09-20-2018, 01:28 PM
Threat doused her of rationality; it was the surest way to blind her to all the nuances she normally caught, and at the same time stirred the unrepentant defiance that closed her ears off to sense. If he wanted to make her listen he was appealing to the wrong side of her. Even now the intricacies of the words buzzing back and forth in her head were overcast by the fact he had condescended to demand of her. It blazed a thousand ancient familial arguments, you will do this, Nythadri, you will do that, Nythadri, and readied her for war without even knowing or caring what it was she fought. The same corruption had heightened her conflict with Imaad and put her at odds with more of the Aes Sedai than she cared to count. But like most faults, she was incapable of stopping herself. At that moment, if he’d walked away she would have let him leave – only to drown under the cold tide of regret as soon as the door clicked back into place. Her head was swimming conflict already. He should have left, but until she could figure her head out, she was glad he hadn’t.
Jai moved back, gave her room to breathe, and she was grateful for the distance. Grateful but suddenly worried she’d just drawn a line; marked an end. So much so her fingers almost tightened a grip to bring him back close. Until she remembered his warning; then her hand drew back. Despite being the one to spit rejection he seemed bewildered by the gesture, but it didn’t last long. Nythadri flinched at the snap, recoiling like she’d caught sight of the beast nurtured by saidin staring out of Jai’s eyes. The volume of his voice hadn’t been anticipated, which was why she’d reacted, but she cursed herself all the same. Dragged from her bed in the middle of the night, and on one of the rare occasions she’d actually managed to fall quite peaceably asleep, she was hardly at her best. No reply came forth, though; her answer had been resolute and didn’t need repeating. He could shout all he wanted.
Instead her chair slid forward, and Jai collapsed into it.
Nythadri paused, uncertain. His words were ringing. You have to let me do this. Her weight fell back against the desk, fingers braced against its edges. Because I want to do the right thing. And what exactly was that? And for who? She raked her fingers over her scalp and stared up at the ceiling while Jai bled out on her floor. When he had liberated the pendant she assumed he thought he had been offering justice, and he had been wrong. Now he thought, what? That he was protecting her? You have to let me do this… Was he even going to tell her why, or did he truly just expect to bend the will the Aes Sedai had taken years to shape? If so it was a trust she didn't have to give. When Farune had turned his back and walked away a little piece of Nythadri had wrenched with him, the wound staunched with enough alcohol to see her swiftly packed up to the Farm. She'd thought the lesson had been learned; men were not creatures to be trusted with hearts; and the White Tower, for all its inadequacies, never turned its back. If you were so foolish as to betray it, it ruined you completely, but it never turned its back.
She’d been stupid to let Jai kiss her that second time, to let him toe the boundary between meaningless lust and the spark of something else. She’d known it at the time, but had still convinced herself it meant nothing. A pleasant distraction in a country hundreds of miles from home, with a neat beginning and ending; nothing more, because it couldn’t be anything more. But the constructed lie had only given room for her hold to slip and something like faith to grow in the hollow space. As furious as she'd been to find Tashir's pendant in her palm, and as senseless and rash as Jai's actions had been, they'd undoubtedly nurtured the spread of that small, glowing feeling. She cared, and because she cared, when the demand plummeted to a plea she suddenly heard, and understood. Nythadri had no qualms being callous, and when pushed in a corner she had always been drawn to spitefulness irrespective of her own interests. She was capable of cutting him loose; of giving in to what he wanted and finishing the job he’d started. At least she thought she was capable.
Before her, he had at least been coping. One foot in front of the other, wrapped in a cynic’s embrace, but coping. After her he would do the same, a little darker, a little more broken, and on a straight march toward the Last Battle. That's all Asha'man were required to do. But it doesn't make it right.
Short footsteps padded from one side of the room to the other as she retrieved the rumpled blankets from her bed. Kindness could shatter a man in this state and Jai seemed determined to judge her shoulders too fragile to lean on, but she was uncompromising. “You’re dripping all over my floor,” she told him, as though practicality could cancel out the underlying tenderness as she draped the fabric about his shoulders, then tugged it round his front. She crouched as she did so, sank to her knees and rested back on her heels. Her hands dropped into her lap. No part of her touched him, but she was close enough for him to feel the shadow of her presence. Looking up at him now, she considered how lucky she was to not have known him before the Arches. If the air split golden now she didn’t know what she’d do. She was glad she didn’t have to find out.
"Jai, I thought the money was Winther’s, that’s why I took it out of Caemlyn. I didn’t know it wasn’t until I’d spoken with Zakar." She explained quietly, voice level to mask an unusual hesitancy. She was tense, and tired, and had no idea if Jai would even listen or if he'd retreated so far into his own head her words only crashed into stone walls. Her gaze wavered between looking at him and blinking shut, considering her next words like one considers footfalls on the edge of a cliff. His hands were as beat up as his face; it was the first time she’d noticed because she'd been so reluctant to look down, and it sunk her heart a little lower. She wished she’d been able to talk more with Lythia, but drew on the Green's earlier advice as the moment of uncertainty lingered. 'Such it becomes our place to coax our brothers back when they drift toward insanity… because we can handle it.' “I know what they did to you.” It came out whispered, choked, but she found strength from somewhere, and though she knew he would not like what she had to say, she continued. "And if you think I’m going to walk away now you really are crazy." She pushed up off her toes, still resting on her knees, and pulled his hands away from his face, mindful of the bruised knuckles, but firm. “What are you so afraid of?”
Jai moved back, gave her room to breathe, and she was grateful for the distance. Grateful but suddenly worried she’d just drawn a line; marked an end. So much so her fingers almost tightened a grip to bring him back close. Until she remembered his warning; then her hand drew back. Despite being the one to spit rejection he seemed bewildered by the gesture, but it didn’t last long. Nythadri flinched at the snap, recoiling like she’d caught sight of the beast nurtured by saidin staring out of Jai’s eyes. The volume of his voice hadn’t been anticipated, which was why she’d reacted, but she cursed herself all the same. Dragged from her bed in the middle of the night, and on one of the rare occasions she’d actually managed to fall quite peaceably asleep, she was hardly at her best. No reply came forth, though; her answer had been resolute and didn’t need repeating. He could shout all he wanted.
Instead her chair slid forward, and Jai collapsed into it.
Nythadri paused, uncertain. His words were ringing. You have to let me do this. Her weight fell back against the desk, fingers braced against its edges. Because I want to do the right thing. And what exactly was that? And for who? She raked her fingers over her scalp and stared up at the ceiling while Jai bled out on her floor. When he had liberated the pendant she assumed he thought he had been offering justice, and he had been wrong. Now he thought, what? That he was protecting her? You have to let me do this… Was he even going to tell her why, or did he truly just expect to bend the will the Aes Sedai had taken years to shape? If so it was a trust she didn't have to give. When Farune had turned his back and walked away a little piece of Nythadri had wrenched with him, the wound staunched with enough alcohol to see her swiftly packed up to the Farm. She'd thought the lesson had been learned; men were not creatures to be trusted with hearts; and the White Tower, for all its inadequacies, never turned its back. If you were so foolish as to betray it, it ruined you completely, but it never turned its back.
She’d been stupid to let Jai kiss her that second time, to let him toe the boundary between meaningless lust and the spark of something else. She’d known it at the time, but had still convinced herself it meant nothing. A pleasant distraction in a country hundreds of miles from home, with a neat beginning and ending; nothing more, because it couldn’t be anything more. But the constructed lie had only given room for her hold to slip and something like faith to grow in the hollow space. As furious as she'd been to find Tashir's pendant in her palm, and as senseless and rash as Jai's actions had been, they'd undoubtedly nurtured the spread of that small, glowing feeling. She cared, and because she cared, when the demand plummeted to a plea she suddenly heard, and understood. Nythadri had no qualms being callous, and when pushed in a corner she had always been drawn to spitefulness irrespective of her own interests. She was capable of cutting him loose; of giving in to what he wanted and finishing the job he’d started. At least she thought she was capable.
Before her, he had at least been coping. One foot in front of the other, wrapped in a cynic’s embrace, but coping. After her he would do the same, a little darker, a little more broken, and on a straight march toward the Last Battle. That's all Asha'man were required to do. But it doesn't make it right.
Short footsteps padded from one side of the room to the other as she retrieved the rumpled blankets from her bed. Kindness could shatter a man in this state and Jai seemed determined to judge her shoulders too fragile to lean on, but she was uncompromising. “You’re dripping all over my floor,” she told him, as though practicality could cancel out the underlying tenderness as she draped the fabric about his shoulders, then tugged it round his front. She crouched as she did so, sank to her knees and rested back on her heels. Her hands dropped into her lap. No part of her touched him, but she was close enough for him to feel the shadow of her presence. Looking up at him now, she considered how lucky she was to not have known him before the Arches. If the air split golden now she didn’t know what she’d do. She was glad she didn’t have to find out.
"Jai, I thought the money was Winther’s, that’s why I took it out of Caemlyn. I didn’t know it wasn’t until I’d spoken with Zakar." She explained quietly, voice level to mask an unusual hesitancy. She was tense, and tired, and had no idea if Jai would even listen or if he'd retreated so far into his own head her words only crashed into stone walls. Her gaze wavered between looking at him and blinking shut, considering her next words like one considers footfalls on the edge of a cliff. His hands were as beat up as his face; it was the first time she’d noticed because she'd been so reluctant to look down, and it sunk her heart a little lower. She wished she’d been able to talk more with Lythia, but drew on the Green's earlier advice as the moment of uncertainty lingered. 'Such it becomes our place to coax our brothers back when they drift toward insanity… because we can handle it.' “I know what they did to you.” It came out whispered, choked, but she found strength from somewhere, and though she knew he would not like what she had to say, she continued. "And if you think I’m going to walk away now you really are crazy." She pushed up off her toes, still resting on her knees, and pulled his hands away from his face, mindful of the bruised knuckles, but firm. “What are you so afraid of?”