(no subject)

Her days in Andor have been troubled of late, and her nights uneasy. The woman known here as Syrenne doesn't show it, but her concern is growing.

Every moment, waking or sleeping, there is a part of her mind that is given over to concentration and visualization. Memory is all that is left, this is a lesson that she has learned well, and she will not let it fade. From time to time, her hand will slip into a hidden pouch and touch a small latticework sphere, ensuring that the shape remains intact.

The attacks on Caemlyn itself have not ceased, she knows. Elayne has pulled the soldiers back to the Inner City, not far from the Royal Palace, and is mounting her strategy from there. Rumors are flying among the servants and staff, even among the Kinswomen. Moiraine Sedai, shielded and hidden behind another's face, hears most of them-- perhaps all.

She knows much more than she lets on. She knows why the spoilage in the kitchens is so rapid, why people traversing corridors in the castle these days often find themselves lost in a place that they've known for years. She monitors all these things and more-- as well as the condition of the Daughter-Heir herself-- as best she can, gathering information and watching for treachery, waiting for the right moments to act in ways large or small.

And always, always, she remembers the Pattern, as Raven has shown her to do.

It is the last, perhaps, that makes her more mindful of subtle changes; tension and release and small shiftings. It is that awareness, that ever-growing sensitivity, that fills her with sharply-growing unease, until now-- late in the evening and alone in her modest chamber, she paces the floor, wakeful and wary.

Something is changing, pulling at the threads she seeks to support, and in a way that feels different to her senses than the foul, loathsome touch of the Dark One's hand on the weave.

She dare not rest, not without discovering what she can. She tilts her head, listening carefully for any sound, feeling for any sense of Power, testing her surroundings for long minutes.

Upon discovering no sign of approach, Moiraine bows her head for a moment-- and then vanishes.

(no subject)

Moiraine du Maurier -- no relation to those du Mauriers, or at least not that she'll openly admit, anyway -- was born in Hollywood Community Hospital in Los Angeles on May 13, 1980. She goes by the nickname "Raine," mostly because so many people have trouble pronouncing her full name. Her father Jerry is a college professor, and her mother Samantha was an aspiring actress who decided while Raine was still very young that maybe she'd have better luck on stage in New York than on screen in LA. They've not seen her since, although occasionally a colorful postcard makes its way west.

She grew up quickly after that, especially as it soon became clear that Jerry du Maurier was easily absorbed in his work and prone to forgetfulness about routine matters such as paying the bills on time. Raine took over household management at twelve, and got her first job waitressing part-time in the Sunlight Diner at the age of sixteen. Now, almost ten years later, she still works there -- full-time, however, as shift manager and part-owner, having been offered a share in the diner to ease the transition when the previous owner had a heart attack and decided to go into partial retirement in order to take it easier during and after his recovery.

Raine has dark hair and eyes, and likes bright colors, especially blue. She currently lives alone in a small apartment not far from the diner, simply but stylishly furnished with small figurines and a few of her father's favorite books scattered about various shelves. There's also a desktop loom set up in a corner, which she uses to pursue her favorite hobby, that of weaving colorful scarves and small tapestries. In addition to working, Raine's studying at the nearby Mount St. Mary's College, with an emphasis in history and political science. She enjoys her studies and her work both, and gets along well with people, chatting easily with customers and listening to their stories as well.

She's a very good listener, and tends to remember what she hears.