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Nov. 18th, 2004 01:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blue_ajahWhen Moiraine returns from talking with Cordelia, she restlessly paces the floor of her room. White light flickers from the blue flames that dance in a crystal on a shelf, where she had placed it upon an earlier entry, but she pays it no heed. Reaction is beginning to set in, and the Aes Sedai grows deathly pale and is wracked with trembling as it does so.
She drops into a seat beside the small table and stares blankly into space, reviewing the evening's events. So many people, and she is touched by their concern - but Moiraine is more than a little overwhelmed by it, as well. It had been a strain to even enter the bar at all; she had not truly been prepared for what she had found there.
Peter's knowledge of Lews Therin's existence and the alarming news that Rand had experienced difficulty with his control of the Power. Anakin's attempt to touch her with the Force, which she had very nearly seen as an attack. Mat, telling her what had occurred so that she might know, and ending with the revelation that the Tower had been destroyed. The Rider. Michael and Anakin, both speaking of lessons and the training she had committed to give; Charlie, explaining David's willingness to return to Shadow; the weight of Meg's guilt and distress, of Tom's haunted look at his own Tower memory, of Will's quiet voice, touched with sadness as he told her of Bran's difficulty in accepting his own magic - all of these things seem to press in on her at once, stifling her, until she unconsciously gasps for breath.
Seeking a sign of comfort, Moiraine reaches out toward the blue flowers in their glass, but her hand hesitates over a green sprig wrapped with a red spike of blossom. Yrael's voice whispers from the past, "They are rosemary, for remembrance, and amaranth, the flower that never dies. Unending remembrance, to never forget." Bitterly amused despite herself, she takes them and turns them over in her hand, idly, thinking.
"There is a darkness in my mind," she had said to Cordelia, and it is true; she can speak no word that is not, after all. The Aelfinn and Eelfinn had ravaged her thoughts, and a tainted film lies over everything still, keeping her from clear recollection. Moiraine shivers. She had not even recognized the Rider, at first.
It is too much, too soon; I need time, she thinks, and knows this to be true as well. Even if only a few days, to find my balance again, to let the memory of the Tower fade and my own memories return.
She replaces the entwined flowers in the glass, and as she does so a snippet of poetry occurs to her, from that same previous evening, Yrael's voice again:
"Here, where the world is quiet,
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams..."
Moiraine smiles and glances around the room as her hand rises absently to the amethyst key. It is quiet enough here to spend some time recovering, and she knows that the Garden will be even more peaceful. Even if nothing else yet remains certain in her mind, Dream's words are clear. She has no doubt of her dreams.
She drops into a seat beside the small table and stares blankly into space, reviewing the evening's events. So many people, and she is touched by their concern - but Moiraine is more than a little overwhelmed by it, as well. It had been a strain to even enter the bar at all; she had not truly been prepared for what she had found there.
Peter's knowledge of Lews Therin's existence and the alarming news that Rand had experienced difficulty with his control of the Power. Anakin's attempt to touch her with the Force, which she had very nearly seen as an attack. Mat, telling her what had occurred so that she might know, and ending with the revelation that the Tower had been destroyed. The Rider. Michael and Anakin, both speaking of lessons and the training she had committed to give; Charlie, explaining David's willingness to return to Shadow; the weight of Meg's guilt and distress, of Tom's haunted look at his own Tower memory, of Will's quiet voice, touched with sadness as he told her of Bran's difficulty in accepting his own magic - all of these things seem to press in on her at once, stifling her, until she unconsciously gasps for breath.
Seeking a sign of comfort, Moiraine reaches out toward the blue flowers in their glass, but her hand hesitates over a green sprig wrapped with a red spike of blossom. Yrael's voice whispers from the past, "They are rosemary, for remembrance, and amaranth, the flower that never dies. Unending remembrance, to never forget." Bitterly amused despite herself, she takes them and turns them over in her hand, idly, thinking.
"There is a darkness in my mind," she had said to Cordelia, and it is true; she can speak no word that is not, after all. The Aelfinn and Eelfinn had ravaged her thoughts, and a tainted film lies over everything still, keeping her from clear recollection. Moiraine shivers. She had not even recognized the Rider, at first.
It is too much, too soon; I need time, she thinks, and knows this to be true as well. Even if only a few days, to find my balance again, to let the memory of the Tower fade and my own memories return.
She replaces the entwined flowers in the glass, and as she does so a snippet of poetry occurs to her, from that same previous evening, Yrael's voice again:
"Here, where the world is quiet,
Here, where all trouble seems
Dead winds' and spent waves' riot
In doubtful dreams of dreams..."
Moiraine smiles and glances around the room as her hand rises absently to the amethyst key. It is quiet enough here to spend some time recovering, and she knows that the Garden will be even more peaceful. Even if nothing else yet remains certain in her mind, Dream's words are clear. She has no doubt of her dreams.
