Homeward Bound

[Jay Carpenter]

Araya's rhetoric unleashed a storm on the horizon unacknowledged by those too far from the thunder. A moment later he was on the threshold, door open and cheeks slapped with the cold air of freedom. A regular street waited without. Empty but for evidence of late-night travelers. Footsteps criss-crossing the snow.

His head pounded with enough consequence from the hangover to not be tempted by the lure of seeking another so soon; the lack of coppers likely helping him set aside that unhealthy invocation. The call of his name turned him slow, but willing to face whatever order was going to follow. An odd one came. Confusion reigned for the next few moments.

Hana? The outline of cold facts presented themselves: amily but not related by blood, something else bound the two together, Araya knew her husband. A chill scraped the edges of understanding, but Jai had a feeling Hana was a mystery best left in the dark.

What few noises once filtered through the walls before had since died out so quiet he wondered if they'd ever truly been real. Tense as though the house itself braced for what was building within its rooms. Jai's eyes were drawn toward the direction he last knew Hana to be and that direction he stared. She was a breathing woman, hardened by time, but his last memory of her was cheerful as Araya's wardrobe. Yet she was shadowed by something which didn't cling to Araya: the subdued smile of a survivor. One who earned the right to grin again. Ironic then, that Araya was the unwed man, yet his shoulders were dragged down by something unseen. While Hana, the one who'd loved and lost, carried on with her head held high.

He glanced outside. Pale flakes fell straight on windless air. Deep enough to look in need of shoving aside; drifts already began to crawl their way up the sides of everything. The cold tugged at his clothes, promising cartharsis waited out on those streets. It was just a matter of walking long enough to find it. And he knew he'd find it. Yet the beauty of walking through the snow would be a solitary path. It would be looking through the glass at what was untouchable on the other side.

As he waited blank with indecision, the warmth of the room leaked out around him. This house was a cozy hearth. A crackling fire a man could sit beside and stare at fascinated for hours on end. Better yet, he could share the fire with someone who knew to appreciate the moment for what it was. The sort of huddling that brought everyone together around one epicenter of warmth. A simple necessity, but the kind that forged bonds. Not the wealthy blazes of abundance that segregated everyone to their separate wings in the name of privacy.

His shoulders dropped, "I know what you fight for."
A determined sigh for the ages escaped. Dry, crushed, but a beautiful, sorrowed sound. The stem of a crumpled rose. The rift of disturbed snow. He shook his head again. Thoughtlines formed across his brow. Turned down his lips.

The hoarse way his brother spoke registered and Jai studied the scarf knotted at his brother's neck. A strange sort of respect kept him from asking about it. Just as Araya let his curiosity fester unanswered in return. Daryen had a kid he'd never mentioned. Jai, a scar he never explained. These brothers weren't the only ones with cores, and digging deep, Jai latched on to his. Nythadri was the only one willing to trust, and he'd learned his lesson.

"You're right."
He shrugged in stronger agreement with Araya than the man likely knew. Concentration darkened his face a moment, but no roar of saidin blazed to life. Instead, he delved into his own head rather than the Source. It'd be a good few hours before he channeled again, but in the meantime, his head was eager to stretch to its limits. His mouth formed words, but no syllable explained what they were.

Then, satisfied he was clear headed enough to count cards, but it'd take more than a headache to obliterate that skill. Least ways, he was unlikely to be threatened for a cheat in this saintly city of channelers. Not with the uniform, but gambling was never about the money.

He blinked the rest away, smoothed his sleeves, and pinned Araya man to man, "flesh and blood?"
Araya didn't strike him the old-fashioned sort, but he nodded an invite out there, and waited just in case the guy decided he could use a night away from the family. "If you're interested?"
A dark innuendo, perhaps, for men of honor but Jai wasn't so tragic a hero to think himself above it anyway. Araya was a good looking guy. All he'd have to do is walk in, hands in his pockets, and stand there. Jai would wager it'd be five minutes before he was drowning in more attention than most guys saw in a year.

Silence. Then, a shrug. "I'll see you in the morning."
Early morning, likely. His stance on sleeping arrangements was rather clear. Face drawn, a moment after, he left.