02-06-2018, 08:39 PM
Every tired muscle braced for Hana's answer. Jai felt studied during those few seconds of suspended time, but he held up to whatever scrutiny zipped behind her eyes. Until her quiet answer rang the room with warnings, and he deflated. Hana? A widow? Jai scrubbed an anxious hand through his hair and looked away from the very creation he feared most but was ironically predestined to leave behind. Mindless, desires for the milk, if he guessed right, retracted its temptation. It felt wrong to want it now.
Histories rolled about. Words he memorized as a kid and honors he recited pretty often as a man about the value of a life lived or the peace of returning to ground when the call came, but Jai's newly mended jaw tightened, and a barricade erected itself. The words would be empty. Falling short of what a mourning wife deserved which was more than belated gestures from someone who didn't follow his own advice. Whoever her husband had been, she had no say in his ending, and here she was serving a man who'd impatiently took off to meet his end ahead of schedule and on his own terms.
Sorrow for her fate clawed his brows close to his eyes, even as he braved meeting the face of that fearsome future once more; a parallel reality that would have been his fate to leave behind had the smallest of events gone alternate ways; so close, it was a cold whisper on the back of his neck, taunting him with reminders that a woeful seed of destruction waited to ambush on the road ahead if he were not more careful. A father or brother, even the death of a son were all heartaches to overcome, but couldn't compare to the emptiness of life after losing the one soul that made a man get out of bed every day. To go on after that would an aimless existence of wandering. How did Hana do it?
He thought of Nythadri then. Not that he intended a proposal, probably would never see her again anyway, but he'd captured her languid arms with too much passion and stroked her milky skin with too much affection; he studied too closely the iridescent jewels that were her eyes and became lost in them, wondering what lurked behind those impenetrable, beautiful shields. Then he thought of the ill-fated dinner weeks behind him. He'd been fascinated by Mikel and Jaslene corralling their children, from the blunt faced tank that was their oldest girl, poor thing had Mikel's fat nose, to the curly haired waif that was their timid youngest. I know what those are, Haitham once uttered, pointing at Jai's throat and stumbling over Jai's title.
Hana brought the milk, and Jai graciously gulped it down as if it were tasteless but necessary fuel. It would be days before he was strong enough to Travel, unless Araya carted him around, and who knew what was waiting at the Black Tower when he returned; showing up on the brink of collapse probably wasn't the best plan to meet it. The weakness during recovery was a reality of flesh as ancient as the collection of widows during wars; and Jai knew well both routines. However unlike sleeping and eating, sitting around complaining was an inefficient way to change the reality of a man's situation. The answer was far simpler: heal up and get back to doing what needs done. And stop thinking about what might have been.
He dropped his wrist back to the table, the empty glass opaque with white residue.
"Thank-you,"
he said, but meant for more than just the drink. Rather than muddle up the awkward air with confusing gratitudes, he cast a hopeful, but invisible line between her and the pitcher she left behind. Milk was an expensive commodity, more so than sacks of tea, more than common wine, but the moment she granted permission, Jai prepared himself for the surge to come, and grappled the oversized chalice with saidin. Unburdening either of them from rising to fetch it. Channeling came without thinking those few tense moments. If he were alive enough to do any task, he did it with the Power.
He knocked back two more refills, but once his hand swiped his lips dry, what it was Hana explained finally sank in.
A ward? Hana returned to work, and Jai was left blinking at the aftermath. And trying to ignore the black hole gnawing away at his insides. A man's mind never easily shifted gears, but today's sluggishness was grinding: befuddled more by the pounding headache than fatigue perhaps. Though to be honest, the headache wasn't that bad; clawing his way back through time and sorting out the mess he found was more unpleasant. What had Araya said? Women and children live here. Right. Well, he supposed Hana explained the women and now adoption explained the children part. He nodded slowly, understanding now. Kind of. Araya's family wasn't his family after all, but Jai had no idea who they were either.
Succombed to thirst, he poured the remaining milk, blankly staring at the way it fell short of a complete refill, then drank it slowly. Savoring every drop to slide down his throat and hoping there was more about. Hana moved from place to place, fetching jars of seasonings here or slicing something new there, and soon she settled at the stove, stirring in the finishing touches on the spicemeat with a heavy wooden spoon that looked sturdy enough to leave a welt. Jai remained where he was. He'd never watched a woman cook before. It was almost soothing, her steps a natural dance, going side to side. He found himself sequencing her rhythm as he would his own. Until she broke the trance with the promise of food.
The symphony of his count faded to the background leaving a silence strangely louder for a sensitive journeyman used to blazing his own path down a lonely road. Hana's gesture, serving a premature meal, was so touching Jai was left speechless, but the smiling gratitude he flashed upon her was enormous. He nearly jumped up and kissed her; or, at least hobbled up slowly and pecked brotherly lips upon her cheek.
The first spoonful burned his tongue, inhaling a stew before it was safely cooled, but the pain was worth it, and it revived a shriveled corpse with the flesh of a living man. His teeth shredded bites of meat quickly while savory spikes of rosemary swirled his nostrils with aroma. His mouth watered even as he ate it. He couldn't remember a better meal.
When the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl, a crust of bread saw the rest cleaned off. Then freed of the tunnel vision that was food demanding his entire concentration, Jai could give some thought to answering her earlier question. Not that he knew what to say. He faintly dragged dirty nails across the patchy beard for a moment, and an uneasy laugh escaped.
"Common? I don't think so, Hana."
Falling down slobbering drunk wasn't exactly becoming behavior for a man of the dragon pin. No matter how many of them wanted to befriend the bottle on a semi-regular basis. Leadership was insightful when they limited how many solaces a man could take out of the cellars on a given day. It'd taken some creative accounting on Jai's part to come up with the number still strewn around the empty, single room that was about the only place Jai claimed as his, and he wondered how much trouble that Dedicated was facing now. He should probably get back and clean it up soon. It probably wasn't smelling the best, and someone was sure to notice. Though after the last few heartsinking days, disorderly citations didn't seem so ominous as they used to.
He didn't think twice regarding her second question because there was nothing to think about. He studied her a moment, looking for signs of sadness, or the discipline to carry on despite it. Jai's look was an upgrade from the blank expressions up till now, but he receded without providing the explanation she sought. Where would he begin?
The faint itch of habit started clawing across his skin, drawing his fingertips like an oblivious moth toward an infernal end, and he said nothing. Thoughtless but for the feeling. Instead, he grazed the side of his thigh, scratching through the cloth, followed by a bit of a shift in his seat. Then a couple clawings across the back of his neck which ended in a squeeze for the tension under his skull. With no sleeves to tug, his hands pressed against one another safely under the table, one thumb absently digging around the callouses. He was looking around the room casually, but the place was tidy enough to please the sul'man's standards, never finding what he'd been seeking.
Then he broke the silence. "Does Araya have a sword tucked away I could borrow?"
Hana looked at him quizzically.
Unsure why, he went on. It seemed an usual enough question. Asha'man were required to wear a sword after all, and trained enough to not impale himself upon it,
"-or lathes? Anything like that?"
Finally, confused by Hana's confusion, he licked his lips. If she thought he was crazy before, this next option was likely to seal the deal.
"A broomstick?"
Honestly, he hoped for the narrow weight of an old, detached broomstick more than heavy steel at the moment. Lofting a sword through the air for thirty minutes on unsure arms was his idea of cruel and unusual punishment about then. But either way, morning or not, Jai had to get through the routine. Simple as the decision to keep breathing all day.
Histories rolled about. Words he memorized as a kid and honors he recited pretty often as a man about the value of a life lived or the peace of returning to ground when the call came, but Jai's newly mended jaw tightened, and a barricade erected itself. The words would be empty. Falling short of what a mourning wife deserved which was more than belated gestures from someone who didn't follow his own advice. Whoever her husband had been, she had no say in his ending, and here she was serving a man who'd impatiently took off to meet his end ahead of schedule and on his own terms.
Sorrow for her fate clawed his brows close to his eyes, even as he braved meeting the face of that fearsome future once more; a parallel reality that would have been his fate to leave behind had the smallest of events gone alternate ways; so close, it was a cold whisper on the back of his neck, taunting him with reminders that a woeful seed of destruction waited to ambush on the road ahead if he were not more careful. A father or brother, even the death of a son were all heartaches to overcome, but couldn't compare to the emptiness of life after losing the one soul that made a man get out of bed every day. To go on after that would an aimless existence of wandering. How did Hana do it?
He thought of Nythadri then. Not that he intended a proposal, probably would never see her again anyway, but he'd captured her languid arms with too much passion and stroked her milky skin with too much affection; he studied too closely the iridescent jewels that were her eyes and became lost in them, wondering what lurked behind those impenetrable, beautiful shields. Then he thought of the ill-fated dinner weeks behind him. He'd been fascinated by Mikel and Jaslene corralling their children, from the blunt faced tank that was their oldest girl, poor thing had Mikel's fat nose, to the curly haired waif that was their timid youngest. I know what those are, Haitham once uttered, pointing at Jai's throat and stumbling over Jai's title.
Hana brought the milk, and Jai graciously gulped it down as if it were tasteless but necessary fuel. It would be days before he was strong enough to Travel, unless Araya carted him around, and who knew what was waiting at the Black Tower when he returned; showing up on the brink of collapse probably wasn't the best plan to meet it. The weakness during recovery was a reality of flesh as ancient as the collection of widows during wars; and Jai knew well both routines. However unlike sleeping and eating, sitting around complaining was an inefficient way to change the reality of a man's situation. The answer was far simpler: heal up and get back to doing what needs done. And stop thinking about what might have been.
He dropped his wrist back to the table, the empty glass opaque with white residue.
"Thank-you,"
he said, but meant for more than just the drink. Rather than muddle up the awkward air with confusing gratitudes, he cast a hopeful, but invisible line between her and the pitcher she left behind. Milk was an expensive commodity, more so than sacks of tea, more than common wine, but the moment she granted permission, Jai prepared himself for the surge to come, and grappled the oversized chalice with saidin. Unburdening either of them from rising to fetch it. Channeling came without thinking those few tense moments. If he were alive enough to do any task, he did it with the Power.
He knocked back two more refills, but once his hand swiped his lips dry, what it was Hana explained finally sank in.
A ward? Hana returned to work, and Jai was left blinking at the aftermath. And trying to ignore the black hole gnawing away at his insides. A man's mind never easily shifted gears, but today's sluggishness was grinding: befuddled more by the pounding headache than fatigue perhaps. Though to be honest, the headache wasn't that bad; clawing his way back through time and sorting out the mess he found was more unpleasant. What had Araya said? Women and children live here. Right. Well, he supposed Hana explained the women and now adoption explained the children part. He nodded slowly, understanding now. Kind of. Araya's family wasn't his family after all, but Jai had no idea who they were either.
Succombed to thirst, he poured the remaining milk, blankly staring at the way it fell short of a complete refill, then drank it slowly. Savoring every drop to slide down his throat and hoping there was more about. Hana moved from place to place, fetching jars of seasonings here or slicing something new there, and soon she settled at the stove, stirring in the finishing touches on the spicemeat with a heavy wooden spoon that looked sturdy enough to leave a welt. Jai remained where he was. He'd never watched a woman cook before. It was almost soothing, her steps a natural dance, going side to side. He found himself sequencing her rhythm as he would his own. Until she broke the trance with the promise of food.
The symphony of his count faded to the background leaving a silence strangely louder for a sensitive journeyman used to blazing his own path down a lonely road. Hana's gesture, serving a premature meal, was so touching Jai was left speechless, but the smiling gratitude he flashed upon her was enormous. He nearly jumped up and kissed her; or, at least hobbled up slowly and pecked brotherly lips upon her cheek.
The first spoonful burned his tongue, inhaling a stew before it was safely cooled, but the pain was worth it, and it revived a shriveled corpse with the flesh of a living man. His teeth shredded bites of meat quickly while savory spikes of rosemary swirled his nostrils with aroma. His mouth watered even as he ate it. He couldn't remember a better meal.
When the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl, a crust of bread saw the rest cleaned off. Then freed of the tunnel vision that was food demanding his entire concentration, Jai could give some thought to answering her earlier question. Not that he knew what to say. He faintly dragged dirty nails across the patchy beard for a moment, and an uneasy laugh escaped.
"Common? I don't think so, Hana."
Falling down slobbering drunk wasn't exactly becoming behavior for a man of the dragon pin. No matter how many of them wanted to befriend the bottle on a semi-regular basis. Leadership was insightful when they limited how many solaces a man could take out of the cellars on a given day. It'd taken some creative accounting on Jai's part to come up with the number still strewn around the empty, single room that was about the only place Jai claimed as his, and he wondered how much trouble that Dedicated was facing now. He should probably get back and clean it up soon. It probably wasn't smelling the best, and someone was sure to notice. Though after the last few heartsinking days, disorderly citations didn't seem so ominous as they used to.
He didn't think twice regarding her second question because there was nothing to think about. He studied her a moment, looking for signs of sadness, or the discipline to carry on despite it. Jai's look was an upgrade from the blank expressions up till now, but he receded without providing the explanation she sought. Where would he begin?
The faint itch of habit started clawing across his skin, drawing his fingertips like an oblivious moth toward an infernal end, and he said nothing. Thoughtless but for the feeling. Instead, he grazed the side of his thigh, scratching through the cloth, followed by a bit of a shift in his seat. Then a couple clawings across the back of his neck which ended in a squeeze for the tension under his skull. With no sleeves to tug, his hands pressed against one another safely under the table, one thumb absently digging around the callouses. He was looking around the room casually, but the place was tidy enough to please the sul'man's standards, never finding what he'd been seeking.
Then he broke the silence. "Does Araya have a sword tucked away I could borrow?"
Hana looked at him quizzically.
Unsure why, he went on. It seemed an usual enough question. Asha'man were required to wear a sword after all, and trained enough to not impale himself upon it,
"-or lathes? Anything like that?"
Finally, confused by Hana's confusion, he licked his lips. If she thought he was crazy before, this next option was likely to seal the deal.
"A broomstick?"
Honestly, he hoped for the narrow weight of an old, detached broomstick more than heavy steel at the moment. Lofting a sword through the air for thirty minutes on unsure arms was his idea of cruel and unusual punishment about then. But either way, morning or not, Jai had to get through the routine. Simple as the decision to keep breathing all day.
Only darkness shows you the light.