It was a stormy night when they were born. Or so their parents told them. She had been born first and had not cried. Her eyes had been wide open and all had marveled at the color of them; bright purple. The bit of hair she had on her head was the color of newly fallen snow.
He had been born not a minute later. He had cried loudly and when he opened his eyes they found them to be the same as hers, only not so bright a color. His hair was also snow-white. Yet he seemed to be less then his sister, somehow he was less then his twin.
They named her Jeriana and they named him Zarkot. Jeriana was the firstborn and therefore she was expected to be more then her twin, which she would have been even if he had been first-born. After all, she was a female while he was a male.
The green-robed woman held Jeriana in her arms first and then held Zarkot. Her pale lips pursed together and her face looked fearful. "Ta'veren," her voice was a hiss. She placed both younglings back in their craddles and turned to the mother and father. "I will take the boy with me, you raise the girl right and good. She may be Aes Sedai, when she is ten send her to Tar Valon."
The father paled as she took the boy and turned to leave. "No!" he said. "Not Zarkot, he is my son. I need a strong boy to help me with my work."
The woman's face held no mercy or pity. "You have your daughter," she told him. "Jeriana will be worth ten boys her age. But when she is ten you send her to Tar Valon or Light mark me you'll regret it." With that she vanished into the night with Zarkot in her arms.
Jeriana lay in her craddle and seemed to watch as the woman vanished with her twin. It seemed as though a part of her was going with that woman, with her brother. Yet she wasn't even an hour old, how could that be possible?
((It may not be the best but it's just starting out. Give it a chance and it'll get better. Please review!))
He had been born not a minute later. He had cried loudly and when he opened his eyes they found them to be the same as hers, only not so bright a color. His hair was also snow-white. Yet he seemed to be less then his sister, somehow he was less then his twin.
They named her Jeriana and they named him Zarkot. Jeriana was the firstborn and therefore she was expected to be more then her twin, which she would have been even if he had been first-born. After all, she was a female while he was a male.
The green-robed woman held Jeriana in her arms first and then held Zarkot. Her pale lips pursed together and her face looked fearful. "Ta'veren," her voice was a hiss. She placed both younglings back in their craddles and turned to the mother and father. "I will take the boy with me, you raise the girl right and good. She may be Aes Sedai, when she is ten send her to Tar Valon."
The father paled as she took the boy and turned to leave. "No!" he said. "Not Zarkot, he is my son. I need a strong boy to help me with my work."
The woman's face held no mercy or pity. "You have your daughter," she told him. "Jeriana will be worth ten boys her age. But when she is ten you send her to Tar Valon or Light mark me you'll regret it." With that she vanished into the night with Zarkot in her arms.
Jeriana lay in her craddle and seemed to watch as the woman vanished with her twin. It seemed as though a part of her was going with that woman, with her brother. Yet she wasn't even an hour old, how could that be possible?
((It may not be the best but it's just starting out. Give it a chance and it'll get better. Please review!))