It was another one of those days, the sort that never seemed to end. Mirazhe generally didn't have that feeling, as she loved everything about the White Tower - well, most everything - but today, nothing seemed to be too her liking. The class she'd had in the morning had actually seemed boring - boring! - and she wasn't looking forward to doing the homework. But do it she must, and she'd already earned a reputation as a sterling scholar, so if she didn't turn in her homework, the teacher would end up making a big deal out of it, and that was the last thing Mirazhe wanted.

So here she was, in her sanctuary the Library, doing research on her latest project: the evolution of kitchen utensils. Farina would be laughing at her right now. Even though she'd denied havng any sort of interest in the utensils used for the culinary arts, she'd actually found some rather interesting information on spoons and forks, not to mention the different tools used by other cultures. Like those two thin sticks employed by the Seanchan. How anyone could actually eat with those things was beyond Mirazhe. She thought that she'd starve to death if she had to use those things. Thus, her interest.

The research part hadn't actually been too difficult. Suprisingly enough, there'd been a small section devoted to food, which had been divided into subfields, one of which had been the tools used to create and eat food. And she'd always been fond of skimming through books and finding just the rigt spot. Mirazhe considered herself a master. People thought she was insane but that was okay. The hard part had been writing the actual paper. How was she supposed to tie everything together? None of it actually made sense.

With a frustrated sigh, Mirazhe leaned back in her chair, and ran her hands through her long hair. Where had all her inspiration gone? Was she - Light forbid - actually started to get sick of research projects? That would be a laugh. Yet here she was, not wanting to do her homework. And there was not way to get out of it.

Light, someone save me.

Marreane nudged her way in through the Library doors…how a group of Accepted could manage to take up the entire doorway was beyond her. She dutifully kept her head down, rather than let them see her expression and report her to Kathera Sedai. She had witnessed one particular novice after a meeting with the Mistress of Novices- it looked like an experience she’d rather skip.
After the Accepted passed, she raised her head and stemmed a sigh of relief.
Who knew being a novice was such hard work? And if she thought that this was hard, how much more would she have to do as Accepted?

That is, if I’m ever raised…

She collapsed in a chair, drawing the nearest book from a shelf before doing so. What would anyone back in Ebou Dar say if they saw her like this?
During her leisure time there, she would have been…working.
She sighed, thinking about how ironic it was for her to be imagining how hard her current life was, when in truth she had been busier before she entered the White Tower. Now, though, she was expected to learn things quickly, and she did not have the privilege of speaking up for herself. Discipline was a huge part in her life now, although Marreane did not understand how it would help her later on in life. Since when had an Aes Sedai ever have to be humble?

She shrugged her shoulders, tossing the book that had failed to capture her interest aside.
“Spirit, water, air, earth, and fire.” She mumbled quickly, a simple memorization of all the flows that branched from the One Power.
At this moment, she realized that there was an Accepted looking frustrated sitting across from her at the table.
She turned beet red, trying to stand up but fumbling miserably, entangling herself in the chair legs and falling to the floor.
If possible, she reddened even more, stuttering out an apology to the general populace, for she found she couldn’t look the Accepted in the face.
Where’s that grace I supposedly inherited from my mother now?

A split second after Mirazhe sent up her fervent prayer, she heard a thud, a sound akin to a human body hitting the floor. Her head snapped up just int time to see a young woman tripping over her chair and colliding with the ground. Ouch, she thought, and winced in sympathy. She'd had her fair share of inelegant tumbles in the past, and she knew exactly what it feld like. Plus, this girl was a welcome distraction to her homework. Her lips curved up in a smile. Maybe the Creator had decided to smile upon her and give her the distraction she'd so desperately been wanting.

The girl, a fair, dark-haired girl who looked to be a touch shorter than herself and was still dressed in novice whites, was now muttering something that seemed to be an apology, but it was spoken at such a low pitch that Mirazhe could only make out one word in ten. Why the girl was even bothering to apologize was beyond her. Oh, that was right, she was an Accepted, and this girl felt the need to apologize for having disrupted her work. Mirazhe thought it was ridiculous that the novices should be compelled to apologize for such little things, but some Accepted apparently demanded these things.

As she neared her end, Mirazhe quietly cleared her throat, and was pleased to see the girl look at her, despite her lobster red face. In a way, the girl reminded Mirazhe of herself when she'd first arrived, nothing but a bundle of nerves and shyness. How fast she seemed to have gotten over that. But now was not the time to be reminiscing.

"You needn't apologize for falling over. It's hardly your fault, and it could have been anyone. Please, sit down again. I'm actually rather pleased that you're here, since that means I can ignore my stupid paper and talk to you. That is, if you don't mind a little conversation," she quickly added with trepidation. The girl did look rather shy, and conversation was often the last thing shy people wanted to do.

Marreane could feel the heat drain rapidly from her face.
Brushing off her dress (and inwardly grimacing upon seeing marks...she'd have to clean it later), she managed a small smile.

Could it be possible that there's actually someone in this place who's not completely full of themself?

She pulled out the chair she had so ungracefully fallen from.
"Much appreciated...er...Accepted." she said clearly, but still in a low-pitched tone. The last thing she wanted right now was one of the Brown Ajah to reprimand her for breaking library rules.
She studied the Accepted by glancing up through her eyelashes. She seemed kind enough, but who could know?

Stop being so suspicious...she scolded herself.

"My name's Marreane." A rueful grin followed.
"I don't suppose this conversation would entail helping to understand this place? There's so many rules, I can't believe that I'm ever going to be able to remember them all..."she trailed off.
Back home, she had made friends quickly. This would be the first semi-personal conversation she would have. Perhaps it had been the formality of the White Tower that struck her into shyness?

She glanced back to the Accepted, noting the books piled in front of her.
She reasoned in her head- either the woman was worked like this merely because she was an Accepted (She hoped not, that amount of work was almost double the study load they gave novices), or she was in training to be a Brown. Or, quite possibly, both- most others would have noticed her and commented upon her entrance immediately, but Browns were known to have their heads in the clouds.

Restraining a shrug, she returned to studying the tabletop before glancing up at the Accepted to see her reaction.

((OOC: I like your avatar a lot! :)))

Mirazhe couldn't help but give a quiet chuckle at the girl's words. Yup, she definitely reminded her of herself - except that she never would have been quite so forward, which really was pretty pathetic, considering that this girl wasn't even being forward. Still, it was nice to see that this girl had a sense of humor, and didn't have the nerves of a mouse. Mirazhe really had been looking forward to a conversation, and it seemed she had found the perfect person with whom to talk with. Or rather, she reflected wryly, the person had found her.

"That's not a problem at all," she said happily, putting her homework away in a neat pile for later. It would be done, eventually. Just not right now.

"Please, do sit down." Mirazhe motioned towards the chair right in front of her, the one the girl - Marreane, she corrected herself - had been occupying before she'd realized she was sharing a table with someone else. Why was it that novices couldn't stand the thought of sharing a table with Accepted? It wasn't as though she needed all that space, really, and tables were emant for more than one person. That was why there were multiple chairs around a table. But that was besides the point, and no good was going to come out of her being sarcastic.

Giving the girl a bright smile, Mirazhe settled back in her chair, feeling more relaxed than she had all afternoon. "So, what was it you wanted to know? I'll answer all your questions, as long as I know the answer. Which I won't promise to do, because there are so many things that I still know don't know about. But if it's about the White Tower, I'm sure I'll be able to help you out."

((OOC: Thanks! I like your's too, and how it matches your sig & everything ^_^
Also, sorry so short)

"Well," she said while taking her seat and relaxing a bit, "when you first learned you could channel, how did you resist touching the One Power constantly?"

She grimaced.

"All the others will tell me is 'It's a matter of will, child,' and stare down their noses at me."

She restrained a grin, because the last person to tell her this had, in fact, been an Accepted who was shorter than herself. So, the "staring down her nose" bit hadn't applied, although she always felt that they believed they were superior to her.
Which, she reminded herself, they were.

"The thing is, I supposedly channeled and touched the One Power for about a year before I came to the Tower, and the urge to embrace the source never bothered me then."
She sighed, then continued, "I suppose it's the fact that now I know what the strange feeling is, and that I can do it when I want to, and not by accident. It's like having temptation staring over my shoulder when I do anything- and I'm not allowed to channel, or even embrace the source, unless I'm given permission! "
She stopped her tirade, remembering that the Accepted had gone through all this when she was a novice, also.

"Sorry if I rambled, it's something I have a tendency to do." She said apologetically.

Mirazhe frowned thoughtfully as she pondered the question posed to her by Marreane. She herself had never had a problem with resisting the One Power, and as a novice, she'd often had difficulty even embracing saidar. Of course, that was all history now, water under the bridge, as some people liked to say. Still, the question could pertain to her now that she could channel when she wished. How did she resist drawing on saidar whenever she could?

"Well," she began slowly, "I've never that that problem, but that was probably because I didn't learn to channel until I came here. Actually, I didn't even know I could channel until an Aes Sedai told me I could. It was something of a shock."

That was an understatement. Shock didn't even begin to describe how she'd felt upon hearing that momentous pronouncement. Reflecting upon hat now, though....it was probably the best news she had ever heard in her life. The only that could have topped that was hearing that her father was alive, and not dead, but that would never happen.

"Anyway, when I did come here and first started channeling, I couldn't even do it right. It took me a long time to learn to embrace saodar. But that's not really important. You're not the only one with a tendancy to ramble on."

Mirazhe was silent a moment.

"I guess what stops me from channeling is the ever present fear of burning myself out." She eyed the novice quizzically. "You probably don't know what that is. Basically, when you channel too much, you -" she searched for a word that would make sense "-end up cutting oyourself off from the True Source. Basically, you can no longer channel, no longer feel the glorious sensations when you hold saidar - but I'm getting ahead of myself. I suppose it might be a matter of will, but it's more the fear that such a thing might happen to me that prevents me from constantly touching the One Power." Mirazhe shrugged her shoulders.

"I hope that answered your question. It's more a matter of opinion than anything else. Was there anything else you wanted to ask?"