Olivia
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Posts posted by Olivia
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So a few million years ago I promised to bring back pics of my recent trip to England to see family. I went on a walk around the village and then hiked into the hills.
The lane coming down from my grandparents' house:
http://g14.picoodle....r_d72_ua4rj.jpg
The village they live in (the streets are so narrow you have to pull over to let oncoming traffic pass!):
http://g13.picoodle....r_149_ua4rj.jpg
Some fields:
http://g13.picoodle....r_90c_ua4rj.jpg
What usually lives in the fields:
http://g13.picoodle....r_6f6_ua4rj.jpg
Other local residents, who lowed at me for food:
http://g13.picoodle....r_19e_ua4rj.jpg
There's an old castle nearby, and this was one of its little gatehouses:
http://g15.picoodle....r_2bf_ua4rj.jpg
The village and surrounding area has been farmland and sheep pastures since before the Norman invasion. It's very Two-Riversian in some ways, I think.
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I have my doubts that she was able to dream just because of who she was stuck in Finnland with. Lanfear was dangerous even when she was asleep.
Lanfear also tried to have naked pool sex with Rand while he was asleep. Being stuck in there with Moiraine... I sense a slashfic idea?
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I never liked Darlin. Couldn't get over how badly he comes off in his intro in TDR, even if he did have the excuse of living under Be'lal's influence.
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I think Moghedien says something to Nynaeve during their fight in TSR about traveling to "worlds in the sky", which I always took for some kind of space exploration. I guess they could just channel the air they need to breathe, on the moon or anywhere else.
Oh, Google-fu has provided an answer from RJ's weekly questions from some years back! (Thanks, Dragonmount!)
Robert Jordan Answers: Travel to other planets within the solar system would require a circle of fairly strong channelers, though not necessarily as many as thirteen, depending on exactly how far out they wanted to go. Travel to a planet in another solar system would require a rather large circle (of the maximum possible size) of very strong channelers, and there would a limit on how far they could go in one jump. They could planet-hop, of course. Travel to another galaxy would be beyond them even if they began on the planet in this galaxy nearest the target galaxy. -
Thank you so much for putting this album together! I can't remember if I've seen any of these pics posted before but they were all wonderful and hilarious! Niklas's "love note" and that newspaper clipping Marie included were so funny, and I loved reading about all the places around the world from India to Amsterdam to Oxford. And it's fun to see the actual handwriting of MWers.
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@ Ekho: Spain sounds fantastic, if incredibly hot! Hope you have a blast!
Random: Today I finally bought my own vacuum instead of driving to my mom's house and borrowing hers whenever I need to clean my place. An actual stand-up vacuum, not one of those dinky handheld ones. I assembled it myself, screwdriver and all. I feel like such a responsible adult. *struts* (Years too late.)
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The NS graphic novel includes an email from RJ himself on how he imagined the Old Tongue alphabet to look:
I thought we MWers could "translate" some stuff from the books into the Old Tongue. Obviously the letters would have changed in three thousand years, but just for giggles, let's write some character names and other words! (Don't forget those two-letter combos at the bottom.)
The two bestest Blues evar and their title:
The inscription on the Horn of Valere - Tia mi aven Moridin isainde vadin :
(OMFG you guys I did not have to look that up to know how it was spelled; I'm sad at what a WoT nerd I am)
And, can you decipher these WoT char names?
Now, go on, break out those MS Paint skillz and Old Tongue it up in this biyatch! (Okay, that sounded dirty...)
Names, phrases, jokes, even "X is best char", translate (transalphabetize?) them all and post!
:siuandance: -
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Yes, its eyes are definitely too close together.
:) :) It sees your darkest dreams.
:) :) Forever.
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I didn't think it was that awful. Getting a bit tired of the doom and gloom and famine and such, but it's to be expected for the buildup to Armageddon. The Rand and Perrin banter felt a bit off, but not horrid, and it was kinda fun seeing the boys together again since, what, ACos I think. Awkward or not, I'm looking forward to a reunion of all the main boys and girls, especially once Moiraine breezes her magnificent self in, even in her diminished form.
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I wish it was. I'm going to Seaworld this weekend.
Do you have plans you're looking forward to, Marie? -
Thread necro!
I got the ACoS audiobook for my bday and was listening to the Mesaana part last night. I dreamt I had to be the one to find out who Mesaana was masquerading as, but it wasn't in the White Tower... it was in an elementary school in our world. I had to covertly interview the staff to find out which of the "teachers" was a friendless loner who had been out of the school for some time.
Finally I figured out who Mesaana was and had to ambush her by crashing a PTA meeting. Only, it was really anticlimactic because she fainted as soon as she realized she'd been discovered, and I had to quickly shield her lying there on the floor with the rest of the PTA meeting wondering wtf was going on.
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Oh, I had no idea. Will it be too weird for you to read a femslash fic containing the name Devin, haha?
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@ Jan: Thanks, Jan! Haha, I will be sure to include more Sandy.
@ Marie: I had to wiki "Devin" to find out why you were confused; I didn't know it was also a male name.
@ Laura: I so agree the Aes Sedai aren't as cool in later books, but I'm confused what's awesome about a slightly immature young sister forced to take orders (and punishments
) from a nonchanneler. But I'm very glad you enjoyed it! (And there will be femslash, and maybe some spanking, so that ought to keep you happy. 
)I'm working on Chapter 2, everyone, but please be patient as you know what a slow-ass writer I am. Thanks for the encouraging feedback!
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A misbehaving Red sister is exiled for a year to a small farm, isolated from all but the farm owner, a stern taskmistress who is under strict orders not to make things easy for her new "hire". With her whole world turned upside down, only one thing is certain for the young Aes Sedai. It's going to be a long year.
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Chapter One - The Farm
Lauril slowed her horse to a walk as she and her companion approached the little sheep farm at the end of the dirt road.
"Here we are at last," Serranita said into the quiet of the gloaming. She pulled the hood of her cloak back to reveal her ageless face and gray-dusted hair. The spring evening was warm, so Lauril and Serranita wore only light dustcloaks over their riding dresses.
Lauril huffed to herself. The older Red spoke as if she had been forced to make this journey from Tar Valon to rural Andor, when in fact she had insisted on accompanying Lauril. No doubt to make sure the young Aes Sedai did not "detour" on her way to the farm, though of course she did not say that.
Lauril took a deep breath. Here she was, about to officially begin her exile. The weeks-long journey ought to have prepared her for it, but inside she was still a tangle of frustration and sullenness and, though she would not admit it, anxiety about what trials awaited her on this farm.
She did her best to maintain Aes Sedai serenity, but it was not easy, especially when reflecting upon how this miserable situation had fallen on her.
"She started it," Lauril protested.
"And you just had to finish it, didn't you?" Serranita sat behind her desk, haranguing the young Red standing stiff-backed in front of it.
"Almost a full year with the shawl and you still do not know when to shut your mouth. I at least expected you to know when to defer to a sister who stands significantly higher than you, even if she is a Blue."
Serranita flicked the corner of the letter she held.
"She was most detailed regarding what penance she wants me to arrange for your disrespect. She suggested rustication, Mortification of the Spirit, and Mortification of the Flesh, among other things."
How about Mortification of Wasting My Bloody Time, Lauril thought. She crossed her arms sourly but otherwise kept herself in check.
"Are you going to do what she asks, Sitter?" Lauril was proud that her voice came out with suitable calm.
Serranita considered her a moment, tapping a finger against her lips.
"Rustication may indeed be the most suitable punishment for your repeated misbehavior. I know a small, secluded farm I could send you to. I have made use of it in the past for sisters who refused to fall in line. I will wager hard labor and isolation will have you on the straight and narrow before too long. Not to mention the farmer herself. She has an even stronger arm than Rika, so I've been told."
Despite herself, Lauril's cheek twitched. It was an involuntary reflex when she was feeling nervous or frustrated or both. Which had been often, especially during her first years as a novice, when Rika had done her very best to make Lauril behave by whatever means necessary. She had been a... formidable... Mistress of Novices.
Serranita added, "Three or four years on that farm might do you good."
Three or four years? Lauril screamed inside her head. This was so... so bloody unfair! That Blue had most definitely started it, but because she was stronger in the Power than Lauril, the new Red - too new even to have her ageless face yet - was the one facing the stiff penance.
"I can hardly let you off without punishment. However..." Serranita paused thoughtfully.
The older Red was clearing fishing. Lauril decided to take the bait.
"However?"
"I could perhaps convince her to accept a reduced penance. And I will spare you the humiliation of announcing your penance to the other sisters. I will phrase it to sound as if you have been given an assignment that will take you out of the Tower for a time. Perhaps just one year."
One year. One full year on this farm who knew where, cut off from friends and other sisters, cut off from her duty as a Red, cut off from any sort of endeavor or pleasure that gave her life meaning.
"And what do you want in return?" That was too blunt, but Lauril could not make herself care about politeness right now. Right now, when her life as she knew it, the life she had labored and studied over a decade to achieve, was about to be taken from her.
Only temporarily, she reminded herself. However difficult exile would be, she would still return to the Tower as Aes Sedai. And her reputation would be spared, if she accepted Serranita's offer of secrecy.
Serranita smiled. "You will simply owe me a favor that I may call in someday."
It was not that simple. It never was, with Aes Sedai. Lauril wondered what sort of favor the Red Sitter was plotting.
Well, whatever scheme Serranita wanted to mesh her in lay in the future, and exile was the problem Lauril was facing right now. She hesitated only a moment before answering.
"I accept."
Lauril came back to the present and took a longer look at the farm she would be spending the next year laboring on.
The sun had set, leaving only a few vestiges of light. Still, she could make out the little stone cottage with a thatched roof and firelight shining through the windows. Surrounding the cottage were a vegetable garden, a few stone pens, and a wooden structure under an oak that she supposed was a small barn. It was too dim to make out, but the short hills backing the farmhouse seemed to sport pale dots. She supposed those were the sheep at pasture.
Lauril dismounted in front of the cottage, flicking her shaggy brown hair in irritation. She unloaded the saddlebags containing the few possessions she had brought with her, slinging them over her shoulder. They were rather heavy, but her lean frame did not stoop under the weight.
The door of the cottage opened with a soft creak. Lauril stared. The figure standing there in the doorway was certainly something to stare at.
She had expected an ugly old harridan to run this miserable exile-farm, but the woman standing in the doorway of the cottage was shy of her middle years, perhaps in her late thirties. Actually, "shy" was probably the least accurate word to describe her. Sturdy, with big shoulders and hands and a formidable bosom, she looked like she could walk over a bull. Or perhaps that was just the determined set her face. Not a pretty face, but rather handsome, with yellow hair pulled back in a tail. She wore a farmer's plain woolens, and the parts of her that showed were tan from working outdoors, but still fair, a contrast to Lauril's Altaran olive.
"Good evening to you, Serranita Sedai," the farmer said, with a low voice for a woman. She curtsied to the mounted sister respectfully. Lauril noted the absence of a curtsy to her.
"A pleasure to see you again, Mistress Devin," Serranita replied. "You know how I value your services. This is the one I told you about." Her sister Red gestured at Lauril, then turned her head to speak down at her from her horse.
"Kass Devin will be overseeing your work here every day. She will keep me informed of your progress." And of the idiotic missteps you will no doubt make, she might as well have added from her tone.
"You will obey her as you would me, and you can be sure I won't lift a hand if she decides to punish you for disobedience. Until the full year has run, you will not leave this farm without permission, nor will you contact anyone outside. One more thing. No channeling to do chores. I'm sure Mistress Devin will explain her additional rules to you in full detail."
Lauril's cheek twitched in vexation. She might as well be a novice again. At least she did not have to curtsy to this country woman. She did have to curtsy to her Sitter, however, and she did so - rather sullenly, but who was she fooling here - as Serranita lifted her reins to depart.
"I'll leave you to it, then. I should be able to make it to the last village we passed in time to sleep in a proper inn." A glowing orb of saidar appeared in front of Serranita to keep the horses from tripping in the increasing dark.
Serranita gave Kass Devin a queenly nod and Lauril one last smile. More a smirk, really.
"Enjoy your stay, sister."
Lauril wondered how many years would be added to her exile if she punched Serranita right in her smirking mouth.
She was spared having to decide when the other Red wheeled her horse and trotted back along the dirt path, holding the reins of the pack horse. And Lauril's mount, too.
"My horse?" Lauril trailed off unhappily as the glowing orb faded into the night. She had been counting on having at least one friendly face to see her through the year, even if it was a long face.
"You've no need for a horse here, girl," the farmer said from the doorway. "You'll be spending your hours 'round the farm, not gallivanting across the countryside on pleasure rides. I've a sturdy cart horse for when I need to fetch supplies from the village."
Lauril seethed. Girl? That was no way to speak to an Aes Sedai. Besides, this country woman could not be more than ten years or so older than her.
"Exile or no, I am Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah. You will not address me in that manner." She made it sound as if "Red Ajah" were an added honor and not merely an addendum to being Aes Sedai. Being Red was an honor, as far as she was concerned, and most Reds would agree with her. Let other Ajahs sneer, but there was good reason, in her mind, that the Red was largest of the seven.
The farmer was unimpressed.
"You aren't doing too well, are you, to be throwing around your title as if it mattered here, and so soon already? You haven't even unpacked yet, girl. And you will address me as Mistress Devin. For the next year you are just a farmhand, no different from any young woman I've hired before, so you will show your employer proper courtesy."
She held up a finger to silence Lauril when she opened her mouth again.
"Now, before we get started, I'm going to extend you a kindness I offered the last sister who stayed here. Serranita Sedai's letter didn't tell me your name..."
Lauril was surprised this country hay-hair could read.
"...So if you like, you can keep your real name secret and go by another of your choosing."
Lauril blinked, anger turning to confusion. An odd "kindness". Why so eager to spare Lauril's dignity in so small a way?
Ah, I see. Here on this farm, the woman could do as she liked to whichever poor fool was sent here, but sooner or later exile would come to an end, and Aes Sedai had long memories of grievances done against them. Long memories.
But by allowing the use of an alias, Mistress Devin could simply claim she never knew who it was she had "hired", preventing her from any sort of blackmail once the sister returned to the Tower. An Aes Sedai might feel her hand forced, then. No sister could use the Power as a weapon, but that did not stop some from arranging for a quiet death now and then to keep their secrets from materializing. She imagined a few sisters, particularly Blues - and even a few Reds, she admitted grudgingly of her sisters - would stoop to such a crime just to escape some humiliation.
Lauril considered what name to use. Most sisters kept an alias - or two, or three - for various circumstances outside the Tower, but Lauril had not yet had to invent one. She shifted the saddlebags on her shoulder as she thought.
What's the Old Tongue for "Get me out of this torture-shack as soon as possible"? She was halfway through conjugating the verb in her head as she had been taught as a novice when she decided something simpler would do.
"Bren."
Her first horse had been called that, back when she was nothing but a wide-eyed fur trader's daughter with dreams of traveling the world and having grand adventures like in the books her mother had taught her to read from. That fifteen year old dreamer had managed to convince her father to give her enough silver to buy a horse and make the journey north to Tar Valon. All those days and nights on the road with Bren, getting sick, rained on, and almost robbed twice, and never once thinking of turning back, still dreaming of someday wearing the shawl of an Aes Sedai. Bren had carried Lauril through those struggles, and now Bren's name would get her through this struggle.
"Bren will do." Lauril's voice was firmer now. Confident. She was Aes Sedai, not a girl no matter how this farmer called her, and she would handle whatever this punishment brought her with dignity and calm.
The older woman nodded. "Very well then, Bren." She stood aside from the doorway and gestured Lauril in. "Welcome to your new home for the next year."
Lauril had thought they were the same height, but now that she was inside the house at Mistress Devin's side, she realized the yellow-haired woman was an inch or two taller. Why that should irk Lauril so much, she did not know.
This woman made Lauril feel... unruly, with her straight hair pulled into a neat tail with no stray wisps, and her solid build. The younger woman was all too aware that she was lean and shaggy-haired in comparison, with sharp cheekbones set in a face that might be called pretty on a good day, but certainly never beautiful or handsome.
Blood and ashes. She was not some silly child, to be intimidated by a bloody farmer! She made sure her face was a suitable mask of serenity.
Mistress Devin led her up a narrow staircase to the second floor of the cottage and showed her the room that would be hers.
It was a small room, with few furnishings. A narrow bed tucked under the shuttered window, a washstand with a small square mirror, a small wardrobe to hold her clothes, a few pegs on the wall to hang bags or cloaks, and one shelf to hold any other possessions. A sheepskin rug was the only thing she could call a "decoration", apart from the colorfully-patched quilt on the bed, which could have done for a gleeman's cloak.
A far cry from her apartments in the White Tower.
Well, at least the window would keep her cool these next few months. There was nothing meant to be punishing about her accomodations; this was how simple farm folk lived. Besides, it was larger than the room she had occupied as a novice, and she would not have to scrub the floor every day as she had then. She unloaded her saddlebags onto the bed without comment and hung her cloak on a peg.
Someone must have been knitting in here earlier, because a large mound of yellow material was curled up on the rug.
The mound twitched, and Lauril started. It was a cat. A fluffy yellow cat. A fluffy yellow fat cat. She had never seen one so enormous! She doubted she could lift it without using the Power.
Slitted eyes opened lazily. They were sharp green, much like Lauril's, other sisters might have said. Other sisters might also have said Lauril had about as much discipline as this layabout cat, too. Not to her face, of course.
Mistress Devin said, "I prefer dogs, to be honest. Had one, but when I first took on an Aes Sedai he practically went mad, barking his head off at her whenever she so much as looked at him."
"Dogs don't much care for women who can channel." Lauril said, wondering just how many Aes Sedai had been sent to this farm.
"So she said. Anyway, had to get rid of the dog," Mistress Devin went on.
By feeding him to the cat? It was surely bulkly enough to engulf a dog or three.
"But Sandy here, she does a good job." The yellow-haired woman bent to pat the cat approvingly, a fond smile on her face.
It was the first time she had seen Kass Devin smile. That smile made a handsome face rather pretty, actually. Her blue eyes, so stern a moment ago, shone with affection.
Lips quirking sarcastically, Lauril asked, "She does a good job at what, if I may ask? Is there an abundance of deaf mice who cannot hear her pound her way over to the mousehole, or do you just tie her to a stick and sweep?"
The smile vanished.
"You keep your hands off my cat," Mistress Devin snapped. She patted the cat one last time and turned on her heel. "Go to sleep. You've a long, hard day ahead of you, and plenty hard days after that."
She left, leaving the door open so Sandy could pull herself up laboriously and waddle after her. Lauril was surprised the cat could move without the aid of a wheelbarrow.
Alone now, the young sister muttered, "I was just trying to make you smile again." Some women found her charming, but apparently not this Kass Devin.
She flopped onto the bed sulkily. At least the mattress was not lumpy. She shifted irritatedly. Not lumpy, but not comfortable either.
No comforts, no friends, no respite from hard labor day after day, and worst of all, none of the respect she was due as Aes Sedai. Not to mention she was going to be living with a harsh, no-nonsense woman who would not give her an inch of slack.
Lauril sighed.
It was going to be a long year.
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Author's Notes:
So I have no freaking idea where I'm going with this story other than that I wanted to write some femslash and good god has it been a long-ass time since I wrote a WoT fanfic.
Also, I know "middle years" in WoT seems to equal "thirties" due to the shorter lifespans, but I'm using it more in the modern sense in this fic because describing a 30something as "middle-aged" is just too jarring and depressing to me.
This story takes place somewhere in the early 900s, I think (haven't settled on a date yet), so it won't have anything to do with the plot of WoT proper. Just a couple of OCs and a chance to play around in the rich, magnificent world of WoT. (If by "rich, magnificent world" you accept "a sheep farm somewhere in Andor"
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That's awesome!
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So I bought some prunes today (yes I eat prunes sometimes, go on and laugh) and this is what they came in.
What kind of world do we live in, where tin cans must now come stamped with instructions on how to open them?
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Oh, Light! Damn you, Deadsy.
That ghastly depiction of Moiraine in the top panel made me choke on my smoothie.I didn't know it was possible to choke on a liquid, but by god, that image's hideousness bends the laws of reality. She looks like Shrek in drag.
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That cover is nice. All the UK covers have a clean, minimalist look.
As for the blurb, the only way I will enjoy that scene is if
Mat tells the whole Seanchan court that their Empress is a marath'damane and/or the Seanchan finally confront the notion that all their sul'dam are just marath'damane. I know I've harped on this before, but Seanchan are my least favorite culture, and I really want to see them change their ways, especially since that values conflict has been building since Bk 2.
Also, I'm torn on whether I want to see "Suffa" again...
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Ah, thanks for identifying her, Jan!
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And to think I had convinced myself I didn't really like Moiraine anymore.
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So it's Moiraine, Nynaeve, and Rand on the path to Shayol Ghul? That's....
...pretty damn awesome!
Any cover that features Moiraine is a win. I hope you're right about that being Nynaeve, because I just love the idea of Moiraine and Nynaeve working together for anything, especially as the "three become one" thing with Callandor! (I thought it'd be Elayne and Aviendha and Min would be there but not as a channeler; glad to be proven wrong, since Mo and Nyn are two of my fav'est chars!)
This cover just screams EIGHTIES but I love that style so no complaints here.
Though I guess it does have a bit of the "women look on while man does the action" style, but I'm not gonna nitpick too much.Edit: I also like one of the early sketches they posted. Nice motion on the body and dress.
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I always have a mini-attack of paranoia when I close a Word document and it asks me if I want to save the changes I made when I'm sure I didn't make any changes.
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Ooh, you're right, Ekho, and you, Sam, that lady is very good-looking. And she has an appropriately stern expression for Elaida!
I have no idea who this woman is or what role she is playing, but I saw the gif on another site and thought of our dear Elaida:
Random XIV
in Chatterbox
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It's Winchcombe, in the Cotswolds. I agree, it's exactly what I picture when I think of "English countryside".