1
Paraan Disen
There are crystals in the sky above Paraan Disen. I know, because they cannot possibly be buildings, they are so lovely, and they glimmer like beads in the clouds' hair. I am all by myself because Mummy didn't take the sho-wing with me, she is too busy; and Daddy is watching little brother at home. Little brother waved his fatty hand bye-bye at me, and then my home was gone in a jet of steam and nitrogen. So now I am standing here looking up at the tower beads and not missing them at all, for I can only see the sky.
Say it over and over again and it becomes a tongue-twister. Paraan Disen, Paraan Disen, Paraan Disen. Aes Sedai, Aes Sedai, Aes Sedai. I am here at Paraan Disen to become Aes Sedai; Paraan Disen Aes Sedai, Paraan Disen Aes Sedai, Paraan Disen Aes Sedai and it has a rhythm, a beat that makes me walk tripping over sideways and under the chora trees that make my heart glimmer like dew on the sum. I want to dance down the sidewalk, and part of me knows I must be crazy, but the other knows that everyone else here must have to dance too. So I run and I skip and I twirl and act not at all my age, but it doesn't matter anymore! Because it is finally true that I am going to be Aes Sedai and live in sparkling towers of jewels and beads and sail among the clouds for ever and ever!
2
Mierin
I met a girl named Mierin and she is beautiful like a lake. She is fifteen and grown up, and she doesn't twirl under the chora trees because she isn't silly like me and has been here a year. Is a smart, smart girl and all the boys fall deep in love with her because she is so very pretty. Her eyes are blue and blue like mine, only it aches to look into hers because they are like leaping into an icy shower and staying there because it makes you so so clean. Is older and wiser and scorns the boys that I would drool at any day. Girls don't like Mierin, and she knows and scorns them too, because she wants to stay deep blue beautiful and not care what they think.
I met Mierin last night at dinner because the only seat left was the one next to her on the girls' side of the hall. I knew who she was, of course, even the first day everyone knew that Mierin Eronaile (that's her last name, Eronaile, but it should be her first because it is a blue name like her) was the most beautiful girl in the school and the city and she doesn't like anyone. I flop down hard and nervous next to her, and she looks at me clear and cold like a slap. Are you new here? she says, and her voice is just as beautiful as the rest of her, which is unfair in a thousand and six ways.
Yes, I say.
Dammit, I didn't mean for that to stop the bloody conversation, she says in her voice too deep to be silver bells, but too lovely to be anything else. Even you think I'm a worthless piece of crud, and you've only been here a day.
Oh no! I say. I think you're beautiful!
No crap, says Mierin. I'm Mierin, what's your name?
Ilyena, I say. Please, call me Enny.
No, I won't, says Mierin. Ilyena is a good name.
Why does it matter, I ask her, because I don't like my name. It sounds like cold dry glowbulbs.
Because it does, says Mierin and she eats a leaf of salad. She chews with her mouth looking beautiful too, and talks with it open. When you're dead and buried in a few hundred years and your bones have dried to ash, all that is left is your name. If it's a lovely name, you will have been a lady. If it's a bitchy name, that's what you will be too. If it's plain, then it won't matter at all, because they'll forget you.
That's not true, I say timidly. It is through the nature of man's deeds that he gains rememberance, and hence, immortality.
Don't quote Giglat at me, Ilyena. It won't impress me.
Well, you can do something great and earn a third name, I say.
Maybe, says Mierin, but she doesn't mean it. She looks down at her salad and pokes at it, leaning down so her long black hair hides her face from everyone.
But not before I see a tear drop frozen from her blue, blue eye.
3
Glass Sunsets
My roommate, Lillen Moiral. She is a small city girl like me, and plain like bread. Her hair is like mice and she combs it, cuts it short and straight but dull; eyes brown like a tabletop and dry like her pale lips. Is thin, bony, lost, tired at the end of the day and flops into bed, thus, without looking at the sun set behind the glassy Colaam Daan. Is ordinary, a hard-working girl; has money, not much, has smarts bus isn't smart; is mousy and musty and spidery and brown.
Lillen talks to me sometimes, but not much. SHe doesn't like me, I think, and I am sad because I don't know why. We aren't the same at all, and Lillen has few friends.
I want to be your friend, Lillen Moiral from far away like me. I want to be the girl you come back to at night, bones sighing and head falling to your bony chest, to cry to when things are sad for you and you miss home and your mummy and your daddy and little baby who waves bye-bye, bye-bye as you fly into the clouds. I want us to giggle together and look at the cute boys together and know each other's thoughts, isn't that how roommates should be? Lillen, Lillen, please, why are you so quiet and sad? Do you hate me because I'm not nice enough? I'll be nicer, Lillen, please!
And then she tells me about her dreams and I fall silent, and we both stare separate into the glass sunset.
(There will be more if you want me to write more. I plan to have this go on for quite some time. Please, please PLEASE tell me what you think or my feelings will get hurt, and then my ego will be sad.:( So make me happy and RESPOND!!!!;))
Paraan Disen
There are crystals in the sky above Paraan Disen. I know, because they cannot possibly be buildings, they are so lovely, and they glimmer like beads in the clouds' hair. I am all by myself because Mummy didn't take the sho-wing with me, she is too busy; and Daddy is watching little brother at home. Little brother waved his fatty hand bye-bye at me, and then my home was gone in a jet of steam and nitrogen. So now I am standing here looking up at the tower beads and not missing them at all, for I can only see the sky.
Say it over and over again and it becomes a tongue-twister. Paraan Disen, Paraan Disen, Paraan Disen. Aes Sedai, Aes Sedai, Aes Sedai. I am here at Paraan Disen to become Aes Sedai; Paraan Disen Aes Sedai, Paraan Disen Aes Sedai, Paraan Disen Aes Sedai and it has a rhythm, a beat that makes me walk tripping over sideways and under the chora trees that make my heart glimmer like dew on the sum. I want to dance down the sidewalk, and part of me knows I must be crazy, but the other knows that everyone else here must have to dance too. So I run and I skip and I twirl and act not at all my age, but it doesn't matter anymore! Because it is finally true that I am going to be Aes Sedai and live in sparkling towers of jewels and beads and sail among the clouds for ever and ever!
2
Mierin
I met a girl named Mierin and she is beautiful like a lake. She is fifteen and grown up, and she doesn't twirl under the chora trees because she isn't silly like me and has been here a year. Is a smart, smart girl and all the boys fall deep in love with her because she is so very pretty. Her eyes are blue and blue like mine, only it aches to look into hers because they are like leaping into an icy shower and staying there because it makes you so so clean. Is older and wiser and scorns the boys that I would drool at any day. Girls don't like Mierin, and she knows and scorns them too, because she wants to stay deep blue beautiful and not care what they think.
I met Mierin last night at dinner because the only seat left was the one next to her on the girls' side of the hall. I knew who she was, of course, even the first day everyone knew that Mierin Eronaile (that's her last name, Eronaile, but it should be her first because it is a blue name like her) was the most beautiful girl in the school and the city and she doesn't like anyone. I flop down hard and nervous next to her, and she looks at me clear and cold like a slap. Are you new here? she says, and her voice is just as beautiful as the rest of her, which is unfair in a thousand and six ways.
Yes, I say.
Dammit, I didn't mean for that to stop the bloody conversation, she says in her voice too deep to be silver bells, but too lovely to be anything else. Even you think I'm a worthless piece of crud, and you've only been here a day.
Oh no! I say. I think you're beautiful!
No crap, says Mierin. I'm Mierin, what's your name?
Ilyena, I say. Please, call me Enny.
No, I won't, says Mierin. Ilyena is a good name.
Why does it matter, I ask her, because I don't like my name. It sounds like cold dry glowbulbs.
Because it does, says Mierin and she eats a leaf of salad. She chews with her mouth looking beautiful too, and talks with it open. When you're dead and buried in a few hundred years and your bones have dried to ash, all that is left is your name. If it's a lovely name, you will have been a lady. If it's a bitchy name, that's what you will be too. If it's plain, then it won't matter at all, because they'll forget you.
That's not true, I say timidly. It is through the nature of man's deeds that he gains rememberance, and hence, immortality.
Don't quote Giglat at me, Ilyena. It won't impress me.
Well, you can do something great and earn a third name, I say.
Maybe, says Mierin, but she doesn't mean it. She looks down at her salad and pokes at it, leaning down so her long black hair hides her face from everyone.
But not before I see a tear drop frozen from her blue, blue eye.
3
Glass Sunsets
My roommate, Lillen Moiral. She is a small city girl like me, and plain like bread. Her hair is like mice and she combs it, cuts it short and straight but dull; eyes brown like a tabletop and dry like her pale lips. Is thin, bony, lost, tired at the end of the day and flops into bed, thus, without looking at the sun set behind the glassy Colaam Daan. Is ordinary, a hard-working girl; has money, not much, has smarts bus isn't smart; is mousy and musty and spidery and brown.
Lillen talks to me sometimes, but not much. SHe doesn't like me, I think, and I am sad because I don't know why. We aren't the same at all, and Lillen has few friends.
I want to be your friend, Lillen Moiral from far away like me. I want to be the girl you come back to at night, bones sighing and head falling to your bony chest, to cry to when things are sad for you and you miss home and your mummy and your daddy and little baby who waves bye-bye, bye-bye as you fly into the clouds. I want us to giggle together and look at the cute boys together and know each other's thoughts, isn't that how roommates should be? Lillen, Lillen, please, why are you so quiet and sad? Do you hate me because I'm not nice enough? I'll be nicer, Lillen, please!
And then she tells me about her dreams and I fall silent, and we both stare separate into the glass sunset.
(There will be more if you want me to write more. I plan to have this go on for quite some time. Please, please PLEASE tell me what you think or my feelings will get hurt, and then my ego will be sad.:( So make me happy and RESPOND!!!!;))