Full Circle

[Eidolon]

Malaika Sedai, Brown Ajah

Sat cross-legged on the floor, papers and books piled high and far around, Malaika drummed her fingers lightly across her forehead, eyes half lidded, clearly in the midst of serious thought, when the door to her quarters opened and soft footsteps across the carpet shattered each painfully captured thought to oblivion. Kasmir. He usually knew not to bother her when she was so engrossed in her work, as the strewn-across-the-floor-seats-and-tables mess usually signified. The chaos was structured, but it was still chaos; such visualisation helped Malaika work, and each pile of paper had point, form and meaning in her own mind. Interruptions sent such delicate organisation crashing down, though, and often before she had had the chance to write the connecting thought processes down.

The Aes Sedai sighed, though it was the only sign of irritation she allowed to surface. She had all but given up chastising him for letting himself in, since countless warnings seemed to fade more and more quickly after an initial effort to knock. It was her own fault; if he was such an annoyance, she could easily send him away, or set wards upon her door to prevent such inopportune disturbances, but the truth was she was growing used to his presence, and even enjoyed his visits occasionally. He was not Chakai, but there were times he reminded her so vividly of her brother - the way he had used to be, that is - that the distinction grew blurred and his company became a comfort more than a nuisance.

“Sorry,” he said, dark-as-night eyes travelling over her kingdom of book and paper, then back to her, with an air of apology.  And he did actually look apologetic, too, which was strange.  She noted that he fingered a letter in his hands, turning it round and round until the edges had softened. 

Malaika pulled her hair over one shoulder, briefly massaging her neck while her thoughts shrunk and softened and she recalled that she should probably say something. “It’s okay.” She stood with a practised grace, and extricated herself from her working space, pausing to settle a few pieces of paper that alighted from their piles in the wake of her trailing skirts. “I’ve hit a point at which I’m stuck; I could use a break, I suppose.”

He had not stopped frowning; not a single quip left his lips at the state of her apartments, or her unconventional methods of work. Usually he would grin and tease and call her a sham of an Aes Sedai in such playfully errant ways that she was always unsure whether or not to tell him off for it. Certainly she would not have tolerated such insults from anyone else, whether they were meant in harmless jest or not. I’m too soft. Far, far too soft. The thought made her angry sometimes, until she realised she would rather be soft than humourless. “Did you need something, Kasimir,” she said to the silence, and it was not quite invitation as much as impatience. Thoughts of the Collam Daan, the subject of her research, still swirled around in her mind, distracting, and though she had soothed his interruption with the fact she really did need a short rest, she did not want to be away from her studies for long.

“Here.” Without preamble, he passed a letter sealed with blue wax, and she realised that he had not been holding one document, but two. Puzzled by his apparent mood, but beginning to suspect the cause of his mute tongue, Malaika opened the letter and unfolded it out. She scanned the words. Her eyes flicked up for a brief moment. “It’s from Sharain.” Not Chakai. Still, it was a wonder to receive anything at all, not least because it was addressed to her. She did not anticipate good news…

There was no room to sit, so as she read she leaned against a dresser untouched by parchment. One of the Ajah’s servants had set a great blue vase upon it, a mountain of winter flowers scenting the sitting room with a floral hint. Malaika had not even noticed until now where the wonderful smell had been coming from. 

At the conclusion of her read, she held the letter back out to Kasimir, frowning.

“Your… your father wants to see us.”

He nodded grimly. “But we’re not going to go, right?  There’s no point.”

“Perhaps Chakai wishes to reconcile with you.” She tilted her head, observing the glower lowering his brows. He had her full attention, now, and he never appeared to like the way her gaze seemed to understand far more than he ever said. “You are his son,” she added gently, although somewhat firmly.  Kasimir was a man grown and could make his own decisions, but it was in her interests to heal this rift if she possibly could.  It would be something, at least, to make her own situation feel better.

“So you want rid of me?” he snapped with sudden ire, as though her words had loosened a spring he had been holding coiled. “Cart me back to Ebou Dar the first chance you get?”

She didn’t roll her eyes, but she certainly felt like it. Perhaps she coddled him by keeping such sentiments to herself; for tolerating his fiery temper because she understood the brief and intense bursts of flame that compelled his moods. She knew he meant nothing by it; knew that his childishness was rooted, almost always, in thoughts of his father. “Oh for the love of the Creator act your age, Kasimir. If I did not wish you here, I would have sent you away, hmm? Stop filling your head with all that useless pity."

“I’m sorry, Aes Sedai,” he murmured, folding his arms and glaring down at his feet. He missed the amused smile that curved her lips. Such a child! She did understand, at least in part, although she did have to wonder how it was he had not gotten himself into serious trouble with another sister yet. Perhaps it was only Chakai that stoked his juvenile rage; she would be willing to warrant it so, because though he was feisty in temperament, he was not generally of such a foul disposition.

“You should at least think about it. Running away from your problems will not fix them, and I would not like to see you carry regret to your grave.”

Kasimir

Kas hated it when she did that; spoke as though she read his thoughts as easily as she read her books.  Aes Sedai really couldn’t read minds, or so everyone here said, but Malaika’s ability to cut to the quick was disturbing. He desperately wanted to shout at her. No, not really at her, just at something - someone, so he could ignore that feeling burrowing within. Guilt? No, surely not. But something uncomfortable, and that something only made worse by Malaika’s words.

He looked up at her, standing so apparently innocent (not that any of the Light-forsaken witches could even be called that), and with that bloody stare, as though he were an insect under glass. He couldn’t even hate her for it, because there was often a softness behind it; an interest that wasn’t clinical, but compassionate, as though she were emotionally invested in his struggles. He supposed she might be - she was his aunt, after all - but he had also seen that stare pressed down on others. She seemed to care a great deal for others, or at the least was of an empathetic nature.

May as well tell her. “He’s sick,” he said, and hoped he kept the bitterness from his tone. Probably not; not to her, at least, since all these Tower-trained women seemed in tune to the slightest nuance. “My sister Jahzara says he doesn’t leave his room, nor even his bed.  His leg, I suppose.  Else she’s saying it just to guilt me home.” He wasn’t sure he believed that entirely, if he wished it were true. It would be far easier to dismiss, then. What if he dies? Kas had wished that, guiltily and to his shame, but he had never really [/I]meant[/I] it. Could I live with the regret of never seeing him again? All that hatred stagnating without resolution.

Was this what Aes Sedai mind games felt like? She didn’t say another bloody word, and yet it was like she controlled his strings as surely as any puppeteer. I’m not running, he thought fiercely, but if he couldn’t even confront his father face to face, then what else did it look like? He glared down at the letter in his hand, at the blue torm’s head seal, and wanted to crush the wax in his fist; wanted to watch it erode and crumble… but that rise to temper would only show how much he cared and prove the precise nature of her words.

“Fine.  We’ll go, if you think it will make any difference.  But it’ll be a wasted trip if anyone thinks I’m going back to Ebou Dar.”

“You don’t have to stay there,” she said, and there was a lightness to the corners of her lips, as though she were smiling. “You just have to face your father.”