09-05-2018, 08:46 PM
Elsae was taking nonsense, and she wasn’t answering the question with the swift precision one usually required when rudely woken in the middle of the night, at least if the aim was to sooth the irritability of the one ripped from sleep. You’ll leave when I ask you to? Light, what kind of riddle was that? But rather than interrupt – and there were ill-humoured words ready to razor from her tongue – she waited and absorbed the slow drip of explanation as it was offered, restructuring a context Elsae would have done better to state bluntly in the first place instead of delivering it all backwards. And then she said the only word that really mattered, and the rest seemed insignificant. Jai? The name provoked a collision of emotion carefully excluded from her expression. It rather felt like someone had shoved her hard in the chest, the way everything around her degenerated to quivering vibrations. Had she not placed so high a value on composure she might have stumbled to the door there and then. Anger? Relief? Whatever it was she crushed it down hard, until even frustration at Elsae froze beneath the ice.
The Accepted was waiting for her reaction with a focus Nythadri had never seen her display before, and she stood with as much calm and grace as to belie every idiotic babbling that had ever fled her lips. How much of yourself do you really hide? It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like Elsae was alone in the use of masks, although perhaps she was far more skilled than anyone ever gave her credit for. The girl's words were a mastery of flattering protectiveness and the smooth promise of a co-conspirator. But, meeting that keen gaze eye for eye, right now Nythadri wasn’t sure how much she wanted the other to know – or even be able to surmise from this odd arrangement of circumstances. Not simply as a matter of trust or fear of getting caught – she had no doubts Elsae could and would keep a secret – but because it laid a facet of herself bare she’d never chosen to share with her peers: that there was anything capable of ruffling her cool exterior, let alone enough to actually make her care.
“You brought a strange man to my door, and you didn’t think to ask his name?” She rubbed her face again and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. After the cosy warmth of sleep the prickle of cold that swept her exposed skin was cruel enough to cast out what remained of her drowsiness, or at least it made her feel alert. Her blank expression yielded a small smirk, though it was half-hearted and her brows soon tumbled down again in a look of contemplation. She stared at the shadows on the floor, then stood, faint attempt at mirth utterly gone. The sphere of power-made light began to dim, and in the same moment it winked out completely flame ignited two candles cupped in glass bowls – one at her bedside, the other on her desk. Then she let saidar go.
“I appreciate it, Elsae.” It was all she said for a long while, and though there was a raw sincerity to her tone she did not look at the other Accepted as she squeezed passed her to reach the wardrobe. It was more for the appearance of propriety that she bothered to dress at all, though it also gave her time to think. When Lythia had told her about the sword Nythadri had been determined to find Jai whatever the cost, but twenty-four hours trapped in the Cairheinin wilderness had crushed that reckless urge beneath reality’s heel. She knew he was alive, and she knew – unequivocally knew – that he would be in bad shape. But there was precious little she could do about it, and Lythia’s advice had descended like a steel vice on that small hesitation. Asha’man were forged for obedience, for blood and war, and so long as they fulfilled their duties what did their personal struggles matter? ‘You and I may see a flesh and blood man where others see only a vessel of fate, but that is the way it is.’ The Green’s words wound round and round in her head, biting off every rash instinct until by the time she had arrived home, she was strangely numb.
The resolution to seek him out had faded when finally her head overruled her heart. Stacked amongst her other work on the desk lay unfinished letters; the compromise she had convinced herself would bring closure if only she could find the right words – and she was never usually short of those. There was plenty to say, and reams of ink to prove it, but it all funnelled down to the same glass-cut edge of futility. Guilt had shadowed much of what she’d written – and much of what she’d burned. Tashir’s death and Jai’s fate had become inextricably linked in her mind. Both violences had catalysed around her regardless of intention, but only one she had the opportunity to atone – and that made the whole thing so much more precious. Twice she’d watched Tash die, and the idea of allowing another life ruined pushed her to the edge. But Jai had gone. Vanished. In the last few days she’d begun to wonder if it was kinder to let the whole thing fade. Swallow the guilt and accept it would always cast a shadow. Jai was gone. What right did she have to chase him down only to re-split tender wounds? And she could do that; she could really be that cold and that detached, so long as she never got to see what the loss of the sword had cost.
It was an option to send him away – she could even ask Elsae to do it. But it was an option she would never take. Despite the feeling that regret marked every viable path she had laid before her, that one she would regret the most; the never-knowing. “I appreciate it,” she repeated. “But I’d rather you didn’t stay. Or listen.” Her gaze was direct, but the phrasing of the words was unusually soft -despite the rather definite warning against eavesdropping at the end. She didn’t blame Elsae her curiosity, though neither was she in the mood to deal with it. Apparently there would be no explanations tonight, aside from what she might have extrapolated from Nythadri's reaction. Tomorrow she would consider her position, and decide whether she owed Elsae anything at all. But for now she pulled her hair from her collar, and otherwise didn't bother to preen before heading to the door. One motion to the next was fluid, like a pause might stall the whole thing. Though she had asked Elsae to leave - and expected her not to quibble upon the fact it had been a request and not a direct order - she at first didn't open the door very far. Enough for her head and most of her shoulders to be seen and only a bare sliver of the flickering darkness behind.
Even in the faint light he looked worn, like he’d frayed away at the edges since she’d last seen him. She was aware of that vacant space at his hip, but her eyes did not travel down to confirm it; didn’t need to, didn’t want to. When he turned his expression was cuttingly severe, eyes blazing an intensity she’d seen several times in Arad Doman, yet infinitely worse for the yawning abyss that marred a vacancy to his gaze. She’d seen that before, too, but it was dominant now; like several more fingers had been plucked from the cliff-edge upon which he perpetually hung. One cheek looked raw, freshly so. He’s been fighting. Her gaze hung onto his face for several more seconds. Predictably, her expression showed little, but the fingers holding the door half-open tightened; she was achingly close to slamming it shut. He was everything she’d feared and had decided she didn’t want to witness. Worse, she didn't trust the irrationality of her own base urge to lean over that cliff-edge and offer everything to help pull him back up. It would only mean they both fell.
She didn't speak, but after a moment she fell back, widening the door and dropping her grip on it.
The Accepted was waiting for her reaction with a focus Nythadri had never seen her display before, and she stood with as much calm and grace as to belie every idiotic babbling that had ever fled her lips. How much of yourself do you really hide? It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like Elsae was alone in the use of masks, although perhaps she was far more skilled than anyone ever gave her credit for. The girl's words were a mastery of flattering protectiveness and the smooth promise of a co-conspirator. But, meeting that keen gaze eye for eye, right now Nythadri wasn’t sure how much she wanted the other to know – or even be able to surmise from this odd arrangement of circumstances. Not simply as a matter of trust or fear of getting caught – she had no doubts Elsae could and would keep a secret – but because it laid a facet of herself bare she’d never chosen to share with her peers: that there was anything capable of ruffling her cool exterior, let alone enough to actually make her care.
“You brought a strange man to my door, and you didn’t think to ask his name?” She rubbed her face again and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. After the cosy warmth of sleep the prickle of cold that swept her exposed skin was cruel enough to cast out what remained of her drowsiness, or at least it made her feel alert. Her blank expression yielded a small smirk, though it was half-hearted and her brows soon tumbled down again in a look of contemplation. She stared at the shadows on the floor, then stood, faint attempt at mirth utterly gone. The sphere of power-made light began to dim, and in the same moment it winked out completely flame ignited two candles cupped in glass bowls – one at her bedside, the other on her desk. Then she let saidar go.
“I appreciate it, Elsae.” It was all she said for a long while, and though there was a raw sincerity to her tone she did not look at the other Accepted as she squeezed passed her to reach the wardrobe. It was more for the appearance of propriety that she bothered to dress at all, though it also gave her time to think. When Lythia had told her about the sword Nythadri had been determined to find Jai whatever the cost, but twenty-four hours trapped in the Cairheinin wilderness had crushed that reckless urge beneath reality’s heel. She knew he was alive, and she knew – unequivocally knew – that he would be in bad shape. But there was precious little she could do about it, and Lythia’s advice had descended like a steel vice on that small hesitation. Asha’man were forged for obedience, for blood and war, and so long as they fulfilled their duties what did their personal struggles matter? ‘You and I may see a flesh and blood man where others see only a vessel of fate, but that is the way it is.’ The Green’s words wound round and round in her head, biting off every rash instinct until by the time she had arrived home, she was strangely numb.
The resolution to seek him out had faded when finally her head overruled her heart. Stacked amongst her other work on the desk lay unfinished letters; the compromise she had convinced herself would bring closure if only she could find the right words – and she was never usually short of those. There was plenty to say, and reams of ink to prove it, but it all funnelled down to the same glass-cut edge of futility. Guilt had shadowed much of what she’d written – and much of what she’d burned. Tashir’s death and Jai’s fate had become inextricably linked in her mind. Both violences had catalysed around her regardless of intention, but only one she had the opportunity to atone – and that made the whole thing so much more precious. Twice she’d watched Tash die, and the idea of allowing another life ruined pushed her to the edge. But Jai had gone. Vanished. In the last few days she’d begun to wonder if it was kinder to let the whole thing fade. Swallow the guilt and accept it would always cast a shadow. Jai was gone. What right did she have to chase him down only to re-split tender wounds? And she could do that; she could really be that cold and that detached, so long as she never got to see what the loss of the sword had cost.
It was an option to send him away – she could even ask Elsae to do it. But it was an option she would never take. Despite the feeling that regret marked every viable path she had laid before her, that one she would regret the most; the never-knowing. “I appreciate it,” she repeated. “But I’d rather you didn’t stay. Or listen.” Her gaze was direct, but the phrasing of the words was unusually soft -despite the rather definite warning against eavesdropping at the end. She didn’t blame Elsae her curiosity, though neither was she in the mood to deal with it. Apparently there would be no explanations tonight, aside from what she might have extrapolated from Nythadri's reaction. Tomorrow she would consider her position, and decide whether she owed Elsae anything at all. But for now she pulled her hair from her collar, and otherwise didn't bother to preen before heading to the door. One motion to the next was fluid, like a pause might stall the whole thing. Though she had asked Elsae to leave - and expected her not to quibble upon the fact it had been a request and not a direct order - she at first didn't open the door very far. Enough for her head and most of her shoulders to be seen and only a bare sliver of the flickering darkness behind.
Even in the faint light he looked worn, like he’d frayed away at the edges since she’d last seen him. She was aware of that vacant space at his hip, but her eyes did not travel down to confirm it; didn’t need to, didn’t want to. When he turned his expression was cuttingly severe, eyes blazing an intensity she’d seen several times in Arad Doman, yet infinitely worse for the yawning abyss that marred a vacancy to his gaze. She’d seen that before, too, but it was dominant now; like several more fingers had been plucked from the cliff-edge upon which he perpetually hung. One cheek looked raw, freshly so. He’s been fighting. Her gaze hung onto his face for several more seconds. Predictably, her expression showed little, but the fingers holding the door half-open tightened; she was achingly close to slamming it shut. He was everything she’d feared and had decided she didn’t want to witness. Worse, she didn't trust the irrationality of her own base urge to lean over that cliff-edge and offer everything to help pull him back up. It would only mean they both fell.
She didn't speak, but after a moment she fell back, widening the door and dropping her grip on it.