07-27-2018, 04:32 PM
When Jai reflected the question back, Araya shrugged and picked a direction. He didn’t know Tar Valon as well as the other man assumed - at least not enough to be any authority on decent drinking holes – but in the Shining City he supposed it didn’t really matter, and the first door that led them out of the drifting snow was fine by him. He brushed the ice-melt from his shoulders, ruffled his hair and smiled broadly at any who chose to shoot respectful welcomes in the direction of the two Asha’man. He’d never been here before – had not even taken care to squint at the sign above the door on their way in – but he was at home in the flickering warmth and amiability. Jai seemed confused by it, or maybe he was still tense from earlier. Either way Araya only shrugged. What kind of welcome had he expected?
Taverns were hardly tinker wagons, but there was a reminiscence he appreciated; the camaraderie of people brought together by something other than blood. Well, for the most part. They were not always nice places, or even always inclusive places, but this one seemed pleasant enough. The music, the fire, the friendly greetings; all important ingredients to a mellow night, or at least an unconfrontational one. He was happy to join the card game, though proved to lack a competitive edge. And luck. Which was fine by Araya; by the effervescent grin, he seemed to be enjoying himself regardless, if the company was rather more sober than he would have preferred. These men were more preoccupied with their cards than conversation, which left Araya more often than not humming a tuneless rasp to whatever was being played in the corner – blissful unaware of any of the undercurrents.
Sometime later, the bearded guy’s departure shifted something in Jai’s concentration; he seemed needlessly bothered by it. Araya didn’t hide the contemplative frown that knit his brow in response, and he watched as Jai twisted in his chair – not just with a swivel of eyes but with a full raise of his head. It was no subtle look; Araya was unusually open in that regard, despite spending so much time in a city of masks. The concern was evident. There was no warning, though; no suggestion that Jai should think about his actions before he acted. But he was watching; waiting for the conclusion of Jai’s initial reaction.
When Jai left, Araya sighed. He stood, laying his cards flat on the table. Was there protocol for this sort of thing among strangers? He didn’t know, supposed he didn’t really care, grinned, and left after the Asha’man. There was a brief pause before they slipped out into the alleyway. Jai explained himself like he was afraid Araya might try to stop him. Or judge him. Which might have been wise, given the fresh scar of punishment metered out for interfering in matters of no concern to an Asha’man. A sensible man would have taken the opportunity to remind him of that point – certainly the rationalisation must be going through his head if he so tentatively offered his intentions as a question. Though if he was instead testing the boundaries of Araya’s authority, there was nothing upon which to find purchase. Misgivings aside, Araya chose trust.
In the alley there were bodies. Such casually strewn violence lurched Araya’s stomach, but he barely had time to acknowledge the disgust. Instinct exploded reaction and in almost the same moment pain jarred the length of his arm. Saidin roared a vehement response, like searing white heat as it ripped free from its confines. Wrenching it to silent submission was harder than allowing ready threads to whip out in retaliation. Restraint versus intuition. Every beat of training urged an Asha’man to take an assailant down, and training was all an Asha’man had when taken by surprise. But Araya’s will was iron, even as his balance wavered and he fell. The control might have saved the guy’s life. In other circumstances, it might have cost Araya his. That was the compromise he had chosen to live with, though, and a dent to dignity hardly registered despite the fearsome weapon he was supposed to be. Araya was back upright by the time the fight had come to fists. Saidin was screaming at him. Every prickle of snow felt like the tips of blades driving him forward. He wouldn’t intervene unless he had to, and only came close to doing so when Jai held the sword to the man’s chest. But the moment unravelled before the brink upon which Araya would have been forced to act.
When the man spoke; when he used Jai’s name, Araya loosened his grip on Saidin, shuddered as the world blinked a little darker, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Unblinking eyes followed the conversation, but he did not interrupt – if he did watch Jai closely at such casual mention of a missing sword. There was no discernible reaction, though, not so far as Araya was aware, and he did not dwell on the matter. Nor did he dwell on listening to the brief buzz of conversation, gaze instead falling down to his arm. It didn’t feel broken, which was good, but he expected an impressive bruise. Pain flared with the reminder. Still, better his arm than his head. Might not have gotten up from that one. Distracted, his eyes flicked up at the introductions. He didn’t correct the lack of surname, since that in fact was correct, and offered a smiled greeting for the as yet nameless but apparently friendly stranger. Not quite the wide grin of earlier, but neither standoffish.
Brother. Huh. Though since Jai actually seemed pretty happy to see Andreu despite earlier fears of running into his family, Araya chose not to linger on it. A man wasn’t meant to be an island, and it might even prove a fortunate coincidence. Maybe. Men reacted different ways when faced with a past that had existed before saidin. Tension that had eased when the two men had hugged slowly began to build again, unappeased by the lingering air of violence; Andreu had clearly known who Jai was even if the recognition hadn’t been mutual, and he had attacked indiscriminately anyway. It bothered him. After all these years and all the atrocities he had seen (and not just seen, but committed) it still bothered him. The weight of it sank heavy when it registered, but he ignored it with the same tenacity that shrugged off the temperature. You couldn't help everybody.
The three bodies they left in the snow dampened his curiosity somewhat; he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what was going on. Still, he listened as they walked, asking no questions and understanding little and less of what he heard. Mention of the White Tower rung in his ears, so he had some idea of the gravity of the situation, but the Light knew he would not be getting involved by even trying to tie it all together into a picture that made a sort of sense. He didn’t even want to hear this much talk of conspiracy. Then the voices grew tighter, and Araya’s unease increased. Sensing saidin forced an instinctual grasp of his own, though he did nothing with it, just watched Jai channeling and slowly began to comprehend the wheels in motion. After a moment he turned his gaze away, unwilling to wtiness this severence of family ties. He could guess what as coming, if not the explosiveness with which the next moments played out.
He recognised the lie about the sword, but kept his lips shut. No such censorship blanked his expression, though since Andreu was staring at Jai it hardly mattered. If this was Jai’s version of closure, Araya didn’t understand it. When Araya had become a weapon, his family had ceased acknowledging him as one of them. No hostility, of course, but the bonds between them had shattered the moment the flame had resonated. Behind the polite smiles he’d lost everyone he’d ever held dear; he'd become a stranger. The formality had hurt more than simple rejection, and though he had come to terms with it, it was not a gift he liked to see wasted. Jai had something Araya could never have, and he squandered it with a brutality that seemed strangely self-sacrificial. Or maybe just masochistic. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand it at all.
The viciousness of the single punch made him flinch, and Araya came the closest yet to embracing the rarity of anger. His brows dropped deep over his eyes, every trace of mirth lost to something strangely aged. Of everything that had happened since he’d met Jai, it was that single blow which shuddered his impression of his fellow Asha’man. Not drunken antics nor grave reasons for punishment. Not questionable decisions nor an apparently fluctuating control. Just the punch. “Do yourself a favour, brother, and stop being an idiot.”
He didn't chase the figure into the swirling snow, could not even be sure if the low rasp of his voice even carried far enough to reach Jai's ears as he left. To Andreu he offered a hand up, though he wasn't even sure the man would accept it - fear of a channeler or the all-inclusive paranoia of a man who only drank from his own flask. There ere no consolations or explanations, though; there was nothing to say.
Taverns were hardly tinker wagons, but there was a reminiscence he appreciated; the camaraderie of people brought together by something other than blood. Well, for the most part. They were not always nice places, or even always inclusive places, but this one seemed pleasant enough. The music, the fire, the friendly greetings; all important ingredients to a mellow night, or at least an unconfrontational one. He was happy to join the card game, though proved to lack a competitive edge. And luck. Which was fine by Araya; by the effervescent grin, he seemed to be enjoying himself regardless, if the company was rather more sober than he would have preferred. These men were more preoccupied with their cards than conversation, which left Araya more often than not humming a tuneless rasp to whatever was being played in the corner – blissful unaware of any of the undercurrents.
Sometime later, the bearded guy’s departure shifted something in Jai’s concentration; he seemed needlessly bothered by it. Araya didn’t hide the contemplative frown that knit his brow in response, and he watched as Jai twisted in his chair – not just with a swivel of eyes but with a full raise of his head. It was no subtle look; Araya was unusually open in that regard, despite spending so much time in a city of masks. The concern was evident. There was no warning, though; no suggestion that Jai should think about his actions before he acted. But he was watching; waiting for the conclusion of Jai’s initial reaction.
When Jai left, Araya sighed. He stood, laying his cards flat on the table. Was there protocol for this sort of thing among strangers? He didn’t know, supposed he didn’t really care, grinned, and left after the Asha’man. There was a brief pause before they slipped out into the alleyway. Jai explained himself like he was afraid Araya might try to stop him. Or judge him. Which might have been wise, given the fresh scar of punishment metered out for interfering in matters of no concern to an Asha’man. A sensible man would have taken the opportunity to remind him of that point – certainly the rationalisation must be going through his head if he so tentatively offered his intentions as a question. Though if he was instead testing the boundaries of Araya’s authority, there was nothing upon which to find purchase. Misgivings aside, Araya chose trust.
In the alley there were bodies. Such casually strewn violence lurched Araya’s stomach, but he barely had time to acknowledge the disgust. Instinct exploded reaction and in almost the same moment pain jarred the length of his arm. Saidin roared a vehement response, like searing white heat as it ripped free from its confines. Wrenching it to silent submission was harder than allowing ready threads to whip out in retaliation. Restraint versus intuition. Every beat of training urged an Asha’man to take an assailant down, and training was all an Asha’man had when taken by surprise. But Araya’s will was iron, even as his balance wavered and he fell. The control might have saved the guy’s life. In other circumstances, it might have cost Araya his. That was the compromise he had chosen to live with, though, and a dent to dignity hardly registered despite the fearsome weapon he was supposed to be. Araya was back upright by the time the fight had come to fists. Saidin was screaming at him. Every prickle of snow felt like the tips of blades driving him forward. He wouldn’t intervene unless he had to, and only came close to doing so when Jai held the sword to the man’s chest. But the moment unravelled before the brink upon which Araya would have been forced to act.
When the man spoke; when he used Jai’s name, Araya loosened his grip on Saidin, shuddered as the world blinked a little darker, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Unblinking eyes followed the conversation, but he did not interrupt – if he did watch Jai closely at such casual mention of a missing sword. There was no discernible reaction, though, not so far as Araya was aware, and he did not dwell on the matter. Nor did he dwell on listening to the brief buzz of conversation, gaze instead falling down to his arm. It didn’t feel broken, which was good, but he expected an impressive bruise. Pain flared with the reminder. Still, better his arm than his head. Might not have gotten up from that one. Distracted, his eyes flicked up at the introductions. He didn’t correct the lack of surname, since that in fact was correct, and offered a smiled greeting for the as yet nameless but apparently friendly stranger. Not quite the wide grin of earlier, but neither standoffish.
Brother. Huh. Though since Jai actually seemed pretty happy to see Andreu despite earlier fears of running into his family, Araya chose not to linger on it. A man wasn’t meant to be an island, and it might even prove a fortunate coincidence. Maybe. Men reacted different ways when faced with a past that had existed before saidin. Tension that had eased when the two men had hugged slowly began to build again, unappeased by the lingering air of violence; Andreu had clearly known who Jai was even if the recognition hadn’t been mutual, and he had attacked indiscriminately anyway. It bothered him. After all these years and all the atrocities he had seen (and not just seen, but committed) it still bothered him. The weight of it sank heavy when it registered, but he ignored it with the same tenacity that shrugged off the temperature. You couldn't help everybody.
The three bodies they left in the snow dampened his curiosity somewhat; he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what was going on. Still, he listened as they walked, asking no questions and understanding little and less of what he heard. Mention of the White Tower rung in his ears, so he had some idea of the gravity of the situation, but the Light knew he would not be getting involved by even trying to tie it all together into a picture that made a sort of sense. He didn’t even want to hear this much talk of conspiracy. Then the voices grew tighter, and Araya’s unease increased. Sensing saidin forced an instinctual grasp of his own, though he did nothing with it, just watched Jai channeling and slowly began to comprehend the wheels in motion. After a moment he turned his gaze away, unwilling to wtiness this severence of family ties. He could guess what as coming, if not the explosiveness with which the next moments played out.
He recognised the lie about the sword, but kept his lips shut. No such censorship blanked his expression, though since Andreu was staring at Jai it hardly mattered. If this was Jai’s version of closure, Araya didn’t understand it. When Araya had become a weapon, his family had ceased acknowledging him as one of them. No hostility, of course, but the bonds between them had shattered the moment the flame had resonated. Behind the polite smiles he’d lost everyone he’d ever held dear; he'd become a stranger. The formality had hurt more than simple rejection, and though he had come to terms with it, it was not a gift he liked to see wasted. Jai had something Araya could never have, and he squandered it with a brutality that seemed strangely self-sacrificial. Or maybe just masochistic. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand it at all.
The viciousness of the single punch made him flinch, and Araya came the closest yet to embracing the rarity of anger. His brows dropped deep over his eyes, every trace of mirth lost to something strangely aged. Of everything that had happened since he’d met Jai, it was that single blow which shuddered his impression of his fellow Asha’man. Not drunken antics nor grave reasons for punishment. Not questionable decisions nor an apparently fluctuating control. Just the punch. “Do yourself a favour, brother, and stop being an idiot.”
He didn't chase the figure into the swirling snow, could not even be sure if the low rasp of his voice even carried far enough to reach Jai's ears as he left. To Andreu he offered a hand up, though he wasn't even sure the man would accept it - fear of a channeler or the all-inclusive paranoia of a man who only drank from his own flask. There ere no consolations or explanations, though; there was nothing to say.
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