09-21-2013, 01:46 PM
So Jaxen was afraid of snakes. Did he mean that in the literal sense or was there a metaphor behind that? It had been common in history for many Native tribes to refer to enemies as snakes -- which interestingly enough was how many tribes got their names. And then the warning Noah Crow's Eye had sent came to the forefront of Jon's mind: They wear the mark of the orobous. Surely that couldn't be it.
Also curious that Oriena agreed with Jaxen's disgust for the things. A thing they had in common? "No friends to snakes at this table,"
Jon mused.
Oriena spoke her answer. Yes, she was a clever one, describing a feeling and not saying what caused it. Jon briefly considered demanding she tell more. There would be no one to say otherwise if he did. But he reconsidered -- yes, he could identify with how she felt. It was much like how Jon felt when he took hold of the Great Spirit, rushing along that fine knife's edge that defined control, one foot put wrong leading to disaster, but while control was held, anything was possible.
Something...resonated from the man. A looming presence, menacing. Jon could feel an...echo, he couldn't think of any other way to describe it, even to himself, from within the grasp Jon held on the power of the Great Spirit. It was like the vibration of tuned forks. Fascinating. He'd never felt that before.
That pricking of goosebumps on his skin was back. He sipped his vodka and rubbed his arms. He realized he'd been quiet while lost in contemplation of this new force. "I accept your answers,"
he said. He turned to Oriena. "I suppose there are many ways one can achieve that feeling you describe."
Jon caught Jaxen's eye. The man was staring at him as if to say something -- that presence persisted, Jon could almost feel the surge and ebb of energy, like a tidal wave, and yes, it did clearly resonate with the force of the Great Spirit Jon maintained. Could Jaxen--?
Jon kept his face impassive and reached for another blank card and wrote down a number, turning it over so neither of his companions could see it.
Spoiler: click to toggle
20
"Chance and fate are close cousins,"
he said. He glanced at Oriena. "Perhaps if you don't tell it to go fuck itself it'll be kinder."
It would be Jon's turn to roll, and he reached for the die, awaiting Oriena's selection of her number. As he did so, he sent a single thread of the essence of the Great Spirit -- he supposed he could call it spirit, for short, as it was an entirely separate part of the power from the other elements, by itself the most harmless of threads -- across the room to Jaxen's right.
Also curious that Oriena agreed with Jaxen's disgust for the things. A thing they had in common? "No friends to snakes at this table,"
Jon mused.
Oriena spoke her answer. Yes, she was a clever one, describing a feeling and not saying what caused it. Jon briefly considered demanding she tell more. There would be no one to say otherwise if he did. But he reconsidered -- yes, he could identify with how she felt. It was much like how Jon felt when he took hold of the Great Spirit, rushing along that fine knife's edge that defined control, one foot put wrong leading to disaster, but while control was held, anything was possible.
Something...resonated from the man. A looming presence, menacing. Jon could feel an...echo, he couldn't think of any other way to describe it, even to himself, from within the grasp Jon held on the power of the Great Spirit. It was like the vibration of tuned forks. Fascinating. He'd never felt that before.
That pricking of goosebumps on his skin was back. He sipped his vodka and rubbed his arms. He realized he'd been quiet while lost in contemplation of this new force. "I accept your answers,"
he said. He turned to Oriena. "I suppose there are many ways one can achieve that feeling you describe."
Jon caught Jaxen's eye. The man was staring at him as if to say something -- that presence persisted, Jon could almost feel the surge and ebb of energy, like a tidal wave, and yes, it did clearly resonate with the force of the Great Spirit Jon maintained. Could Jaxen--?
Jon kept his face impassive and reached for another blank card and wrote down a number, turning it over so neither of his companions could see it.
Spoiler: click to toggle
20
"Chance and fate are close cousins,"
he said. He glanced at Oriena. "Perhaps if you don't tell it to go fuck itself it'll be kinder."
It would be Jon's turn to roll, and he reached for the die, awaiting Oriena's selection of her number. As he did so, he sent a single thread of the essence of the Great Spirit -- he supposed he could call it spirit, for short, as it was an entirely separate part of the power from the other elements, by itself the most harmless of threads -- across the room to Jaxen's right.