03-27-2020, 04:56 PM
There was a time and a place for making big show of things. When it came up, and, you know, if there was a good reason--or, at least a decent reason--Jai was a waltz right in the grand ballroom sort of guy. You know, make the big entrance. Flash up the showmanship. Give the crowd something to talk about for once around here. Not that the halls didn't still buzz with the prosperous news of glorious King Daryen's unprecedented treatise. Usually on the same breath as followed rumors of a dead heir and a new royal consort whom the locals called the ‘Lady in Red’. Which really was a fitting name for the gaidar. The night of her debut was definitely etched into Jai's skull, since it was such an otherwise mundane night--party by the sea, meet a pretty girl, get your heart ripped out, take a kick in the teeth for trying to rip a guy's throat out who definitely had it coming--yeah, just another day in the heat of battle. The Lady in Red was a fitting name for Trista, but Jai was particularly fond of another moniker. Red Death.
And damn. She fit it.
Trista hovered like death. Patient and apathetic, biding her time. This night, no red swath of silk draped her muscly gaidar body from which her name arose. But a woman like that had no need for gowns to draw every eye in the room. And those eyes were all the more pulled in by the resistance they met when meeting hers. A lost cause on their part. Jai's too. But then again, he didn't stop by to win over Trista. Fun as that might be to try to sometime. Not to actually do anything about it, but you know, just to see if she was capable of a smile. Surely she was. Even a heartless one? That'd still count.
Decked to the nines, gleaming pins in the collar and Asha’man’s coat dead still as a Halfman's cloak, Jai was in the sort of just in that sort of mood. He paused in the archway, leaning in the shadows of a column. The hum of conversation was carried away by the breeze, such that he picked out no one voice or another from the throb of Domani accents. They were in a sort of courtyard where terraces and breezeways were indistinguishable between what counted as indoors and what was out. Late evening like this, the temperature dropped as the sun drifted toward the sea, and the silk draped Lords and Ladies took to the gardens.
Two levels surrounded the courtyard below. The palace was situated atop the city's highest hill, and from this height, framed a view of the very sea glittered golden under a dying sun. A catwalk linked the perimeter, filled with the King's tables outfitted for the meal to come. Servants lit lamps set within crystal globes that cast colored patterns on the walls. Music streamed from somewhere unseen but when it hit the fresh air, the tones dissipated into the humidity. Opulence was everywhere.
Amid the splendor, color, and life bubbling out of the palace stood one sliver of the dragon’s shadow leaned against a column, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of a sword. The only other Asha'man in sight was below, seated with two of his Merchant Councilmen and their Lady Wives at his right. At his left was poised his fair younger sister, elegant and regal. Then again, she was born to it. Trista hovered behind Daryen, who was deep in dramatic conversation with those in his company. Asha’man though he was, rarely did he wear the black. With his long, blonde hair billowing on the breeze, broad shoulders and tan chest, he was better suited to color. At least the subjects of his glittering city would think so. Jai alone knew what darkness lurked behind that debonair smile. He saw the ghosts bare themselves under cover of darkness, glimpsed only in the solitude of night. He felt it in the pull of Daryen’s hands on his back. Heard it in the grunt of pain buried among the groans of pleasure. Jai heard it because the same came from him. Mutual understanding bound them together, but where Jai wore his hauntings proudly by day, Daryen painted a gleaming layer of lacquer over his. Either way, Daryen’s brow was dry where the sternest of Lords were fanning idly at sweat droplets. Jai almost laughed. Just in case there was confusion about who was ruler, Daryen’s head was encircled by a jeweled headcrown.
Daryen was clearly fine, and Jai turned to go until an albino specter snapped his attention back. The seanchan slave woman approached the king's group. She bowed, said a few words and turned to introduce the bastard whipping at her back. Lord Sivi-whatever his name was came forth, and Daryen stood to greet him. Others quieted their conversations but did not cease them outright. The seanchan beast was less the fascinating creature he'd been at his introduction by the sea. The Domani had warmed to his presence, or they'd yielded such warmth to their gracious ruler.
But Jai wasn't Domani. He found himself gripping the railing with both hands, and thinking of Daryen's pristine blue coat splattered in seanchan red. Of albino skin painted a rosier color. So easy. The snap of fingers. Boring. Easy.
Unfortunately, no new fountains erupted. But an Asha'man's disgust made the humidity bow with fatigue. His glare, cold and long caught the king's attention even from the distance at which Jai watched, and the king’s glance upward drew also the eye of the bald lord bastard just as he took a seat. Trista circled ignoring the intrusion of the king’s Asha’man brother, then joined the slave woman before the two men. Jai ignored the gaidar in turn. Was Daryen really sleeping with her? If so, he’d smothered the sensation from his bond brother.
Irritated, Jai swallowed his imagination and relinquished the railing its freedom from fury. A few moments later, Jai joined the group. If the seanchan lord recognized him from the party following the hunt, he did not show it. Nor did he react to the smirk Jai greeted him with. Excitement mostly over, everyone settled in once more. Conversation resumed, but more than one pair of eyes were on the long-absent Asha'man. At least Jai finally found the entrance he wanted.
He passed by the Seanchan women as he followed the same path Sivikawa had taken. The same smirk greeted the thinly unveiled disgust wafting from the slave girl. Milky eyes swiveled, glued to his back while Jai passed them by. Wasn't Trista tired of these games? Thrown in whether she willed it or not, and now set out again for the sport of their masters? While a lost look of fatigue returned the Red Death's glance, Sivikawa sat still, barely tolerating this interruption to his entertainment, and his executioner happily approached. Probably wouldn't be tonight. But there was only one reason why the man still sucked air. To that reason, Jai bowed.
The king’s sapphire eyes met his briefly, then fell to the weapon on his belt. Daryen nodded approval, flashed his dazzling smile and ordered a new seat be brought forward. Well that was easy. Feeling rather smug, Jai folded into cushions and took a glass of iced lemon mead though he sampled little more than a few sips. The taste of alcohol still made his head swim. A feeling he hoped would go away soon. It was really getting in the way of proper drinking.
Drenched in dancing torchlight and shadows of the setting sun, the gaidar and Seanchan Voice set to sparring one another as they had the last time Jai walked western land. It really was pretty bloody fascinating. And Jai made a serious note to stay on Trista's good side. But he was distracted. He'd not shared a single word with Daryen since returning to Arad Doman, but such wasn't too bothersome. The man cheered on his gaidar in good sport, engaging the others, heightening the anticipation. No. It was the Seanchan Lord seated on the far side that drew Jai's death-stare. The man uttered not a single sound, as his Voice was currently engaged elsewhere. But he sat forward on his seat, enraptured by the sick thrill quickening his blood.
When it was over, the Voice regathered her composure and was soon yanked back to her proper place. That is, being the mouthpiece for the tongue-severed blight on civilization over there. She thanked--er, he thanked the King for his indulgence, and she--er, he praised Trista's skill once more. That Daryen's possessed a property to be envied in her-- his--their, whatever-- homeland. Jai laughed and rubbed the corner of his eye.
Lord Sivikawa slowly turned. Then his Voice spoke. "It is said a single Asha'man--" she wrestled with the word "--is worth a thousand swords in battle."
Jai shrugged and Daryen cast him a coy smile that dared him to go easy. "Do not believe every rumor you hear," he spoke directly to the Lord rather than his Voice, "It’s at least twice that many."
But the Lord's response drained the grin from his face. His Voice spoke, "Then we must assume it takes two thousand soldiers to bruise the face of one Asha'man. An impressive feat. The battle must have been long and glorious indeed."
"Oh this?" Jai gestured at his own pretty face, very much ready to enlighten the good Lord, but Daryen interrupted. Smoothing things over with a single soothing tale.
"Far less than two-thousand! One grumpy horse with a stout kick I fear." He shook his head proudly, "Did you really save a pup from the street?" Daryen winked at his princess sister, who was smiling whether she believed the far-fetched tale or not.
And damn. She fit it.
Trista hovered like death. Patient and apathetic, biding her time. This night, no red swath of silk draped her muscly gaidar body from which her name arose. But a woman like that had no need for gowns to draw every eye in the room. And those eyes were all the more pulled in by the resistance they met when meeting hers. A lost cause on their part. Jai's too. But then again, he didn't stop by to win over Trista. Fun as that might be to try to sometime. Not to actually do anything about it, but you know, just to see if she was capable of a smile. Surely she was. Even a heartless one? That'd still count.
Decked to the nines, gleaming pins in the collar and Asha’man’s coat dead still as a Halfman's cloak, Jai was in the sort of just in that sort of mood. He paused in the archway, leaning in the shadows of a column. The hum of conversation was carried away by the breeze, such that he picked out no one voice or another from the throb of Domani accents. They were in a sort of courtyard where terraces and breezeways were indistinguishable between what counted as indoors and what was out. Late evening like this, the temperature dropped as the sun drifted toward the sea, and the silk draped Lords and Ladies took to the gardens.
Two levels surrounded the courtyard below. The palace was situated atop the city's highest hill, and from this height, framed a view of the very sea glittered golden under a dying sun. A catwalk linked the perimeter, filled with the King's tables outfitted for the meal to come. Servants lit lamps set within crystal globes that cast colored patterns on the walls. Music streamed from somewhere unseen but when it hit the fresh air, the tones dissipated into the humidity. Opulence was everywhere.
Amid the splendor, color, and life bubbling out of the palace stood one sliver of the dragon’s shadow leaned against a column, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of a sword. The only other Asha'man in sight was below, seated with two of his Merchant Councilmen and their Lady Wives at his right. At his left was poised his fair younger sister, elegant and regal. Then again, she was born to it. Trista hovered behind Daryen, who was deep in dramatic conversation with those in his company. Asha’man though he was, rarely did he wear the black. With his long, blonde hair billowing on the breeze, broad shoulders and tan chest, he was better suited to color. At least the subjects of his glittering city would think so. Jai alone knew what darkness lurked behind that debonair smile. He saw the ghosts bare themselves under cover of darkness, glimpsed only in the solitude of night. He felt it in the pull of Daryen’s hands on his back. Heard it in the grunt of pain buried among the groans of pleasure. Jai heard it because the same came from him. Mutual understanding bound them together, but where Jai wore his hauntings proudly by day, Daryen painted a gleaming layer of lacquer over his. Either way, Daryen’s brow was dry where the sternest of Lords were fanning idly at sweat droplets. Jai almost laughed. Just in case there was confusion about who was ruler, Daryen’s head was encircled by a jeweled headcrown.
Daryen was clearly fine, and Jai turned to go until an albino specter snapped his attention back. The seanchan slave woman approached the king's group. She bowed, said a few words and turned to introduce the bastard whipping at her back. Lord Sivi-whatever his name was came forth, and Daryen stood to greet him. Others quieted their conversations but did not cease them outright. The seanchan beast was less the fascinating creature he'd been at his introduction by the sea. The Domani had warmed to his presence, or they'd yielded such warmth to their gracious ruler.
But Jai wasn't Domani. He found himself gripping the railing with both hands, and thinking of Daryen's pristine blue coat splattered in seanchan red. Of albino skin painted a rosier color. So easy. The snap of fingers. Boring. Easy.
Unfortunately, no new fountains erupted. But an Asha'man's disgust made the humidity bow with fatigue. His glare, cold and long caught the king's attention even from the distance at which Jai watched, and the king’s glance upward drew also the eye of the bald lord bastard just as he took a seat. Trista circled ignoring the intrusion of the king’s Asha’man brother, then joined the slave woman before the two men. Jai ignored the gaidar in turn. Was Daryen really sleeping with her? If so, he’d smothered the sensation from his bond brother.
Irritated, Jai swallowed his imagination and relinquished the railing its freedom from fury. A few moments later, Jai joined the group. If the seanchan lord recognized him from the party following the hunt, he did not show it. Nor did he react to the smirk Jai greeted him with. Excitement mostly over, everyone settled in once more. Conversation resumed, but more than one pair of eyes were on the long-absent Asha'man. At least Jai finally found the entrance he wanted.
He passed by the Seanchan women as he followed the same path Sivikawa had taken. The same smirk greeted the thinly unveiled disgust wafting from the slave girl. Milky eyes swiveled, glued to his back while Jai passed them by. Wasn't Trista tired of these games? Thrown in whether she willed it or not, and now set out again for the sport of their masters? While a lost look of fatigue returned the Red Death's glance, Sivikawa sat still, barely tolerating this interruption to his entertainment, and his executioner happily approached. Probably wouldn't be tonight. But there was only one reason why the man still sucked air. To that reason, Jai bowed.
The king’s sapphire eyes met his briefly, then fell to the weapon on his belt. Daryen nodded approval, flashed his dazzling smile and ordered a new seat be brought forward. Well that was easy. Feeling rather smug, Jai folded into cushions and took a glass of iced lemon mead though he sampled little more than a few sips. The taste of alcohol still made his head swim. A feeling he hoped would go away soon. It was really getting in the way of proper drinking.
Drenched in dancing torchlight and shadows of the setting sun, the gaidar and Seanchan Voice set to sparring one another as they had the last time Jai walked western land. It really was pretty bloody fascinating. And Jai made a serious note to stay on Trista's good side. But he was distracted. He'd not shared a single word with Daryen since returning to Arad Doman, but such wasn't too bothersome. The man cheered on his gaidar in good sport, engaging the others, heightening the anticipation. No. It was the Seanchan Lord seated on the far side that drew Jai's death-stare. The man uttered not a single sound, as his Voice was currently engaged elsewhere. But he sat forward on his seat, enraptured by the sick thrill quickening his blood.
When it was over, the Voice regathered her composure and was soon yanked back to her proper place. That is, being the mouthpiece for the tongue-severed blight on civilization over there. She thanked--er, he thanked the King for his indulgence, and she--er, he praised Trista's skill once more. That Daryen's possessed a property to be envied in her-- his--their, whatever-- homeland. Jai laughed and rubbed the corner of his eye.
Lord Sivikawa slowly turned. Then his Voice spoke. "It is said a single Asha'man--" she wrestled with the word "--is worth a thousand swords in battle."
Jai shrugged and Daryen cast him a coy smile that dared him to go easy. "Do not believe every rumor you hear," he spoke directly to the Lord rather than his Voice, "It’s at least twice that many."
But the Lord's response drained the grin from his face. His Voice spoke, "Then we must assume it takes two thousand soldiers to bruise the face of one Asha'man. An impressive feat. The battle must have been long and glorious indeed."
"Oh this?" Jai gestured at his own pretty face, very much ready to enlighten the good Lord, but Daryen interrupted. Smoothing things over with a single soothing tale.
"Far less than two-thousand! One grumpy horse with a stout kick I fear." He shook his head proudly, "Did you really save a pup from the street?" Daryen winked at his princess sister, who was smiling whether she believed the far-fetched tale or not.
Only darkness shows you the light.