Zaide stepped quickly back into his room, from a class. The Feast of the Dragon had begun, and Zaide did not want to miss it. He quickly got out of his soldier uniform and grabbed the only other clothes he had. Nothing wonderful, that was certain, but much more comfortable than the black that the soldiers were required to wear. He had not had any money before coming here, and since arriving, had aquired very little, what he had would go toward something to wear for the masquerade, for he had decided to go, and could certainly not go in the old clothes he was wearing now. He reached into the wardrobe, and pulled out what coin he had, and put it in his pocket. Ready now, he stepped back out of his room, and into the hallways. Whenever the Towers hosted such a festival, Zaide could not help but be a little surprised. He was so used to seeing his fellow soldiers, and the Dedicated, all dressed in the same black uniforms. When such festivities came along, and he got to see his peers in colors, it was something of a shock. By the end of the week, though, he was sure he would be used to it. He made his way quickly down the halls, and to the grounds. Zaide found the path that would take him to the nearest exit into the city, and walked quickly along. He no longer hated this place with all he had, but he was still eager for a trip outside of the walls, even if it was only as far as Tar Valon. He reached the gate, and carefully did not look at the guards there. He knew they would not stop him, but soldier life had ingrained into him that he was not to go into the city without an escort, or express permission.

Once out into the city, Zaide looked around. The last time he had seen this place had been years ago, when the Towers held a grand celebration for the Feast of Lights. Then it had been decorated as much as it was now, but of an entirely different kind. Today gold and red were to be found nearly everywhere he looked, on both people and buildings. There were as many candles burning now as there had been then, but they carried an entirely different mood today. Even as he just stepped into the streets, he could feel the happy mood that reigned in the Towers magnified several times over. Zaide knew why everyone was so happy, they were celebrating the Dragon Reborn, and his battle in another world. Reminding themselves of what he was doing for them. Surely, though, they could not be thinking too deeply into the situation. If the Dragon had won, or perhaps even if he was winning, surely the Shadow would have sufferend immensely. Zaide himself was living proof that they had not, at least, not too much. The Red Shen was no help to Zaide and his peers, but what did the Red Shen's doings have to do with the Dragon Reborn's victory? More than anything else, Zaide hoped that he could live to see the day when someone would return from that world, and announce that al'Thor had failed. That the Great Lord had won, and that the world was now to be under his dominion. The thought gave Zaide reason to smile, in his years since giving his life and soul over to the Lord of the Dark, he had come to realize what it really ment, and had never yet regretted it. He found the Shadow when he was an angry, upset new soldier, and had joined it for some sense of power, knowledge that the Black Tower did not control him completely. Time, though, was turning him into a true servant of the Great Lord.

That was not the only thing that had changed over the years, though. Zaide still wished to be rid of the Towers on some level, but more, now, he looked forward to becoming Dedicated. He finally recognized that the Tower would not let him do anything else, and there was no point in working for anything more. He still very much prefered time alone to time spent with others, but that was as it had always been, and he was sure how it would always be. He had no reputation for being a kind man among the soldiers, but neither was he mean, he was simply there. Zaide shook off his nostalgia, why was it that he so often reflected on his first days in the Tower, compared to how he was now? He was done, there was no use in that, looking forward was the only thing that could come to anything. One could not change the past, after all. He made his way along the streets of the city, until he came to a small inn. He felt his pocket and shrugged, he was hungry, and surely he could find an inexpensive tailor somewhere to make him something for the masquerade. He did not want anything elaborate, after all, just something a little nicer than he was wearing. And a mask, he would need a mask as well. But, certainly the entire city had heard of the Towers' masquerade, how difficult could it be to find a simple mask? He finally shook his head, he would simply find something from a street vendor. It did not take him long, either, to find a man selling fruits. He bought an apple, and went on his way. He was not really sure where he was going, he was not in any hurry to find a tailor, he simply wanted to see the city sights. And so he wandered through the streets, admiring the buildings, and the decorations, whoever had decorated this place had outdone themselves, that was certain.

Aven had unwillingly gone to the Black Tower, only ceding defeat when even his sister begged him to go. He had been on the brink of a successful career, receiving the attention of patrons, being able to support his sister. The merchants had begun coming to him for their murals, and he was not yet even fully trained. Even if his master were dead, surely he would have found someone else to apprentice under...

But none of that crossed through his mind at the moment. It seemed as if he had picked as good a week as any to join the ranks of the Towers. Never in his life had he seen a city as beautiful as Tar Valon, much less a city decorated in all this finery. The Feast of the Dragon was truly a celebration here, and the Ash'aman that had brought him had given him free rein to enjoy himself. So, still in the clothes he had left with, he used some of his money to buy a bird mask, with gold and red flames on it, as befitted the occasion. Surely this was an occasion to celebrate!

And there was such a mixing of peoples. Silk dresses danced with rough cut wool, as brushed leather danced with plan algode skirts. He himself had caught the eyes of a few silk dresses himself, in his linen shirt beaked face. Preening a bit, knowing that he was still consiidered attractive in Tar Valon, he happily sauntered to see more sights.

Some of the more fascinating decorations lay around and in the Tower itself, where dragons they called Illusions, seemingly alive, darted through the air, illuminating those beneath. Now THERE was an art to master. It was one thing to put an image on canvas, and another to make it move and seem to live. Aven felt it must surely feel like playing Creator to make such things. A shiver of giddy hope shivered down his spine, filling his head with dreams that might make the Black Tower worth the pain he was sure it would be.

Wandering back into the milling throngs of merry-makers, Aven paused a moment to purchase a meat pie off a fairly respectable looking food hawker. History had taught him to avoid the more raggedy ones, as their ingredients tended to be a little…suspect.

He kept walking, staring in awe at the red and gold swirling around him. Light, if only he could recreate some of these scenes. Ah, if only he had access to some gold leaf, surely he could make something really fantastic.

Not paying attention as he walked, (he was watching a particularly large dragon illusion fly overhead) he crashed into someone going the opposite direction. The remainders of the greasy meat pie were firmly smooshed between the two, leaving huge stains on the both of them. A fairly large, dark man, he had a good five inches on Aven. Aven took one sorrowful glance at the ruined meat pie and turned to the man.

“Light, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to do that. Guess I wasn’t the only one not looking where I was going, eh?” He grinned awkwardly.

Zaide walked along the streets, admiring the decorations, eating his apple. He was actually quite content- apparently only a few moments out of the Tower was all it took. It was shortlived, though, for only a moment later, someone ran directly into him. He stepped back, and looked down at his shirt. Covered with meat pie, and this his only shirt outside of the soldier uniforms. This would take quite a lot of cleaning, would it even be worth it? A frown firmly in place now, he looked at who had run into him. A nicely dressed man wearing a bird mask. Zaide blinked at that, he knew that many people in the Towers would be out buying masks for the ball, but he had not thought that the trend would move into the city as well. Then again, perhaps this man was from the Towers, and simply wanted to get some wear out of his mask before the ball. Well, that was unimportant. The man apologized quickly, and finished with an awkward grin. One that Zaide did not return. Why had he not been watching where he was going? The streets of Tar Valon were always packed Zaide should have known better than to lose himself in thought, after that, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. He could not entirely fault himself, of course, but neither was it completely the other man's fault either. If only he would have bought an apple rather than a pie. Zaide sighed, "Yes, but I won't make the same mistake again." He tried to make his voice joking, as the other man had done, but it did not work. Zaide was not much of one for jokes, that much was clear as soon as he spoke. That said, Zaide went about picking larger pieces of pie off of his shirt, this unfortunate incident would cut his visit to the city short, he knew.

When he was as satisfied as he would become with his shirt, Zaide looked up at the shorter man again. He was curious, he wanted to know who this man was. If not for the mask, Zaide likely would not have cared, but the mask made all the difference, for once, Zaide was actually curious about someone. He wondered if it would be strange for him to strike up a conversation with this man. Then again, would it not be rude to simply walk away? He sighed again, and spoke, "Are you from the Towers?" He suspected that the man was, simply because of his mask, but Zaide could not say which part he was from. Not the White Tower, that was obvious, but he could be a recruit, or a soldier. Zaide thought the former more likely, though he did not know many of them, he could recognize most of the soldiers on sight. There were always new men coming in, of course, and this man might well be one of them. Zaide shook those thoughts off. There was no point in pondering each possibility, he did not doubt that the man would answer him, after all. And when he did, Zaide could see no point in lying, because either way, he could be found out fairly quickly. Zaide realized then that he should have offered his name before asking anything, and quickly added it, "I'm Zaide, by the way." He would have told the other man that he was a soldier, but he knew that few outside of the Towers- even in Tar Valon -knew what a soldier was within the Towers. Besides, what was the point in telling someone everything about himself when he could not even see the other man's face? It hardly seemed a fair way to trade information.

Aven grimaced, watching ruefully as the man picked what he could off of his shirt. He'd offer to pay, but he had very little money left, and chose to remain silent about that. Hopefully this was a forgiving person. The taller man sighed and spoke.

"Yes, but I won't make the same mistake again." The man was trying to be joking, but obviously a bit upset about his shirt. It was a fairly nice shirt, and maybe he’d been going somewhere he’d needed to dress up for.

"I'd say the same, but I'm not sure I'd be able to... this is my first time in Tar Valon, and the decorations are simply amazing here. Even better than Illuminators."

Having satisfied himself with his shirt, the taller man looked quizzically down at him.

"Are you from the Towers?", the taller man asked. "I'm Zaide, by the way."

Quickly Aven pulled his mask down from his face, spinning it 'round so that it now hung on his back, the string tugging gently at his neck.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me, my name's Aven, Aven Soravron. I'm...well, I'm soon to be from the Towers." He laughed a bit nervously at that. He'd seen some odd reactions to channelers before, and he still wasn't to sure about going there. And while Aven wasn’t exactly helpless, this was a fairly large man who looked muscular. But he could use someone to talk to, and he’d by no means offered any kind of violence. Aven felt the need of a friend, or at least an ear. "I'm from Saldea, but I'm to be a Soldier there soon. I only got here today." He gave an appreciative glance once more at the fabulous colors whirling about them. "Looks like I came at the right time." His grin broadened, then shrunk a bit. Odd of the man to know he was... well was GOING to be at the Towers. "How, eh, how did you know?" He thought he’d blended in rather nicely with the throng of people, and Light knew he’d seen enough Saldaean merchants that if he were taken as a Saldaean, he wouldn’t seem odd. The Ash’aman who'd brought him here had talked a great deal in a short space of time, and had mentioned the fact that women knew when other women could channel. Maybe this applied to men, too? Could this man with the stained shirt be like him?

((I'd like you to have some sort of bio up before I reply again. ;)))

((ooc: Sorry, Mother. :whistle It's up now.))

((Thanks, great bio. :) One thing, in your last post, it said the Asha'man couldn't make a gateway, but in your bio, it said he came to the Towers through one ;)))

As Zaide finished speaking, the other man pulled his mask off his face, and spun it to hang on his back. No, Zaide definately did not recognize the man, but he introduced himself as Aven, a future member of the Towers. He explained that he was from Saldaea, but was going to be a soldier. Zaide nodded, and Aven asked how he had known. "It was the mask," he began, "I'm surprised you haven't been to the Towers yet, actually. There's going to be a masquerade at the end of the week, and nearly everyone who lives there has been buying them. I guess it's spreading to the city as well." He paused, and concidered the man's other comment, about joining at the right time. "Yes, there's probably not a better time to come, the rules in the Towers are far more relaxed right now...not for long, though." Zaide knew that most of the initiates in the Towers probably very much wished for the feast to continue indefinately, but Zaide for one would be happy when it was over. When he did not have to be daily reminded of the Dragon Reborn and the Last Battle, and when life went back to the normal routine. Zaide hated chores, and was very glad for a week with so few, but overall, he would be happier when he could go back to everyday life as usual. He planned on enjoying the week, but he was sure that by the end of it he would be quite ready to back to being a soldier, looking like a soldier, and maybe even being treated like a soldier, even if it meant being hit by Asha'man. Well, not the last, but the rest he was pretty certain of.

"I'm a soldier," he explained, but did not mention that he had been for quite a while. "The Black Tower's not all bad, even on regular days, but this week is a nice break." He could think of nothing else to say. Aven seemed to be a fairly good conversationalist, a skill that Zaide could envy at times like this. He had hardly ever talked before coming to the Towers, only to his mother and father when absolutely necessary. When he arrived here, Zaide had hated it almost as much as Andor, and had spoken even less. A while back he had decided he was stuck here, and only lately had chosen to talk to people, after all, if he was going to become Asha'man, he would have to be able to do that, at least a little bit. As soon as the thought occured to him, he realized that it was not entirely true. There were many Asha'man who were very, very quiet. Even for the, though, Zaide knew it was not because they could not hold conversations, it was because the chose not to. He was quite sure that if the had to, they would be able to converse or negotiate with anyone. If Zaide ever learned how conversation worked, he thought he would become one of those men, but a large part of them was that they did not seem in the least bit shy or uncomfortable. And on top of that, Zaide had a temper, though it had cooled noticeably over his years in the Towers, it could still flare up more quickly than was wise for a soldier, or even Dedicated. Asha'man did not seem to have tempers, they could bend over backwards if they chose, but one step too far and they snapped, it seemed a universal trait, and snapping was a frightening thing, and one could never anticipate when one of the Asha'man would choose to bend.