Disturbances in the Hallways

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Disturbances in the Hallways; Atn: Ataea (Inside the Towers)
Topic Started: Nov 12 2007, 09:09 PM (271 Views)
Evei Atrium	Nov 12 2007, 09:09 PM Post #1
Aes Sedai of the Red Shen Posts: 212 Group: Aes Sedai Member #232 Joined: June 2, 2007	Evei yawned, idly rubbing the back of her neck as she turned the page in her book. For once, the research she had been assigned was actually interesting. Evei hadn’t actually expected to enjoy reading about Cairhien, but the tales of intrigue that the book portrayed could have been a story and not history. She smiled to herself, and then glanced up at the library to see how long she had until lunch. The place was deserted, except for a few lone Brown sisters. That means I read through the lunch bell. Evei thought to herself, grumpily. She snapped the book shut and stood before hurrying toward the correct shelf of books to put the Cairhien history text away. After that, Evei rushed into the hall, cursing under breath as she saw how empty it was. I must be extraordinarily late. I wonder if there is even any food left. She huffed, and walked a little faster. Evei’s stomach rumbled, and she had to fight off the urge to clutch at her abdomen. That book was too enjoyable for it’s own good. She thought, almost angry at being drawn into the history that the tome had portrayed. As she navigated the halls, Evei broke into a jog. There was no one to see her, and she needed to make a dash for the kitchens if she was ever going to satisfy her hunger. She moved into more populated halls, but didn’t stop jogging. It was not a strange sight to see a novice rushing through the halls, and no one gave her more than a passing glance. Evei kept her gaze on the ground, dodging other people’s feet as she hurried toward the mess hall and the kitchens. It was then that Evei stumbled, her feet getting caught up in hem. She fell, smacking into something large and slightly soft as she crashed toward the ground. There goes any chance of getting lunch. She though miserably as she connected with the floor. At least, she should have fallen to uncomfortable stone. Instead, Evei tumbled onto something faintly squishy and vaguely comfortable. Not something. Someone. Evei looked up, wide eyed, to find herself staring into the eyes of a very amused Asha’man. Her gaze flickered to the dragon pin on his lapel, frozen and limp. I’m sprawled on top of some Asha’man. She thought, almost disbelieving. I don’t believe this. She couldn’t help but want to disappear into the floor. Evei glanced back at his face and as soon as he saw her eyes on him, he winked. She let out a little squeak, and then she was hauling herself up off of him, crawling onto the stone floor and off of his abdomen. Blood and bloody ashes. She thought, even as she stood up with as much dignity as she could muster and looked down at the Asha’man. I am a widow. This sort of thing doesn’t bother me anymore. Evei told herself, hoping she could make herself believe it. He was lounging on the floor, a smirk on his lips. Evei’s eyes narrowed slightly as she dropped into the customary curtsey, words of apology leaving her mouth. Her little speech only made him chuckle as he gazed up at her in delight. “That was just a bit forward of you, don’t you think?” He asked, his eyes lighting up as he laughed. Evei’s cheeks turned slightly pink as she looked around her and saw an assortment of novices and soldiers staring at her with wide eyes and open mouths. Evei said nothing in reply to the man, but simply offered him a hand to help him up as the corners of her mouth turned down into a frown and her eyes narrowed a formidable glare. The man accepted her help with an easy smile and used her strength to pull himself to his feet. Evei stumbled a bit under his weight, but didn’t topple over yet again. “I assure you, it wasn’t on purpose.” Evei told him, her tone icy. It only made the man chuckle once more. She said nothing, and simply brushed dust from her white dress while she waited for the people around her to move on and for the Asha’man to say something. I bet lunch is over by now. She thought, despair coloring her words as she watched the man brush speckles of dirt of his black coat. The man only laughed at her. “For that, I think you need to take an extra round of chores.” He thought for a moment, his finger tapping against his chin. “You can join the recruits washing floors in the hallways.” Evei nodded, for she had expected to get another chore heaped onto her already busy schedule. She gave the Asha’man another curtsy, and walked away with the few shreds of poise that she still had left. Lunch was now impossible, and she had to finish the extra chore before she could return to her report on Cairhien in the library. Evei gave a little sigh, but still hurried toward the supply cabinet. She dodged crowds of people who were still staring at her, and realized with an unpleasant start that by tomorrow, news of her encounter with the unidentified Asha’man would be spread over the whole Tower. Except it will be wildly altered. I suspect they will portray my tripping as... Throwing myself at the man or something of the sort. Evei sniffed at the thought, annoyed. Other novices had the habit of spinning what little gossip they had into the most unbelievable stories. It took a few moments to locate the supply cabinet, but Evei managed to find it in the midst of the throngs of people. After that it was only a matter of grabbing a bucket, a rag, and a bit of soap before going out to the courtyard and the water spigot. Evei pumped her bucket full of water and carried the thing back into the White Tower. It weighed too much for her to handle easily, and forced Evei to stumble almost drunkenly through the halls and towards the place where floor cleaning usually started. When Evei arrived there, it was already filled with grumpy looking recruits scrubbing moodily at the floor. Evei joined them with a sigh, setting her bucket on the ground before fishing the rag out of the water. She began to scrub, her knees starting to ache after only a few minutes of scrubbing. With a sigh, Evei plopped her rag back into her bucket, sending a spray of water toward the person next to her. “I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed, knowing that she had just made another person’s day a little worse. Not to mention mine, she thought wryly, now that I’ll have an irritated recruit on my hands.
	Evei Atrium + Air Elementalism - Milking Tears - Inverting Weaves


Ataea Variel	Nov 13 2007, 12:18 AM Post #2
Retired Recruit Posts: 104 Group: Retired Members Member #258 Joined: October 21, 2007	(I'm going to borrow your Asha'man. And, uhhh.. I didn't mean to make it this long, it was accidental. @_@) It was miserably hot, enough so to sap moisture from a person the moment they took a step outside. The blazing sun beat down unbearably as it perched at its pinnicle in the overly vibrant blue sky, smirking down as its relentless rays tormented the innocents below. Ataea in particular felt the strain from the heat as she poised herself in a defensive position that could instantly be switched to that of attack. Sweat rolled down her forehead and she could feel droplets sliding down her back, only to be rubbed away by the backplate of her leather armor when she moved. Her breath was labored from exertion, coming in quick gasps that caused her chest to heave, though it did not affect her fighting. Across from Ataea another recruit stood, male, and he was in equally poor condition. They circled each other, searching for an opening while trying to catch their breaths. This opponent was unlike other raw recruits, as he fought cunningly with a combination of agility and strength, rivaling her acrobatic style. Steel flashed in the sun as Ataea rushed forward on the attack, only to be met with a clang by another metal blade. She had started their deadly dance yet again, the two slashing and parrying, slicing and evading, assailing each other in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand. Ataea felt a sense of wild abandonment as the alluring feel of white hot rage bubbled into her chest, driving her with a powerful lust for vengeance. For a moment she forgot where and who she was, craving only the taste of victory. The feral unrestraint of her assault pushed her opponent back, allowing him little time to throw up his blade to block her vicious onslaught. He no longer had the chance between forms to counter attack Ataea as his already weary limbs started to groan their complaints painfully. His movements became slower and she gained dominance in the duel. A savage smile turned the lovely curve of her lips into something sinister, beastial mirth glinting in her lusting eyes as the veils on her armor fluttered and sailed through the air, belaying her ferocity. Ataea heard the painful howl of another erupt from somewhere behind her, giving her just a moment's pause as indecision flickered briefly across her mind. That short breath of doubt was seized by her opponent, who thrust his blade point toward her in a feeble attempt to catch her off guard, but his movement was slow and crippled by fatigue. Sheer adrenaline allowed Ataea the powerful sweep of her blade that rammed into the side of her opponents still moving one, knocking it out of his weak grip and sending it flying off to the side. However, the unexpected force of the blow and the over swing of her blade caused Ataea's balance to be thrown off, something incredibly rare for a dancer. Her opponent, unarmed as he was, used this to his advantage. His foot swept across the back of her knees, sending her sprawling face first to the grass. He snatched his blade from the ground and slammed a booted foot on her back before pressing the point of the steel to her armor. With the breath knocked out of her and her energy spent, Ataea could only groan, disappointment flooding her mind. "Bloody hell, I thought I was done for! That was an amazing spar," the recruit crowed breathily while offering a hand to help up his comrade. Ataea shot him a venomous glare and ignored him as her cheeks flushed with humiliation. She rose to her feet and, with overexaggerated care, began to brush dirt and grass off of her black armor. He merely smiled at her stubborn will before averting his attention back to their Gaidin teacher. The man had watched the recruits practicing and picked out four that he found promising, drawing them aside and pairing them so he could watch their individual spars closely, hence why Ataea was here now. She heard a gasp from her opponent and immediately her gaze shot to the other pair, where she saw a rather unpleasant sight. One of the other male recruits had neglected to turn his blade at the last moment, so the sharp edge had sliced open the chest of the other. The wound was not immediately life threatening, but left alone the injury could kill through blood loss. Their Gaidin overseer picked the injured boy up and gave the remaining three a meaningful look. "I'm taking this one to the infirmary. I expect you to all stay here until I return and to behave in my absence," he told them in a surprisingly soft voice. They nodded until he was satisfied, then the Gaidin turned on his heel and strode hurriedly in the opposite direction. There was silence for a few minutes while they stood around, Ataea stooping briefly to gather and sheath her lightweight sword as she adopted a look of indifference. The two male recruits stood eyeing each other warily, much to her displeasure, before her opponent decided to speak up. "Great job. How could you forget to turn the blade or at least stop the slice?" The other immediately bristled in his defense and snapped, "Look, everything happened so fast! There wasn't time to turn and the swing was too heavy to stop." "That's a bloody ridiculous excuse. You did it on purpose, didn't you? I know you two have a rivalry." "No!" shouted the other boy, his fists clenched and his face reddening in anger. "I wouldn't do something like that!" "Sure, whatever. You can say that and the Gaidin will probably believe you but I know you did it purposely." Ataea saw it coming, but her opponent apparently didn't. The third recruit's fist slammed into the other's face, knocking him back as shock crossed his features. Then they were punching back and forth, somehow ending up on the ground where they tumbled around. This time Ataea was caught off guard, however, as an amused male voice chortled, "Well now boys, I don't think that is considered sparring." The fighting stopped instantly and the two looked up to find an Asha'man towering over them, disapproval etched into his face. He held up his hand for silence when they tried to explain and instead said, "No excuses, that sort of thing is not tolerated. I'm now going to have to assign you some public and humiliating chores." A smile briefly crossed his features, but the two boys were horrified and not at all amused. "Come along, let me show you where the buckets and rags are. I've decided you get to scrub floors," he announced firmly and started to turn before he paused and noticed Ataea for what seemed like the first time. Her dark eyes stared back into his cooly, her expression that of passivity. "You get to help them too, since you did nothing to end the fighting," decided the Asha'man. Ataea did not complain, though she did give both of the other recruits a long, withering glare. They momentarily forgot their fight with each other and shrunk back from the intensity of her angry gaze together. The Asha'man marched into the Towers with three brooding recruits in tow. He had them get three buckets and rags along with some soap, then led then to a hand pump faucet to fill the buckets. The white suds from the soap reached to the top of the buckets before he was satisfied. "Don't spill," he warned before leading them to the hallways he felt were in need of scrubbing. "Get to work, recruits. I will inform your commanding officer of what has transpired. I expect the whole expanse of this hallway to sparkle when I come by later. If it doesn't, you're to scrub it again, so don't even think about slacking." With that said the Asha'man strode back down the hallway and out of sight. Ataea set her bucket down and retrieved the rag from the water, getting some suds on it before she dropped to her knees and started to scrub the tiles. The two others glanced at her warily and moved farther away before beginning their work in a similar fashion. It was quite some time that she worked, steadily and efficiently covering ground, and all the while loathing the chore. Her lower back began to throb painfully from bending over the rag and her dark hands were starting to get raw from all the water. Ataea's mood was black and one could practically see the thunderhead hovering above her. About an hour into her laboring she heard footsteps and glanced up, expecting to see the Asha'man back to observe their progress. She was mildly surprised when she saw a woman there instead, carrying a bucket and looking sour no less. Her hair was long and dark along with her eyes, and in that she resembled Ataea, except for their skin color. The novice was taller and lighter weight wise, something about her appearance tickling the recruit's memory. She seemed somehow familiar, not as though they had met before, but just because of how she looked. After a moment's more studying Ataea dismissed the thought and grumpily returned to scrubbing. Not a minute later the novice woman threw her rag into her bucket and sloshed water all over the black leather of the recruit's breast plate armor. Fury instantly flared into Ataea as she stood up, her rag abandoned on the floor, and looked down at the precious armor. It was one of the few remaining things she had that had been gifted to her by her now dead lover. "I'm so sorry!" Came the voice of the other woman. The apology only fueled the anger that had once again bubbled into Ataea's chest, coupled with the rage from her earlier humiliation while sparring. Her dark, feral eyed gaze slid to the novice as her lips twisted into a grimace. "You need to be more careful, novice," came her growling accented voice, anger tightly restrained though it gnashed and snarled, begging to be released. "If we were anywhere but Tar Valon I would've sliced you in half already, then proceeded to put your head on a pike." The threat wasn't too exaggerated, because that's what Ataea felt like doing and it was surely what the old and fetid hatred in her demanded. With an irritated growl she brushed the soap off of the armor and attempted to wipe off the water that had come along with it.
	Biography Mentee to Gwen Laurel


Evei Atrium	Nov 13 2007, 10:37 PM Post #3
Aes Sedai of the Red Shen Posts: 212 Group: Aes Sedai Member #232 Joined: June 2, 2007	"You need to be more careful, novice," The voice of the recruit was gravely and heavily accented, the sort of accent Evei found she missed. It was as if her ears were journeying home. Evei blinked up at the recruit, who had stood in the height of her fury. She must be three years younger than me. She mused, her mind somehow slow to catch up with the girl’s words. "If we were anywhere but Tar Valon I would've sliced you in half already, then proceeded to put your head on a pike." Evei looked at her for a moment, her expression serene even though her mind felt confused, somehow. Why does the fact that this girl is violent bother me so? It should be nothing at all to me. Her eyes watched as the girl brusquely wiped the soap and water from her leather armor. Oh, it’s only armor. She thought, irritated with the magnitude the recruit treated the manner. It’s not like it’s a prized possession. It’s just a tool. Evei eyed the other woman, even as she reached into her bucket to fetch the rag from it’s bed of suds. Or was it? Evei had no real practical experience with weaponry, except for the small amount of knife work that Ildeus had managed to beat into her skull. That doesn’t compare to what this girl knows. I imagine that armor is something important to her, as my violin is to me. Curious now, Evei looked over the other woman again. There is something vaguely familiar about her features. The answer squirmed in the back of her mind, but her thoughts were slow to catch up with it. She looks and sounds like home, somehow. Home! Could the girl possibly be Tuatha’an? She was violent, quite obviously, but enormous violence had resulted from Tuatha’an with morbid pasts. Evei sat back on her heels, staring up at the girl with her rag still clutched in her hands. Tuatha’an, then. No wonder she looked so familiar. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her for what she is when I first saw her face. Evei let her lips turn up into a knowing smile, which was something she hardly allowed herself anymore. Emotions didn’t easily gain access to her face. “My, my.” She murmured up at the girl, the little smile still play about at her mouth. “You’ve wandered far from home, haven’t you?” Evei let the smile dissipate from her face. “You have to be the most violent Tinker I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.” She finished, before slapping her rag to the floor with a little flourish. To the right of her, a burly recruit let out a chuckle. “As if you’re any less Tuatha’an than her, novice.” He told her. Evei swiveled slowly to face him, irritated. As if I need to be reminded of my heritage any more than that other girl does. She thought to herself, venom tinting her words. She leveled a steady stare on the man who had the audacity to mention her Tinker roots. “You should watch out.” Evei told him. “Unless you want to be strangled with air, of course.” It was a bluff, for the One Power did not come at her beck and call. Her block made sure of that, but the man would have no way of knowing that particular tidbit of information. Still, he recruit only looked at her for a moment before turning away with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t believe a Tuatha’an is capable of such a thing. She realized, a little bubble of laughter rising in her. Even though he’s probably spared with that other Tinker before. “How unintelligent of you.” She told him, hoping that he wouldn't see through her empty threats. Evei was an accomplished liar, but it wasn’t as if she could follow through with her intimidation. “Haven’t you learned anything from her?” Evei tilted her head toward the female recruit that she had splattered with water. The recruit only snorted to himself, and continued to scrub at the floor with annoyed and quick stroke. She laughed inwardly, but her faint amusement was faded away when she caught the sound of footsteps on stone. “That was an unnecessary, wasn’t it, Evei?” She glanced up, inwardly wincing at the voice, at the Asha’man that she had the misfortune to have fallen on. “That’s right.” He smirked down at her, one eyebrow cocked at a jaunty angle. He must be newly raised. Evei thought distantly to herself. Only a newly raised Asha’man would be so very cocky and use his power in such frivolous fashions. She gave him no response, not even in her body language as she evenly rubbed at the brown stained stone. “I only had to ask one of those gapping novices for your name. I can only imagine the gossip that will be floating around in the dormitories next morning.” He laughed, a rich sound that nevertheless got on Evei’s nerves. Still, she refused to be cowed, keeping her back straight and her face smooth. This man’s silly taunts will not get to me. She repeated to herself, until it was solid in her mind and unmovable as stone. The Asha’man glanced over the watchful recruits. “You seem to be progressing. Make sure to get all of the dirt, though.” He turned, spinning on his heel, before striding back off down the hall. As soon as he was gone, the same recruit that had called Evei out on her Tinker heritage began to chuckle. “What, exactly, did you do to him to cause gossip to be wafting about the dorms, novice?” He asked, between spurts of laughter. Evei said nothing, her stone of dignity still intact in her mind. The recruit chuckled a bit more, and Evei found a small part of her that had grown under Ren’s teachings growing larger in her mind. Oh, the possibilities of immediate retribution are huge. She thought to herself, her fingers seeking out the handle of her bucket of water as she discussed the potential plans of vengeance to herself. Her mind demanded and craved the satisfaction of causing the recruit some small amount of discomfort, if only to dissipate her anger caused by the Asha’man’s antics. That’s decided, then. She told herself, rather pleased. She stood in a smooth moment, sweeping up the bucket by its handle in one hand. Evei took the one necessary step to reach the recruit’s position on the floor, before upending the entire bucket of muddy water over his head. She watched with a small sense of satisfaction blooming in her stomach as the water filled with feces tracked in from the stables dripped down the man’s face. “Sometimes I don’t even need the One Power.” She told him, almost sweetly. Then, Evei heard the foreboding clack of boots against stone nearing. Blood and bloody ashes, is that Asha’man already back? She thought to herself, irritated beyond measure. She looked down the hall at the man, still in the rather suspicious position of holding an empty bucket over another initiate’s head. Another novice was trailing behind him, and Evei noticed the girl with a little bit of interest. What is he doing, building up a harem of novices? She thought, with a bit of distaste. Evei could almost see the Asha’man calculating the hours of their chores as he glanced over the frozen scene before him. “You, Evei, five more hours of washing.” The Asha’man barked. His eyes swept over to the other Tuatha’an girl, and Evei could swear that she could see his eyes lighting up. “The rest of you will accompany her, except for that poor unfortunate, for not stopping her from doing such a silly thing.” He gestured at the recruit that Evei had dumped water on. “You may go clean yourself up. Consider these chores finished, child.” The Asha’man told him, a sense of satisfaction ringing in his voice. He turned and swept away, leaving the new novice standing in his wake. She timidly took her bucket to a corner and began to wash. Evei said nothing as the recruit left, a smirk planning on his lips as he trotted after the Asha’man. She simply stooped over and picked up the recruit’s full bucket and stepped back over to her place on the floor. Evei could almost feel the two other recruits’ eyes boring into her back. Complain all you want. She thought as she slapped the rag against the floor. It isn’t going to change anything.
	Evei Atrium + Air Elementalism - Milking Tears - Inverting Weaves


Ataea Variel	Nov 27 2007, 10:38 PM Post #4
Retired Recruit Posts: 104 Group: Retired Members Member #258 Joined: October 21, 2007	It was with great reluctance that Ataea allowed her attention to divert itself from her armor, but the probing eyes of the novice made it possible to be distracted. She lifted her gaze and shot the woman a dark look before begrudgingly retreiving her rag and dunking it in the soapy bucket. The recruit returned to her task with feigned concentration, dragging the increasingly dirty rag across the filthy tiles that probably hadn't seen a decent scrubbing in some time, all the while struggling to keep the violent storm within her in check. The acrid malevolence churned about inside her, unable to be calmed, thirsting for the sweet blood of revenge that would never come. Vindictive as she was, the man who she blamed for her troubles was long dead and there was no other reasonable outlet left to her. So the recruit devoted herself to the sword, to perfecting the art of the blade, and to a profession that would allow her to kill legally--she had no desire to become an outlaw like the disgusting men who had ruined her life. What Ataea had failed the realize, however, was the fact that her rank required her to socialize with others, something she absolutely detested and was also quite horrible at. There was a time in her life when she relished being the center of attention and lived to thrill and awe a crowd with her acrobatics, but now she would rather all together avoid such attention. While being a recruit was not the same as performing in a menagerie it still demanded a certain amount of outside attention and, unfortunately, forced her into close quarters with people she would normally not place herself around. Not to mention situations she would never get herself into, as she was painfully reminded by a sudden throb in her lower back, the ache returning from bending over the floor for so long. Ataea straighted up for a moment and arched her back, trying to ignore the novice as she once again felt the eyes on her. She waited for the gaze to slip away, but it never did, so finally the recruit turned to stare right back at the woman, her expression eerily void. The novice's lips quirked into a knowing smile that irked Ataea. “My, my. You’ve wandered far from home, haven’t you? You have to be the most violent Tinker I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet," the woman said. For a moment Ataea didn't react, she couldn't. She heard the words but they took several long moments to register with both her mind and emotions. When they did, they elicited a unexpected response. Pain welled up in her chest, but it took her longer again to understand why. Since the death of her lover, speaking of her distant past had been a sort of taboo that she gave a wide berth. Thoughts would flit across her conscious occasionally but hearing it aloud was something different. Remembering her home reminded her of the man from long ago who she had abandoned her heritage for, which reminded her of how it was his fault her kind lover in the menagerie had been murdered. The pain lasted for a mere instant, spanning less than a fraction of a second, before it fed itself into the acidic fury, fueling the fetid hatred. The stiffling surge of anger made it feel as though a weight had been dropped on Ataea's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She was thankful that the novice was momentarily distracted by one of the other recruits, allowing her time to catch her breath and once again bow herself over her rag while listening to the two. Her waist length auburn hair spilled into her vision to shield her face from the others. For once she didn't care that the silky locks were resting in the water, soap, and grime on the tiles, merely glad that they gave her a small sense of secrecy in a brief moment of weakness. Ataea had recovered by the time she heard boots against the floor. She lifted her head expectantly, her hand methodically pushing and pulling the wet rag when the Asha'man that had scolded the boys for fighting strode up. “That was an unnecessary, wasn’t it, Evei? That’s right. I only had to ask one of those gaping novices for your name. I can only imagine the gossip that will be floating around in the dormitories next morning," the Asha'man said almost joyously before addressing the recruits. "You seem to be progressing. Make sure to get all of the dirt, though.” Yes, like I needed to be reminded, snapped her sarcastic thoughts as all the punishees watched the man strut back down the hall. She then glanced at the novice. Evei, is it? I think that idiot Asha'man has an unhealthy desire to cause her some small measure of discomfort. “What, exactly, did you do to him to cause gossip to be wafting about the dorms, novice?” Chortled Ataea's earlier opponent. Obviously the boy lacked the discipline to temper his offensive remarks, judging by his earlier accusations and his childish taunting of Evei. The female recruit studied the novice's expression and eyes, trying to glean something of her silent thoughts. A mischievous smile flickered across Evei's lips before she grabbed the handle of her bucket and Ataea cringed, wishing to be anywhere but here. She heard the splash of water as it sloshed over the ground and glanced back up to see the filth running down her opponent's face, making brown treks down his cheeks and dripping off his chin. “Sometimes I don’t even need the One Power," came Evei's innocently sweet voice. Then came the sound that Ataea had expected--the ominous pounding of boots on the tile echoing down the hallway. He appeared around the corner with a novice scurrying along behind looking fearful. The Asha'man stopped short and narrowed his eyes, surveying Evei and the recruit below her, and immediately putting two and two together. “You, Evei, five more hours of washing," snapped the Asha'man. That guy must get off on punishing his subordinates, snorted Ataea in her mind. The man's eyes swept over her and, as if he could read her thoughts, he added, "The rest of you will accompany her, except for that poor unfortunate, for not stopping her from doing such a silly thing. You may go clean yourself up. Consider these chores finished, child.” The Asha'man turned and made his way back down the hall, his step springing happily in a way that make it appear as though he was prancing. The soaking recruit flashed Evei a smirk and dropped his rag in his bucket before following the Asha'man down the hall as the new novice took her place scrubbing. Ataea's brows knit together in frustration and she glared hard at Evei's back, struggling to pin down her corrosive rage. "Excellent job, novice. Unfortunately you won't make it far in life, even with your awe inspiring ability to asphyxiate people with air, if you do not consider the repercussions of your actions," she snapped, unable to keep the uncurrents of malice out of her naturally silky vocals. She paused for a moment, taking a calming breath, before saying, "Obviously that particular Asha'man enjoys dishing out punishment, especially to you for some reason. He likes to humiliate and discomfort people with his rank." Ataea switched pitches, mimicking a voice that she would use to talk to a slow child, "So how do you prevent it, hmmm? You don't do anything naughty so he doesn't have a way to empower himself over you." She switched back to her normal pitch, dark eyes glinting with tightly restrained fury though her face was impassive, "Next time you want to do something stupid make sure I'm not in the vicinity, because I don't want to pay for your idiotic displays of unrestraint." (That was a ridiculously fun rant to write.)
	Biography Mentee to Gwen Laurel


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