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Name: Jeseia Moretia
Pronunciation: Jess-ay-ah Mohr-ay-tia
Age: 253
Ajah: Gray
Nationality: Seanchan
Warder: Ryman Greenbow
Talents: Making angreal, Weave Tracing

Mental and Physical Description:
She has white-blond hair to her waist that she usually allows to fly loose, and very large, slightly slanted, lavender eyes. Though she has almost twenty-four decades to her name, she appears to be a woman in her late twenties, unless one looks at her eyes, where experience lurks. She's short- four feet eight inches on her fourteenth birthday, and she hasn't grown since then. She's slender, and with her lack of height came a sense of delicateness that is at total odds with her mind. Her speech is only slightly slower than normal; she practiced a lot, so she could hide where she came from if necessary.
Anyone who believes her as unknowing as a child -or even treats her like she's delicate- is in for a big surprise. Her mind is as sharp as a power-wrought sword, and she saw more, in her long years as a damane than a dozen women would see in their lifetimes. She talks to herself a lot, though rarely aloud, and it takes a lot of willpower for her to keep from letting the dark side of her thoughts take over. Sometimes she loses that battle, and she goes purely insane, fighting to kill, nothing more. At those times, her ability with the One Power doubles. She has trouble taking orders, and tends to push the limits, as she refuses to have anyone have any sort of control over her again.

Biography: Jeseia was born of Seanchan High Blood, though that doesn't matter when one becomes a damane later on in life. Her mother was a High Lady with three fingernails lacquered, and her father a Captain of the Gold. She spent the first twelve years of her life happily, expecting a pleasant life as a High Lady. However, when the sul'dam came on her thirteenth birthday, every one of her dreams fell to the ground and shattered like a knocked over dish-cabinet. She could channel. She had been so sure she couldn't that she had volunteered to put the collar on first, expecting to be able to run off with her friends and laugh about it. But as the collar snapped around her neck, she felt Nari's emotions flood into her mind, and she shrieked- she couldn't help it. Nari took the bracelet off, and handed it to another sul'dam, and went on to the next girl. Jeseia couldn't stop crying- until her new mistress told her not to, and backed it up with the a'dam. She spent the next five years training, and got a new name- Suza. She never gave up her spirit, but she learned to hide it, to put it behind a wall in her mind, and never let it out. Someday, she would get her own back. As the slow decades passed, her face stayed smooth, her body remained youthful, and she became the special pet of the sul'dam. What no one realized was that she was spending every moment she wasn't complete with a sul'dam trying to find a way to be free of the a'dam, and building up a resistance to the pain that the collar could cause. Finally, one day over two hundred years later, she was put on a ship, and her destination was Falme. She didn't want to go, or to help collar the marath'damane they found, but Nari -the same sul'dam who had collared her- forced her to. While out damane hunting one day with several of Nari's friends, they found ten Aes Sedai and eight Warders; with only one damane, Jesi, to protect them, they fought a losing battle. The Aes Sedai freed Jesi, and Jesi killed Nari. Then she left, and traveled the Westlands for a year, before finally coming to the Tower, and beginning her training. She spent seven years as a novice and three years as an Accepted. She was raised to the Gray Ajah, and has been in the Tower doing nothing significant ever since.

Audition Piece:

Jeseia Moretia, blessed by the Light to be born of Seanchan High Blood, stood with her friends in a long line of girls. Their ages ran from thirteen to twenty-one; it was Jesi's thirteenth birthday, making her just old enough, and it was even better than a party. She pushed back her long white-blond hair thinking wistfully of the day her mother would allow her to shave it to suit her rank- she planned to save the hair, and make something out of it. She shifted impatiently, tapping her feet. "Impatient, Jeseia?" Berla asked, and Jesi nodded, waving her hand for her friend to be silent. Berla obediently snapped her mouth shut. Sometimes there were advantages to having a friend of lesser rank than yourself.

The sul'dam turned around, motioning to the other two women wearing the red-paneled dresses. Maybe I could be a sul'dam! Jeseia thought, clutching her skirts. "My name is Nari. For those unfortunates who will go to sleeve this night in gray, I will be Mistress. For those who go to sleep tonight in the sul'dam quarters, I will be Nari. And for those of you who cannot use the a'dam-I am sul'dam Nari- no less. Understood?" The entire line of girls nodded, curtsying deeply. Jesi didn't curtsy as deeply as the others; she was the highest ranking there. "Who wants to go first?"

Jesi stared at the woman, eyes wide. Nari was very small- just like she was, and very narrow, with huge blue eyes that just didn't go with how dark her skin was, or her black hair. Jesi straightened her shoulders, and moved to the front of the line. Every single girl in the line was taller than she- most by head and shoulders. "You?" Nari asked, almost laughing. "You're a child. Why'd your mama let you-" she cut off, when Jeseia threw her head up, purple eyes ablaze with insult.

"I'm no child!" She snapped. "I wish to go first. No one else in this line has volunteered- have they?" She turned, to glare at the other girls. They studiously ignored her gaze. "Try it on me, sul'dam Nari- I wish to know." She crossed her arms, her small chin high, and waited. That was what was wrong with being five inches over four feet tall. She hadn't even started her monthly courses yet, though her nurse still told her it would start 'anytime now, honey.'

"Very well," Nari said. She unclipped the leash from her wrist too quickly for Jesi to see how she did it, and passed it to another sul'dam. The other one handed her one that had no one on the collar end of it. "Stand still- this should only take a moment." Plainly, she didn't expect any result, and Jeseia tightened her lips. There would be no result this time, she was certain. It was sad that she was trying to prove herself wrong, but she couldn't wait until everyone had been tested on the collar, and she could try the bracelet on.

The woman's fingers were cool on her neck, the metal of the a'dam even cooler. It rested there a moment, without any sort of click to indicate it had been closed. "Are you certain you want to do this? You can't be more than eleven. Maybe twelve." Nari still seemed dubious, and Jesi felt her entire face tighten angrily.

"I am thirteen on this day, sul'dam," Jesi said, barely keeping the irritation out of her voice. "I just want to get it over with." With a resigned nod, Nari put both hands at her throat, and closed the collar. It settled around her throat like a snake, and Jesi suddenly felt trapped, her hands flying up to scramble for the latch. If she had been seeing anything, she would have seen the sul'dam smile, but she didn't. All she felt was an echo of happiness from somewhere, and the extreme urge to stop trying to mess with the collar. The urge became a command, and her hands fell to her waist. She looked up at Nari anxiously, her fingers sticky with sweat.

She felt another urge, but this one she wasn't sure how to obey. But then she held out her hand, and a small fire danced from finger to finger. Panic welled in her, and she lost- whatever it was she'd had. Everything seemed to fade to gray and white, as she backed slowly away from the sul'dam. This isn't happening! I'm still asleep- "Light have mercy on me!" She cried, her hands pulling at the collar again, trying to rip it off. Pain flooded her, and, panting, she looked at the sul'dam.

"One damane, so far. High Lady Kerthaine, if you would-" Jesi couldn't understand a word of what was happening- she could feel, however, when Nari passed the bracelet to another sul'dam, and walked away, to face Berla. Jesi couldn't stop crying, the tears coming fast and hot. The new sul'dam's presence was like she was standing in the back of Jesi's mind- and all she felt was vindictive glee. "Shut up, damane." The woman said, but Jesi only cried harder. Then, suddenly, she felt her mouth simply freeze, the ability to do what she willed quite simply taken away from her.

But I was going to shave my head this summer, and get my nails laquered like Mother's. I was going to tease Jerlim this afternoon, and eat my birthday cake in the evening with my family. What went wrong? Oh, Light, what went wrong? She still couldn't grasp it. Something had gone terribly wrong with her plan for the day, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

The years were worse than living on the slopes of Shayol Ghul. Being trained in her abilities, and trained to understand that the collar would never be removed from about her throat, was all she had time for. She found herself looking forward to a sweet for good work, and hated herself for it. By the time her training period was over, she could make a'dams with the best of them, and could tear the earth asunder. She hated doing both. She was also only three inches taller than she'd been on that fateful day five years before. She was fifteen when her training was finished; if she didn't wear the collar, she'd be planning her marriage to whichever suitor would bring the most to her family.

She was Suza now, christened as such the day she'd stomped on Mistress Benka's foot, and ordered her to take the collar off. She'd grown used to answering to the name, but when alone, when not Complete with a sul'dam, she told herself, again and again, until she thought would go insane, "I am Jeseia Moretia. Nothing in the world can steal my identity, not even these women." She spent a lot of time in the tiny room that a damane was allowed to have. It was barely big for her bed, a washstand, and a hook the sul'dam hung the bracelet on. She wasn't allowed to read, or draw, or write. She wasn't allowed to do anything, in fact, except sit with her hands in her lap.

She rarely did that, even when bored out of her wits. Passive while sul'dam were around, once she was alone, she worked as hard as she could to find a way out of the collar. As the decades passed slowly, she built an unbreakable wall about herself. No sul'dam ever got past that barrier, and what was essentially her was protected from the damage the rest of her received, physical and mental. Along with the wall, she built up a resistance to the pain the a'dam gave her when she touched it. Maybe someday, if she kept her patience, she would be able to take the collar off herself, and go.

Nearly twenty-four decades passed, so slowly that often she felt like killing herself. Only, they never left her within reach of anything with which she could kill herself. She became a special pet of the sul'dam, and used that advantage as much as she dared; as a pet, they would never suspect her, if she chose to- what? To get out of her room, she had to be Complete with one of those women.

What she could not believe, sitting on her bed one day, and running her fingers over the collar on her neck, was that at one point, she had wanted to be a Leash Holder. She was sickened by her former arrogance, her desire to dominate everyone around her. She stood, and went to look out the window, her fingers still on the collar. It had taken years of anguish, but she could sit like that, thinking about escape, for up to an hour before the pain got to her. She had yet to be able to even try to undo the latch, though. She had tried -Oh, Light, she had tried- but it was as if the collar itself acted as a sul'dam on such occasions. Her hands always sprang away, curled in on themselves uselessly, to rest in her lap until her trembling stopped.

"Suza!" A breezy voice said from the door, and she spun, hiding her hand behind her back. No pain yet. She watched warily as Nari took the bracelet from the hook, and snapped it on her wrist. "We're going east, on the Corenne." The Return? I don't want to go! "Oh, you'll like it there. I hear there are hundreds of marath'damane running loose. They call themselves Aes Sedai," Nari's lips twisted around the words, "and they live in a tower of some sort. We're to help break them, and collar them all as they should be." Run, Aes Sedai. Let there be no trace of you when we get there. Jesi thought angrily. "Angry, are we, sweets? Well-I think I'll just let you be angry for now. I have a headache."

Jesi could feel that. She wished she could punch the woman in the nose without it hurting her twice as bad. She had tried that, too- less than an hour after being collared. "-to Toman Head." She'd missed most of what the sul'dam had said, but she didn't care. I will kill you, Nari, if you make me help you collar more women. I will kill you, and leave you for the vultures to pick over. She didn't know how she would do it, but did that matter? She had watched a sul'dam give a damane a beating bad enough to kill the poor woman; if she could just get Nari on the collar side of the leash-with a shake of her head, as if coming back to herself, she waited obediently for her orders.

A year later, Jesi sat in the attic of a tall house on the main street of Falme, watching men and women pass up and down the street. A grolm by the docks screamed, and she jumped. She hated the three-eyed beasts, and she'd hoped -in vain- that none would survive the sea voyage. Just thinking about that journey made her face pale, and she hastily turned her thoughts away from that. Instead, she thought angrily of how many women she had aided the sul'dam in collaring. She'd kept a tally, in that private part of her mind. Seventeen. And today, there would more than likely be two or three more. She wasn't looking forward to it, and was hoping against hope that someone else would be chosen for the job.

It was dawn, and her window faced west, over the Aryth Ocean, as these people called it. It was a spectacular view at sunset, but she didn't get any sunlight until long after noon. Right now, she was on her bed, shivering, wrapped in the plain gray coverlet that should have been spread neatly on her bed. She didn't have a cloak- it was summer, after all, and should be warm. But mornings were chilly everywhere, she'd discovered.

Her hand, once more, was on the a'dam. She touched the latch, and tried to pull the little tab that would open it, to free herself of the restriction. Her hands curled in on themselves, trembling, and she thought, you'd think, after two hundred and thirty-seven years of wearing it, I'd know not to do that. Her resentment shone on her face, along with annoyance that she hadn't yet figured out how to get it off. She would though! She thought she knew of a way, but she wasn't willing to use it until she had no other choice. The results if it didn't work were too great for her to even think about.

Nari walked in the door, with a friend of hers just behind her. Neither of them had a damane, and Jesi felt her shoulders slump. More marath'damane catching. She knew it, even before Nari announced her intentions, and snapped the bracelet around her wrist. Another thing Jesi always kept careful account of, was how many times each sul'dam was Complete with her. So far, Nari beat all the others by fifty percent, and Jesi could not understand what interest the woman found in 'Suza'. "Ready for a pleasant walk, damane?" Nari asked, and Jesi nodded passively, though behind that wall, her thoughts boiled with rage. "There's marath'damane in the vicinity; we're to catch or kill them."

Jesi stood up, shoulders straight, as Nari snapped the bracelet on her wrist. She followed the two sul'dam out, but she walked a little slower than they. Nari turned around impatiently, and she felt the brush of a switch across her legs. She quickened her pace, though not by much. She did not want to go on this 'pleasant walk' at all, and she didn't care if the sul'dam beat her senseless, if it proved that she still had backbone.

"What is wrong with you today, pet?" Nari asked, eyes narrowing. "You haven't been this much trouble since the first year you were collared." Jesi ground her heels into the ground and refused to go forward. The pain grew worse, but distantly..

"For a little thing, damane, you have a lot of fight in you," the other sul'dam said, almost laughing. "Nari, stop giving her pain. I want to know what she has to say." The pain went away slowly, and Jeseia slumped in relief. "Tell me why you're upset."

"sul'dam," Jesi said, "I do not want to help collar women who cannot help what they were born with." She said immediately. This might be the only chance she had- she wasn't about to waste it through bullheaded obstinacy. "These women -these Aes Sedai- sound like honorable women. I do not understand why we simply do not negotiate with them somehow to make them stay in their Tower and not attack us."

"Stupid idiot," Nari snarled, and Jesi knew she had lost the debate. "They are marath'damane- Those Who Must Be Collared. You are a damane, and you will do as I say. Get up, before I leave you in your room with a switching to handle."

Maybe it was the Creator whispering to her, telling her what to do -or maybe it was simply luck- but she got up without any more fuss, shoved her anger and shame, resentment and hate, back into the little room at the back of her mind, and locked the door. Then she docilely followed Nari and her friends -for four others joined them soon after- out of town, staring at the ground. She would not look at whatever unfortunate woman she collared that day.

Sul'dam are fairly helpless, when they aren't Complete. They carry knives, but against a channeler-She would never understand why the sul'dam she accompanied didn't bring more than one damane on that trip. She would never understand, but she was eternally thankful, because that mistake brought the freedom she had wanted so badly since the first full day she'd worn the collar.

The Aes Sedai were where the sul'dam expected- and they were surprised to be attacked by a child-like woman wearing a color, but they had a few tricks up their sleeves that Nari did not expect. And Jesi rebelled in every way she could, delaying obedience as long as she could. Nari grew angrier and angrier, as Jesi kept frustrating her wishes.

At least the woman dared not debilitate her- as the only damane, they needed her. Two sul'dam went down screaming, Nari brought down her will like a hammer, and Jesi herself screamed. Perhaps the woman did not care whether there was a damane to protect them or not. She did as ordered, and lightening streaked from the sky. Two Aes Sedai of ten went down.

"Work, damane," Nari growled, and Jesi did as told, her face blank of emotion. Suddenly she felt fingers at her neck, and she looked down, startled. Nari was grappling with a woman, who was holding her off with one hand, while feeling at Jesi's collar with the other. Jesi grabbed the woman's hand and guided it to the latch.

"Get this off of me, and I will fight no more!" Jesi hissed. Suddenly Nari yanked her away, and Jesi was forced to send fireballs at another Aes Sedai. But then she felt someone channeling, and Nari disappeared from her thoughts quite suddenly. She stumbled forward, not really understanding, until she came up against a red-paneled blue dress. Her anger flared, and without really thinking about it, she attacked. The woman collapsed, a charred corpse, and Jesi spun, searching for Nari.

There. Somehow, she was free without anyone touching her. Somehow, she was free. She felt at her throat for a moment, and then black lightening streaked from her fingers, making the air crackle, and she looked away, briefly, when it hit. Nari's shriek of agony was a sound Jeseia Moretia would never forget. She stared at the dead woman, her eyes blank, a fierce and primal joy spreading through her. "May you burn in the pits of Shayol Ghul until the end of time!" She told the corpse, then spat on it and walked away.

All the other sul'dam were down but one, and that one was running as fast as she could. Jesi saw the flows stretch from a gray haired woman's hand to the fleeing woman, and then the sul'dam stumbled and fell. After that, Jesi did not watch anymore. "Child."

She turned, and looked at the Aes Sedai. One of them had been collared, and was now leashed to a dead woman. Jesi nodded to the woman who had spoken, then walked to the collared woman, put her fingers to the collar, and for the first time, she actually opened one of them. It came apart easily, and she wove flows of Fire through it. In less than a moment, it was a spreading pool of silver-colored liquid, and she was laughing, almost cackling, her head thrown back and her arms stiff at her sides.

"Child." The same voice. She turned slowly, and stared at the women surrounding her. Like a few of the damane she had seen about, these women had no apparent age. The gray-haired woman seemed ancient, but her face was smooth. "I am Nesille Sedai, and-"

"I will not be bound again." Jesi said, her voice hard, as she felt something slide between herself and her ability to channel. She broke it without thought, and faced Nesille head on. "If I felt like it, I could kill all of you, with one weave. Leave me be."

"You know you can channel?"

"I also know that I wore that flaming collar for two hundred and thirty-seven years, killed and collared more people than I can count, committed more crimes than I want to think about, because of it." Jesi said, contemptuous of their surprise. "How could I not know?" She stared at the bodies around her, and channeled, flows of Air wrapping around them, lifting them, and tossing them away so she wouldn't have to see them. The blood was unavoidable, however. It was about then that she realized that there were eight women, and seven men. The men seemed to melt into the trees about them, and Jeseia blinked in confusion. "Who-?"

"Warders." Jesi simply shook her head. "To protect us when we cannot channel. Child, would you like to learn how to do things with the Power besides harm?"

Anger flared. "I bloody well know how to do things besides harm, Creator shelter me from people who assume too much!" She snapped. One of the men stepped forward, hand on his sword, and Jesi sighed. "What can you teach me? Where are you going, afterwards? And stop calling me child."

"I will not be teaching you- Jeseia." Nesille smiled mockingly. Somehow, that was worse than child. "For your training, you must go to the White Tower- our home, and where we train women to become part of us." She sat down, and one of the-Warders-came to stand behind her, his lean face as harder than Jesi had ever seen a human being's. The Gardeners, the Ogier-they could get cold. But this-

She flinched, and then put her mind to sorting out what Nesille had said. "So-I go to train in this White Tower, and I will become an Aes Sedai? What if I do not wish to do that?" She crossed her arms and remained standing.

"We will talk, and you will decide that that is what you want to do. I am certain of it," Nesille said, comfortable with the notion. The other Aes Sedai sat as well, and one of them channeled. A teapot and cups traveled from a nearby firepit, and as it did, it began to emit steam. "Tea?"

"As black as you can make it," Jesi said, frowning. "So no matter what, I will be going to your Tower?" Tea-what I need is a good cup of kaf. "I don't know your customs, though. And I know that other Aes Sedai will hate me. I have collared and killed many of you- more than any other damane serving the Corenne, in fact."

"Corenne?" Asked a woman who moved like one of the torm -all sleek elegance in copper silk that didn't look to have been mussed at all by the fight. In fact, Jesi couldn't see how she could have moved, the dress was so tight. It wasn't as revealing as the dress of the da'covale, but still! "I am Jermaine, of the Green Ajah."

"The Return." Jesi said calmly, while wondering, Green Ajah? "This land was once the land of Artur Hawkwing, ancestor of my people. We have come to reclaim it." She took the tea, and took a sip. Too weak, too sweet. But it would do until she could find something better.

"You, girl, will be doing no 'reclaiming' of any land that belonged to an ancestor from that long ago. Hawkwing is dead, and the Seanchan need to realize it." A hammer-faced woman said, her voice nasal. "You'll be lucky if you manage to make it through training, and don't assume that I will like you simply because I freed you." The woman sat back, and Jesi bit her lip. Sour old harridan, she thought in annoyance.

"I will not go." She said flatly, and standing, she floated the cup back to where it had come from. "I know enough. I will learn this land, and I will find a place to stay. In the Light, perhaps we will meet again." She smiled, turned, and left the camp.

"That girl is incorrigible!" Alva exploded after the tiny woman disappeared from sight and hearing. "Threatening us so smoothly, showing off her power. She deserves to be stuffed into a novice dress with or without assent." Her face, so cold while the Seanchan woman was among them, had melted, but the serenity that that girl had gotten past so easily still remained.

"Alva!" Jermaine was shocked. "She's been wearing a collar for a long time- she just wants her freedom for a while, and I understand that. If I didn't, I would not have let her go. I will be able to find her again though." She smiled contentedly. "She killed three of us and two sul'dam, apparently without much effort. When she does come to the Tower -and don't worry, sisters, she will; she's ambitious, that one- we'll have a sister to be proud of, no matter what Ajah she joins."

"As long as it is not the Black," Lieari muttered, plucking at her gray dress. "If that is her choice, I will kill her myself."

"You forget something important, sisters," Nesille said lazily, taking a sip of her tea. "Despite Jermaine's assurance that she will come to the Tower, we do not know when that will be. She could choose to come back in twenty or thirty years -and in that time, anything could happen. And did you notice that despite her obvious relief at being freed, she was as arrogant as a Tairen noble?"

"More so." Alva said dryly, draining her cup after she spoke. "I'd say that before she was collared she was a noble, or whatever they call their ruling class."

"The Blood. That's what they call it." Nemina hadn't spoken before then, and her voice was clogged with tears. She was sitting a little apart, cradling her Warder's head. There wasn't a Yellow among them, and none of them had a true Talent for Healing. The man would die inside the hour, and the woman knew it. You've managed to make enemies out of more than half of us, Jeseia Moretia, Nesille thought as she walked over to comfort Nemina. When you do come to the Tower, you will need to watch your back.

Jesi found that traveling at her own pace, held back by nothing but lack of funds, was fun. She solved the money issue on the third day. She saw some men dicing, and without thinking, she joined them. They laughed when she joined, thinking her a child, or at most, a very young woman. They didn't laugh so hard when she beat them four times out of five, without of cheating. She collected her dues, smiled her benign acceptance of their glares, and went to find a room at another inn.

The days passed quickly, and then the weeks. She spent two weeks in Cairhien, reveling in its library, reading everything they would allow her to read, and some that they would not. The Power was very useful, when no one suspected that you had the ability. But as her nineteenth year of life drew to a close, she realized that despite her travels, despite everything she had seen, she still needed training. Something to help her know when to channel and when not to. Discipline, that was what she needed, but that thought never entered her head. So, two weeks before her two hundred and forty-eighth birthday, she turned her horse's head toward Tar Valon, and set off.

She arrive at the Tower on her birthday. How much brighter her outlook was, now, than it had been a year ago. She couldn't believe how her future had opened up for her, when that brick-faced Aes Sedai had freed her. She sold her horse, and went into the Tower, to find whomever it was that women were supposed to go to, to become novices.

She was Jeseia Moretia, Seanchan, channeler, once-damane, traveler, scholar, dicer, and now- now she was a novice. And life was good. With a shake of her long blond hair, she stepped into her new life as forcefully as she had left her old one.

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