For Use In: General Purpose RPs.

Name: Alyssil El'Doan (NSW)
Age: 44
Place of Birth: Tanchico, Tarabon

Physical Description: The trademark honey coloured braids crown Alyssil’s otherwise plain face, belonging more on a washerwoman than an Aes Sedai. Her tall, lithe body is slight - excessively so, she would say, after sighing in wry acceptance at her boylike figure. Long slim limbs grant Alyssil an otherworldly grace, coupled with slow, careful movements, her every movement appearing an intricate dance. Large watery blue eyes are the most notable feature of her face, she would agree, after inspecting her rather oversize nose, and thin pale lips. Smooth ivory skin covers her body, flushing into a permanent rose on her high cheeks.

Character Notes: Sweet natured and always smiling would certainly be the way most Aes Sedai would describe Alyssil, if asked to, after searching their memory for the largely reclusive Sedai. Newly raised to the Blue Shawl, she spends most of her time perfecting her eyes and ears network through Tarabon, often seen slipping to the gates of Tar Valon in the dark of night to pass thick letters to mysterious figures. Beneath the placid veneer lies a thickly stubborn nature, determined to just charge over her opponents rather than fight. It often surprises her when she is faced with opposition - She MUST be right, so why oppose her? Fiercely loyal to the Blues, Alyssil is still immensely proud of her shawl, and wears it at every opportunity.

Character History Edit

Settling deeply into the rickety chairs which swayed under their ample weight, the two women sighed deeply, enjoying the aroma of tea which flooded the small room. One poured the steamy liquid into chipped cups, whilst the other sat back expectantly, tapping her foot lightly against the wooden floor. Patting her thick grey hair back into place, Marisa passed the ivory mug to her friend, cradling its twin between her withered, bent fingers.

“I received a letter from Alyssil today,” breaking the silence with her sharp voice, fire still echoing from beneath the gravelly words. “She always was such a good child, and now, she’s been raised Aes Sedai! Fancy that?” Excitement coloured her face, as she leaned forward, eager for the acclaim which was sure to come.

Cackling eagerly, the woman opposite placed her cup back on the table, clicking her heels together appreciatively. “I knew she would make it… That ‘uns always been too stubborn for her own good. I remember when she would fight with her brothers… terrible things they were, yet she never showed a tear.” Grinning reminiscently, she took a sip of the tea, enjoying the flavour as it flooded her mouth. “Gave as good as she got, if I remember it right.” The tightening of her eyes spoke volumes - of COURSE she remembered it right, and of COURSE Marisa would agree.

“That she did Etha, that she did.” Shaking her head at the folly of youth, Marisa glanced up slyly, eager to slip in the news which had surprised her so much. “She says she’s joined the Blues - the meddling ones, from what I read between her words. I dunno, I always pictured her a Red, or mebbe a Green.” Shaking her head slightly, she took another sip of her tea, eager for the outburst which was to come.

“Blue?” Etha’s expression satisfied Marisa immensely; it wasn’t often she could get one up on the old bird. “She’s got too much fight in ‘er, that one! Ever since she was little, she would never back down, never. She shoulda been a boy, that one. Never did know the rightful place of women.” Sighing, Etha tsked under her breath, shaking her head at the girls folly. Girl? Alyssil was nearing 45, yet obviously still didn’t have sense in her bone.

“And,” Marisa burst in triumphantly, before the shock settled. “She’s got herself one of them warder’s.”

Etha’s aged laughter filled the room, soon accompanied by Marisa’s withered croaks. “A warder? The girl wouldn’t know what to do with a man, if she caught ‘im nekkid and trussed up like a newborn lamb! Innocent, that one is, never been the type for love affairs.” Wiping the tears springing from her wrinkled eyes, she giggled again, an unsightly sound from a woman with her girth. “I hear ol Sethart from across the river wanted her, always making cows eyes at her. I guess he’d get a bit of a shock now, to hear she’s one of them witches!” Shaking her head, she smoothed the well-worn woolen shawl over her shoulders, grotesquely coloured and garishly patterned, a gift from Alyssil on her 15th birthday. “I hope she comes home soon, Marisa,” suddenly sober.

Patting her friend lightly on the hand, Marisa nodded sympathetically, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. “No one misses a daughter like her mother. I remember when she’d pick flowers for the table, such a sweet girl… Always caring for her Pa, bless his soul, and helping me out with the boys when Pa died. Always did think she’d come back one day.” Rising abruptly, she whisked the tears from her eyes, straightening her apron in readiness. “Well, its time for tea, yet nothings in the oven. Absent minded as Alyssil, “ she remarked to herself, busying herself in the kitchen.

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