11-05-2018, 11:04 PM
Glistening eyes were not in the game plan. I did that. The whites blushed pink, and the color he found so fascinating sparkled like snow at sunset. As curses ran through his mind, his very insides tightened; failing now wasn't an option. Ice quickly embalmed his veins, circled his heart and flushed his mind of caring. The apathy was welcome. It kept him bolted to the torture table when he would have hugged her close and soothed such tender wounds. Light, did he want to.
He didn't stop the snatched away hand, but he was confident she was hurt. Wounded by a weapon he hadn't intended to wield. The anger at first was real, but she slapped it aside like an imaginary sword. But this second blade, one he hadn't realized he'd picked up, nicked an important vessel. She pulled her hand away and shadows passed Nythadri's face as though the meager candles heaved in stormwinds. Her recoil was natural, necessary; but made her vulnerable. Jai set his jaw and tightened his grip on the newfound sword. He wanted to finish this bloody business, silence the screams and leave mercy behind, but he hesitated. Now the time had come, he wasn't sure if he could.
Neither moved until the winds changed direction. The darkness in Nythadri purpled like the sky before dawn. Fresh determination rumbled that horizon, loud in Jai's skull like grit between teeth.
"And I'm a complication," she said.
She was armored in something. A gleaming soldier of light beating back the melancholy consuming her realm, conquering it as Jai was suddenly swallowed by the long shadows of a morbid evenfall. As she emerged, darkness was closing over the pit he couldn't escape. He wasn't sure if he should panic in being swallowed up or enjoy the warmth that was being buried alive.
It was quiet in there. Listening to himself breathe. Should a man drink his last glimpse of starlight overhead or keep wary eyes on the crags in the walls around him? Between those flint-sharp shards were sure to hoard monsters. Or does he take the center and hold the swarm off as long as he can? If the light died, he wouldn't be able to see them coming.
He fell off his knees and sat, legs crossed, and unsure how to answer. Nythadri's blanket remained, cloaking his shoulders and piled on the floor around him. Between the folds the pins reflected a dull gleam from a throat tense from constantly swallowing duty. Against the silver sword, the dragon glowed orange in the meager light. As Nythadri spoke on, its ferocious red eye followed a single dare at the monsters threatening to creep in the shadows up upon its master. It watched her too like she might be one of them.
His arm was more than tired, but Jai ran a lifeless hand across damp hair. It was a poor cover to hide the gruesome memories she summoned. He could taste the iron slicking his throat like oil. His body wanted to double over and collapse around the savage blows beating it senseless. He watched the horizon go dark in helpless unconsciousness. Yet on his crying lungs drew breath. He lifted his face, clawed to his knees, and poured out his insides. The sheer horror of it was blunted by liquid courage, but he remembered what it was like to stalk death. Like most things, it seemed like a good idea at the time. As that Dedicated knew, Jai never intended to hunt reapers, yet the first scythe to catch his eye drew him like a siren's song. Right place at the right time.
His face was drawn. Lines tightened the corners of his eyes aged him. Surviving when one hoped for another outcome splashed a man with the faint elixir of death, the sort that clung to rotting wood. It cloaked Jai now like Nythadri's blanket, threatening to drive his shoulders to the ground. Someday it would; when his strength gave out again. But not before dishonor was erased. Not until the Black Tower won the service they deserved from their weapons.
"I don't look glad to be alive?" He asked. His throat was dry as branches scratching on glass. The sounds of clawing honesty. She would not want to hear this. Yet lies had not worked and threats drove Nythadri no step backward. Jai was learning her weakness, and to him, it was the most natural exploitation of will he'd ever had the opportunity to crush.
"You should have seen me when I wanted to die." A horrible sound, scrapes on the window at the start of a storm. As the winds rose, the intensity of the promise grew. It was coming, and there was nothing anyone could do but wait for the storm to hit. Though the volume of his voice remained the same, he stared into her flickering eyes and told her the immense truth.
"I'm wet because it's snowing outside, and I was too weak to Travel. I'm bruised because I shoved myself up when every sane voice in my head screamed to stay down. I'm battered because my pride slashed too low and spilled my guts and missed my heart for a second time. And I push on because I know no other way to go," he explained.
He broke the bleary-eyed contest with death moments later when burning eyes fell briefly to his hands. There was only before and after. The iron curtains of this pit were epiphanies he did not care to analyze. But since Nythadri asked,
"Yes," he looked up.
Simple as that. Soldiers chased death down and either beat it to a bloody pulp or they didn't get up again. Limits in body and mind caught up with those of the Power, or they fell behind like men chased down by dogs. Theirs was a straight forward game. A man grew stronger, or he was crushed by the weight. And there was only one way to find out who lived and died. When it had been his time, Jai blazed through the ranks for a reason. Creator gifted abilities were one thing, but he took himself unbidden to the brink over and over again for one purpose only.
"If you ever want to know how the first plan worked out, go find a Dedicated named Jindal Gestian, and ask him if this is a better one. He should be easy to track down. Though if they carved his tongue out, you might have to buy him a drink first; the words probably won't flow so easily." A morbid flavor twinged the corner of his lips, "I hear he likes brandy. The kid stole a lot of bottles of the stuff not too many nights back." The humor should appall even Nythadri, because he wasn't joking.
Who knew how Jindal would be punished. Not that the specifics mattered. Mutilation wasn't exactly the highlight of anyone's day. Whatever it was, something in Jai hoped the kid escaped the worst of it. He frowned a lot, but the Dedicated followed orders fine enough. Then there was the gut-wrenching moment he caught him checking out the medal. Though if he feared a drunk Asha'man more than the entire institution of the Black Tower, it was probably for the best his priorities were straightened out now. It'd save everyone a lot of trouble down the road.
Reality dimmed the dark humor once more; all the more haunting by the lack of sarcasm Nythadri might expect. He looked at her from the chilling vantage truth gave him. From the bottom of that pit looking up at the brightness likely soon to die altogether.
"I've had worse plans."
He glanced at the door.
He didn't stop the snatched away hand, but he was confident she was hurt. Wounded by a weapon he hadn't intended to wield. The anger at first was real, but she slapped it aside like an imaginary sword. But this second blade, one he hadn't realized he'd picked up, nicked an important vessel. She pulled her hand away and shadows passed Nythadri's face as though the meager candles heaved in stormwinds. Her recoil was natural, necessary; but made her vulnerable. Jai set his jaw and tightened his grip on the newfound sword. He wanted to finish this bloody business, silence the screams and leave mercy behind, but he hesitated. Now the time had come, he wasn't sure if he could.
Neither moved until the winds changed direction. The darkness in Nythadri purpled like the sky before dawn. Fresh determination rumbled that horizon, loud in Jai's skull like grit between teeth.
"And I'm a complication," she said.
She was armored in something. A gleaming soldier of light beating back the melancholy consuming her realm, conquering it as Jai was suddenly swallowed by the long shadows of a morbid evenfall. As she emerged, darkness was closing over the pit he couldn't escape. He wasn't sure if he should panic in being swallowed up or enjoy the warmth that was being buried alive.
It was quiet in there. Listening to himself breathe. Should a man drink his last glimpse of starlight overhead or keep wary eyes on the crags in the walls around him? Between those flint-sharp shards were sure to hoard monsters. Or does he take the center and hold the swarm off as long as he can? If the light died, he wouldn't be able to see them coming.
He fell off his knees and sat, legs crossed, and unsure how to answer. Nythadri's blanket remained, cloaking his shoulders and piled on the floor around him. Between the folds the pins reflected a dull gleam from a throat tense from constantly swallowing duty. Against the silver sword, the dragon glowed orange in the meager light. As Nythadri spoke on, its ferocious red eye followed a single dare at the monsters threatening to creep in the shadows up upon its master. It watched her too like she might be one of them.
His arm was more than tired, but Jai ran a lifeless hand across damp hair. It was a poor cover to hide the gruesome memories she summoned. He could taste the iron slicking his throat like oil. His body wanted to double over and collapse around the savage blows beating it senseless. He watched the horizon go dark in helpless unconsciousness. Yet on his crying lungs drew breath. He lifted his face, clawed to his knees, and poured out his insides. The sheer horror of it was blunted by liquid courage, but he remembered what it was like to stalk death. Like most things, it seemed like a good idea at the time. As that Dedicated knew, Jai never intended to hunt reapers, yet the first scythe to catch his eye drew him like a siren's song. Right place at the right time.
His face was drawn. Lines tightened the corners of his eyes aged him. Surviving when one hoped for another outcome splashed a man with the faint elixir of death, the sort that clung to rotting wood. It cloaked Jai now like Nythadri's blanket, threatening to drive his shoulders to the ground. Someday it would; when his strength gave out again. But not before dishonor was erased. Not until the Black Tower won the service they deserved from their weapons.
"I don't look glad to be alive?" He asked. His throat was dry as branches scratching on glass. The sounds of clawing honesty. She would not want to hear this. Yet lies had not worked and threats drove Nythadri no step backward. Jai was learning her weakness, and to him, it was the most natural exploitation of will he'd ever had the opportunity to crush.
"You should have seen me when I wanted to die." A horrible sound, scrapes on the window at the start of a storm. As the winds rose, the intensity of the promise grew. It was coming, and there was nothing anyone could do but wait for the storm to hit. Though the volume of his voice remained the same, he stared into her flickering eyes and told her the immense truth.
"I'm wet because it's snowing outside, and I was too weak to Travel. I'm bruised because I shoved myself up when every sane voice in my head screamed to stay down. I'm battered because my pride slashed too low and spilled my guts and missed my heart for a second time. And I push on because I know no other way to go," he explained.
He broke the bleary-eyed contest with death moments later when burning eyes fell briefly to his hands. There was only before and after. The iron curtains of this pit were epiphanies he did not care to analyze. But since Nythadri asked,
"Yes," he looked up.
Simple as that. Soldiers chased death down and either beat it to a bloody pulp or they didn't get up again. Limits in body and mind caught up with those of the Power, or they fell behind like men chased down by dogs. Theirs was a straight forward game. A man grew stronger, or he was crushed by the weight. And there was only one way to find out who lived and died. When it had been his time, Jai blazed through the ranks for a reason. Creator gifted abilities were one thing, but he took himself unbidden to the brink over and over again for one purpose only.
"If you ever want to know how the first plan worked out, go find a Dedicated named Jindal Gestian, and ask him if this is a better one. He should be easy to track down. Though if they carved his tongue out, you might have to buy him a drink first; the words probably won't flow so easily." A morbid flavor twinged the corner of his lips, "I hear he likes brandy. The kid stole a lot of bottles of the stuff not too many nights back." The humor should appall even Nythadri, because he wasn't joking.
Who knew how Jindal would be punished. Not that the specifics mattered. Mutilation wasn't exactly the highlight of anyone's day. Whatever it was, something in Jai hoped the kid escaped the worst of it. He frowned a lot, but the Dedicated followed orders fine enough. Then there was the gut-wrenching moment he caught him checking out the medal. Though if he feared a drunk Asha'man more than the entire institution of the Black Tower, it was probably for the best his priorities were straightened out now. It'd save everyone a lot of trouble down the road.
Reality dimmed the dark humor once more; all the more haunting by the lack of sarcasm Nythadri might expect. He looked at her from the chilling vantage truth gave him. From the bottom of that pit looking up at the brightness likely soon to die altogether.
"I've had worse plans."
He glanced at the door.
Only darkness shows you the light.