I am Jen Sedai, Lai an Cuebiyar of the Purple Tower, she thought, in the secluded darkness of her room. And I am not going to get mad. I am not going to get mad. She repeated her silent mantra over and over inside her head, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she found herself looking through dark wood miniblinds out over the great city of Tar Valon. Centuries, even millennia had passed since its building, and she had a feeling that its oldest Ogier- built structures would survive even another Breaking of the World. And now, at the latest hours of night, Tar Valon was abuzz with life. Neon signs and bright spotlights which highlighted billboards advertised a myriad of products; lights looked back out at her from inside tall skyscrapers--newer buildings tangled in the oldest stonework of Ages past.
Snapping the blinds shut with a loud click, she pursed her lips and grabbed her remote control. Jen took a defiant seat on her old, battered grey couch. She'd had that couch for what seemed like forever. The scattered purple cushions were newer; arranged haphazardly in the couch's crevices. She tossed them onto the floor carelessly. She took a deep breath before pressing a finger lightly to the button labeled "power" on the remote.
The television brightened to life. It was a commercial, but Jen knew what was on. News. And she knew she had to watch it. She didn't want to; she knew what was coming, but she had to face it. I am not going to get mad.
A serious-toned jingle for the station played then, signaling the start of the broadcast. The reporter, whatever her name was, introduced herself, and ... "This morning in Tar Valon, residents raised signs in protest of the newly-assembled Purple Tower, formerly the Purple Ajah within the White Tower. The Ajah was the first to completely secede from the White Tower and form its own society. Protesters assembled in the central square of the city, as they were unsure of the location of the Purple Tower's headquarters itself."
Jen breathed a sigh of relief at that. The last thing she needed was angry Tar Valonians beating down her door. For whatever reason.
The television screen showed camera shots of the protesters in the square, carrying signs with rough drawings--the Flame of Tar Valon, a crudely sketched White Tower, even a purple version of the Tower with the international no sign streaked across the image in red. "The protests, while they have not yet turned to riots, are expected to continue tomorrow."
That was it? Why? Why in the Pit of Doom were these protests even taking place? The news didn't say, but she would bet all she had that it was the fault of that bloody White Tower. That bloody so-called Amyrlin Seat, Mayadi bloody Sedai. Who laughed openly at the idea of the Purple Tower when Jen first proposed it.
"For the Love of the Light!" she shouted. Probably loud enough to be heard in the apartments beneath hers, but she didn't care. "Blood and bloody flaming ashes! Oh, BURN IT!" She stamped to her own lightswitch and flipped the lights on, drew open her blinds, and opened her door. She couldn't take this anymore. Something had to be done. An action needed to be taken. Jen would have Mayadi's head on a pike if it was the last thing she did.
Laughing was one thing. Enough to simply boil Jen's blood. But taking it to the civilians, to the residents of Tar Valon, and probably the world by now--that was another. And, much as she would love to do her own ... inciting ... she was going to be as gentle as possible about this.
Gentle. But ... underhanded and sneaky. Manipulative. Jen almost laughed to herself--before she'd ever even thought of the Purple she was almost a Blue. As calmly as was possible for someone as angry as she was, she went to the intercom on her wall and pressed the button. There was one of these installed in every room for situations such as these.
"Everyone--I don't care who you are. Studè, Nila, Ayende Vera, Gaidin, whatever. I want you in the Studio. NOW," she directed in her firmest voice.
Jen flew down the spiral staircase, nearly forgetting to close her own door. The Studio was directly beneath her apartments. She was the first one there--and so she waited. Impatiently. This was war.
Kelly looked up from her writing table at the sound of The Cuebiyar's voice. She had been working on a poem for hours and couldn't quite make it sound right. "Ah, well" She mumbled to herself," Perhaps if I go, and come back to this later, Ill have figured out what the problem is."
The Cuebiyar had been firm, but Kelly had detected a hint of worry as well. Wondering what the problem was, she made her way down to the Studio from the very top floor of the building.
She saw Ryn there ahead of her. She nodded greeting to her and chose a comfortable couch to wait for everyone else to show up.
The Cuebiyar's voice woke Kaitlyn from a sound sleep. The Mauve SianSepta fumbled for the light switch beside her bed, then winced at the sudden brightness. Smothering a yawn, she got up and went to the dresser. She had been so exhausted after a long day's practice that she'd fallen into bed without changing out of her dance 'tard. Well, if the urgency in Jen's voice was any indication, there wasn't time to change. She ran a brush quickly through her long blond hair, then pulled a mauve silk robe on. It trailed out behind her as she ran barefoot down the stairs to the Studio.
Haplo lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, mesmerized by the sparklies embedded in it. The dog lay down next to him, shaking his head at his insane master. Haplo had an idiotic grin on his face, ignoring the dog, and continued staring at the ceiling, "Oooh, look at the pretty colors." Haplo giggled, knowing this was annoying the dog, then started as the intercom came to life. Damn, there goes my fun, he thought to himself. He jumped to his feet, pulled his boots and a white T-shirt on, tucked them into his jeans, and grabbed his long jacket as he ran out the door, dog on his heels. He skidded to a stop and grabbed his sword belt, buckling it on. He ran down the hall toward the Studio, the dog at his side. "Wonder what the hell is goin' on, boy," Haplo said to the dog as they ran, "but it seems like it's gonna be fun." Haplo grinned at the thought of whoopin' some ass...
Studè Lyanne sat watching the news about how the riots had begun in the Square in front of Tar Valon. A uncontrollable shiver ran through her. Thank goodness they didn't know the secret location of the Purple Tower. Shutting off the TV, she thought she heard Mom cursing in a way even Lyanne couldn't repeat. Closing her eyes, she began to count, "One.... two... three..." Suddenly her voice came over the loud speaker. Smiling, Lyanne ran down to the Studio singing, "Right on time."
Patty had the TV on as some background noise as she worked on writing up the notes from the great meeting they'd had on Sunday night. She heard the station ID and the music introducing the news. The first news story immediately caught her attention. The reporter was announcing with almost malicious glee:
"This morning in Tar Valon, residents raised signs in protest of the newly-assembled Purple Tower, formerly the Purple Ajah within the White Tower. The Ajah was the first to completely secede from the White Tower and form its own society. Protesters assembled in the central square of the city, as they were unsure of the location of the Purple Tower's headquarters itself."
Thank the Light they don't know where we are! Of all the stupid things to protest...they don't even know what we DO! Patty grumbled to herself as she tidied her desk, intending to go see the Cuebiyar about this. But she had no need for a private meeting, as Jen's voice almost immediately came over the speaker calling a meeting in the Studio. She grabbed a notepad and a pen and took off.
Patty galloped down the flight of stairs to the main floor, and into the Studio. She fairly skidded to a halt, not having paused to put her shoes on and running around in socks. A number of people were already assembled waiting for Jen. From what Patty could hear, she wasn't far behind.
Patty made herself comfortable in an overstuffed chair and grabbed a lap desk so she could take notes as the impromptu meeting progressed. Light! This was going to be a long night...
Davidson had just pulled the covers up to his chest and was trying to get to sleep. He was just starting to nod off when the commotion of Jen in her study next door startled him awake. Stretching out on their king-sized bed, he tried to fall asleep again. But then his love's voice came over the intercom. Startling him again, he got up and was on his way out the door to the Studio when he saw what he was wearing: a pair of purple silk boxers. Red faced, he ran back into his room and grabbed a purple silk robe off their bed. Walking to the Studio, he shrugged it on and reached for the door knob, and heard a tearing sound. Turning into a dark corner, he removed the robe and realized it was Jen's. That's what happens when you neglect to use the lamp... he thought as he turned red again. Shrugging, he put it on again carefully, not caring about the rips at the shoulder seams, and slid into the Studio, aware of the faces trying not to grin as they looked at him. Sticking his chin up, he calmly walked onto the Stage and stepped behind the curtain.
Lia was startled, while she was not asleep, she was enjoying the quiet, sharpening a black bladed knife and listening to the radio. She had heard of the Protests, and frankly didn't care... They couldn't stop them, not after everything they had been through...
Still, out of Rarity, she respected Jen, so running across the theatre she went, through the Tea Room and into the Studio. Throwing the door open and brandishing her knife, ready to see Jen fighting evil things.
Jen scowled at the blade, and Lia dropped it behind her back, and smiled. "So, Mom, uhm... What's gotten you in such an uproar..? I had nothing to do with the food fight, I swear..." Lia joked.
Jen Looked almost amused, but still quite angry. Lia slipped the knife into the back pocket of her jeans and sat in the window seat. Opening it and lighting up. " Why do I get the feeling I know what this is about..?"
Jen looked around the room, repeating her mantra over and again in her head. I will not get mad. Echoed through and between the walls of her skull....
"You probably know what we're here about," she began. "Apparently the public have taken it upon themselves to congregate and protest our very existence, when they know very little of what actually goes on here." Mayadi the flaming Amyrlin bloody Seat, she thought. That blasted woman will get what she deserves if it means I have to travel to the Pit of Doom and back. She did not voice her thoughts, though--she could not be vengeful. Not here. Not now.
"Our job--what we have to do, what we must do--is clear ourselves. We must educate them in our purpose!" She very nearly banged her fist on the chair's arm. "They have no right to protest us if they have no knowledge of our intents and purposes!" This time she did. Emphasis! She needed emphasis! Sighing, calming herself, silently counting to seven, she went on. "We have to do this without letting them know where we are, though. Currently, they don't, or that's what they want us to think. If these gatherings get any more forceful, any wilder ... they will come for us." Jen didn't want to think of that and wasn't planning on mentioning that, but it needed to be said, even if they all knew that much already. "And as you know--the opinions of Tar Valon are the measure of the opinions of the world; what Tar Valon believes, the world believes. We can't let this spread. We are not criminals!" Deliberate, slow breaths. I will not get mad.
She stood. I will not get mad. "And here is where our dilemma lies: how can we educate the public? I'm certain that we'll be working within our own creative strengths; that's what we're here for. But they won't read anything we write, they won't listen to our music, they won't see or hear our performances and shows. We are dealing with people who have been loyal to the White Tower for centuries, people who know no other way. They will side with their White Tower. That Tower will inevitably hear of anything we attempt, at least, what they don't squash like so many bugs beneath their feet. I am hoping to make them see reason, as well as the public ... whatever the Tower believes, so believes the citizens of Tar Valon, and ultimately the world."
Jen finished her speech with a measured, careful gaze around the Studio at everyone. I will not get mad. Everyone ... they were all so completely unique. There was no member who was not wholly individual and thereby free in his or her own right. There was Ryn, the new Studè, looking a little frightened as all Studè are wont to do--she would ease into it. She had been Grey and would be a valuable asset to the Purple Tower. Kelly was sitting beside her on a couch, taking it all in stride. This was not the first time Jen had called a meeting like this. Kaitlyn stood, still in her colorful dance leotard, her long hair trailing behind her--she stood gracefully, though apparently in permanent first position, as someone who had been dancing for most of her life would. I will not get mad. There was Haplo, with his Dog, his Guide on the journey called life, staring at the ceiling with a malicious grin on his face--he wanted; no, needed, to fight something. Someone. I will not get mad. Nila Lyanne, who was intent on joining Mauve, stood much like her future Sitter, but with her own independent style largely reminiscent of her native Atha'an Miere origins, listening intently with her head cocked to one side. I will not get mad. The ever-present Anima, Patty, taking her meticulous notes on the meeting looked ever so comfortable in an overstuffed chair, mug of something warm to her side. She certainly fit her role; scholarly but warm and friendly, like a well-loved teacher. I will not get mad. And Davidson ... her Warder. Jen had to admit he looked silly there, sitting on the apron of the stage in ... purple silk ... but was too angry to laugh. No, she reminded herself, I will not get mad. Lia, the SianStudè and sole Plum, so casual and relaxed, with her cigarette in hand. So untamed. So mysterious, like Mera, also present. The latter, Accepted, was an enigma herself.... And everyone else ... Katassa and Katja, Larissa and Laraina ... others, also present. Everyone was an individual. Unique. I will not get mad. The White Tower had squashed their uniqueness, molding them into a white-skirted form with their "Yes Aes Sedai, No Aes Sedai, Right away, Aes Sedai" and their chores and everything else that washed any individuality out of them ... that was why there were no uniforms in the Purple Tower. Why there was something the White Tower didn't have ... freedom. I will not get mad. No matter how many times she told herself that, she ... she knew ... "The Tower hates us. They don't consider us Aes Sedai. They consider us criminals for calling ourselves that, they consider us criminals for being 'rogue channelers'. In their minds, we all ought to be in novice white! Jen hoped something wasn't burning but she could smell smoke and felt someone channeling. Whatever it was, whoever it was--Light bloody take it all. "Burn it, there's a reason we left the Tower--or we were forced out of it! Bloody ashes, they don't want us--not even as novices! We ought to be dead! We are people, just as they are, we are human beings--for the most part--" she noted, with a glance at Mera "and have every flaming right to live! If we don't stop this, they will knock down our door and murder us! They'll bloody murder us!" Jen threw her hands into the air and sat down, sleeves flying, face buried in her hands. Not crying, but ... almost. Tears of anger welled up in her eyes. What they were doing was wrong. Against everything Aes Sedai stood for. I am mad.
"I will not take it any longer! I AM BLOODY MAD!!"
