(Untitled)

[teach_them_all]

A rather tall lady in a black gown sits calmly on a rock by the lake. Her icy blue eyes gaze intently over the water's surface. There were many things to think on.

Half an apple, and a small paring knife in her hand. A small kerchief damp with apple juice lays folded in her lap.

Comments

[rebelheartalien]

Michael is half-sitting, half-sprawled on the grass. There's a line of small rocks in front of him, which he's methodically exploding one by one.

It's a skill worth practising, for when it's not rocks.

[teach_them_all]

There was never any warning when a man Channeled.

Mesaana jumped slightly. Saidar's golden glow surrounding her for a brief moment, as she turned. The glow winked out around her. The knife still held in her hand tightly. Icy blue eyes studying him intensely.

[notsoharmless]

On the other end of the shore, where she's curled up with the Gleeman's cape as her constant oversized blanket, Lyrae's pen drops, ink leaking across one of her notes.

She's about to curse, when the full impact hits and she starts, glancing up and watching.

Silent. Not her place.

[rebelheartalien]

The glow catches Michael's eye, and he twists to look.

He nods to her warily, not noticing Lyrae yet.