04-08-2018, 03:16 PM
His memories of Araya were a thick fog. A figure meandering beneath Daryen's watch at first. That man was no where to be seen, now. Replaced him was a figment of selfless duty who contemplated everything but reflected nothing. Araya was wrapped with rules snug as the scarves always noosed at his throat. Not a man of the black, but not one lacking in discipline either. There was absolutely no question in Jai's mind about his brother's character.
The images in Jai's head of Araya did not match the patient force sharing the room. Gone seemed the quiet-spoken soul: the man with women and children, fond of pomade and an eye for furniture, who nestled his head in pillows at night and woke the next morning willing to don a cheerful wardrobe. That man seemed an illusion to the reality of what was staring him down now, ready to contain the sanity if it were to splinter. Just like everyone else, as Daryen managed with sheer presence of will and Nythadri succeeded with a single look. Only as he couldn't fight with Daryen, and as he didn't want to with Nythadri, Jai stared Araya back.
He fell to automatic attention. Stiff spined, balanced stance, blank of reaction, hands tucked behind his back. Araya might haul him to the wall and slam his eardrums with threats, and at this moment he could with relative ease, and Jai would only stare straight as any Soldier taking the wrath of his superiors. Blank but for drilled in compliance.
Only behind his back his hands were clenched and beneath his coat his heart drummed fury. Never had he asked to be dragged here. Yet here he was imprisoned. The length of recovery was unknown. A week or a month? Cording a single rope of Air into obedience was enough to break a sweat. The idea of grappling all the Powers with enough coordination to wormhole the Pattern itself? It was a task Jai knew he'd not survive.
He was trapped. Ironically desperate to return to duty when a week ago he was desperate to flee it. It was an exhausting pendulum to ride. Enough to shred a man of his will; or so he imagined. There was none left of his to rip apart.
One option remained: grab a saddle and return the old fashioned way. Course, given he had no socks or belt, it was quite obvious he was also penniless and leaning again on the mercy of other shoulders. Short of thievery, which turned his stomach to acid, or paying a visit home, which turned his tongue to ash, Araya's guest he was forced to remain.
His hands wrung, his chest tight, heaving with frustration within the dark folds, but Araya wasn't the only man of discipline in the room:
"Yes sir."
It may be clear this was Araya's show. His rules, his house, but Jai was going to be damned if he were in Tar Valon a minute longer than necessary. Which meant swallowing exhaustion and straining his grip on saidin as often as possible until strength reformed enough to Travel.
The Oneness immediately followed, and lashes of the Power wrenched the room back together without hesitation. All from the unmoving Asha'man holding attention at its center. Jai barely blinked as he worked, though the One Power raged around him until sweat trickled past his eyes like tears. Furniture, blood and ashes! Shoving two pieces at a time took as much concentration as snapping deathgates apart. Lofting a chair over a rug for ten seconds harder than razoring the filth infesting some distant valley for hours on end. The last of it left him depleted and staring at the would-be weapon strewn at his feet.
Numbed by the thrashing of Saidin, he slowly knelt when he couldn't hang on any longer. Lowered of his own accord to one knee, the black pooled around him; four times now an expert at the move. The sword pin first, a year after Mikel's wager; now that was a fun night. The Dragon pin soon after, another proud moment; but days later saw him slit in half. To accept a medal he wouldn't wear, third.
The fourth bended knee, on the other hand, not two days ago, he'd deserved.
Regardless of weather, tomorrow would see the routine performed in the garden if Araya had one; if not, back to the wall the furniture would return. Modest Valoni homes were void of the grass and fences of smaller towns, but Shayol Ghul would freeze over before Jai strolled down the street looking for a place to satiate compulsion elsewhere.
The moment he picked it up, he immediately tossed the stick to a corner by hand: loathing having to touch it now, but needing it at the same time. A sickness he was fully aware rotted away within, but did nothing about. Only when he turned away, grim, ready to eat again and drink a gallon of milk, did Jai contemplate how the foreseeable future was going to unfold, and the brother in command until released from it.
He stopped at a window and withdrew the covering. Its lace felt like an iron curtain in his fingers.
"Where on the island are we?"
A resigned question, but he had to know how close he was to everything he needed to hide from. The frown as he stared out drenched his face with despair.
Jai let the curtain go, swinging freely, as he turned about, silently begging Araya for an honest answer with his look alone. Back on Tar Valon. Somewhere on those streets his name hovered frozen in stone above a gilded building. Around the corner perhaps swung the lazy sign of a playfully named tavern. His father was likely journeying home after a day in public office. His brothers likely wondering if he was dead. His mother probably staring blank at the portrait he'd sworn to complete, but knew now he never would. It would be kinder if Andreu cancelled her weekly appointments with Tower Healers and simply let her fade into bliss. Light knew the rest of them would envy her before the end. Brief wonder considered what Nythadri was doing right then.
He rubbed his eyes, tired. "I'm from Tar Valon, Araya."
Then straightened his sleeves and checked out the room again. The whitewashed walls. The brass lamps. A stack of logs by the fireplace. "My home is somewhere out there. I don't recognize your street, but I'd like to avoid my own if its up to me. The nearest cross roads will tell me enough."
Not that his preferences meant much now. About then Araya could order him to crawl home and kiss his doorstep hello, and there'd be little resistance on Jai's part. There were other things he'd rather endure, but if Jai was living his life up to him, he'd still be face down in the dirt somewhere.
The images in Jai's head of Araya did not match the patient force sharing the room. Gone seemed the quiet-spoken soul: the man with women and children, fond of pomade and an eye for furniture, who nestled his head in pillows at night and woke the next morning willing to don a cheerful wardrobe. That man seemed an illusion to the reality of what was staring him down now, ready to contain the sanity if it were to splinter. Just like everyone else, as Daryen managed with sheer presence of will and Nythadri succeeded with a single look. Only as he couldn't fight with Daryen, and as he didn't want to with Nythadri, Jai stared Araya back.
He fell to automatic attention. Stiff spined, balanced stance, blank of reaction, hands tucked behind his back. Araya might haul him to the wall and slam his eardrums with threats, and at this moment he could with relative ease, and Jai would only stare straight as any Soldier taking the wrath of his superiors. Blank but for drilled in compliance.
Only behind his back his hands were clenched and beneath his coat his heart drummed fury. Never had he asked to be dragged here. Yet here he was imprisoned. The length of recovery was unknown. A week or a month? Cording a single rope of Air into obedience was enough to break a sweat. The idea of grappling all the Powers with enough coordination to wormhole the Pattern itself? It was a task Jai knew he'd not survive.
He was trapped. Ironically desperate to return to duty when a week ago he was desperate to flee it. It was an exhausting pendulum to ride. Enough to shred a man of his will; or so he imagined. There was none left of his to rip apart.
One option remained: grab a saddle and return the old fashioned way. Course, given he had no socks or belt, it was quite obvious he was also penniless and leaning again on the mercy of other shoulders. Short of thievery, which turned his stomach to acid, or paying a visit home, which turned his tongue to ash, Araya's guest he was forced to remain.
His hands wrung, his chest tight, heaving with frustration within the dark folds, but Araya wasn't the only man of discipline in the room:
"Yes sir."
It may be clear this was Araya's show. His rules, his house, but Jai was going to be damned if he were in Tar Valon a minute longer than necessary. Which meant swallowing exhaustion and straining his grip on saidin as often as possible until strength reformed enough to Travel.
The Oneness immediately followed, and lashes of the Power wrenched the room back together without hesitation. All from the unmoving Asha'man holding attention at its center. Jai barely blinked as he worked, though the One Power raged around him until sweat trickled past his eyes like tears. Furniture, blood and ashes! Shoving two pieces at a time took as much concentration as snapping deathgates apart. Lofting a chair over a rug for ten seconds harder than razoring the filth infesting some distant valley for hours on end. The last of it left him depleted and staring at the would-be weapon strewn at his feet.
Numbed by the thrashing of Saidin, he slowly knelt when he couldn't hang on any longer. Lowered of his own accord to one knee, the black pooled around him; four times now an expert at the move. The sword pin first, a year after Mikel's wager; now that was a fun night. The Dragon pin soon after, another proud moment; but days later saw him slit in half. To accept a medal he wouldn't wear, third.
The fourth bended knee, on the other hand, not two days ago, he'd deserved.
Regardless of weather, tomorrow would see the routine performed in the garden if Araya had one; if not, back to the wall the furniture would return. Modest Valoni homes were void of the grass and fences of smaller towns, but Shayol Ghul would freeze over before Jai strolled down the street looking for a place to satiate compulsion elsewhere.
The moment he picked it up, he immediately tossed the stick to a corner by hand: loathing having to touch it now, but needing it at the same time. A sickness he was fully aware rotted away within, but did nothing about. Only when he turned away, grim, ready to eat again and drink a gallon of milk, did Jai contemplate how the foreseeable future was going to unfold, and the brother in command until released from it.
He stopped at a window and withdrew the covering. Its lace felt like an iron curtain in his fingers.
"Where on the island are we?"
A resigned question, but he had to know how close he was to everything he needed to hide from. The frown as he stared out drenched his face with despair.
Jai let the curtain go, swinging freely, as he turned about, silently begging Araya for an honest answer with his look alone. Back on Tar Valon. Somewhere on those streets his name hovered frozen in stone above a gilded building. Around the corner perhaps swung the lazy sign of a playfully named tavern. His father was likely journeying home after a day in public office. His brothers likely wondering if he was dead. His mother probably staring blank at the portrait he'd sworn to complete, but knew now he never would. It would be kinder if Andreu cancelled her weekly appointments with Tower Healers and simply let her fade into bliss. Light knew the rest of them would envy her before the end. Brief wonder considered what Nythadri was doing right then.
He rubbed his eyes, tired. "I'm from Tar Valon, Araya."
Then straightened his sleeves and checked out the room again. The whitewashed walls. The brass lamps. A stack of logs by the fireplace. "My home is somewhere out there. I don't recognize your street, but I'd like to avoid my own if its up to me. The nearest cross roads will tell me enough."
Not that his preferences meant much now. About then Araya could order him to crawl home and kiss his doorstep hello, and there'd be little resistance on Jai's part. There were other things he'd rather endure, but if Jai was living his life up to him, he'd still be face down in the dirt somewhere.
Only darkness shows you the light.