A Winter Night's Dream

[Raffe]

Asha'man Araya

"It does? How very unpolitical of me..." Araya smirked. He was surprised by her answer, for he couldn't quite fathom any other reason to make such an arduous journey if not for that view. Perhaps he saw it differently; for him it held a sort of kinship, that solid unchanging landscape. Araya had decades upon decades left to live. The Aes Sedai had the constraints of the oath rod to sever their lives short, and even then they ran in to the centuries. Without the oath rod, the Asha'man might live yet more centuries beyond, if they happened to survive the Last Battle. All those years... And all all those years spent alone.

The people below, too small to see, with their lives, loves and deaths were as detached as the view made them seem. Of course, Araya was yet young and not yet passed the milestone of the average human lifespan. For now he could dip in; enjoy life with a fresh perspective and forget that he would still be young when their grandchildren were old. But how long would it be before he was but a spectator, too jaded to indulge in the trivialities of those lives? He could hope never; he could hope he would not live that long. But for now the majestic view of Dragonmount and Tar Valon was of a comfort; the one thing, Creator willing, that would remain when all he knew now was gone. It made him wish, sometimes, for the closeness of an ajah, or to recapture something of his days with the tinkers. His Brothers of the Black Tower were in naught but name; nothing glued them together but the Dragon. Araya had freedom unrivaled, but it had its price.

It was a strange thought, but Araya was as quick to melancholy as he was to laughter, or near any other emotion. He supposed Trista was right about that; his face was a canvas; always open, always genuine. Perhaps that was unusual, but if she found amusement or intrigue in it he wasn't about to stop her. His own gaze remained on the view, though he could see the dark-haired gaidar in his peripheral, utterly fearless on the thin branch.

---

Trista Gaidar

The late afternoon light played across the smooth planes of Araya's face as thoughts passed silently behind his eyes. They were a brilliant blue, and fit his attire well, even as they danced to the whims of emotion. Trista had never been exposed to the Cairhienin Game of Houses, but she imagined nothing could be more convoluted and elaborate than the fancies of Aes Sedai. She had lived among them in the Tower long enough to read a face, if not so well as a person born under the rule of the Sun Throne. She knew his expression, though the Aes Sedai hid it well.

"You're lonely." The lack of inflection in her voice made it a statement, not question, but she was not one to speak her thoughts without reason. That an Asha'man might feel himself alone in the White Tower was not surprising, but she had a sense that it was bigger than that. How could it not be, when facing a view of such breadth?

For all she found herself alone often, in her earlier years at the Tower she would not have understood. For most of her training she had been borderline mindless, acting based on orders alone and taking orders blindly. She still did not question the orders she was given, but she had some say now in who she took those orders from. Where before she had cared no more for the company of humans than for the company of furniture, she had grown to appreciate consciousness in some of the people around her. Trista did not think about whether or not she had improved (physically, mentally, emotionally) as much as she was simply aware of herself, and so knew when change occurred. She was not so completely an empty shell as she had formerly been, but with the return of self came the return of everything it entailed- dilute as it all may be. Including loneliness. Including desire.

These thoughts glittered at the edge of the Void and were consumed by the flame within the time it took her to inhale. She had been watching him from the corner of one coal-lashed eye, but turned her body to face him now. A distance not quite the length of her foot seperated them, and while that distance was appropriate for standing side-by-side on a tapering branch, it felt much smaller chest-to-chest. He could step back, of course, but at less than arms length would find his back pressed into the bark of the Great Tree.

The wind whipped his scarf between them and she deftly caught it once more with her fingertips. A slow smirk drifted across her lips as she looked up at him. "It is not very becoming of you," she said as her fingers gave another set of quick, gentle tugs on the bottom of his scarf.

---

Asha'man Araya

Such an astute and to the point observation stole his attention abruptly from the view. Araya's eyes widened a little. For all of her comments about his open expressions, he had not quite expected so credible a conclusion. Perhaps because her own expressions remained void so much of the time, he had never really anticipated her to recognise what it was she saw - let alone vocalise it, and yet there it was in one stark comment. Most people would not have been so bold as to state it aloud, and many men would have taken issue with the revelation of any weakness. But it seemed neither of them were particularly ordinary.

For the briefest of moments Araya's eyes returned once more to the distant landscape. It was not that he minded her reading him so easily or felt embarrassed by what she saw, but more that he had never really thought about it in so base and plain a way. Not something he cared to dwell on, least of all here and now, but he supposed it was true. No supposing. It was true. To be an Asha'man or Aes Sedai was to be an island, for all the pretence of unity. To be an Asha'man among Aes Sedai was also to be alone. But it went deeper than that, for Araya. He did not always shoulder it easily, but what else was there to do?

He wanted to laugh at how something so simple as a view could affect him so, but nothing of the sort came out of his mouth. It was not his intention to offload his philosophical struggles, though; they were his to burden, and like as not were uninteresting to another. He smiled down at her as she turned to face him, mood mellowed but not unkind. Every time he thought he had worked the woman out she did something surprising. But that was women for you. The small smile grew a fraction as she tugged on the bright orange scarf.

"You're right," he said, letting go of the jagged bark aiding his balance and unwinding the cloth about his neck. That moment of instability, wind whipping his clothes and hair, was liberating for all that it set his heart racing. The tree trunk was still a step away should he slip and fall and the shifting of his arms wavered his balance; at this height even saidin would not be much of a safety net. But he didn't slip and he didn't fall, if his balance was not as perfect or effortless as hers. He neither flaunted nor hid the jagged scarring revealed across his throat. It was simply there, angry and raised with pale scar tissue. It was a lucky wound to have survived.

"Perhaps it would look better on you." The orange material fluttered in his hands, and he placed it loosely around the gaidar's neck. The ends he kept lightly in his grasp to stop them flying in the wind, though they waved about in the wind in an effort to fly.

---

Trista Gaidar

Trista's eyes flickered from his face to the scarf, curious at the action of his hands. Her words had not been referencing the vibrant material, and there was a split second she wondered if he had truly misunderstood. His openness was misleading in itself, to one so accustomed to expressionless faces. Perhaps it was a clever ploy to change the subject, but then again, it hardly mattered to the Gaidar. If the Asha'man did not want to speak of it, she would not. If he just misunderstood, she could not complain at his interpretation.

Instinct tickled the Void with a feather of suspicion, and only acute control over her muscles kept them from tensing. Letting another person wind a strip of fabric around her throat was dangerous, and before she knew what she was doing, the Gaidar had mentally checked off every pressure point and physical action she could take should he make the wrong move. Her face did not show it except in the sudden stillness that seized her features, and even that was gone in an instant. In a way she trusted this strange Asha'man, but years of training were not easily suppressed. If she wanted to, that was; they were still very nearly strangers.

Yet, she found herself smiling in what could only be described as fondness when it rested on her shoulders. There was no softness in her face, merely an underlying sense of enjoyment. The material held the heat from his neck, and was warm against her olive skin. She was aware of the scar she had heard all along in his voice, now brought to light, but only in her peripherals. The remnant of a terrible yet lucky wound, but she had seen scars before.

She regarded him, sobriety and mischief - however diffused they were in the vacuum of her eyes - battling for dominance over her gaze. "A gift for a gift," mischief had won her voice, and laced the paraphrase of his earlier words. A slender hand snaked up behind his head, long fingers finding purchase in the golden locks of his hair. Of course, fluid and fast as all her motions, he could stop her if he wanted to- or so she had been taught to believe of all weavers of the Power. She forced him down roughly and caught his mouth with her own, thoroughly reimbursing him for the blazing bolt of sun at her throat.

---

Asha'man Araya

He was vaguely amused by how unimpressed Trista looked, standing there with the bright scarf whipping like tongues of fire about her still and expressionless face. It never once occurred to him that the subtle tense of her features signalled how close he had come to fuelling her warrior instincts; he was altogether too trusting, for all that his training and life experiences taught him again and again to be cautious, and sometimes he was naïve enough to take for granted the reciprocation of trust from others. It never even registered that the scarf could be a weapon, or that her initial reaction was anything but the usual void of unreadable feeling, if she felt at all. When she smiled slightly, his own lips quirked a mirror of the expression. Strange woman. And yet he liked her. Though she was aesthetically beautiful, it was the enigma of her that attracted him most; the smallest curve of her lips, or the briefest sparkle of reaction in her otherwise dull eyes. All this, and he knew next to nothing about her.

As if to illustrate that point further, she proceeded to catch him completely off guard.

Araya's balance wavered as she pulled his head down. For a moment he feared falling, and then he realised she was kissing him. A gift for a gift. He might have chuckled if his mind hadn't already been elsewhere. All thought fled, the view and height and importance of balance also forgotten. His returned kiss was gentle for all that hers was passionate, and it seemed to end all too quickly. When they broke apart he smiled, a somewhat boyish expression on his smooth face. Briefly, he worried that it had only been out of some strange Altaran honour custom; a gift for a gift, just as she had acted so seriously over his earlier jest. And then he checked himself. You don't even know her. Reluctantly, he let the thought go. A kiss didn't have to mean any more than a kiss. They had been teasing each other the whole climb.

He didn't step back, though there was just enough room to retreat from intimacy's range, but found he wasn't quite sure what to say. Women were difficult to understand at the best of times, and this one was more difficult by ten-fold. He settled for a soft smile. "Well, that was definitely worth the climb," he said, and wondered why he'd said it. It wasn't like him to become so flustered, and he assured himself that it was probably only because he knew she could read him so effortlessly.

---

Trista Gaidar

He did not stop her. Soft as it were, Araya returned the kiss, and Trista's mind was silent for it. Not silent in the way the emptiness was silent; rather, it was the silence of focus, when the mind was consumed by one single thing so completely that there was no room for distraction. The quiet made the duration of the endearment at once endless and abbreviated. When they parted she did not immediately release him, but met his innocent smile with her own wolfish grin so closely their lips were in danger of meeting again.

Then she released him. And then she wished she hadn't. A strange sensation she did not even attempt to define twitched at her stomach. As his face drifted between worry and uncertainty that feeling only tightened, which is not what she might have expected. She disregarded it, of course, but she could not resist the mixture of pride and amusement at knocking the Asha'man (metaphorically) off balance. Why those feelings, she could not say. The Gaidar was an amatuer at picking apart such complex combinations; normally her emotions were quite discrete.

Luckily, the Gaidar had no desire to pick them apart. Emotions were meant to be experienced, not reasoned with. So long as they were kept in control, but even before the severing, that had never been a problem for Trista. His features settled into a gentle smile, and Trista was content to watch the way the light played with the smooth planes of his face. His words made her laugh. For the usually lifeless Gaidar that was little more than a pleased hum from her throat, but by now the Asha'man had probably picked up the translation.

"Now you can't tell me, Asha'man, that I am more interesting than this," for all they were his words, they sounded much different in her smooth, nearly inflectionless voice. The gentle tease stood out in her tone, as her eyes drifted back to the startling breadth of Tar Valon. She decided that she needed to find some words of her own, however. Unfortunately, the only thing to come out after a short pause was not what she had been looking for. "The sun's going down. We will need to descend shortly," the observation was almost disappointing. She glanced back at him, and her smirk returned. "Or we might have to stay up here all night." The undertones of her voice said that it was not a bad idea. It was also not entirely true- simply, it would be a more dangerous trek to the bottom, but they could do it if needed. Being Asha'man, he might even be able to Travel, but as a Gaidar she did not explicitly know why some could do certain things with the Power and some could not. Strength had something to do with it, but then there were certain things the weak could do that some strong could not; it was a very complex system, as all things related to the Power inherently were.

---

Asha'man Araya

A laugh. It felt like some bizarre triumph, and elicited the same response in the Asha'man. "Can't I?" His brows rose in jest, but there was clearly an element of truth behind the light tone. He might not have used the word interesting in this case, but she did hold his attention quite thoroughly. "You underestimate yourself." He grinned and, though her gaze had already departed to the view of Tar Valon below, watched her a moment longer. It seemed pointless to try and fathom her out, but he could not help but succumb to the intrigue.

Araya had not paid any mind to the time; he usually didn't, but when she mentioned the sun his gaze spread over the horizon. He'd not been relishing the climb down, and had put it to the back of his mind until now; travelling up had been demanding enough and the impending darkness would only make a tricky task tougher. Not unmanageable, but it was not just the difficulty that made him reluctant. Her comment was sobering, though, and content as he was to remain, he would not keep her from her duties with the Tower.

"You're the expert. I bow to your judgement." His eyes returned to her just in time to catch the smirk. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the comment, though smiled quietly in return. "Though if we stay, I'm not standing all night." His head indicated the severed trunk behind them. Ice and evening frost had settled into the jagged wood, but it was nothing that a trick of saidin could not sort out. There was also no protection from the winds this high up either, but he could help there, too if need be. "Is it safe enough, do you think?"

It had been a long while since he had spent a night out under the stars; too long since he had last been on the road. That prospect, along with the company, was inviting, but he deemed to leave it in the gaidar's hands. And though his lute remained at the base of the tree, he had no particular fears for it. Thieves were uncommon in Tar Valon, and though Asha'man did not get the same sort of stipend given to Aes Sedai, it had not been so expensive he could not afford another.

---

Trista Gaidar

Trista's eyes followed the gesture of his head, and that amused sound hummed from her throat again. She had not expected him to take her seriously. Her torso twisted so that she could look behind them, from where the wind was currently originating. Great Trees even more massive than the one on which they stood rose from further within the Ogier Grove to block her view. They were what twisted the wind so awkwardly, but they also helped slow and deter the strongest gusts from knocking them off. That wind was only a little chill now, but once the sun fell it was going to be cold enough to freeze water.

"Provided we stay warm," the smirk had left her lips, but remained in her words. She was surprised to actually be considering the idea, but she had no one waiting for her back at the Tower. Not until the next morning well after sunrise would her trainees be waiting; normally they would have been expected on the fields before the sun crested the eastern horizon, but she had run them particularly hard today. She was not entirely heartless - and of course, she risked injuring them if she worked them too hard - and so gave them the morning to sleep it off.

She had been on top of the broken tree before. The tree must have been much taller before being struck, as even at this height the trunk was three strides across- four, if not for the jagged way it was broken, rendering only the center flat. The edge facing into the other trees rose taller than Trista, showing that it must have fallen towards the center of Tar Valon. She nodded towards it, signally that he would need to climb up first. Agile as she was, the branch was not wide enough for her to slink by without potentially knocking him off.