12-03-2022, 05:05 PM
The dig of his fingers into the chair’s arm did not suggest he was taking it well, but if Nythadri was aware of the building pressure, she could not have predicted what happened next.
She barely saw him move. Saidar flooded her on startled reflex – she was determined, at the least, not to die meekly – but what was witnessed stalled action, and a sticky, surprised sort of horror paralysed at what she saw. Power buffeted like the threat of a cyclone, whipping dark tendrils of hair from her shoulders, but it was only like the incandescent heat of standing too close to a raging flame, not a threat to be countered. He physically ragged at Talin. Not a dog worrying already limp prey in its jaws, but with something far more desperate. Light. The glow of the power never even lit up around the Yellow, though her eyes were wide and glassy and afraid. It only lasted seconds. And then he dropped her.
Nythadri did not move. Her heart was pounding, but only her warder would know it.
She watched the former dreadlord warily as he retreated to the window, but it was Talin who received her blunt, accusatory stare afterwards. Arikan was broken. He was not a weapon to be handled with care and finesse lest he cut the hand, he was a flaming rabid dog, and not one that could be unleashed safely in the hope he bit the right enemy. Her first thought was madness, but he would have been protected from it given his allegiances. Was this why the Dark cut him loose? For such a brilliantly strategic mind to be reduced to such volcanic ash and rubble was a crueller punishment than death, she was certain.
Light but she wanted it to be madness, anyway. Even if it meant Talin had done naught but tied a noose around her neck in bringing her here. Certainly it made for an easier judgement. The alternative pricked Nythadri’s skin with discomfort, and she wasn’t sure it was a puzzle she wanted to solve.
Because the look on his face…
But it wasn’t the time to contemplate, not even to wonder why any of them were still alive. Because he needs us, was the most obvious answer, and for now it would do.
Talin rather looked like she desired to detach the arm Arikan had shaken. She had no glib comment in riposte, and in fact she said nothing at all. There were pink spots of horrified colour to her pale cheeks, and she carefully smoothed a tendril of hair back neatly behind her ear as she composed herself. Kaori had moved quietly nearer the moment he was able, but did not touch her. His expression was utterly flat, like he had already succumbed bitterly to his powerlessness in the game they played at his Aes Sedai’s behest. She couldn’t be hurt then.
Meanwhile Elly lurched forward when the bindings finally eased, as though she had been furiously straining the entire time. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword like she might use the momentum to try and lop the head right from Arikan’s shoulders, consequences be damned, but she only steadied her balance with a growl. Her jaw clenched. The scars on her face looked stark white against the colour of her anger, and she did not relinquish possession of her sword, though it remained silent in its sheath. It was clear she was not counting the blessings of life, but furious at the indignities so casually bestowed in his disrespect of Talin. Watching her, Nythadri realised it was going to be an inconvenient hate.
“They call me lots of things, I imagine. Many of them unsavoury,” she replied dryly, and finally stood. Elly glanced back at the sound of her voice. By the weight of the woman’s stare right now, she was sure of a veritable litany marching through the warder’s head alone. Because not all that roiling anger was aimed at the man framed in Illian’s morning light. At least some of it was stored against the path Nythadri had committed them to, moments before. Why does he need to know? said the glare. Which, actually, she happened to agree with. She didn’t want to share a piece of herself, even so simple a disclosure as her name. But her own reluctance made it a necessary pain. Self-spite for fear she refused to owe him. That, and a more poignant understanding. Treat a man like a monster, and it’s what he became. Treat a monster like a monster, and it’s what he stayed.
“Nythadri.”
No honorific. It seemed pointless to insist on respect he would only ignore, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of discerning whether or not that irked her. His precepts of Aes Sedai were clearly long ago mired, and some battles she wasn’t interested in waging. She took a step closer, only to practically bruise herself on the swift extension of Elly’s arm barring her way. The scowl arrowed down said don’t you dare. For a moment Nythadri was surprised at finding herself so blocked, and then irritation flared into coldness. Enough that Elly begrudgingly took possession of her own limbs. Nythadri ignored her, but stayed where she was.
“She was there too, you know.” Elsae, that was, when he had made the Tower’s walls drip with blood and death; the first ever to breach them. They had been in the same coterie of novices, bubbled and protected from the war’s brunt until breach and desperation had them running frantic missives with the rest amidst the horror and chaos. No one had been spared that duty, in the end. “I’ll return within three, as fast as I may. This will be done properly, or not at all. It is all in the aid of strategy, is it not.”
His own explanation could serve as a chain for his patience. Arikan could hardly argue against it. But she did not want to give him leave to consider the fragile bridge of trust between them, or how he might strengthen it in ways she did not want to imagine. She glanced at her sister as she withdrew, jaw tight.
[[we’ll have to handwave the timelines a bit. I dunno how long ago the battle was supposed to be. Elsae and Nythadri did actually rp as novices during it though]]
She barely saw him move. Saidar flooded her on startled reflex – she was determined, at the least, not to die meekly – but what was witnessed stalled action, and a sticky, surprised sort of horror paralysed at what she saw. Power buffeted like the threat of a cyclone, whipping dark tendrils of hair from her shoulders, but it was only like the incandescent heat of standing too close to a raging flame, not a threat to be countered. He physically ragged at Talin. Not a dog worrying already limp prey in its jaws, but with something far more desperate. Light. The glow of the power never even lit up around the Yellow, though her eyes were wide and glassy and afraid. It only lasted seconds. And then he dropped her.
Nythadri did not move. Her heart was pounding, but only her warder would know it.
She watched the former dreadlord warily as he retreated to the window, but it was Talin who received her blunt, accusatory stare afterwards. Arikan was broken. He was not a weapon to be handled with care and finesse lest he cut the hand, he was a flaming rabid dog, and not one that could be unleashed safely in the hope he bit the right enemy. Her first thought was madness, but he would have been protected from it given his allegiances. Was this why the Dark cut him loose? For such a brilliantly strategic mind to be reduced to such volcanic ash and rubble was a crueller punishment than death, she was certain.
Light but she wanted it to be madness, anyway. Even if it meant Talin had done naught but tied a noose around her neck in bringing her here. Certainly it made for an easier judgement. The alternative pricked Nythadri’s skin with discomfort, and she wasn’t sure it was a puzzle she wanted to solve.
Because the look on his face…
But it wasn’t the time to contemplate, not even to wonder why any of them were still alive. Because he needs us, was the most obvious answer, and for now it would do.
Talin rather looked like she desired to detach the arm Arikan had shaken. She had no glib comment in riposte, and in fact she said nothing at all. There were pink spots of horrified colour to her pale cheeks, and she carefully smoothed a tendril of hair back neatly behind her ear as she composed herself. Kaori had moved quietly nearer the moment he was able, but did not touch her. His expression was utterly flat, like he had already succumbed bitterly to his powerlessness in the game they played at his Aes Sedai’s behest. She couldn’t be hurt then.
Meanwhile Elly lurched forward when the bindings finally eased, as though she had been furiously straining the entire time. Her hand gripped the hilt of her sword like she might use the momentum to try and lop the head right from Arikan’s shoulders, consequences be damned, but she only steadied her balance with a growl. Her jaw clenched. The scars on her face looked stark white against the colour of her anger, and she did not relinquish possession of her sword, though it remained silent in its sheath. It was clear she was not counting the blessings of life, but furious at the indignities so casually bestowed in his disrespect of Talin. Watching her, Nythadri realised it was going to be an inconvenient hate.
“They call me lots of things, I imagine. Many of them unsavoury,” she replied dryly, and finally stood. Elly glanced back at the sound of her voice. By the weight of the woman’s stare right now, she was sure of a veritable litany marching through the warder’s head alone. Because not all that roiling anger was aimed at the man framed in Illian’s morning light. At least some of it was stored against the path Nythadri had committed them to, moments before. Why does he need to know? said the glare. Which, actually, she happened to agree with. She didn’t want to share a piece of herself, even so simple a disclosure as her name. But her own reluctance made it a necessary pain. Self-spite for fear she refused to owe him. That, and a more poignant understanding. Treat a man like a monster, and it’s what he became. Treat a monster like a monster, and it’s what he stayed.
“Nythadri.”
No honorific. It seemed pointless to insist on respect he would only ignore, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of discerning whether or not that irked her. His precepts of Aes Sedai were clearly long ago mired, and some battles she wasn’t interested in waging. She took a step closer, only to practically bruise herself on the swift extension of Elly’s arm barring her way. The scowl arrowed down said don’t you dare. For a moment Nythadri was surprised at finding herself so blocked, and then irritation flared into coldness. Enough that Elly begrudgingly took possession of her own limbs. Nythadri ignored her, but stayed where she was.
“She was there too, you know.” Elsae, that was, when he had made the Tower’s walls drip with blood and death; the first ever to breach them. They had been in the same coterie of novices, bubbled and protected from the war’s brunt until breach and desperation had them running frantic missives with the rest amidst the horror and chaos. No one had been spared that duty, in the end. “I’ll return within three, as fast as I may. This will be done properly, or not at all. It is all in the aid of strategy, is it not.”
His own explanation could serve as a chain for his patience. Arikan could hardly argue against it. But she did not want to give him leave to consider the fragile bridge of trust between them, or how he might strengthen it in ways she did not want to imagine. She glanced at her sister as she withdrew, jaw tight.
[[we’ll have to handwave the timelines a bit. I dunno how long ago the battle was supposed to be. Elsae and Nythadri did actually rp as novices during it though]]