it be. You have to live for -your- causes, not mine. And if they mesh... then, then, we'll see." She presses her lips then, looking up at you expectantly.

Celebril nods slowly, a wistful smile taking his face. "You understand better than you think, and yet you don't. Neither do I, I fear," he says, an enigmatic laugh punctuating the words he speaks. "My dream is simply to live each day to the fullest, Jaice. I wanted you to be part of that. If that isn't what you want..."

It seems that Celebril, for his part, has misunderstood entirely. Or has he? Who can say? All that you know is that he leans down, and plants a soft kiss on your brow; with that he releases you from his embrace, and turns to walk away.

Whatever his reasons, he has now succeeded in thoroughly confusing Jaice, who merely stands where she was left, frowning at Celebril's back. "Blast these Shorebound men!" she mutters. "That wasn't what he meant at all!" With that she whirls on one heel, making her swift way back to the Tower. Those near enough to hear her on her way through the dark streets might hear the Accepted swearing off speaking to any man for the next month.