09-29-2016, 11:10 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-10-2023, 01:29 PM by Natalie Grey.)
The bright torches had left her night-blind, and she stared out into pitch black; though even had the view been made resplendent by daylight her gaze would have gone through it. The after-image of flame blazed every time she blinked. Yui’s words were like those flashes of light; ephemeral and transient, impossible to truly scrutinise. The pleasant evening dissuaded her from trying too hard; she would have plenty of time to dwell when they returned her to the Tower. Years, probably.
Years…Light.
To Nythadri, the future had always seemed something dark and hazy; something she was pushed towards a step at a time. When she had thought she was going to lose her sight plans had seemed pointless, for they always ended in the same all-encompassing darkness. Fear of that future made her cling to each day, and to the important things in it, shaping her to something selfish and irresponsible. She’d embraced Farune's dreams in lieu of her own, and built castles from sand; a make-believe, it seemed now, so long after the fact. Music had been the closest thing she’d had to an anchor when she had railed against a fate she had no power to control, but even that had not curbed a powerful recklessness.
Then the Aes Sedai had come. The future had changed. And yet she still lived day by day. Those days had become calculated rather than whimsical, especially since the Farm, but they still arrived one at a time, one after the other. She scorned the monotony, but she also endured it. Becoming Aes Sedai felt like inevitability – failure was certainly not an option – but somehow a future had never coalesced into something tangible. She saw girls every day who had focus and ambition, but when Nythadri tried to narrow herself to a goal every fibre of her rebelled. She was ever marching forward, blind to where the path led; it seemed, sometimes, the only way to fight the instinct to dig her heels in.
A presence moved softly beside her; she did not need to look, since the voice named who it was, breaking her thoughts as gently as a ripple disturbing a reflection. She remembered she had been looking for him, but the reasons drifted through her fingers like sand; unimportant. Talk of Imaad seemed inconsequential compared to the stretch of her own future, and she did not know Jai well enough to presume he would even want her advice. Soon Arad Doman would only be a memory.
“Hm. Though, as with most things, it’s not as it appears.”
She knew as well as he did what lay beyond the ocean; ever more poignant given the pretext upon which this gathering had formed. Ominous though it seemed, the double meaning of his words tickled her humour; maybe it would be the Seanchan that ended their world, and not the Dark One at all. That shouldn’t even be funny. Which, of course, only amused her more; her lips quirked into a faint smirk as she turned her eyes from a view she had not even been watching. The strong profile of masculine features beat picturesque views any day, and he was close enough that it wouldn’t take much to lean against his shoulder. When he smiled it faded like dying light. He was entitled to that, she supposed; for the things he had endured, and for the things he had done. But it didn’t mean she would tolerate it, or pander to that faint melancholy by sharing her own. “Have you been preening all this time? And not even shaved?”
The tease was evident in her voice, dispelling whatever reasons of her own had driven her out here. It occurred to her then that they were alone. The pins at his collar shone bright, catching every bit of light shunned by the pitch black of his uniform; enough to remind her that he was not just a man, but an Asha’man. Better not to dwell too much on the faint heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze, or the natural meander of thoughts sparked by attraction - lest she do something regrettably stupid.
“Tempting.”
She drew the word out like a refusal. It would certainly be the sensible thing to do. Yui or Liridia would notice if she were absent for too long, and it could not be long now before Daryen arrived and the feast began. If it had not already; she hadn't exactly been paying attention. She watched Jai straighten with purpose, like it would only take a word. Observing such instant resolve only rekindled memories of his immediate determination to kill Tamal – and she did not doubt for a second the inevitability of that outcome had others not interfered – but she felt little fear; perhaps because she trusted to the protections of her own gift, but probably because she wanted to believe in the bridges of their friendship. Whether she would live to regret it or not was another matter.
“If your blinding enthusiasm for Daryen's feast is anything to go by, I’d be doing you a favour by saying yes. Right?”
She laughed and straightened, hands trailing from the railing. Her pale eyes glinted amusement, but did not fall short from a measure of understanding. She'd told him she spared no love for the political nature of these events only that morning; he knew she would welcome escape, however brief, as quickly as she imagined he did. In that he had a willing accomplice.
[[Nythadri's post between the next two Jai ones got lost somehow, so here it is:]]
He invited her study and she indulged, smiling at the earnest display and returned playfulness as it sparked from her own comments. It did not matter much to her whether the uniform gleamed or was tattered – though it was clearly a source of pride for him. Her appraisal was for the man underneath; the clean lines of his form, broad shouldered, tall. She liked the way bubbles of boyish charm sometimes burst against the surface of his ever-present cynicism, and she was not so quick to quash them now she recognised their rarity. Her gaze lingered before returning to his face as he posed. The light flattered the glow of his tan and contours of his face, but he didn’t need domani tricks to draw her attention. She suspected he knew that. Men like Jai were not ignorant of their attraction, if she had never met a man who did not like it confirmed. Still, he didn’t give her the chance to answer.
When he leaned close her heart quickened, and even in the darkness her surroundings receded so that he consumed her senses. He smelled like the sea, like freedom, like escape. There was promise in his eyes that he couldn’t fulfil, and it only burned desire more potent. He was dangerous, not because of his flirtations with blind volatility, but because of the way he drew her in. The warmth of his proximity urged her fingers to touch the black silk of his uniform, to feel the heat of the body within – and if not for the heavy weight of the serpent ring, she might have done. Would have done.
But there was a limit to her restraint, and she was cautious of approaching it. And wary, too, of his own boundaries; that his notion of the gulf between their ranks marked a line she couldn’t see. His sincerity didn’t help; it was easier to think of it as a game than wonder if there was anything genuine beneath, so when he moved away she felt a strange mix of regret and relief.
He told her to look, and she did, leaning on the balustrade much as she had done earlier to observe the silver light carve a hole in the darkness, like a sliver of moon had been ripped from the sky. The rush of sound behind her was anticipated, but she didn’t turn immediately. Far below, cast faint in the silver glow, was the figure of a man in black. She wondered if it were a result of his own deep-rooted mistrusts that he went to such measure to assure her the integrity of his Gate. The concern, even though she suspected it was something instinctual and subconscious, was strangely gratifying.
When she turned, he was waiting with hand outstretched. The suggestion of his smile was an unnecessary lure; she’d already cemented her decision, and once made she rarely reneged even when she realised she’d made a mistake, or suspected she might be making one. Leaning back on the heavy pillars, fingers trailing the wide stone surface, she did make him wait, though if he could see her expression clearly enough the quiet smile suggested that it was a tease. “Hmm.” A step forward, two, a pause. And then she reached for his hand. “If it’s a matter of life and death, then who am I to refuse?”
His hand closed around hers, and a gentle tug saw her through to the other side. She’d proclaimed his hands as belonging to a soldier, unknowing at the time how close that sardonic jest must have cut to the bone. Even witnessing the occasional introspection of his manner, and suspecting the throes of conflict within, she did not regret her harshness. Truth was truth; his hands did belong to a killer. Still, she didn’t reject the warmth of his touch, even knowing his capabilities for destruction. A sensible woman would rebuff him now rather than play this game. So many things she didn’t understand tipped him to extreme action - and on this beach there was no Daryen to temper Jai’s control when guiding him from the precipice of paranoia was unsuccessful. She'd already tried and failed once.
“You’re so dramatic.” It sounded like an insult, but she was smiling as she left the stone courtyard behind. The potential for disaster occurred to her, but there was little anxiety or concern in the way her hand lingered in his as she took in the dark view, like she didn’t quite want to let go of that connection. The sand was still warm; she could feel its cooling heat through the soles of her shoes, which she slipped off and abandoned as her fingers slipped from his. Bare feet sunk with each footstep, until suddenly it was slick and compact underfoot. A moment later warm water rushed over her toes, soaking up the hem of her skirts. The churn of the sea drowned out the music and laughter above, so that it almost felt they could be a million leagues from civilization. The chains of the Tower felt deceptively lighter, and a strange feeling settled in her chest.
Just being out here, alone, was enough to offend the stricter of the Aes Sedai. She knew that. As the waves slipped back and crept up, never ceasing, she wondered the likelihood of being caught down here, and what it would mean for her. But the thoughts fluttered distant – a future she would deal with if it came. Idly, she scored patterns into the wet sand with her foot – music notes that lingered only as long as it took for the water to wash them clean. “It’s quiet here. Peaceful.” The distant water was so black it melted to the dark sky as though both were one. Somewhere above the moon cast faint light, but there were no torches down here. The breeze was pleasant where her skin had burned during the day, and though it was still warm the air felt breathable when before it had been stifling – moreso this close to the Aryth. “So, is this where you come to hide?” She turned, smirking, walking backwards through the waters. She lifted the front of her skirts above the ankle but did not seem to mind that some of the material trailed the deeper she drifted, flowing with the rhythm of the waves.
Years…Light.
To Nythadri, the future had always seemed something dark and hazy; something she was pushed towards a step at a time. When she had thought she was going to lose her sight plans had seemed pointless, for they always ended in the same all-encompassing darkness. Fear of that future made her cling to each day, and to the important things in it, shaping her to something selfish and irresponsible. She’d embraced Farune's dreams in lieu of her own, and built castles from sand; a make-believe, it seemed now, so long after the fact. Music had been the closest thing she’d had to an anchor when she had railed against a fate she had no power to control, but even that had not curbed a powerful recklessness.
Then the Aes Sedai had come. The future had changed. And yet she still lived day by day. Those days had become calculated rather than whimsical, especially since the Farm, but they still arrived one at a time, one after the other. She scorned the monotony, but she also endured it. Becoming Aes Sedai felt like inevitability – failure was certainly not an option – but somehow a future had never coalesced into something tangible. She saw girls every day who had focus and ambition, but when Nythadri tried to narrow herself to a goal every fibre of her rebelled. She was ever marching forward, blind to where the path led; it seemed, sometimes, the only way to fight the instinct to dig her heels in.
A presence moved softly beside her; she did not need to look, since the voice named who it was, breaking her thoughts as gently as a ripple disturbing a reflection. She remembered she had been looking for him, but the reasons drifted through her fingers like sand; unimportant. Talk of Imaad seemed inconsequential compared to the stretch of her own future, and she did not know Jai well enough to presume he would even want her advice. Soon Arad Doman would only be a memory.
“Hm. Though, as with most things, it’s not as it appears.”
She knew as well as he did what lay beyond the ocean; ever more poignant given the pretext upon which this gathering had formed. Ominous though it seemed, the double meaning of his words tickled her humour; maybe it would be the Seanchan that ended their world, and not the Dark One at all. That shouldn’t even be funny. Which, of course, only amused her more; her lips quirked into a faint smirk as she turned her eyes from a view she had not even been watching. The strong profile of masculine features beat picturesque views any day, and he was close enough that it wouldn’t take much to lean against his shoulder. When he smiled it faded like dying light. He was entitled to that, she supposed; for the things he had endured, and for the things he had done. But it didn’t mean she would tolerate it, or pander to that faint melancholy by sharing her own. “Have you been preening all this time? And not even shaved?”
The tease was evident in her voice, dispelling whatever reasons of her own had driven her out here. It occurred to her then that they were alone. The pins at his collar shone bright, catching every bit of light shunned by the pitch black of his uniform; enough to remind her that he was not just a man, but an Asha’man. Better not to dwell too much on the faint heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze, or the natural meander of thoughts sparked by attraction - lest she do something regrettably stupid.
“Tempting.”
She drew the word out like a refusal. It would certainly be the sensible thing to do. Yui or Liridia would notice if she were absent for too long, and it could not be long now before Daryen arrived and the feast began. If it had not already; she hadn't exactly been paying attention. She watched Jai straighten with purpose, like it would only take a word. Observing such instant resolve only rekindled memories of his immediate determination to kill Tamal – and she did not doubt for a second the inevitability of that outcome had others not interfered – but she felt little fear; perhaps because she trusted to the protections of her own gift, but probably because she wanted to believe in the bridges of their friendship. Whether she would live to regret it or not was another matter.
“If your blinding enthusiasm for Daryen's feast is anything to go by, I’d be doing you a favour by saying yes. Right?”
She laughed and straightened, hands trailing from the railing. Her pale eyes glinted amusement, but did not fall short from a measure of understanding. She'd told him she spared no love for the political nature of these events only that morning; he knew she would welcome escape, however brief, as quickly as she imagined he did. In that he had a willing accomplice.
[[Nythadri's post between the next two Jai ones got lost somehow, so here it is:]]
He invited her study and she indulged, smiling at the earnest display and returned playfulness as it sparked from her own comments. It did not matter much to her whether the uniform gleamed or was tattered – though it was clearly a source of pride for him. Her appraisal was for the man underneath; the clean lines of his form, broad shouldered, tall. She liked the way bubbles of boyish charm sometimes burst against the surface of his ever-present cynicism, and she was not so quick to quash them now she recognised their rarity. Her gaze lingered before returning to his face as he posed. The light flattered the glow of his tan and contours of his face, but he didn’t need domani tricks to draw her attention. She suspected he knew that. Men like Jai were not ignorant of their attraction, if she had never met a man who did not like it confirmed. Still, he didn’t give her the chance to answer.
When he leaned close her heart quickened, and even in the darkness her surroundings receded so that he consumed her senses. He smelled like the sea, like freedom, like escape. There was promise in his eyes that he couldn’t fulfil, and it only burned desire more potent. He was dangerous, not because of his flirtations with blind volatility, but because of the way he drew her in. The warmth of his proximity urged her fingers to touch the black silk of his uniform, to feel the heat of the body within – and if not for the heavy weight of the serpent ring, she might have done. Would have done.
But there was a limit to her restraint, and she was cautious of approaching it. And wary, too, of his own boundaries; that his notion of the gulf between their ranks marked a line she couldn’t see. His sincerity didn’t help; it was easier to think of it as a game than wonder if there was anything genuine beneath, so when he moved away she felt a strange mix of regret and relief.
He told her to look, and she did, leaning on the balustrade much as she had done earlier to observe the silver light carve a hole in the darkness, like a sliver of moon had been ripped from the sky. The rush of sound behind her was anticipated, but she didn’t turn immediately. Far below, cast faint in the silver glow, was the figure of a man in black. She wondered if it were a result of his own deep-rooted mistrusts that he went to such measure to assure her the integrity of his Gate. The concern, even though she suspected it was something instinctual and subconscious, was strangely gratifying.
When she turned, he was waiting with hand outstretched. The suggestion of his smile was an unnecessary lure; she’d already cemented her decision, and once made she rarely reneged even when she realised she’d made a mistake, or suspected she might be making one. Leaning back on the heavy pillars, fingers trailing the wide stone surface, she did make him wait, though if he could see her expression clearly enough the quiet smile suggested that it was a tease. “Hmm.” A step forward, two, a pause. And then she reached for his hand. “If it’s a matter of life and death, then who am I to refuse?”
His hand closed around hers, and a gentle tug saw her through to the other side. She’d proclaimed his hands as belonging to a soldier, unknowing at the time how close that sardonic jest must have cut to the bone. Even witnessing the occasional introspection of his manner, and suspecting the throes of conflict within, she did not regret her harshness. Truth was truth; his hands did belong to a killer. Still, she didn’t reject the warmth of his touch, even knowing his capabilities for destruction. A sensible woman would rebuff him now rather than play this game. So many things she didn’t understand tipped him to extreme action - and on this beach there was no Daryen to temper Jai’s control when guiding him from the precipice of paranoia was unsuccessful. She'd already tried and failed once.
“You’re so dramatic.” It sounded like an insult, but she was smiling as she left the stone courtyard behind. The potential for disaster occurred to her, but there was little anxiety or concern in the way her hand lingered in his as she took in the dark view, like she didn’t quite want to let go of that connection. The sand was still warm; she could feel its cooling heat through the soles of her shoes, which she slipped off and abandoned as her fingers slipped from his. Bare feet sunk with each footstep, until suddenly it was slick and compact underfoot. A moment later warm water rushed over her toes, soaking up the hem of her skirts. The churn of the sea drowned out the music and laughter above, so that it almost felt they could be a million leagues from civilization. The chains of the Tower felt deceptively lighter, and a strange feeling settled in her chest.
Just being out here, alone, was enough to offend the stricter of the Aes Sedai. She knew that. As the waves slipped back and crept up, never ceasing, she wondered the likelihood of being caught down here, and what it would mean for her. But the thoughts fluttered distant – a future she would deal with if it came. Idly, she scored patterns into the wet sand with her foot – music notes that lingered only as long as it took for the water to wash them clean. “It’s quiet here. Peaceful.” The distant water was so black it melted to the dark sky as though both were one. Somewhere above the moon cast faint light, but there were no torches down here. The breeze was pleasant where her skin had burned during the day, and though it was still warm the air felt breathable when before it had been stifling – moreso this close to the Aryth. “So, is this where you come to hide?” She turned, smirking, walking backwards through the waters. She lifted the front of her skirts above the ankle but did not seem to mind that some of the material trailed the deeper she drifted, flowing with the rhythm of the waves.