04-26-2019, 05:05 PM
White Tower teachings – in fact the very nature of saidar itself - gifted women with the foundations of serenity the Aes Sedai were renowned for. Nythadri looked calm now, but it was not entirely true; even as she relaxed against the headboard her heart pounded a torrent made deafening by the fear time was slipping through her fingers. But she yielded it to the turn of the Wheel; forced herself to accept what would come, and much like the fall backwards into saidar she trusted to that unknown – or at least her ability to bend with the shape of the Pattern. He was here, now. Her chest spread with warmth, born from the weightlessness of having placed yourself in the palm of another’s hand, and despite every available opportunity they had chosen not to crush you. She’d never intended to pour that trust into Jai, and still wasn’t convinced it was wise, but when she looked at him - remembering the tightness of his grip in reply to hers, the shiver his hands sent up her spine – such doubts were rendered silent.
His question, but moreso the cynical edge to his tone, prompted something of a wry smile. The sentimental tinge to her mood made it a simple answer, a certain one, but she sensed the raw nerve it touched and chose to say nothing. His wasn’t the disbelief of a gratified ego seeking to savour praise, it was like a glimpse of scar tissue. No wound to heal. It was just him. The bitter conviction that nothing like honour could co-exist with the beast saidin made of men - or if it did, that it was not enough to offer salvation. For a man who lived his life in shadows it was a painfully black and white outlook. Although considering all their conversations in Arad Doman about trust - their scorn of it, perhaps he was simply pointing out how foolish it was of her to place that much faith in him, to place any faith in him at all. But she knew that too, and it impeded the roguish fondness of her expression not a whit; light, if anything it made her fall a little further. In any case, she didn't intend her words as the naive earnestness of an idealist placing an unattainable burden about his shoulders - that would render them meaningless, and she was not the sort to offer empty platitudes to those for whom she cared. No, Nythadri was far quicker to instead speak murderous truths. If Daryen had not stopped Jai during the hunt, he would have killed Tamal Suaya no question. She remembered the look in his eyes as clearly as the resultant pang of fear which had pushed her away from him. She trusted him despite it.
Light. She shouldn't. But she did. For no rational reason she could fathom, she did. Whether he refused to see it or not, he was a good man.
She was tired or it was suddenly funny; funny in the most dark and humourless way, which was precisely why it stoked up ashes of morbid amusement and made her want to laugh at the pair of them. It would only take the smallest stretch to brush the foot of her extended leg against his thigh. A playful torment, though it would only have been intended to catch his attention, both to the deadpan humour in her eyes and tense restraint of sitting so close yet so carefully apart. Because despite whatever disaster had brought him here, if she couldn't fall into the comfort of his arms she at least wanted to see him smile. To brighten the horizon of night with the promise of morning. To tease a grin even though his world was still crumbling at the edges, because she was selfish enough to love the way it lit his face. He'd lost so much, so much because of her, and he should resent her for it. Blame her. When he'd pulled her into her own room to warn her away it should have been sincere. A hard, clean severance. Instead the Pattern had wound them closer, and the knots were now so tight she didn't think she could unpick them even if she'd wanted to. He'd lost his sword, lost some part of himself. But he'd won her. Imprisoned in seven bands of colour, it was hardly much in the way of consolation. Which was why, in the end, her foot never moved.
The smile faded behind a bite of the lip. Jai seemed uncomfortable, fidgety; sitting forward, back, rubbing his face, frowning. The agitation spread in waves, and it made her want to still it from him. To share calm and strength with touch and presence, except that way led a path she could ill afford to follow in the heart of the Tower. Could ill afford to follow at all, really, though it didn’t seem to stop her toeing to the edge of the cliff, tugging Jai along behind her whilst the pendulum of her fears swung between the anxiety he would pull away to the startling realisation that he might just throw them both over the edge. No, the latter was more a strange mix of trepidation and longing than a fear, because light for every rational thought keeping her hands clasped about the pillow and her back pressed firm against the headboard there was another burning for a crack in the tension; foolish, ardent, girlish desire that probably should have flamed her cheeks rather than her eyes. It wasn’t a dare, not like it had been in the warm waters of the Aryth, just a presence heating the equanimity of her expression; one she either couldn't erase or was making no efforts to hide. Remember the ring, Nythadri.
She listened to him with the focus of one paying close attention; a potentially judging look, particularly framed by those ice-pale eyes, though in reality it was only the flare of concentration as she was caught on those first words, rather than in judgement of what he actually said. You know how I count. The bold intensity of that weighing expression didn’t matter anyway because he never looked at her; kept his eyes shut for the most part, and continued to shift and fuss like the very air was closing in on him. It wasn’t the explanation she had been expecting, and for a moment the tangent took her by surprise. In the Front Hall she had called it a gift, wrongly so she had realised later, at least in his eyes, and the conflict only exemplified itself now. Because he really was ill at ease, rife with the fevered air of confession - at least she assumed that's why he was uncomfortable. He seemed to be sweating, when channelers never sweat. Her hands itched, by now, to grab his wrists and stop that bloody restlessness. But she just let him talk, still and silent and thinking.
Patterns. A thousand different patterns, and a thousand different methods of seeing those patterns and translating those patterns and understanding those patterns. The Pattern. A cluttered world. Light. He'd professed to decoding his own death note. Counted footsteps. Calculated wall tiles. And that was probably just the outer edges of a neurosis he tried so desperately to hide it coated him with the stigma of a questionable sanity. It also explained the origins of a paranoia that stung so deep he would kill a man for what everyone else could be convinced was a stray arrow. She thought she understood, at least in faint essence, though if she recognised the shining nets of daes dae'mar it was not in so orderly and rational a fashion; there was no explanation to the pulls of intuition, the way sometimes apparently disparate facts simply clicked and shimmered a picture. Not for her. She understood the power of something you could not control, at least; a facet of yourself that weighed a burden you could not simply wish away. For that, the best comfort she could give was a look of simple acceptance, if he ever looked at her anyway.
So Zakar Kojima had used the Tower. No surprise flickered in her reaction, just grimness. If she counted Jai's word as fact, not just more supposition atop the suspicions she had already had, then it placed her in an awkward position. The serpent ring tightened on her finger; tightened and flashed a premonition of fear against the hope she would ever truly have to chose between Jai and the Tower. Because she knew as an Accepted, as a child of the Tower, she should be delivering this information to the relevant authorities. Did he even realise how much trust those simple words placed in her? Or how much risk. Her thoughts moved past it with all the care one displayed for a sleeping, dangerous animal; one she should make sure did not one day wake and come for her throat. Supposition, she decided, and if she repeated it to herself enough times it would be true. The Light send it was not a lie she need ever have to tell.
She turned the name Andreu over carefully, curiously, while Jai carried on. Another brother. With another... unique facet to him. Her gaze lingered on the bruises; first at Jai's knuckles as his fingers snaked viciously through his hair, then at his face - which still seemed determined not to turn towards her. Whatever the conversation between them, it had come to blows, clearly, but the meandering of those thoughts never reached a conclusion - because she suddenly realised where this was going, and her heart sunk. "So you took the blame?" Light. Light!
It took a moment longer to unravel in her mind. Jai would protect a brother who would not do him the same courtesy, and it blazed a defiance in her chest that for a moment stiffened her jaw and hardened her gaze. Her outstretched leg drew up to meet the other, then folded crosslegged. The pillow still in her lap, though forgotten, she leaned forwards, elbows on her knees. "And what do you think the Tower will do? If Andreu’s investigations come to their attention. If they think you crossed them." Her voice was low, and terribly still; worry an inherent crack she didn’t try to hide. If Jai chose to sacrifice himself in the eyes of his family she could not stop him, if she may not approve that it was for Zakar’s sake. But she would not let him destroy himself. Not for Zakar. Not for his family. After Caemlyn - light, even without the disaster of Caemlyn - he could not afford to be seen meddling with that kind of politics. The economic ramifications of that had the potential to be far worse than the consequences of interfering with Winther. He was an Asha'man, and he had already learned how meagerly he was protected. The punishment he would face was not worth the preservation of one family's pride.
And for light's sake, Zakar would not hesitate from noosing Jai’s neck himself. If Nythadri had gleaned enough to know as much from from a single meeting with the man then Jai must know it too. Would Zakar be grateful that Jai had taken the burden of blame to save him? Or would he seize the opportunity to ruin the brother for whom jealously fisted a grip so tight it had seethed out in front of a stranger. Confessing to Andreu just about handed Zakar the keys to Jai's deliverance. Would Zakar be so cruel as to see his brother arrested for it? Nythadri neither meant to wait to find out, nor to give Zakar the benefit of the doubt. There were options. Zakar would not spare Jai unless she was able to manoeuvre him into a position where he had to, if that were even possible. No, of course it would be possible. All men had prices; flaws that could be bent to will. But she couldn’t promise it would leave his family intact, and the rawness in his voice gave her pause in a way threats and intimidation would never have. He had lost so much; adding his family to that list would destroy him.
Frustration returned in sickening waves. He was asking her to do nothing while he stepped in to close a breach they had both helped create. For a dangerous second she was close to exploding. How many more times would she be made to stay her hand? Crushed by powerlessness. Forced to do nothing. Abruptly she thought of the woman, Jaslene, who had flagged her down in the street. Pictured Jai's worried mother, remembered her promise, and felt sick - how could she tell him of it now, when he had already started the motions that would shatter his mother's heart? Did he not realise how much pain his betrayal would cause? Why do you think you’re so expendable? Anger bristled at his ignorance and boiled up to poison on her tongue, ready to lash out, ready to rain down every nuanced flaw in such a stupid, stupid plan. But she was stilled by the sudden recognition that she didn’t want to hurt him in that way; didn’t want to pull the veil of that lie away from his eyes. Of course he knew it would bring pain to the family he left behind. He weighed the consequences and took the path that would best preserve the people he loved. She brought her hands to her forehead, soothed her temples, then combed her fingers back through her hair. Thinking. Forcing composure like an iron shutter.
Lythia had a Green watching over her family in Caemlyn, so it was possible she could start filtering the money back faster than she had planned. It meant trusting the Aes Sedai more than she would like; it meant trusting her father's ability to keep his mouth shut more than she would like. But if it soothed Jai she would do it. Light burn her for a bloody fool but she would do it. It didn't solve the problem though; if Andreu was as meticulous as Jai suggested, the coin was not the only trail that led back to her: her name was on Zakar's list of those with immediate access to him. She had been able to tell by the clerk's reaction alone that it was an unusual invitation, and if Andreu were to find out about it then it would mark her out as blatantly as the suspicious origins of her family's new found inheritance - because why would Zakar Kojima have any interest in a White Tower Accepted? But Jai didn't know that, and she wasn't going to burden him with the information. Let him at least leave this room with that peace.
She let her face fall into her hands, head bowed, and rubbed at her eyes. She didn't like it; she didn't like it at all, this intention of his that she should be complicit while he made such a sacrifice. The wrath of the Tower hovered too close, and Jai's fate balanced on the whim of one brother who spared no love for him and the other who might be clever enough to see through whatever misdirection sent him off the trail anyway. Would Andreu be open to reason? Would knowing the truth be enough, or did he seek justice? She didn't know enough to justify the risk of finding that out, and she couldn't ask Jai his opinion because it would suggest she had notions of interfering. She looked up, though didn't fully rise from her hands; just rested her chin on both curled fists. Silence reigned in the moments she looked at him, reflecting how weak she felt around the edges; how, if she promised to move the coin tomorrow (more likely today, by now) like Jai asked, she would be facing down Zakar with an unrested mind and hardly at her best... but that at least she would have the opportunity, and the excuse, to speak to him.
"Then I guess I'll need to move that light-forsaken money." The ghost of a smile, albeit a tired smile, lifted her lips; recognition of her own submission, and the rarity of it, as well as an indication of her understanding. She would do it, not because he demanded or threatened, but because it meant something to him. As simple and painless as that. The decision set with resolution, certainty. She needed more time to outline a plan, time she probably didn't have, but she would fix this - and hope to light she didn't make any mistakes in her haste. She sat up from her hands, pinning him with a stare. "But I swear, Jai, I bloody swear, that if either of them tries to serve you up to the Tower for it..." She didn't finish, she didn't suppose she needed to, because the promise burned coals of her eyes. He would understand her conviction, but the moment she saw that he did the full force of it left her. Tension dropped from her shoulders, and her fingers massaged where frozen toes peeked from the hem of her dress under either knee. "Light...".
His question, but moreso the cynical edge to his tone, prompted something of a wry smile. The sentimental tinge to her mood made it a simple answer, a certain one, but she sensed the raw nerve it touched and chose to say nothing. His wasn’t the disbelief of a gratified ego seeking to savour praise, it was like a glimpse of scar tissue. No wound to heal. It was just him. The bitter conviction that nothing like honour could co-exist with the beast saidin made of men - or if it did, that it was not enough to offer salvation. For a man who lived his life in shadows it was a painfully black and white outlook. Although considering all their conversations in Arad Doman about trust - their scorn of it, perhaps he was simply pointing out how foolish it was of her to place that much faith in him, to place any faith in him at all. But she knew that too, and it impeded the roguish fondness of her expression not a whit; light, if anything it made her fall a little further. In any case, she didn't intend her words as the naive earnestness of an idealist placing an unattainable burden about his shoulders - that would render them meaningless, and she was not the sort to offer empty platitudes to those for whom she cared. No, Nythadri was far quicker to instead speak murderous truths. If Daryen had not stopped Jai during the hunt, he would have killed Tamal Suaya no question. She remembered the look in his eyes as clearly as the resultant pang of fear which had pushed her away from him. She trusted him despite it.
Light. She shouldn't. But she did. For no rational reason she could fathom, she did. Whether he refused to see it or not, he was a good man.
She was tired or it was suddenly funny; funny in the most dark and humourless way, which was precisely why it stoked up ashes of morbid amusement and made her want to laugh at the pair of them. It would only take the smallest stretch to brush the foot of her extended leg against his thigh. A playful torment, though it would only have been intended to catch his attention, both to the deadpan humour in her eyes and tense restraint of sitting so close yet so carefully apart. Because despite whatever disaster had brought him here, if she couldn't fall into the comfort of his arms she at least wanted to see him smile. To brighten the horizon of night with the promise of morning. To tease a grin even though his world was still crumbling at the edges, because she was selfish enough to love the way it lit his face. He'd lost so much, so much because of her, and he should resent her for it. Blame her. When he'd pulled her into her own room to warn her away it should have been sincere. A hard, clean severance. Instead the Pattern had wound them closer, and the knots were now so tight she didn't think she could unpick them even if she'd wanted to. He'd lost his sword, lost some part of himself. But he'd won her. Imprisoned in seven bands of colour, it was hardly much in the way of consolation. Which was why, in the end, her foot never moved.
The smile faded behind a bite of the lip. Jai seemed uncomfortable, fidgety; sitting forward, back, rubbing his face, frowning. The agitation spread in waves, and it made her want to still it from him. To share calm and strength with touch and presence, except that way led a path she could ill afford to follow in the heart of the Tower. Could ill afford to follow at all, really, though it didn’t seem to stop her toeing to the edge of the cliff, tugging Jai along behind her whilst the pendulum of her fears swung between the anxiety he would pull away to the startling realisation that he might just throw them both over the edge. No, the latter was more a strange mix of trepidation and longing than a fear, because light for every rational thought keeping her hands clasped about the pillow and her back pressed firm against the headboard there was another burning for a crack in the tension; foolish, ardent, girlish desire that probably should have flamed her cheeks rather than her eyes. It wasn’t a dare, not like it had been in the warm waters of the Aryth, just a presence heating the equanimity of her expression; one she either couldn't erase or was making no efforts to hide. Remember the ring, Nythadri.
She listened to him with the focus of one paying close attention; a potentially judging look, particularly framed by those ice-pale eyes, though in reality it was only the flare of concentration as she was caught on those first words, rather than in judgement of what he actually said. You know how I count. The bold intensity of that weighing expression didn’t matter anyway because he never looked at her; kept his eyes shut for the most part, and continued to shift and fuss like the very air was closing in on him. It wasn’t the explanation she had been expecting, and for a moment the tangent took her by surprise. In the Front Hall she had called it a gift, wrongly so she had realised later, at least in his eyes, and the conflict only exemplified itself now. Because he really was ill at ease, rife with the fevered air of confession - at least she assumed that's why he was uncomfortable. He seemed to be sweating, when channelers never sweat. Her hands itched, by now, to grab his wrists and stop that bloody restlessness. But she just let him talk, still and silent and thinking.
Patterns. A thousand different patterns, and a thousand different methods of seeing those patterns and translating those patterns and understanding those patterns. The Pattern. A cluttered world. Light. He'd professed to decoding his own death note. Counted footsteps. Calculated wall tiles. And that was probably just the outer edges of a neurosis he tried so desperately to hide it coated him with the stigma of a questionable sanity. It also explained the origins of a paranoia that stung so deep he would kill a man for what everyone else could be convinced was a stray arrow. She thought she understood, at least in faint essence, though if she recognised the shining nets of daes dae'mar it was not in so orderly and rational a fashion; there was no explanation to the pulls of intuition, the way sometimes apparently disparate facts simply clicked and shimmered a picture. Not for her. She understood the power of something you could not control, at least; a facet of yourself that weighed a burden you could not simply wish away. For that, the best comfort she could give was a look of simple acceptance, if he ever looked at her anyway.
So Zakar Kojima had used the Tower. No surprise flickered in her reaction, just grimness. If she counted Jai's word as fact, not just more supposition atop the suspicions she had already had, then it placed her in an awkward position. The serpent ring tightened on her finger; tightened and flashed a premonition of fear against the hope she would ever truly have to chose between Jai and the Tower. Because she knew as an Accepted, as a child of the Tower, she should be delivering this information to the relevant authorities. Did he even realise how much trust those simple words placed in her? Or how much risk. Her thoughts moved past it with all the care one displayed for a sleeping, dangerous animal; one she should make sure did not one day wake and come for her throat. Supposition, she decided, and if she repeated it to herself enough times it would be true. The Light send it was not a lie she need ever have to tell.
She turned the name Andreu over carefully, curiously, while Jai carried on. Another brother. With another... unique facet to him. Her gaze lingered on the bruises; first at Jai's knuckles as his fingers snaked viciously through his hair, then at his face - which still seemed determined not to turn towards her. Whatever the conversation between them, it had come to blows, clearly, but the meandering of those thoughts never reached a conclusion - because she suddenly realised where this was going, and her heart sunk. "So you took the blame?" Light. Light!
It took a moment longer to unravel in her mind. Jai would protect a brother who would not do him the same courtesy, and it blazed a defiance in her chest that for a moment stiffened her jaw and hardened her gaze. Her outstretched leg drew up to meet the other, then folded crosslegged. The pillow still in her lap, though forgotten, she leaned forwards, elbows on her knees. "And what do you think the Tower will do? If Andreu’s investigations come to their attention. If they think you crossed them." Her voice was low, and terribly still; worry an inherent crack she didn’t try to hide. If Jai chose to sacrifice himself in the eyes of his family she could not stop him, if she may not approve that it was for Zakar’s sake. But she would not let him destroy himself. Not for Zakar. Not for his family. After Caemlyn - light, even without the disaster of Caemlyn - he could not afford to be seen meddling with that kind of politics. The economic ramifications of that had the potential to be far worse than the consequences of interfering with Winther. He was an Asha'man, and he had already learned how meagerly he was protected. The punishment he would face was not worth the preservation of one family's pride.
And for light's sake, Zakar would not hesitate from noosing Jai’s neck himself. If Nythadri had gleaned enough to know as much from from a single meeting with the man then Jai must know it too. Would Zakar be grateful that Jai had taken the burden of blame to save him? Or would he seize the opportunity to ruin the brother for whom jealously fisted a grip so tight it had seethed out in front of a stranger. Confessing to Andreu just about handed Zakar the keys to Jai's deliverance. Would Zakar be so cruel as to see his brother arrested for it? Nythadri neither meant to wait to find out, nor to give Zakar the benefit of the doubt. There were options. Zakar would not spare Jai unless she was able to manoeuvre him into a position where he had to, if that were even possible. No, of course it would be possible. All men had prices; flaws that could be bent to will. But she couldn’t promise it would leave his family intact, and the rawness in his voice gave her pause in a way threats and intimidation would never have. He had lost so much; adding his family to that list would destroy him.
Frustration returned in sickening waves. He was asking her to do nothing while he stepped in to close a breach they had both helped create. For a dangerous second she was close to exploding. How many more times would she be made to stay her hand? Crushed by powerlessness. Forced to do nothing. Abruptly she thought of the woman, Jaslene, who had flagged her down in the street. Pictured Jai's worried mother, remembered her promise, and felt sick - how could she tell him of it now, when he had already started the motions that would shatter his mother's heart? Did he not realise how much pain his betrayal would cause? Why do you think you’re so expendable? Anger bristled at his ignorance and boiled up to poison on her tongue, ready to lash out, ready to rain down every nuanced flaw in such a stupid, stupid plan. But she was stilled by the sudden recognition that she didn’t want to hurt him in that way; didn’t want to pull the veil of that lie away from his eyes. Of course he knew it would bring pain to the family he left behind. He weighed the consequences and took the path that would best preserve the people he loved. She brought her hands to her forehead, soothed her temples, then combed her fingers back through her hair. Thinking. Forcing composure like an iron shutter.
Lythia had a Green watching over her family in Caemlyn, so it was possible she could start filtering the money back faster than she had planned. It meant trusting the Aes Sedai more than she would like; it meant trusting her father's ability to keep his mouth shut more than she would like. But if it soothed Jai she would do it. Light burn her for a bloody fool but she would do it. It didn't solve the problem though; if Andreu was as meticulous as Jai suggested, the coin was not the only trail that led back to her: her name was on Zakar's list of those with immediate access to him. She had been able to tell by the clerk's reaction alone that it was an unusual invitation, and if Andreu were to find out about it then it would mark her out as blatantly as the suspicious origins of her family's new found inheritance - because why would Zakar Kojima have any interest in a White Tower Accepted? But Jai didn't know that, and she wasn't going to burden him with the information. Let him at least leave this room with that peace.
She let her face fall into her hands, head bowed, and rubbed at her eyes. She didn't like it; she didn't like it at all, this intention of his that she should be complicit while he made such a sacrifice. The wrath of the Tower hovered too close, and Jai's fate balanced on the whim of one brother who spared no love for him and the other who might be clever enough to see through whatever misdirection sent him off the trail anyway. Would Andreu be open to reason? Would knowing the truth be enough, or did he seek justice? She didn't know enough to justify the risk of finding that out, and she couldn't ask Jai his opinion because it would suggest she had notions of interfering. She looked up, though didn't fully rise from her hands; just rested her chin on both curled fists. Silence reigned in the moments she looked at him, reflecting how weak she felt around the edges; how, if she promised to move the coin tomorrow (more likely today, by now) like Jai asked, she would be facing down Zakar with an unrested mind and hardly at her best... but that at least she would have the opportunity, and the excuse, to speak to him.
"Then I guess I'll need to move that light-forsaken money." The ghost of a smile, albeit a tired smile, lifted her lips; recognition of her own submission, and the rarity of it, as well as an indication of her understanding. She would do it, not because he demanded or threatened, but because it meant something to him. As simple and painless as that. The decision set with resolution, certainty. She needed more time to outline a plan, time she probably didn't have, but she would fix this - and hope to light she didn't make any mistakes in her haste. She sat up from her hands, pinning him with a stare. "But I swear, Jai, I bloody swear, that if either of them tries to serve you up to the Tower for it..." She didn't finish, she didn't suppose she needed to, because the promise burned coals of her eyes. He would understand her conviction, but the moment she saw that he did the full force of it left her. Tension dropped from her shoulders, and her fingers massaged where frozen toes peeked from the hem of her dress under either knee. "Light...".