In an average sized office, decorated expensively, but not extravagantly, in deep tones of red and blue, Laridian sat writing forlornly at his cherry-wood desk. The desk was stained red, and the top was inlaid with a repeated design featuring the black half of the ancient Aes Sedai symbol. A pair of hardwood chairs, oak with the armrest painted in red, sat atop a lush blue carpet. The chairs were purposefully rather uncomfortable- Laridian wanted as little company that came on business as possible, and those he wanted gone as soon as possible. The carpet was a Tairen masterpiece, and the tile beneath it, Laridian was unsure. Still, the checkerboard of off-white and black, while simple, was a nice basis for the similar pattern on his Sea Folk vase, given to him by his mother in the hopes he would remember her. Its prominent display on the shelf above Laridian's desk spoke for her success. Laridian was especially glad for the large windows in his office, which faced towards Tear, his homeland, and gave a good deal of light in what would otherwise be a stuffy office.

Laridian sighed inwardly, glaring for a moment at the pile of reports on the other side of his desk, leather bound files looming over him, casting an evil shadow that foretold of hours of paperwork to come. It was seemed less daunting stacked opposite the nearly equal pile on the opposite end of his desk, but then THAT pile told of the hours of paperwork he had already done. Turning his head back to look at the request for men and funds by one Lothial al'Sinoren, who wanted to go gallivanting off to the farthest reach of the Aiel Waste in yet another archaeological dig, he tried to get back to his work. Light - forty horses and twenty Ash'aman?!? The man was loony, expecting that kind of support. Firstly, Lothial surely wouldn't be able to find enough water or food for forty bloody horses, and besides, there weren't that bloody many Ahs'aman ready to gallop off to the Light knew where on the off-chance that there might be a few trinkets of interest to be found after hours of digging, and under Lothial's command no less. The man could be positively insufferable, and had been the most arrogant teacher Loridian had had when he was a Dedicated. Laridian shook his head. Too many flaming archaeologists in the bloody Wind Talons who wanted to play leader, and not enough more interested in research. He might just have to convince Latham to ground them for awhile so that they'd be willing to do anything so long as it meant working out on a dig.

Anger flashed up in him as he thought of Latham, whose paperwork this was SUPPOSED to be. Everyone thought that he had been a prat when he had first joined the Black Tower, but Latham was ten times worse than Laridian had ever been, for all his common birth. You'd have thought the man was the bloody M'hael himself the way he dressed out his quarters and kept his nose firmly midair. Not that the M'Hael was that bad. He seemed to be a fairly nice man, all told.. Loridian shook his head, thoughts straying again. He focused, but not on the paperwork- on bloody Latham. Latham was the Rei of Shen al'Cha Dieb, but who ended up doing most of the bloody paperwork? Laridian. Who got to spend their time studying ter'angreal and prancing about the Towers? Latham. Who was kept mostly caged away from the women and taverns? Laridian. He snorted, trying to imagine Latham attracting any women whatsoever. Latham would have to bribe some tavern maid a great deal to even glance his way. Laridian may have been skinny himself, and not nearly as muscled as some of his fellow Ash'aman, but he had been wooing women since he was ten, and it was a game he knew very well indeed. His uncles had tutored him effectively, and he had gone on to learn much more. Even during his years as a Soldier and Dedicated, he still played the Game, as he thought of it, sometimes to his detriment. The higher ups always seemed to discourage that kind of thing at the Towers for some reason. Laridian had always thought that it might be that someone scorned in love, who could alsochannel, might be tempted to balefire the offending party out of existence. He had so far managed to escape such a fate, but barely, in some cases. His sixty or so years at the Tower had taught him to tread much lighter around Aes Sedai than other women.

Laridian grimaced. Light, I need to stop thinking about women." He knew that he had the reputation among some as Laridian the Lecher, but it was at least partly earned. He much preferred to think of himself as a sensualist, but others seemed to think differently. He inwardly shrugged, knowing he at least incurred the awe of some of the young ones, the Soldiers, the Dedicated, and even a few of the new Asha'amans who had heard him spoken of as a legend with women. Light, there was the thought of women again. Really, it was too much for a body to stand. Laridian stood abruptly, glaring at the 'finished' pile that chose that moment to wobble, daring it to fall over. It did not.

"That's bloody well it. No more paperwork! I'm getting out of this stuffy office and going out to find wine and WENCHES!" He could see the colors of late afternoon coming from the window to his office, and prepared to retreat to his quarters to get into something a bit more acceptable at the places he intended to go.


((ooc:*Sniffle of joy* THERE'S A BLOODY POST IN MY FORUM NOW! Maybe it won't be so unloved and deserted someday. :hug Ooo, and check out my pimp avatar. I gave up the ghost on the craptastic MS Paint one and managed to find one that fit Laridian perfectly. You can hear him thinking "....you know you want me." Muhahahahaa... Over 'n out.))