09-07-2016, 09:26 AM
“On the contrary, I think you would be a fool to turn that down.”
And she meant it. Find pleasure where you may find it, as far as she was concerned. Her amusement stemmed more from her silent observation that he was like an unknowing fly caught in a web than in judgement over the calibre of his choice of prize. And what man didn’t think he could handle a beautiful woman? Good luck to him. He might in fact need it. Or perhaps Fate would finally meet her match; either way, Nythadri would hardly be privy to the outcome of that teasing banter – or even what lay beyond the Travelling Gate – so she did not overly dwell on it. Curiosity was natural, but she did not care much for another’s personal business.
The question had the air of a repaid jab. He didn’t pause for an answer, but he got one. “No.”
She smiled as she said it, but there was no wavering, no uncertainty in either her answer or her lack of an ajah. Just stubborn pride. The Ajahs were nothing but political constructs – and ones that, as far as Nythadri was concerned, were outdated. She had heard of women carrying the mantel of one Ajah into the Test, to emerge with the colour of another draped around her shoulders. That was proof enough as to the pointlessness of declaration, even if the consequences for her as an Accepted were unpleasant. She would have to choose eventually, of course. Nythadri’s back might not bend easily, but the Tower never gave up. If she wished to belong to this institution and the freedoms it offered, she would have to capitulate. She knew that, she accepted that.
Though her answer was short, her tone was not offended. Poking at her commitment would do little to garner a rise, for whatever apathetic face Nythadri presented to the world, she did not lack dedication – and like most things she felt confident about, someone casting doubt on her neither fazed her nor provoked a defensive attitude. It was a predictably common question, and she rarely felt the need to qualify her reasons for remaining loyal to the Tower despite her obvious dislike of it as an institution. As frustrating an initiate as she must be to her superiors, she didn’t lack ambition. Of the options open to her, she chose the path of Aes Sedai. Make no mistake.
Her pace was not brisk, but neither leisurely. Jai kept what she assumed he considered an appropriate distance, so she kept to half a pace ahead; he hovered like black mist in her periphery, the details of his masculine form banished to the edge of her vision. Her pale gaze seemed rather lackadaisical about their surroundings; the architecture she had seen a thousand times, and pretty much the same went for the people – whether she recognised them or not. Most faces passed in a blur of indifference, punctuated by those rare splashes of colour that required some acknowledgement of deference. Her thoughts wandered with no particular aim or focus, separated from the menial, unskilled nature of the task.
He returned to the subject of music. It somewhat surprised her that he bothered to make conversation; he did not owe it to her to make the journey interesting, and she would have been neither surprised nor offended by silence. Let alone to ask something beyond polite pleasantries. She was an Accepted; it was usually the first and last thing any outsider understood of the banded hems; but then he was not quite outsider.
Nythadri brushed her thumb across the toughened skin of her fingertips, contemplating an answer. Before the revelation of his… contact with Fate Sedai, she would have spoken without hesitation. But the Brown Sitter was a powerful woman, and Nythadri wasn’t careless when it came to things she loved. To talk about her violin and her passion for music to a man who had an Aes Sedai’s ear… well, it carried risks for an Accepted like her. All it would take was a passing comment and her regular sojourns to a world in which she found actual peace might be a thing of the past, taken away as punishment for her complacency. She had a hard enough time reconciling the person she had become with the person she wished to be without the one thing that brokered a sense of balance between the two torn away. So it gave her pause.
“No,”
she admitted after a moment – three or four paces of measured silence. “I’m not trained, not professionally. My father hired tutors for a time”
– pandering to the whims of his daughter, as he always had, until the money ran out. “But mostly I am… self-taught.”
She laughed, and there was nothing dark in it; just genuine amusement in reflection of her past - of the books she had trawled, the tunes she had learned simply through recalling melodies in the quiet of her rooms. Listening and copying and reading and practising, until her fingers bled and her muscles ached. Music among ladies was encouraged as a pastime, a point of interest to embellish otherwise vapid personalities, but entertaining beyond after-dinner frivolity was not. Women did not play in court, and ladies did not play in taverns. Thus Nythadri had stopped being a lady (in a manner of speaking) and in that innocent transgression spawned a wealth of rumour and mystery. What did the Lady Nythadri do with her time? Why was she so often absent from court parties? So often missing in the evening time, else spotted returning to her home in the early hours?
“One has to find pleasure where and when they can. I’m sure you agree.”
Her smile devolved to a smirk, though she truly meant the sentiment. “Considering which, I’ll spare you the boring detail of my musical aspirations. Bring attention to something you love, and the Tower will find some way to use that fact to their advantage.”
Not quite subtle, but she wanted to be sure he understood. He had no reason to want to cause her trouble of course, and she trusted to the general good-heartedness of people, but better he knew categorically that those callouses on her fingers should not really be there. "You have a marvellous eye for detail, Jai. You can tell a lot of someone by their hands, but not many care to notice the nuance of something so every day."
Another smirk, this one thrown in a sideways glance, but she did not pause for eye-contact. If she had any evaluations of his own hands, she did not share them unless asked. She doubted her assumptions would be as astute as his anyway.
A turn took them to a corridor with wide arching windows, the views outside of beautiful cultivated gardens and courtyards, some capped with snow, others untouched by the caress of winter. They would branch out soon, and the Travelling Grounds could be accessed not far beyond. She imagined they would have minutes to spare, though not many. "Do you know what she has planned? I envy you the journey, at least. It's been a long time since I even saw the city."
And she meant it. Find pleasure where you may find it, as far as she was concerned. Her amusement stemmed more from her silent observation that he was like an unknowing fly caught in a web than in judgement over the calibre of his choice of prize. And what man didn’t think he could handle a beautiful woman? Good luck to him. He might in fact need it. Or perhaps Fate would finally meet her match; either way, Nythadri would hardly be privy to the outcome of that teasing banter – or even what lay beyond the Travelling Gate – so she did not overly dwell on it. Curiosity was natural, but she did not care much for another’s personal business.
The question had the air of a repaid jab. He didn’t pause for an answer, but he got one. “No.”
She smiled as she said it, but there was no wavering, no uncertainty in either her answer or her lack of an ajah. Just stubborn pride. The Ajahs were nothing but political constructs – and ones that, as far as Nythadri was concerned, were outdated. She had heard of women carrying the mantel of one Ajah into the Test, to emerge with the colour of another draped around her shoulders. That was proof enough as to the pointlessness of declaration, even if the consequences for her as an Accepted were unpleasant. She would have to choose eventually, of course. Nythadri’s back might not bend easily, but the Tower never gave up. If she wished to belong to this institution and the freedoms it offered, she would have to capitulate. She knew that, she accepted that.
Though her answer was short, her tone was not offended. Poking at her commitment would do little to garner a rise, for whatever apathetic face Nythadri presented to the world, she did not lack dedication – and like most things she felt confident about, someone casting doubt on her neither fazed her nor provoked a defensive attitude. It was a predictably common question, and she rarely felt the need to qualify her reasons for remaining loyal to the Tower despite her obvious dislike of it as an institution. As frustrating an initiate as she must be to her superiors, she didn’t lack ambition. Of the options open to her, she chose the path of Aes Sedai. Make no mistake.
Her pace was not brisk, but neither leisurely. Jai kept what she assumed he considered an appropriate distance, so she kept to half a pace ahead; he hovered like black mist in her periphery, the details of his masculine form banished to the edge of her vision. Her pale gaze seemed rather lackadaisical about their surroundings; the architecture she had seen a thousand times, and pretty much the same went for the people – whether she recognised them or not. Most faces passed in a blur of indifference, punctuated by those rare splashes of colour that required some acknowledgement of deference. Her thoughts wandered with no particular aim or focus, separated from the menial, unskilled nature of the task.
He returned to the subject of music. It somewhat surprised her that he bothered to make conversation; he did not owe it to her to make the journey interesting, and she would have been neither surprised nor offended by silence. Let alone to ask something beyond polite pleasantries. She was an Accepted; it was usually the first and last thing any outsider understood of the banded hems; but then he was not quite outsider.
Nythadri brushed her thumb across the toughened skin of her fingertips, contemplating an answer. Before the revelation of his… contact with Fate Sedai, she would have spoken without hesitation. But the Brown Sitter was a powerful woman, and Nythadri wasn’t careless when it came to things she loved. To talk about her violin and her passion for music to a man who had an Aes Sedai’s ear… well, it carried risks for an Accepted like her. All it would take was a passing comment and her regular sojourns to a world in which she found actual peace might be a thing of the past, taken away as punishment for her complacency. She had a hard enough time reconciling the person she had become with the person she wished to be without the one thing that brokered a sense of balance between the two torn away. So it gave her pause.
“No,”
she admitted after a moment – three or four paces of measured silence. “I’m not trained, not professionally. My father hired tutors for a time”
– pandering to the whims of his daughter, as he always had, until the money ran out. “But mostly I am… self-taught.”
She laughed, and there was nothing dark in it; just genuine amusement in reflection of her past - of the books she had trawled, the tunes she had learned simply through recalling melodies in the quiet of her rooms. Listening and copying and reading and practising, until her fingers bled and her muscles ached. Music among ladies was encouraged as a pastime, a point of interest to embellish otherwise vapid personalities, but entertaining beyond after-dinner frivolity was not. Women did not play in court, and ladies did not play in taverns. Thus Nythadri had stopped being a lady (in a manner of speaking) and in that innocent transgression spawned a wealth of rumour and mystery. What did the Lady Nythadri do with her time? Why was she so often absent from court parties? So often missing in the evening time, else spotted returning to her home in the early hours?
“One has to find pleasure where and when they can. I’m sure you agree.”
Her smile devolved to a smirk, though she truly meant the sentiment. “Considering which, I’ll spare you the boring detail of my musical aspirations. Bring attention to something you love, and the Tower will find some way to use that fact to their advantage.”
Not quite subtle, but she wanted to be sure he understood. He had no reason to want to cause her trouble of course, and she trusted to the general good-heartedness of people, but better he knew categorically that those callouses on her fingers should not really be there. "You have a marvellous eye for detail, Jai. You can tell a lot of someone by their hands, but not many care to notice the nuance of something so every day."
Another smirk, this one thrown in a sideways glance, but she did not pause for eye-contact. If she had any evaluations of his own hands, she did not share them unless asked. She doubted her assumptions would be as astute as his anyway.
A turn took them to a corridor with wide arching windows, the views outside of beautiful cultivated gardens and courtyards, some capped with snow, others untouched by the caress of winter. They would branch out soon, and the Travelling Grounds could be accessed not far beyond. She imagined they would have minutes to spare, though not many. "Do you know what she has planned? I envy you the journey, at least. It's been a long time since I even saw the city."