01-15-2023, 01:04 AM
Hessalam’s eyes bore fires into his. At first he cringed, and his heart flickered uneasy, but the longer he peered into them, her face seemed to shift. The folds of skin stretched and smoothed. Her hair darkened into nighttime ringlets. Her lips became plump and dewey. Blush gentle as flowers tinged the wings of her cheeks, but it was the eyes that dazzled the most. Twin spheres of diamond-hard ice that he thought he might sink into forever stared his reflection back at him.
She shimmered into a mirage of the woman that he wanted so badly to see, and now she stood before him like a wish came true. Recognition softened like a smile upon his expression, though his head was light as having drank a vat of the smoothest wine. Nythadri’s voice seethed whispers in his ear, and he nodded along. Of course he wanted to protect her. Himself and Daryen. Especially himself. Of course the best place to seek help was with the immaculate Sisters of the White Tower. Trista bartered like a good at market. An innocent girl placed on the scales against a pile of gold and ink.
It felt like floating in the ocean. Thoughts lifted and fell away like waves. Nythadri told him once that Saidar was falling without being caught. The longer it went, the less you cared in the bliss of the rush. He felt himself letting go, but he couldn’t look away from the mirage of Nythadri. It was bliss like her Saidar. Of course the Towers conspired. Enemies circling. Tyrants and darkfiends. Assassinate?
Her touch sparked. He wanted to kiss her. How long had it been since he’d lost himself in that free falling bliss. Hungry lips found his. He had to lean low. Hands pulled at his waist.
But then, like a dream, she faded.
He blinked. What was he saying? Was he talking out loud again? He couldn’t remember. A glimpse just out of sight. A shadow.
He turned to find the face of hope, and he remembered why he was there. He had to find help, and Lythia Sedai would save them.
He nodded and strode suredly through the gateway. On the other side, the familiar face of the one who found him at his brother’s grave waited. Recognition settled like a gentle rain. It had been raining the last time he saw Kekura.
He bowed, hand on the hilt of the sword, the other crossed closed-fisted over his heart. When he spoke, his voice was even and predictable. There was nothing out of sync. Little inflection. Valoni accent neutral as the moon. Steady as the rhythm of ocean waves unending. Sand smoothed to flatness by the wind.
“I am Jai Asad Kojima, a veteran Asha’man of the Black Tower, and I am here to tell you what has happened today in Bandar Eban and so seek your help,” he spoke to the Sea Folk sister formally, but he was aware of others watching. For now, they were paid little mind.
She shimmered into a mirage of the woman that he wanted so badly to see, and now she stood before him like a wish came true. Recognition softened like a smile upon his expression, though his head was light as having drank a vat of the smoothest wine. Nythadri’s voice seethed whispers in his ear, and he nodded along. Of course he wanted to protect her. Himself and Daryen. Especially himself. Of course the best place to seek help was with the immaculate Sisters of the White Tower. Trista bartered like a good at market. An innocent girl placed on the scales against a pile of gold and ink.
It felt like floating in the ocean. Thoughts lifted and fell away like waves. Nythadri told him once that Saidar was falling without being caught. The longer it went, the less you cared in the bliss of the rush. He felt himself letting go, but he couldn’t look away from the mirage of Nythadri. It was bliss like her Saidar. Of course the Towers conspired. Enemies circling. Tyrants and darkfiends. Assassinate?
Her touch sparked. He wanted to kiss her. How long had it been since he’d lost himself in that free falling bliss. Hungry lips found his. He had to lean low. Hands pulled at his waist.
But then, like a dream, she faded.
He blinked. What was he saying? Was he talking out loud again? He couldn’t remember. A glimpse just out of sight. A shadow.
He turned to find the face of hope, and he remembered why he was there. He had to find help, and Lythia Sedai would save them.
He nodded and strode suredly through the gateway. On the other side, the familiar face of the one who found him at his brother’s grave waited. Recognition settled like a gentle rain. It had been raining the last time he saw Kekura.
He bowed, hand on the hilt of the sword, the other crossed closed-fisted over his heart. When he spoke, his voice was even and predictable. There was nothing out of sync. Little inflection. Valoni accent neutral as the moon. Steady as the rhythm of ocean waves unending. Sand smoothed to flatness by the wind.
“I am Jai Asad Kojima, a veteran Asha’man of the Black Tower, and I am here to tell you what has happened today in Bandar Eban and so seek your help,” he spoke to the Sea Folk sister formally, but he was aware of others watching. For now, they were paid little mind.
Only darkness shows you the light.