(no subject)

It's a madhouse, it's a charnel house, and for the span of a moment Nynaeve is frozen, pulled in every direction at once.

Absently she hears the singing of the fayth, but there is no time to concentrate on it, no time to be discomfited by the strangeness of it all, or the harshness of the light, or the prickle of electricity in the air.

She takes a deep breath, drawing herself to her full height (as unimpressive as that may be).

"Well. We'd best start somewhere, and quickly."

She's already rolling up her sleeves, a habit developed so long ago it's not even worth mentioning.

And then she turns to her left, nodding over her shoulder for Moiraine, and begins to work.

(no subject)

It's a madhouse, it's a charnel house, and for the span of a moment Nynaeve is frozen, pulled in every direction at once.

Absently she hears the singing of the fayth, but there is no time to concentrate on it, no time to be discomfited by the strangeness of it all, or the harshness of the light, or the prickle of electricity in the air.

She takes a deep breath, drawing herself to her full height (as unimpressive as that may be).

"Well. We'd best start somewhere, and quickly."

She's already rolling up her sleeves, a habit developed so long ago it's not even worth mentioning.

And then she turns to her left, nodding over her shoulder for Moiraine, and begins to work.