09-04-2016, 07:54 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-06-2023, 04:14 AM by Jay Carpenter.)
So much of what the Accepted did and thought was spot on. If she had trusted to instinct rather than the decorum her white ironed authority laid down, she might have been in for a surprise. To have met a match, that is. It wasn’t every day two threads wearily disenchanted with their respective institutions crossed paths.
It wasn’t a great leap to string together the evidence Jai hadn’t been so keen to abandon everything, be caught up in a war that barely felt relevant, and hope to slaughter enough before falling himself to make life worth the sacrifice. He stayed with it, though: year in, year out. The same weaves, a new target. The same regulations, a new assignment. The same uniform, actually, he rather liked how the uniform segregated you from normal society. It’s easier to forget when reminders are out of sight and mind, replaced by drill and orders. Either out of some birthright sense of honor or the call of ancestral blood to join a brethren to serve some great, abstract purpose he’d return again and again. Take a new post. Go and kill something. Move on.
As seductive was the desire to waste remaining days thinking about on alternate existences, he would never walk completely away. Even if to do so meant trading in everything else that could have been. The Power was too addicting. For his kind, there was no other option. To channel meant a man belonged to the Black Tower. No other choice existed. It didn’t mean duty compelled him to love a banner that meant little personally, never mind its mesmerizing ripple of golden scarlet scales or the man it represented. It also didn’t mean he did not enjoy rending shadowspawn into red fountains any less than those more enamored with the Dragon.
Looking back at her; Light, did he want to look back, he noticed her height without fighting the urge to compare her presence to the women of most recent interaction. Jaslene was a head below this one. Jai had to crouch to bury his cheek against her curls in their hug. Fate was closer to meeting him eye to eye but still fell plenty lower. Most people were; many borderlanders were tall, even if Jai wasn’t exactly a borderlander, he had the blood. All legs and neck she was, and he appreciated her immensely for that. Jas was a lost cause to chase; no more well-turned ankles to imagine and hair to scent. Fate a competition to win; a transparent slip to slide from her shoulders. This girl; woman, he reminded himself, though studying her found no guess for her age beyond the symbolism of her Light-blessed figure. This was no willful child but something else entirely; about as inviting as a borderland snow in the thick of winter, freezing to the point of bursting the sap within, but unusually tempting for its irony: playfully alluring, but sarcastically dangerous.
To the Oneness those thoughts went; that eager state absorbing the desire. It seemed there was more she wanted to say. He couldn't help but wonder what it was. She should have voiced some of that cynicism. Perhaps she had found the only person in a league who could appreciate it. Her remaining instinct proved insightful, however. Keeping a still hand from his shoulder had been quite wise. In great likelihood, Jai would not have noticed its weight. Or, as was also possible, an interruption while so obsessed with satisfying the unquenchable, and he might have split the intrusion of that sacred cycle with flesh-searing flames without calculating the consequence. Not that that was a strong possibility, he quietly thought the lie. It also going to the Oneness.
He had some control. No man, no matter how fast the training, won both pins without demonstrating control. And Jai trained fast. Lifting sights beyond these representative walls, he realized now coming home to Tar Valon had been a poor decision. Though he had to get away from Arad Doman and its light-infuriating king. Here, some sort of catalyst dissolved the restraints he tightened down long ago. Or had thought he had. His skin itched to do something with the sudden comprehension. Anything. Count all the window panes maybe. Recount the people in the hall without looking at their faces. Memorize the exits but move toward none of them. Duplicate a sword form over and over. How his boyhood trainers misunderstood the simple necessary their drills had been. Repeat the form. Count the steps. Steady your breath. In the end he dismissed the attractive lull. He had the control enough now to pull away from windows without focusing on each one in order, to not draw of that curved thing of lacquered beauty balanced so symmetrically at the hip. He gripped hands more firmly behind him in response to the sirens beckoning and fed the itches to the Oneness as well. That bloody boxed off compartment in his head was getting full. Might as well toss that realization in there and watch it burn with everything else.
He matched her step with a small pivot away from that conspiratorial wall. They faced one another a bit better; for a new comer, there was nothing to suggest anything less than the usual visitor-attender relationship. Which was the Light’s honest truth between them. He was absolutely not wanting to use her sculptural presence as any sort of distraction like some memorialized piece of existential art. Though had he known her musical inclinations, he would have freely admitted to being so selfish. Nobody bothered them and as his mind continued clearing out, he knew faces were watching. Faces he cast charming smiles at before. Faces he did not care to remember now. Most of them, at least.
“I only lie to myself. So best not answer that question.”
A good old-fashioned jaded grin accompanied his answer. Hardly suited to a borderlander, he smirked; whatever culture filtered down the Kojima name, it obviously landed on this son in more a manifestation of ritual than identity. What troubling road to the Last Battle he walked, he saw little on that path which would interest a woman.
Her less than enthusiastic study of the hall won some interest from him, however.
“Riveting post you have.” He knew a thing or two about mindless chores. Dig a hole with the Power, fill it with the Power. Brick up a wall with the Power, tear it down with the Power. Set a blaze with the Power, quench the blaze with the Power. The rhythm was nice, but at the end of the day, too far beyond exhaustion to sleep, the monotony of it all could be oppressive.
“Jai.”
He offered a handshake if she’d take it but refused any further bowing or curtsying. Once was enough for all that. Neither of them were nobles for Light’s sake.
It wasn’t a great leap to string together the evidence Jai hadn’t been so keen to abandon everything, be caught up in a war that barely felt relevant, and hope to slaughter enough before falling himself to make life worth the sacrifice. He stayed with it, though: year in, year out. The same weaves, a new target. The same regulations, a new assignment. The same uniform, actually, he rather liked how the uniform segregated you from normal society. It’s easier to forget when reminders are out of sight and mind, replaced by drill and orders. Either out of some birthright sense of honor or the call of ancestral blood to join a brethren to serve some great, abstract purpose he’d return again and again. Take a new post. Go and kill something. Move on.
As seductive was the desire to waste remaining days thinking about on alternate existences, he would never walk completely away. Even if to do so meant trading in everything else that could have been. The Power was too addicting. For his kind, there was no other option. To channel meant a man belonged to the Black Tower. No other choice existed. It didn’t mean duty compelled him to love a banner that meant little personally, never mind its mesmerizing ripple of golden scarlet scales or the man it represented. It also didn’t mean he did not enjoy rending shadowspawn into red fountains any less than those more enamored with the Dragon.
Looking back at her; Light, did he want to look back, he noticed her height without fighting the urge to compare her presence to the women of most recent interaction. Jaslene was a head below this one. Jai had to crouch to bury his cheek against her curls in their hug. Fate was closer to meeting him eye to eye but still fell plenty lower. Most people were; many borderlanders were tall, even if Jai wasn’t exactly a borderlander, he had the blood. All legs and neck she was, and he appreciated her immensely for that. Jas was a lost cause to chase; no more well-turned ankles to imagine and hair to scent. Fate a competition to win; a transparent slip to slide from her shoulders. This girl; woman, he reminded himself, though studying her found no guess for her age beyond the symbolism of her Light-blessed figure. This was no willful child but something else entirely; about as inviting as a borderland snow in the thick of winter, freezing to the point of bursting the sap within, but unusually tempting for its irony: playfully alluring, but sarcastically dangerous.
To the Oneness those thoughts went; that eager state absorbing the desire. It seemed there was more she wanted to say. He couldn't help but wonder what it was. She should have voiced some of that cynicism. Perhaps she had found the only person in a league who could appreciate it. Her remaining instinct proved insightful, however. Keeping a still hand from his shoulder had been quite wise. In great likelihood, Jai would not have noticed its weight. Or, as was also possible, an interruption while so obsessed with satisfying the unquenchable, and he might have split the intrusion of that sacred cycle with flesh-searing flames without calculating the consequence. Not that that was a strong possibility, he quietly thought the lie. It also going to the Oneness.
He had some control. No man, no matter how fast the training, won both pins without demonstrating control. And Jai trained fast. Lifting sights beyond these representative walls, he realized now coming home to Tar Valon had been a poor decision. Though he had to get away from Arad Doman and its light-infuriating king. Here, some sort of catalyst dissolved the restraints he tightened down long ago. Or had thought he had. His skin itched to do something with the sudden comprehension. Anything. Count all the window panes maybe. Recount the people in the hall without looking at their faces. Memorize the exits but move toward none of them. Duplicate a sword form over and over. How his boyhood trainers misunderstood the simple necessary their drills had been. Repeat the form. Count the steps. Steady your breath. In the end he dismissed the attractive lull. He had the control enough now to pull away from windows without focusing on each one in order, to not draw of that curved thing of lacquered beauty balanced so symmetrically at the hip. He gripped hands more firmly behind him in response to the sirens beckoning and fed the itches to the Oneness as well. That bloody boxed off compartment in his head was getting full. Might as well toss that realization in there and watch it burn with everything else.
He matched her step with a small pivot away from that conspiratorial wall. They faced one another a bit better; for a new comer, there was nothing to suggest anything less than the usual visitor-attender relationship. Which was the Light’s honest truth between them. He was absolutely not wanting to use her sculptural presence as any sort of distraction like some memorialized piece of existential art. Though had he known her musical inclinations, he would have freely admitted to being so selfish. Nobody bothered them and as his mind continued clearing out, he knew faces were watching. Faces he cast charming smiles at before. Faces he did not care to remember now. Most of them, at least.
“I only lie to myself. So best not answer that question.”
A good old-fashioned jaded grin accompanied his answer. Hardly suited to a borderlander, he smirked; whatever culture filtered down the Kojima name, it obviously landed on this son in more a manifestation of ritual than identity. What troubling road to the Last Battle he walked, he saw little on that path which would interest a woman.
Her less than enthusiastic study of the hall won some interest from him, however.
“Riveting post you have.” He knew a thing or two about mindless chores. Dig a hole with the Power, fill it with the Power. Brick up a wall with the Power, tear it down with the Power. Set a blaze with the Power, quench the blaze with the Power. The rhythm was nice, but at the end of the day, too far beyond exhaustion to sleep, the monotony of it all could be oppressive.
“Jai.”
He offered a handshake if she’d take it but refused any further bowing or curtsying. Once was enough for all that. Neither of them were nobles for Light’s sake.
Only darkness shows you the light.