The sun was just beginning to dip down behind the shining walls of Tar Valon as Lalaine stepped outside. Beams of sunlight still streamed across the sky, but not enough to make her squint. With a cool breeze whipping around her ankles, it was a lovely night for a stroll. Lalaine was just thankful that it was cool enough to wear a sapphire-colored cloak to conceal the white of her novice dress. It would be easy enough for an Aes Sedai to discover who she was, but to any other citizen, she would seem merely like a young lady out to enjoy the evening. Perhaps her stomach would have flipped with the excitement of what she was doing, sneaking into Tar Valon, had she not been feeling so lonely. It had been some time since she had come to the Tower, and she still did not feel like she belonged. She had not seen her brother for weeks now, and it wasn’t as though she was making much progress being a novice. No matter the lessons and work she toiled at, her block remained. Lalaine was beginning to believe that she couldn’t really channel at all, that it was either some cruel trick or mistake. Perhaps they had assumed that since her elder brother could channel, she could as well. She wondered how Sloane was doing with his lessons. She figured that he was halfway to becoming Dedicated by now. What if he became Asha’man and forgot about her?

As she began walking towards the city, through the elegant courtyards and paved roads of the White Tower, Lalaine considered the consequences of getting caught in the city. They would give her a swift trip to the Mistress of Novices, perhaps a physical punishment and a few extra chores. At least she could earn her punishment by doing something worthwhile. She would not earn a punishment for laziness or slacking off her duties as a novice. Her conscience told her that it would be best to return to the Tower, to obey the Aes Sedai, and her mind told her that it would save her a beating. Besides, her bones ached from a day’s worth of work, but Lalaine needed to be free of the Tower for just one night. She was a young girl, desiring to escape the restrained life of a novice, if only for a few hours.

Passing by the barracks, Lalaine caught the sight of one of the Gaidin brothers, and she wondered for a moment if he were going to stop her. Instead, he kept on walking, merely giving her a steely look before returning to his own thoughts. Lalaine had not known how tense she was over being caught until she gave a sigh of relief, likely loosening every muscle in her body. She watched curiously at some recruits who were practicing with wooden swords. Lalaine knew that some of the novices enjoyed coming down and watching the young men and sometimes the young women practice with their weapons, but she had never taken part in the activity. She was sure that some of the girls thought it odd of her not to, simply because she was Domani. It had not taken coming to the Tower to learn what reputation the world had given the women of her land. She had learned long before that Domani women were known as seductive and even manipulating. Lalaine had learned such “arts” from her grandmother, once her mother was no longer around to teach her, but Lalaine had always found that a smile and a soft word worked just as well as swaying or strong perfumes. Besides, here at the Tower, she had no need for such things. Novices were not allowed to associate with young men in Tar Valon, be they recruits, soldiers, or otherwise. Some of the novices chattered rumors of Aes Sedai relating with Asha’man or their Warders, but that was just a fleeting whisper. Lalaine wondered how the women could be so isolated. It certainly had proved a problem for Lalaine to meet with her brother. Light, how she missed him.

The inner workings of the city were not far from the doors of the White Tower, and it did not take Lalaine long to reach the streets of Tar Valon. At this hour, though not the busiest yet, people wandered about the streets. Some were returning home after a long day’s work, and others were going about errands that had not yet been seen to into the day. More than that however, people were wandering off to the pubs of inns for a quick drink before retiring. Lalaine dug her hand into her pocket, to see how much coin she really had with her, and wondered whether she had enough for a glass of wine. In the Tower, novices did not drink wine, as they were seen as children. Truth be told, Lalaine never really drank much of such liquors. Her father’s behavior had put her off of that, and she assumed that Sloane would frown on such actions as well.

Stopping in front of the doors of a certain inn, she looked through the dimly lit windows. It seemed busy inside, and the rumble of talking could be heard even outside. In the background, she could hear a rowdy sort of music playing. She wasn’t even sure if it was the place that would carry wine – it seemed that ale and other sorts of drinks might be more of the specialty. Lalaine paused in the street, debating whether to enter or not. It hardly seemed too pricy…

He was drunk. He knew it. Laridian had come here specifically for that purpose and no other. This was by no means his usual hang-out. They knew him there. That would be wholly unsuitable for his purposes, no matter how discreet the staff might be. Laridian was here to reach a new level of drunk. He was in search of oblivion, however briefly. There was a long way to go to get there yet, so Laridian Maeronen waved down one of the tavern wenches and ordered another ale.

By the Light, he had damned well done it. The paper was sitting outside the M'Hael's office, waiting for him, to be read bright and early the next morning. And then the fur would fly. Having a raging hangover and being massively drunk would probably not help his cause... or maybe it would. Either way, his current level of depression demanded a release of some kind.

"Resigning," he muttered. "By the goat-bedding, back-ward assed trolloc's spawn that I am, I'm flaming resigning."

The last few weeks of his year as Rei al'Dieb Cha had been murder on him. The Shen, though highly improved and approaching the well-oiled machine it should have been, was now demanding more care and attention to maintain its current status. Laridian hadn't been sleeping much lately, setting one of the Dedicated he'd collared for a clerk to do nothing but make sure he had a running supply of kaff, the bitter but conciousness inducing drink that had become as familiar to him as mother's milk. There was paperwork. When there was not paper work, there was instructing his underlings. There was checking the wards on the ter'angreal room and setting new ones. They were changed weekly now, at odd hours, and only the most trusted of Ash'aman given the job. Laridian took it himself upon occasion, using the precious hours to continue his study into one of the older ter'angreals in the Black Tower's possession. It was a weapon of some kind, and it had a vague tingling of menace to it; he was sure it would be invaluable if he could just crack its functions. Kaff was necessarry during gaurd duties as well, since the quiet of his notes were enough of a pause to make him sleepy. Laridian was sure that his blood stream had been almost entirely replaced by kaff two weeks ago. His hands would begin to shake if he went a few hours without it.

It had been the night he had actually fallen asleep on gaurd duty that had done it. He'd been woken abruptly by a passing Ash'aman, who unknowingly had nearly been dismembered by a particularly nasty weave Laridian had half-prepared on waking. Laridian had been filled with horror at what could have happened. Ashen faced, he had turned over defence of the place ot the next gaurd, hurried to his office, and in the dark of the night, written his resignation with shaking hands.. the Dedicated had been dismissed and his body was beginning to feel the lack of kaff. He then shut himself in his room, set a ward to keep everyone out, and slept for an entire day. The sun had been setting when he woke. In the reddening light he climbed the levels of the Black Tower in rumpled civilian clothes, placing his letter on the desk outside of the M'hael's office, and departing just as quickly. He ducked out of the Black Tower, getting some looks but largely ignoring them and everything around him. For an hour he just walked in circles, wandering aimlessly through the alleys and streets of Tar Valon, before a sign caught his eye. The sign in itself was odd. There were no words, just a carved and painted panel of a striped cat stalking its way through city streets. He paused before it, admiring the craftmanship before deciding to go in. "The Cat In The Alley", the patrons called it, and while it wasn't quite a dive, neither was it quite respectable. Laridian plunked down a gold coin on the rough wooden table and asked for food and ale. He got a few ambitious glances from his fellow patrons, but the bar maids certainly stepped a bit livelier at the sight of it. They brought him a good thick stew in cracked, but obviously good crockery, and a fresh loaf of bread. Laridian devoured it, his already lanky frame having become particularly gaunt over the last month of administration. Now that he had some food in him, he was ready to hold his liquor for a little bit. He ordered a snifter of whiskey and brandy before switching back to the ale he'd had with his meal. His was on his third mug before he decided he ought to get out of here. The heat by the fire had become oppressive and the looks from his fellow patrons were beginning to unnerve him. Stumbling a bit, the world spun lightly as he got to his feet. He was fairly drunk. Still capable of locomotion, semi-eloquent speech, and defending himself, but maybe not all of them at once.

Laridian waved with a bit of forced mirth at the bar-maids (he might have attempted something with either of them, but one was quite old and the other looked far too much like a lizard he had once seen in the Wastes, and he was certainly not that drunk.) and pushed the door open. The force exerted made the ground go a bit spinny again and he stumbled a bit before righting himself, further from the door than he had meant to go with that last step. Taking another step, he ran smack-dab into someone, which was particularly jarring in that state. Already off-balance, Laridian reeled, grasping at air and connecting with a shoulder, maybe a sleeve. Not enough to halt his down-ward progress, he heard a tearing of cloth as he sunk down to the ground, and a feminine cry of shock and surprise as he landed painfully on his rump. He froze, his hand still gripping a shred of cloth, staring stupidly at the woman in front of him as he sat on the ground.

It wasn't likely that Sloane would approve of her going out to have a drink, especially when she was supposed to be in the White Tower, sleeping or doing something else important. She sighed, just looking at the place. She didn't even like wine all that much, or any other beverage of that sort. Those sort of drinks reminded her of her father and that reminded her of when they had left... She shivered at the thought of it. Sloane said that I didn't kill him, she tried to reassure herself. It didn't work as well as she had hoped though, for it didn't erase the memories of how her father had looked when the gust of wind threw him against the wall, the gash in his head that had resulted from him. She had to have channeled. That was the only explanation for it, but then why wasn't she succeeding in the White Tower? Why wasn't she able to progress like the rest of the novices? She was so frustrated! Frustrated enough to want the wine all over again.

No, Sloane wouldn't approve, and neither would her grandparents. Besides, being in Tar Valon this late, especially with that sort of liquid in her veins was hardly safe for a girl of her age. She doubted that the people inside of the pub had thoughts of world peace and justice on their mind. Sighing, and wishing she weren't such a coward or perhaps more of a brute, she decided that it would be best just to head back to the Tower. If she were careful enough, she might not even get caught. Hence she could save herself a dangerous situation and even a punishment. She certainly had enough dishes to scrub without another load of them being added on top. Lalaine supposed that she could use some sleep anyway. No novice would pass up sleep for a glass of wine. What a waste of an evening... Lalaine sighed again, and she was just about to turn and leave, when the door of the pub swung open.

Even before the man came near to her, Lalaine could see that the pins on his collar. Oh, Light... Despite the cloak she was wearing, Lalaine hardly wanted to get caught in front of a pub by an Asha'man. But then again, she watched him come out, it was quite obvious that he was drunk. Quite decently drunk. She could almost smell it on his breath from her short distance, though she might have been imagining it. She had smelt that smell so many times, coming off her father when he came home after those late nights. Lalaine knew it was only out of grief, or Light, she believed it was, but her brothers had been unable to forgive him. Her eldest brother had left them, and Sloane hadn't been able to get past that either. The Light illumine Sloane. She wouldn't have been able to live without him. It was Sloane who had gotten her away from her troubled home, and it was Sloane who had nursed her when she had gotten sick, from what the Aes Sedai said was the effect of channeling. They said she was lucky to have lived at all. It was Sloane that brought her to the White Tower.

Before Lalaine could gather any wits about her to leave or something, the man stumbled forward and bumped into her, hard. The man collided with her ribs, which was painful enough, but then he spun around and grasped at whatever he could, which happened to be the shoulder of her cloak. It was hardly enough to hold him up, and a disconcerting sound came with the rip of the cotton cloth. The Asha'man fell to the ground, looking at her with the rag that had been her cloak's shoulder. For that moment, Lalaine was glad that she had worn the cloak, because that likely would have been her dress otherwise. For all the reputation about seductive Domani women, Lalaine had at least some sense of decency, even if she did like certain dresses, and she knew from the patch of white showing from where her cloak had been that she wouldn't have been decent anymore, if not for her cloak. Realizing that the white was showing, enticed a slight moment of panic, for it was easy to see that she was a novice now, she cursed silently in her head. And then she remembered that the man was drunk. Perhaps such a thing would slip his mind?

For that reason, she did not curtsy. She studied the Asha'man before her. If he had been standing, he likely would have been much taller than her, but that was as a man should be. She couldn't place an age on him either. His dark hair was tied back with a ribbon. Searching his face for any sign of recognition, she caught his eyes for a moment. They were beautiful, she decided, green like an emerald. She paused for a moment before extending a hand. "Evening, Asha'man," she said quietly, realizing only then that if he took her hand it was likely that he could pull her over. She was hardly a girl of much weight.

He blinked for a moment. "Ash'aman?" He glanced down at his chest, realizing that he had, in fact, put his Light-blasted pins on. "Blood and ashes! What a fool I am." Grimacing once more, he noticed that the hand thumbing the sword pin also had a scrap of cloth in it. With a look up again, he recognized it for the lady's cloak.

His shock past, a look of horror came over his face as Lairidian scrambled (which did not occur as quickly as the word implies, what with inebriation) to his feet. He was a good foot taller than her, and his lanky body type only seemed to add to his height. He seemed to tower for a moment, and might have seemed menacing were it not for the look of sorrowful shock he wore.

"My dear, I am so sorry! Your cloak..." His face was an eloquent portrait of almost childish sorrow; he was nearly pouting. Fumbling with the buttons of his own coat, he still got it off with some speed and was quick to drape it about her shoulders. "You'll have to forgive me, I fear I am the worse for drink right now... positively abominable of me to run into you like that." Laridian was beginning to get over his embarassment and sorrow at having caused her difficulty, and was finallly taking notice of what she looked like.

Her eyes were a rather piercing blue, quite lovely to look at, and her face had a Domani build to it. But she was young... she looked very, very young. Surely she could not be too much older than eighteen. Laridian's baser voices whispered a bit in the back of his mind... he had come out to the city to have fun, after all... but he chased them away. He felt too guilty to try anything right now. Still, he owed her something for bumping into her like that.

"How can I make it up to you, my dear? Would you like a drink, something to eat? I know the best places in Tar Valon for food and drink and I'm in a mood to spend."

He grinned, hopeful. He was tired of drinking alone. All he could do was mope in that kind of state. If nothing else, it might be nice to have someone to talk to. Light he had felt lonely of late. Ever since he had entered the administration he had cut off the few friends he had had... and he certainly hadn't had time to socialize these past few months. It was a bit cold in the night air, but Laridian barely felt it. He still stung too much inside to take much notice of such things.

"Ah, but where are my manners?" He bowed at her, still a very eloquent gesture, not affected by drink at all. Light knew he'd had it drilled into him often enough as a child to be second nature. He straightened with a slight smile. "My name is Laridian Maeronen, miss, at your service."

Oh, the man was drunk certainly, but he was nothing like her father had been when he was drunk. Sure, he stumbled about all the same, but her father had grown angry and disruptive. And violent, a quiet part of her mind added. She tried not to think about her father, about the night that she... Light, well, she hoped she hadn't killed him. The images in her head were all too vivid, from that night, no matter how many days had passed since then. But soon enough after that night, her memory was blurred, after she had taken sick with what the Aes Sedai said was from channeling. She could only hope that it was - otherwise she was wasting her time and there was nothing to explain all the events that had taken place. Maybe Sloane could channel, but he was unconscious.

Thankfully for Lalaine, the Asha'man was interesting enough to keep her thoughts from such dreadful things. He moved to his feet, as quickly perhaps as he could (which was not all that fast, considering his state), and his face looked purely horrified. Had he not been an Asha'man, Lalaine might have let her amusement show. It was rather funny, after all. She had been right about his height. He was tall - very tall.

"My dear, I am so sorry! Your cloak..." It had been some time since someone had called her "my dear." Her grandparents had a liking for names like that, and even from an Asha'man, it was rather soothing to hear. He's an Asha'man, idiot, she thought at herself, still worried he might turn her in for being out in the city as a novice. She would take the consequences that came with her actions, but that didn't make them pleasant. But Lalaine couldn't help but blink in surprise as he pulled off his own cloak and put it around her shoulders. She could have hugged him. It was nice just to have someone act as though she was a person, not just someone to wash dishes or be taught things. "You'll have to forgive me, I fear I am the worse for drink right now... positively abominable of me to run into you like that." And then she couldn't help but smile at him. Nothing like Father at all.

"How can I make it up to you, my dear? Would you like a drink, something to eat? I know the best places in Tar Valon for food and drink and I'm in a mood to spend." It was surprising, how nice he was acting, and she doubted that all Asha'man were like this one. Light, they couldn't be if they worked with the Aes Sedai like they were said to. He gave her a grin, and she continued smiling back. Fine then... If I'm going to get in trouble, might as well get in trouble. She did feel a little bad for not curtsying like a madwoman, admitting that she was a novice, but part of her kept saying that it was his fault for not noticing. She hadn't said that she wasn't a novice... The wine still sounded enticing, though it might not be the best to ask him to take her anywhere where he could drink some more. He seemed to be a veteran drinker, but she knew the line could be drawn fast. "How kind of you, though it certainly was not a problem," she replied.

"Ah, but where are my manners?" He swept a perfect bow, as though he were not intoxicated at all, and she arched an eyebrow in surprise. "My name is Laridian al'Maeronen, miss, at your service." Lalaine was no noble, but her grandmother had taught her enough of manners to know how to act. She gave a curtsy in return, well practiced from her time as a novice by now. "Lalaine Dalsarre." She looked at him again, wondering how the night would turn out. She certainly had not expected this when she had left the Tower. "It was no problem," she repeated herself, "but if the offer still stands, I wouldn't say no to accepting."

((OOC: I go on LoA tomorrow, so I probably won't get to this for a bit, unless I see it tomorrow morning. :)))