04-05-2019, 02:49 PM
He couldn't hold that gaze. He didn't deserve Nythadri's tenderness. Her sympathy. To have failed so utterly in front of her, his stomach throbbed with regret. She knew shades of him he desperately tried to hide. Worse, she'd seen his chaotic world with all the full view of a sun cresting the mountains but stayed to keep him company when she should run the other way. She was just watching him, surely trying to decide if he were the selfish monster he knew himself to be. He was selfish to come here. Needing to wound and alienate her and so drive her away. He knew all along he'd fail. It was what drove him to collapse on that snowy step after leaving Andreu and Araya behind at South-harbour. He knew he couldn't do it, yet for the chance that he might he had to try. Or that's what he told himself; he only lied to himself after all. Usually. And when the end turned dismal, at least he'd be able to see her one more time. Selfish.
He was breathing hard. His bloody body was coiled to strike out at himself as ferociously as he had the black links that'd pounded him to a pulp in the Great Hall. For all the good it did. Their retaliation didn't shock him. It was the helplessness to defend himself that drove a chunk of bone from his arm. That drove him to that first bottle of brandy. Then submission to Araya's house arrest. He should have demanded a gate home and when that hadn't worked, stolen a bloody horse. Light, how was he ever going to look Daryen in the eye after this? Bloody delightful.
He forced himself to suck it up and look Nythadri in the eye, thoughts of Daryen set aside for now. There was a flesh and blood woman in front of him, but her mirage could have been a hundred leagues away, and still lure too close. His hands pressed tighter upon themselves, but he did it. He had to get a grip. On something. Anything. He wasn't on the verge of falling from the edge, this time. He was on the verge of exploding. Blood and ashes! He shouldn't have come. He'd known a lot of mistakes, but this was the glorified topper on that mountain hill of bullshit he'd conquered as his own royal domain. And now he couldn't wade his way out because he didn't bloody want to even try.
A crowbar couldn't have done it. But Nythadri's delicate fingers pried his hands apart like wisps of smoke, and he crumpled like a pile of ashes disturbed by the breeze. She pressed close and he thought his heart was going to stop. She should be ripping out his throat and tossing it to the dogs, not curling her arms around his neck. Not huddling close enough to feel her breathe. He should shove every curve of her body from his arms, not hold her tighter. He should do a thousand things, but he did none of them. He didn't want to.
Well. This was just bloody great. Jai found himself clinging to her like the damned finding salvation. Which of course meant he not only threw in the towel on letting her go, but burned it to a crisp and walked away from it. What was she doing? Didn't she bloody realize he was annoying? Paranoid? Selfish? And a bloody idiot? God but it felt good to hold her. He could wrap her shoulders twice with his arms. His hands found the ridge of vulnerable bones in her back, and rubbed the curve of her low back gently, pulling her closer. Tighter. Her hair smelled like fresh rain, soft as milk on his cheeks. He kissed the top of her head and didn't withdraw.
Every ounce of anger slid from his shoulders like an old coat. This was what he wanted. Her. He wanted her, dammit. Blood and bloody ashes. He swallowed dryly in reaction to her confidence. Her undeserved belief in him. He should run.
As she had in the ocean, Nythadri withdrew but his arms wanted more. When moonlight illuminated his pain back then, he was swallowing razors now. He let her go, too afraid to move. Definitely doubting the resolve to not follow her when she laid back on her bed. Somehow he managed to only twist a little, just enough to watch her get comfortable.
He cracked his neck a couple times in reaction to her question. And blinked away the fog trying to collapse his throat. And took a breath. Then frowned. And rolled his shoulders. He leaned forward again. That was uncomfortable. Okay. He sat back. Tugged his sleeves. No matter which way he sliced it, there was only one way to explain this. "Uh--"
He leaned forward again. With palms pressed to his eyes, he brought himself to glance at her from the side. Did she have to stretch out like that? He was really going to do this.
"Alright. You know how I count?" He scratched his face absently, wondering whatever in the world possessed him to tell a stranger in the Front Hall about that; a stranger that melted his heart with her eyes. Light.
He found his nails briefly. They were filthy. Zakar would have a heart attack.
"Zakar likes things clean. Himself, especially." He rubbed his hair, throat tight. "Very clean. I mean, he barely hugs his own kids."
He knew how it sounded. That it made as much sense as a spymaster galloping a Razor. "Okay." He closed his eyes. "I see patterns. Everywhere. There are base number systems. Alchemy systems. Geometry systems. Alphabetical systems. All of it, Its called arithmancy." He swallowed. His head spun with illustrations. "--And it makes up the very fabric of the universe. Think of every important number we know. The Five powers. Seven seals on the Dark One's prison. Thirteen Forsaken. Circles of sixty-six. We call it the bloody Pattern." He shrugged. It was painfully obvious to him; always had been. It was a bloody trap. Like these four walls. Was it getting hot in here? Most people thought he was crazy; they were probably right.
His palm drew back sweaty when he loosened his collar.
"What I see everywhere, and what Zakar thinks is going to someday choke him, our brother Andreu sees in people. He can sense a conspiracy in a snowstorm. The hell of it is, he's right half the time." Jai could relate.
He rubbed his cuffs. He should probably button his coat. Eh, who was he kidding? He loosened the collar a bit more. Neck hot. Chest hot. Arms sweating. He rubbed his hair again, it was mostly dry by now. Laying your soul bare wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world.
"Dru knows something's going on. I just didn't realize Zak was behind it all until after Caemlyn. He set up a rival, using White Tower books, and betrayed his partner in Andor at the last second in the name of consolidation. Yeah. He's is a dick, but he's really good at what he does, I had to throw Dru off his trail. Otherwise it was a matter of time before Dru learned the truth. And once he did, he'd have no mercy." His father would die of shame. His mother wouldn't understand, and wither away in ignorance and confusion. Zakar had kids, after all. Jai's nieces. He met them last week.
He opened and closed his hand a couple times, then looked up, eyes determined. He cleared his throat.
"I love my family Nythadri, and I'm not going to be around anyway. I don't see another choice." Did she understand? That she had to get away from Andreu's bloodhounds. Once he caught her scent, he'd not turn back until he knew the truth of her family's inheritance. Which would eventually lead him to its source; from Ellis it was an easy jump back to Jai. And the price their Asha'man brother paid to protect his family's peace would be worthless then. He could march to the Last Battle a disavowed man, but not if he knew he was responsible for ruining his family's life forever. He already made them suffer so much – Asad's sword. His throat started tightening again.
Light it was hot in here.
He was breathing hard. His bloody body was coiled to strike out at himself as ferociously as he had the black links that'd pounded him to a pulp in the Great Hall. For all the good it did. Their retaliation didn't shock him. It was the helplessness to defend himself that drove a chunk of bone from his arm. That drove him to that first bottle of brandy. Then submission to Araya's house arrest. He should have demanded a gate home and when that hadn't worked, stolen a bloody horse. Light, how was he ever going to look Daryen in the eye after this? Bloody delightful.
He forced himself to suck it up and look Nythadri in the eye, thoughts of Daryen set aside for now. There was a flesh and blood woman in front of him, but her mirage could have been a hundred leagues away, and still lure too close. His hands pressed tighter upon themselves, but he did it. He had to get a grip. On something. Anything. He wasn't on the verge of falling from the edge, this time. He was on the verge of exploding. Blood and ashes! He shouldn't have come. He'd known a lot of mistakes, but this was the glorified topper on that mountain hill of bullshit he'd conquered as his own royal domain. And now he couldn't wade his way out because he didn't bloody want to even try.
A crowbar couldn't have done it. But Nythadri's delicate fingers pried his hands apart like wisps of smoke, and he crumpled like a pile of ashes disturbed by the breeze. She pressed close and he thought his heart was going to stop. She should be ripping out his throat and tossing it to the dogs, not curling her arms around his neck. Not huddling close enough to feel her breathe. He should shove every curve of her body from his arms, not hold her tighter. He should do a thousand things, but he did none of them. He didn't want to.
Well. This was just bloody great. Jai found himself clinging to her like the damned finding salvation. Which of course meant he not only threw in the towel on letting her go, but burned it to a crisp and walked away from it. What was she doing? Didn't she bloody realize he was annoying? Paranoid? Selfish? And a bloody idiot? God but it felt good to hold her. He could wrap her shoulders twice with his arms. His hands found the ridge of vulnerable bones in her back, and rubbed the curve of her low back gently, pulling her closer. Tighter. Her hair smelled like fresh rain, soft as milk on his cheeks. He kissed the top of her head and didn't withdraw.
Every ounce of anger slid from his shoulders like an old coat. This was what he wanted. Her. He wanted her, dammit. Blood and bloody ashes. He swallowed dryly in reaction to her confidence. Her undeserved belief in him. He should run.
As she had in the ocean, Nythadri withdrew but his arms wanted more. When moonlight illuminated his pain back then, he was swallowing razors now. He let her go, too afraid to move. Definitely doubting the resolve to not follow her when she laid back on her bed. Somehow he managed to only twist a little, just enough to watch her get comfortable.
He cracked his neck a couple times in reaction to her question. And blinked away the fog trying to collapse his throat. And took a breath. Then frowned. And rolled his shoulders. He leaned forward again. That was uncomfortable. Okay. He sat back. Tugged his sleeves. No matter which way he sliced it, there was only one way to explain this. "Uh--"
He leaned forward again. With palms pressed to his eyes, he brought himself to glance at her from the side. Did she have to stretch out like that? He was really going to do this.
"Alright. You know how I count?" He scratched his face absently, wondering whatever in the world possessed him to tell a stranger in the Front Hall about that; a stranger that melted his heart with her eyes. Light.
He found his nails briefly. They were filthy. Zakar would have a heart attack.
"Zakar likes things clean. Himself, especially." He rubbed his hair, throat tight. "Very clean. I mean, he barely hugs his own kids."
He knew how it sounded. That it made as much sense as a spymaster galloping a Razor. "Okay." He closed his eyes. "I see patterns. Everywhere. There are base number systems. Alchemy systems. Geometry systems. Alphabetical systems. All of it, Its called arithmancy." He swallowed. His head spun with illustrations. "--And it makes up the very fabric of the universe. Think of every important number we know. The Five powers. Seven seals on the Dark One's prison. Thirteen Forsaken. Circles of sixty-six. We call it the bloody Pattern." He shrugged. It was painfully obvious to him; always had been. It was a bloody trap. Like these four walls. Was it getting hot in here? Most people thought he was crazy; they were probably right.
His palm drew back sweaty when he loosened his collar.
"What I see everywhere, and what Zakar thinks is going to someday choke him, our brother Andreu sees in people. He can sense a conspiracy in a snowstorm. The hell of it is, he's right half the time." Jai could relate.
He rubbed his cuffs. He should probably button his coat. Eh, who was he kidding? He loosened the collar a bit more. Neck hot. Chest hot. Arms sweating. He rubbed his hair again, it was mostly dry by now. Laying your soul bare wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world.
"Dru knows something's going on. I just didn't realize Zak was behind it all until after Caemlyn. He set up a rival, using White Tower books, and betrayed his partner in Andor at the last second in the name of consolidation. Yeah. He's is a dick, but he's really good at what he does, I had to throw Dru off his trail. Otherwise it was a matter of time before Dru learned the truth. And once he did, he'd have no mercy." His father would die of shame. His mother wouldn't understand, and wither away in ignorance and confusion. Zakar had kids, after all. Jai's nieces. He met them last week.
He opened and closed his hand a couple times, then looked up, eyes determined. He cleared his throat.
"I love my family Nythadri, and I'm not going to be around anyway. I don't see another choice." Did she understand? That she had to get away from Andreu's bloodhounds. Once he caught her scent, he'd not turn back until he knew the truth of her family's inheritance. Which would eventually lead him to its source; from Ellis it was an easy jump back to Jai. And the price their Asha'man brother paid to protect his family's peace would be worthless then. He could march to the Last Battle a disavowed man, but not if he knew he was responsible for ruining his family's life forever. He already made them suffer so much – Asad's sword. His throat started tightening again.
Light it was hot in here.
Only darkness shows you the light.