Homeward Bound

[Raffe]

The stiff stand to attention felt like mockery. Araya had never been one for that sort of formality, and he didn’t know Jai well enough to fathom the level of sincerity. Not that he could fault the grim determination or the void expression; it was all utterly by the book, like any sense of the actual man had simply vanished. He shrugged at the curt ‘Yes sir’, and stood as the room’s furniture began to reassemble. The authority didn’t sit right with him; he wasn’t the type of man to intentionally bend another’s will. Light, it was usually the other way around, with him at the beck and call of others. Worse, even he could sense Jai’s captive frustration, and he wavered in that moment; considered opening the Gate and letting Jai go.

His arms folded, chin burying into the scarf he had not yet bothered to remove, a frown drawing his brows close. He’d expected more resistance from a full Asha’man; more fire, more hostility. Araya might have, what, a decade’s seniority? But he had no eminence attached to his name, nor even a reputation of worthy note to warrant such swift capitulation... which levelled the blame toward Jai’s punishment instead. Every man on Black Tower grounds that Araya had spoken to agreed upon the point at which Jai had broken. So was this what the stronger man really looked like; burnt through with duty, mindlessly compliant? Was Araya staring at the calibre of solider that would one day factor the difference between the Dark One’s defeat and his success? Or was it a front? Death disguised as duty?

And then something else hit him. Light. Was he just being selfish? Displacing concern for Trista upon someone he had some chance of helping, even if he didn’t need or want the help, so that he felt like he was at least doing something? Araya scruffed a hand through his hair as that possibility occurred to him, and flopped down in one of the rearranged chairs. She could be anywhere. He had a vague sense of direction, of course, though he’d barely let himself dwell on it since Arad Doman. Even now the awareness didn’t quite settle, though he knew he would have to realise it eventually; it was kind of the point. For now though he watched Jai discard the beheaded broomstick and stalk to the window. ‘You can’t take in every waif and stray, Araya.’

“Outskirts, southside. Not far from the Grove.”
The admission of home was met with the kind of look that said he had not known, but at the same time did not quite comprehend the significance. The location slipped from his tongue freely, surprised that Jai felt the need to pin him with that look of desperate askance; neither lying nor withholding ever occurred to him. “You grew up here? Huh.”
He took a moment to imagine it. Then, after a moment, clarified: “Home for me was wherever the wagons stopped rolling.”
The affable grin was back; the casual shrug. A few days, to make sure he really is ok. Then if he still wants to go back to the Tower, I’ll take him. It seemed a favourable compromise; one he almost voiced, if he could have thought of the words to frame it. He imagined it would have fallen on deaf ears anyway. Jai already saw the bars, though if he walked right out the door now Araya would not stop him. “Hungry? I can bring a bowl through if you like. If you’re desperate to avoid your own family, I won’t foist mine on you.”