There were’t many students that could say that they were mentored by Rosheen. Not that she was all that selective when it came to training youngsters, but it was just rare that she spent enough time in the yards to give her apprentices a proper training. Nerome had done well despite her many absences, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try harder with Dovean. She would be there for the girl, as long and as often as her presence as needed.

 

Fortunately, Dovean was a speedy and dedicated learner. So much even that Rosheen wondered if the girl shouldn’t lighten up a little every now and then. She understood the focus that some trainees required, but some of them tended to forget about the good life that they would be defending with all their might.

 

Some trainees could just be taken for a night out to town to be reminded of that, but Rosheen doubted that would work with Dovean. The girl came from a different society than most of the trainees who signed up, which meant that she probably wouldn’t be able to appreciate the finer points of bar-hopping.

 

Even as Rosheen pondered on this, Dovean’s training continued. She had guided her through her choice of a philosophy, and stood by as her trainee learned to focus herself completely. Spring or Void, the result was the same. Next came more balance training, as the girl had a certain knack for it. Then came the use of both of her hands.

 

“Dovean, I need you to run up to my chambers and get the lenght of rope that’s lying in my chair. We’ll need it for the next step in your training.” What the girl didn’t know was that Rosheen was going to tie her dominant hand to her back, to force Dovean to develop the use of her other hand. It really was best to keep such things hidden before they were actually executed. Most trainees objected against the treatment, and Rosheen rarely felt like dealing with anyones objections.

 

Ooc: at this point Dovean will have chosen and learned a philosophy. Just post going into the barracks and encoutering a short man with a mop and a mind to make you do the hard work ;)

 

Daily, Dovaen pushed herself, focused on training. She rarely spoke to anyone, but she pursued her training with a fervor. The anger against her mother-in-law, her forced marriage, gave her a will to fight. And to show her mother that a woman could fight as well as, if not better than, a man. Thus Dovaen trained.

 

A sheen of sweat covered her determined face as she finished a balancing exercise, something that came easy to her, and she thought she enjoyed it. Rosheen nodded in approval, and then summoned to her. “Dovean, I need you to run up to my chambers and get the length of rope that’s lying in my chair. We’ll need it for the next step in your training.”

 

It was unlike Rosheen to be forgetful, and Dovaen frowned, but complied. She ran to the barracks, having learned that her mentor appreciated speed, and suddenly realized she had no idea where Rosheen's quarters were. A short servant, mopping the halls, looked promising for an answer. "Sir, do you know where Rosheen Than Sakhr's chambers are?"

 

"Why, so you can steal, girl?" The short man's peculiar answer momentarily stupefied Dovaen, and in that second where she stumbled with her words, he prepared another return volley. "Just what I thought. Now fetch me a rag, and get to cleaning the windows."

 

"Sir-I-" Dovaen said, aghast. What is he playing at? "Not another word out of your mouth girl! Now get cleaning!" Dovaen just stood there, stunned.

 

OoC: I hope this is okay!

Aran couldn't help it.

 

The moment he recognised Rosheen's student, he felt the instant urge to give her something to do.  That and he wanted to be done with this quicker, Vasya had detailed him to get their section of the barracks cleaned, but he hadn't said 'how' he should do it.  Indeed, sequestering this trainee had been highly appealing the moment that she had given him her incredibly confused look.  She'd looked like Rosheen in the wee hours of the morning after an incredibly large drinking binge, dazed and confused with a slight possibility of violent response.  Well, that had only been the one time with Rosheen, but still, the point stood!

 

She still seemed confused though, even after he had told her specifically to get cleaning.  Clearly he was going to have to have a word with Rosheen about her later.  All well and good to refuse to clean, but it was another thing entirely to be completely dumbstruck and unable to muster any sort of meaningful response.  Indeed, he felt he was going to have to motivate her, or provoke her, today they felt like the same thing for Aran so it was with a grin that he leaned on his mop.

 

"Clearly I am not speaking slowly enough, or maybe my 'woman' isn't very fluent today.  Let me have another go at it."  Taking a deep breath, dramatically, Aran proceeded to speak slowly in a rather feminine voice.  "As a woman, it is your place to cook and clean, and now you are cleaning.  Go and get a rag and begin to service the windows one at a time until I am satisfied that they are spotless.  As a woman, you will do this or you will be spanked with this mop.  Now do it, and if I have to speak to Rosheen about this, you will regret it.  Now go fetch the rag."

 

Reverting to his normal voice, he began to mop as he said.  "Seriously, girl, got get a rag and do it now, or your behind will have this mop's name on it."

 

 

Aran

Tower Guard

A glance at the sun told her that, though time had passed, it wasn’t nearly as much as she thought had. Pacing up and down balance area was starting to get on her nerves. But shouldn’t she wait a little longer? Maybe Dovean had problems finding someone who could show her the way to her rooms. It was possible, of course. Just because it was rapidly approaching noon didn’t mean that the barracks were swarming with Tower Guards.

 

Pacing a little more, Rosheen thought of the training she still had to go through with dovean. The girl was terribly serious about everything she did. Worse than the average Shienaran, even, if you asked her. It was as though she wanted to prove that she was worthy to everyone she met, as if that would make up for the approval from the one she really needed it from, but wouldn’t get. “Family…” she muttered, thinking of her own. She’d never found as much strife there as Dovean seemed to find in hers.

 

She turned around to see Laurent approaching her. A small smile instantly curved at her lips. Now there was a trainee who didn’t take things quite as seriously. Oh, he was dedicated enough, convinced that he would one day become a warder of legends, but fortunately he was easy enough to get along with when he didn’t have his head up in the clouds. She called out to him, finding in him the solution to her little problem.

 

“Laurent, my dear boy, I’ve got a task for you. Dovean went to get something from my room, but she managed to get lost in the process. Do be a dear and locate your fellow trainee, and return her to her worried and impatient mentor.” She winked at him, and gave him a little shove in the right direction. “Off you go.”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

 

ooc: Laurent is joining your training as well, because I’m too lazy to come up with a different thread for him ;)

 

"Clearly I am not speaking slowly enough, or maybe my 'woman' isn't very fluent today.  Let me have another go at it." As if events were not confusing enough, the short man decided to switch into a falsetto, completing his ridiculous presentation. "As a woman, it is your place to cook and clean, and now you are cleaning.  Go and get a rag and begin to service the windows one at a time until I am satisfied that they are spotless.  As a woman, you will do this or you will be spanked with this mop.  Now do it, and if I have to speak to Rosheen about this, you will regret it.  Now go fetch the rag."

 

His last comments about a 'woman's place' fueled Dovaen's fire, enough to bring words to her mouth. "Do not speak of woman as if we are your servants, simpering around you, hanging onto your every word. We can make our own decisions, fight our own battles. And I can clean or not clean when I want to! Men!" Dovaen slapped this short man across the face.

Rubbing his cheek as he took a step back, Aran had a wide grin on his face from the ranting of the girl.  Had a bit of fire, but was also mightily touchy, easy to aggravate.  He could always tell Rosheen later that he had been giving her a lesson, which was oddly enough true.  If she was silly enough to slap someone she didn't know, who had just given her a warning that there would be repercussions to a lack of obedience, then what followed was really her fault.  Heh.

 

Whipping the mop up and sticking it in her face, he didn't so much strike her as rub it about so all the dirt and grime he had collected proceeded to disembark and make the girl's face its new home.  Following her as she stepped back and tried to make a grab for the mop, he deliberately pulled it down her, wiping along her shirt in turn.  Shoving her back at her midriff, Aran grinned at her even as he lowered his mop to the floor.

 

"Well, it looks like you just lost that battle.  Your new battle is with the windows and your weapon of choice is a rag.  Go and do it or by the time you go back to Rosheen, I'll have used you to mop the floors."  Well, the idea of dragging her back and forth along the floors was intriguing, but he probably wouldn't go that far.  He would give her another wipe down with the mop if she tried to hit him again though, no free shot this time.

 

 

Aran

Tower Guard

Each blow struck by the short man was a humiliating defeat for Dovaen. She could care less if she was dirty, but the fact that he had grinned while he rubbed his mop on her infuriated her. Every argument, every retort she made against him in her mind was weak, easily countered. And he was too strong and cunning for force. For now, she would give him the satisfaction of dominating her. But Dovaen would not forget him, and she would try to make a point that Dovaen Ianura had been one to humiliate him.

 

"Well, it looks like you just lost that battle.  Your new battle is with the windows and your weapon of choice is a rag.  Go and do it or by the time you go back to Rosheen, I'll have used you to mop the floors." His arrogance made her want to tear her hair out by the roots, but she grabbed her dirtied top instead, and made a mocking-bow. "Yes, my liege." Her words were hopefully dripping with as much repulsion as she could muster.

 

Now, to find a rag, and a plan. A servant, and she checked thrice over that he was a servant, told her who that goat-head of a man was according to her description, and where he was quartered. And also where Rosheen's quarters lay. It would not do to forget her original assignment. Her mentor's quarters were closer, and so she stopped in to get the rope. As Dovaen reached over to get it, she knocked over a jar. The top broke off, but-thank the Light- the continence did not spill. She bent down to pick it up, and noticed that it had the same smell as Rosheen, and after feeling some between her fingers, realized what it was, and a plan nearly formulated itself in her mind.

 

Picking up the jar and the rope, she followed the servant's directions to the short bastard's room. Praise the Creator, they were unlocked and Dovaen risked  a visit inside. She looked around and found a shirt of the man, then tore it in two. He had not been specific in where to get a rag from. And if he was willing to play dirty, so would she.

 

On his bed, she spread some of Rosheen's paste, sticking the sheets to it. Looking around, she saw her next target. She pasted his night-lamp to his bed-stand, and finally, smeared some on his window. "Try cleaning your own windows, next time!" Dovaen whispered under her breath.

 

Using one half of his torn shirt, she wiped the remaining paste from her hands, then stuffed the torn shirt under his bed. After returning Rosheen's blessed paste to her mentor's room, she went back to the windows she was supposed to clean, and walked, half-bowing at the little man. "My liege, your permission to stand fully in your presence?"

 

OoC: I didn't even realize that it was called a Sticky Situation until just now! And I had no prior intention of gluing anything to anyone. Wierd how that worked out!

~Laurent~

 

The day had not precisely gone as he had expected.  Training, training, training, that was all he ever seemed to do.  When would they do the stuff of legends, the stuff that made heroes out of ordinary men?  How could he write home at the moment and say that his body ached from sunrise to sunset, or that his knuckles were scraped raw from the times he’d had to push himself off the floor, or the moments of real agony when someone saw him looking dusty and dishevelled.  He would not have minded if he could have seen her again.  That one morning in the grove had been a rare occasion, and to date unrepeated.  He would like to see, oh, what had been her name again?  Faerzyne, yes that was it, Faerzyne Sedai once more.  There were so many beautiful girls here.  Each time one saw him with sweat on his face and panting for breath he did not stop to consider the possibility that was what they wanted to see.

 

The walk had been intended to clear his head and it had taken him straight into the path of his mentor.  Ever since they had met under those so embarrassing circumstances where he had mistaken her for a tavern attendant, he had been a little in awe of the imposing woman.  He bowed with a flourish to his mentor, and looked back at her, green eyes sparkling.  Listening to her instructions of going to find a trainee sent to fetch something for her, he railed a little, but he bit his tongue knowing that he’d only get some stern punishment if he said anything.  And so with another flourished bow, Laurent set off towards Rosheen’s rooms to look for the trainee.

 

He had never been in his mentor’s room before.  Everything was set out as it should be, but there was no sign of a trainee.  He closed the door with a puzzled expression marring his handsome features and made his way back down the corridor.  Sounds of conversation floated to him on the softly moving air.  He decided to move towards it, feeling like a cat stalking some prey.  At last!  A chance to prove his abilities had leapt out at him from an unwanted source and he could show what he could do.  Walking arrogantly, all his muscles held loose but ready flex if he needed to impress, Laurent made his way to the source of the noise, and pushed open the door.

 

A girl, quite attractive, stood near a small man he thought he recognised from somewhere.  Certainly Laurent had never met his fellow trainee before.  He stopped, and looked at her, then to the man, and back to the girl.  He wanted to speak in ringing tones but thought he might look a fool.  Instead, he kept his voice quiet, as a hero might do.

 

“I’ve been sent by Rosheen, my mentor, to look for a trainee.  Are you her?  Or is it you?”  He looked at the little man, wondering which was which.

 

"Not just yet, wait for it, wait for it....  Yes, now you may rise."

 

Gesturing for her to do so, Aran smiled at the girl's face.  She was the one that had decided to be a sarcastic little wench, and all of a sudden he was a demon for playing along?  Women were strange sometimes, well, not just women, but for the purposes of this exercise which was to needle the girl since she was so thin skinned, it suited him perfectly.  In fact, he was about to give her some extra instructions to go with the window cleaning when someone was so rude as to interrupt his perfectly good fun.

 

Turning about at the quiet voice, Aran shook his head in disbelief, two of Rosheen's trainees in one day.  Well, it would be entertaining at least, and they would be able to talk about it later.  "Well well, first Mistress Emancipated comes along and now we have Thilly Thoyboy."  The last said with an exaggerated lisp, Aran tossed the mop to the lad and pointed to the floor who seemed somewhat surprised by it.  There was always the chance the lad might try and use it on him, much in the same way the girl had been silly enough to take a swing, but he had given out the free smack of the day, it wouldn't be happening twice.

 

"Little miss diminished faculties over there with the rag was silly enough to object to her being sequestered for cleaning duties with a slap, so she's doing all the windows on this level along the hallways.  Seeing as she can't leave until thats done, you can mop the floors while you wait for her.  No, you don't have a choice either, thats why you aspire to be something more than a Trainee, so you can escape this tragic existance of servitude.  Or so you can perpetuate the vicious cycle, or maybe its just because you want to get ahead so you can liberate other trainees from such unjust treatment.  Truly, who knows what motivations a man may have."

 

"At anyrate, get working, I expect progress when I return."  Turning about, Aran walked past the girl who had been watching the exchange and as he passed her, smacked her on the backside.

 

It was good to be a Tower Guard.

 

 

Aran

Tower Guard

~Laurent~

 

What was one supposed to do with a mop?  For half a moment Laurent was going to ask which end went in the bucket and which went over the floor, but he didn’t for fear of looking even more stupid.  Thilly?  Thilly?   If Laurent encountered this one again there’d be tears before bedtime, then that much was certain.  Heroes were not supposed to clean house.  He would not quite say it was woman’s work – his mentor might kick his perfect-shaped bottom around the training yards if word got back to her, but it certainly was not meant for the likes of him.

 

Hmm, this would take some careful consideration.  You could not clean something with a point, and the end of the mop was pointy.  That left the other end, strips of cloth dangling down redundantly, waiting for water.  Yes, water would help, wouldn’t it?  As though stabbing a Trolloc he pushed the mop down into the bucket, spilling water all over the floor.  Well, it was supposed to go on the floor, right?  He looked at his companion in drudgery, the beautiful maid accompanying the hero in his arduous toil.

 

Light, this was not good.  There was nothing for it; desperate times called for desperate measures.  Laurent pushed the mop across the floor feeling a pull in his mid-back from the effort.  This was nothing like the training they had to do every day, and there were servants to do this sort of thing.  Why were initiates of the Tower (he refused to use the term ‘Trainee’ when referring to himself; he was of the White Tower just as an Aes Sedai was) made to do base housework?  He sighed, and pushed the mop across the floor, scrubbing at a particularly nasty stain that Laurent really did not want to know the origins of. 

 

He decided to do what he could.  The corridor seemed really long.  Suddenly he wondered if a long cast, javelin style, with the mop would hit the odious little man on the back of the head.  Laurent shook his head, sending dark hair into his eyes that were irritably batted away.  He called to the girl.  "Were you the one I was supposed to find then?"

 

 

Dovaen had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing as Rosheen's other Trainee puzzled out which end of the mop to use. It was too much to ask for her to not smile. Clumsily he knocked over the bucket of water, then set to mopping, albeit horrendously. As he turned away from her, she looked at his apple-bottom ass and grinned. Handsome enough, and boyishly naive. She felt a flutter in her heart as he turned back to look at her. "Were you the one I was supposed to find then?"

 

"Hm? Oh yes," Dovaen's voice squeaked before she could regain her usual coolness. "I suppose so. I'm Dovaen Ianura, under the tutatlage of Rosheen Tahn Sakhr. Has she been wondering where I've been. I'll tell you something." She stood up and pulled him into her. "That short bastard of a man? I've been to his rooms and...well... created somewhat of a sticky situation." She grinned, a vixen look as she thought of the trouble they would be having. "Now, we must finish cleaning before he goes to his rooms and finds paste everywhere. He'll surely expect it was me. But if I finish cleaning, he'll have no evidence. Come on!" Dovaen nodded to him then turned once more to the windows and with renewed vigor set about washing.

~Laurent~

 

The incredulous look faded from his face the instant the girl started talking about a sticky situation.  “I get the idea,” he said to her “that this ‘sticky situation’ you talk about is not something he’ll like.”  A smile played at his lips.  “I like you already.”  He gave the floor a wipe with the mop and jammed it hard into the bucket, spilling more water over the side.  “The Light burn it!”  Laurent bent down and tried to mop up the spillage with a cloth that had been on the side of the bucket and was for a moment tempted to use his shirt but he rather thought he would get a telling off for doing so.  Instead, he used the mop and made noises of irritation.

 

“My name’s Laurent Aston.  Something we have in common already,” Laurent grinned at her, flashing his most charming smile, and bowed heroically, scattering droplets of water across the floor.  Some of them landed on the girl, Dovaen’s, outfit.  “Rosheen Tahn Sakhr is my mentor as well.  It looks like you and I are destined for great things.”  The girl smiled, she had a pretty smile, and went at the windows as though trying to rub a hole in them.  “And as soon as we’re done here, we should get back to our mentor.”

 

A thought occurred to him.  Just what did she mean by a sticky situation?  Had she put honey in his shoes or something?  A spot of water flicked up and splashed him in the eye.  “Whoa!”  His hand went to one of his sparkling emerald eyes and wiped it, leaving a smudge of dirt across his cheek.  Light, he would never remain clean in this place! “Just what do you mean by a ‘sticky situation’?”