01-18-2023, 08:49 PM
She considered his response. The qualification was not a surprise, perhaps because it aligned with judgements she was already beginning to form. Tucked as Arad Doman was behind mountains, the threat of the Last Battle must feel dim. Certainly the Seanchan were a bigger and more tangible threat when they harried the coastline, and not one that could or should be ignored. But Nythadri was not criticising the peace. She did not ask about the terms of the treaty despite her uncomfortable suspicions at what he had done to secure it, for Daryen was not foolish, and she could not even begin to shake loose his secrets in the time she had. But she wondered if he might need to be more careful of the ambition – and the declaration of his loyalty. There was a reason Aes Sedai were expected to cast off the shackles of their old lives.
“We don’t all survive them, though,” she replied of war. Her gaze touched on a moment of poignancy, light in its entreaty. In those soft silks and with that golden halo of hair it was easy to forget he was a soldier. Likely he knew better than she the casualties engendered by war. But if he was really listening, he would recognise the line she laid down in response. As Daryen sought to protect the entire nation of his people, the guard around Nythadri's heart was a smaller thing. It did not set them at odds now. But she was not convinced it would always be that way.
Still, his teasing did not find an ill reception; on the contrary, in Nythadri he was likely to find rare sport. For now she smirked openly but did not laugh alongside him. It reminded her of the kind of response Tashir would have given. She had not expected a better answer, and nor would she have offered one in roles reversed. The shape of her concern was imparted, though, which had rather been the point. Nythadri cared what happened here, and she wanted him to understand that. If things went poorly at the Tower and after – and so much felt like it hung in precarious balance – then she might not be able to easily return. But absence did not equal apathy. She would try and keep an eye here as best she could.
For now her focus moved on. It transpired the light-blasted man wasn’t even here. Nythadri felt the itch to move almost as soon as the words left Daryen’s lips, despite the opportunity presented before her in such a private audience. She did not have time to search the city – especially one she did not even know. Daryen implied a need for space she was certain she understood. But blood and ashes he could be anywhere. She was only half listening as he plunged into the detour of some light-hearted tale, not because she was disinterested, but because she had already begun to think ahead. She did not dare linger on the sentimentality. Her heart already felt bruised with absence.
But her attention tugged up when he simply stopped. It did not feel like artifice, though she initially presumed he paused for drama. As the moment stretched, with Daryen only looking inwardly pensive, something cold touched the base of Nythadri’s spine. She could not say why, only that the day had been too strange, too tense, too impossible. When the light of his attention shifted once more, she was watching him closely.
Advice usually riled her the wrong way; she detested that sense of being pushed across the board, whether it was a broad and inelegant shove, or the soft prod of a more manipulative touch. Even Ellomai’s warnings helped pluck free the frayed edges of responsibility that led her here. But there was a softness to the way he spoke that drew her in more than it pushed her away. It felt more like a shared intuition. The shiver beneath her skin in response was not pleasant. Particularly in the embrace of such oppressive heat; which is to say, it felt unnatural.
His step wasn’t urgent, but it was intentional, and he was already walking away. He should return to his party, and yet somehow she doubted it was where he was going.
“For once I think I’ll take the advice,” she told him. Her sly expression suggested he ought to be pleased with the exceptionally rare offer of that gift. If there was pensive concern too she betrayed it no more than he did. She tsked the offer. “You wouldn’t think to make me eat alone? I’ll return when you may offer better hospitality.” Her shoulder tipped in a shrug, but the tease was plain.
"And Daryen?" she added. "If you find him before I do, tell him I came. That I didn't ask for anything, but he'd better have found those bloody socks."
“We don’t all survive them, though,” she replied of war. Her gaze touched on a moment of poignancy, light in its entreaty. In those soft silks and with that golden halo of hair it was easy to forget he was a soldier. Likely he knew better than she the casualties engendered by war. But if he was really listening, he would recognise the line she laid down in response. As Daryen sought to protect the entire nation of his people, the guard around Nythadri's heart was a smaller thing. It did not set them at odds now. But she was not convinced it would always be that way.
Still, his teasing did not find an ill reception; on the contrary, in Nythadri he was likely to find rare sport. For now she smirked openly but did not laugh alongside him. It reminded her of the kind of response Tashir would have given. She had not expected a better answer, and nor would she have offered one in roles reversed. The shape of her concern was imparted, though, which had rather been the point. Nythadri cared what happened here, and she wanted him to understand that. If things went poorly at the Tower and after – and so much felt like it hung in precarious balance – then she might not be able to easily return. But absence did not equal apathy. She would try and keep an eye here as best she could.
For now her focus moved on. It transpired the light-blasted man wasn’t even here. Nythadri felt the itch to move almost as soon as the words left Daryen’s lips, despite the opportunity presented before her in such a private audience. She did not have time to search the city – especially one she did not even know. Daryen implied a need for space she was certain she understood. But blood and ashes he could be anywhere. She was only half listening as he plunged into the detour of some light-hearted tale, not because she was disinterested, but because she had already begun to think ahead. She did not dare linger on the sentimentality. Her heart already felt bruised with absence.
But her attention tugged up when he simply stopped. It did not feel like artifice, though she initially presumed he paused for drama. As the moment stretched, with Daryen only looking inwardly pensive, something cold touched the base of Nythadri’s spine. She could not say why, only that the day had been too strange, too tense, too impossible. When the light of his attention shifted once more, she was watching him closely.
Advice usually riled her the wrong way; she detested that sense of being pushed across the board, whether it was a broad and inelegant shove, or the soft prod of a more manipulative touch. Even Ellomai’s warnings helped pluck free the frayed edges of responsibility that led her here. But there was a softness to the way he spoke that drew her in more than it pushed her away. It felt more like a shared intuition. The shiver beneath her skin in response was not pleasant. Particularly in the embrace of such oppressive heat; which is to say, it felt unnatural.
His step wasn’t urgent, but it was intentional, and he was already walking away. He should return to his party, and yet somehow she doubted it was where he was going.
“For once I think I’ll take the advice,” she told him. Her sly expression suggested he ought to be pleased with the exceptionally rare offer of that gift. If there was pensive concern too she betrayed it no more than he did. She tsked the offer. “You wouldn’t think to make me eat alone? I’ll return when you may offer better hospitality.” Her shoulder tipped in a shrug, but the tease was plain.
"And Daryen?" she added. "If you find him before I do, tell him I came. That I didn't ask for anything, but he'd better have found those bloody socks."