Every Story Has a Beginning [Sunny~]

[Elan]

Valentin Akashi

So this is what passes for winter in the south, was the first thing going through Valentin’s mind when the hole in the air — gateway — closed behind him. A man in a black uniform greeted Jaryd Kosari and Mael Akashi cheerfully and spared Valentin a curious look before returning to mind his own business. Valentin followed the two Asha’man without dawdling; there was a lot to see but he was going to see it all in due time. Hells, he was probably going to be bored of it by the time they let him leave.

Mael took off almost as soon as they were out of the Travelling grounds, leaving Valentin with the Master of Soldiers. The older Akashi had been quiet all morning, and Valentin didn’t have much to say to him, either, so he wasn’t sad to see him go. What did one even say to an estranged great-grandfather? Valentin had a feeling he’d have to figure that out eventually, but right now the issue couldn’t have been much further from his mind. If Mael wanted to avoid him, that was more than fine by him.

A quick visit to the Master of Soldiers’ office later, Valentin was sent off with a Dedicated who didn’t seem much older than himself but who — as Valentin was able to pick up from the man’s incessant chatter in a thick Illianer accent — had been in the Tower for six years already. The Dedicated led him around on a brief tour of the Soldiers’ quarters and picked up a uniform for him before showing him to the room that would be his until he earned the Sword pin.

“You do be having the rest of the day to yourself,” the Dedicated said, with a smile that was entirely too knowing. Did Valentin really look that out of place? “If there be any problems, do no hesitate to ask for help.”

“Sure,” Valentin replied. “Thank you.” Not that he had any intention of calling upon the Dedicated, or the Master of Soldiers, or anyone else for that matter. He’d manage, somehow.

The Dedicated went on his way, and Valentin entered the room. There were two beds, two desks; the room was clearly and neatly divided into two near-identical halves. One of the halves was clearly occupied — there were writing appliances and… were those paints? on the desk, a book on the bed — but the occupant was nowhere in evidence. Valentin could recall the Master of Soldiers mentioning a roommate, but he hadn’t said anything more specific about the person. Valentin would just have to find out in person, he supposed.

He shrugged and set his things on the other bed. He supposed he’d better change into the uniform, now that he was one of the Soldiers. He divested himself of his coat, then sat on the bed and began to pull off his boots… and then the door opened to admit a boy no older than Valentin himself. Or at least so it appeared, he reminded himself. Bloody channellers. The newcomer was tall and almost impossibly pretty, with big brown eyes and long hair that looked silky soft— not that Valentin was in the least wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through it.

No, he really wasn’t.

“Peace,” he eventually managed; that wasn’t quite the greeting he’d aimed for, but he supposed even swearing was better than just staring like a moonstruck calf. “I mean, uh. Hi. You must be my roommate?” He scrambled to his feet, a little comically as he was wearing one of his boots, the other lying discarded on the floor. He stuck his hand out to the newcomer, anyway. “I’m Valentin. Valentin Akashi.”

[Sunny]

Owen

Owen might have been struggling to connect with his peers in nearly every way, but at least the Mistress of Kitchens had taken a liking to him. He knew this because when his latest shift in the scullery came to an end the matronly woman immediately pushed him down at a table and shoved a plate of food in front of him. “Eat.” Her tone brooked no argument so the Shienaran did as commanded with all the fervor of a starving wolf. Or, you know, a still growing teenager (it’s hard to tell the difference sometimes, or so his father had once said).

Halfway through his meal Graine dropped a brown paper package on the table next to him; Owen opened it and found two honeycakes inside, still warm and gooey. His exclamation of glee earned him a smile and a hand tousling his hair. For once, he didn’t push away the unexpected touch. It never hurt to befriend the servants...especially ones who had the authority to make his life a living hell. Especially ones in charge of making food.

Halfway to his next class a passing classmate shared that the teacher had canceled the session for reasons unknown. The soldier digested this information with a growing smile, then turned on his heel and made his way to his room at a not-quite-jog. He had a free period after this class which meant he had two entire bells to do...whatever...and honeycakes to boot. Glorious! He was already digging in his bag when he pushed the door open, his attention firmly fixed on the treat within.

When he looked up, he found himself staring straight into eyes that had as little business being that insanely blue as they had being in the room at all. The rest of the man (boy, really) came into focus a breath later and Owen studied tousled hair, sprinkled freckles, and high cheekbones with unsubtle curiosity (and perhaps a touch of admiration), vaguely aware that the stranger was giving him the same type of scrutiny. Like stray cats meeting in an alley, he thought, amused despite himself.

“Peace.” The comment broke the spell and Owen hurried to set his burden aside (cake to the table, bag to the bed) as the intruder introduced himself. Borderlander or not, this Valentin seemed just as uncertain and off balance as Owen did, which comforted the Shienaran to an absurd degree. And- oh. If they were to be roommates then it was probably a bad idea to think too much on which pigment could best capture that glorious blue.

“Must be!” Owen responded with an easy smile, his hand linking briefly with Valentin’s in greeting. “I’m Owen Andarin. Don’t let the uniform fool you, I’ve only been here a week or two myself. It’ll be good to have company, honestly. Unless- do you snore? That’s a dealbreaker, you know.” His playful tone made it clear the question was not serious.

“Anyway, were you changing?” He nodded to Valentin’s mismatched feet. “I can step out or look away if you’d like to finish, and then...um...well, do you like sweets?”

[Elan]

Valentin

The other boy seemed… nice was the best adjective Valentin could come up with. Polite and graceful were also up there; simply put he was not what Valentin would have expected of someone studying to become Asha’man. Granted, his experience of Asha’man was limited as he’d only met two, Mael and Jaryd, and out of those two Mael matched his expectations better; distant, not terribly sociable, half the time looking as though he’d rather be somewhere blowing things up.

When Owen asked if he should look away, Valentin just shrugged. “Uh, whatever? I’m not bothered.” Truth was he wouldn’t have thought twice about it if the other boy hadn’t brought it up; and anyway, if they were going to be sharing a room for Light knew how many years, they’d both just have to get used to it. Nonetheless, he was a little self-conscious as he finished changing, and as if the Wheel itself was determined to make him look like an idiot, he somehow managed to button up his coat wrong.

“…Anyway,” he said as he undid the buttons again to correct his mistake, “you can keep your cakes.” Well, that was eloquently phrased, Akashi. “I mean,” he hurried to add, “you probably appreciate them more than I would, so don’t waste one on me.” That… probably wasn’t much better. Light, had he always been so bad at talking to strangers? Then again, he probably wouldn’t know, as there simply weren’t a lot of those venturing to his village.

“So how did you end up here?” he asked, desperately grasping at the first topic that crossed his mind, to draw attention away from his verbal stumbling. “I set a tree on fire. In the winter, in Kandor, it was kind of hard to write off as natural, so my grandfather sent for an Asha’man and… here I am.”

[Sunny]

Owen

Sharing a chamber would take getting used to, but at least Valentin didn’t seem interested in making things more complicated than they had to be. Owen sat cross-legged on his bed and went through his bag while Valentin changed, organizing books and notes and various writing and drawing utensils with careful attention.

When he looked up again the other boy was pulling his coat apart; Owen blinked, then realized Valentin had buttoned it unevenly the first time. He bit back a smile (somehow he suspected the other soldier would take it as mocking) and instead simply watched the man with covert interest.

“...Anyway, you can keep your cakes.” Owen looked down from his renewed study of his roommate before Valentin happened to see that his rejection had cut. Thankfully the other man tried to correct himself almost immediately...and the second comment was just as awkward as the first. Somehow the combination of the two was oddly endearing, and the question and story that followed successfully washed all hurt away for good.

“I still can’t even sense the bloody Source and I’ve been practicing every day since I got here,” he admitted shyly. Jaryd insisted there was no shame in that, that it could take months to so much as touch the One Power, let alone control it. Owen tried to keep that in mind, try after try, but sometimes… Sometimes I would give my right leg to be a prodigy.

“I’m here because an Asha’man came to visit my parents. One night while my father was gone, Rodric asked me how long I thought I could look at a candle and I took it as a dare. I didn’t know that’s how they test for the bloody ability to channel and of course he neglected to inform me until after.” He snorted inelegantly. “I wish I had set something on fire! Father might have accepted the abrupt change in plans easier if he had hard proof of the need.”

His mind turned back to the story Valentin had shared. “How did you manage to set a tree on fire, anyway? I didn’t think new channelers could do things that big.” Good-natured envy and curiosity colored his words, all awkwardness forgotten in the interest of getting to know this person he hoped would be his friend.

[Elan]

Valentin

Thank the Light, Owen didn’t seem badly offended. His story sounded entertaining in its own right — Valentin couldn’t help wondering about the Asha’man who would trick someone into getting tested — but he could hear more about it later. It looked like they were going to have a lot of time to get to know each other. Instead, he tried to answer Owen’s question.

“I didn’t exactly do it on purpose,” he said. And, in the name of honesty, he had to add, “I probably couldn’t do it on purpose if I tried, because I’ve no idea how I did it in the first place. There were Trollocs. We needed time to get away before they saw us, a distraction.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “A tree spontaneously catching fire did the job.” According to the Master of Soldiers, he must have channelled before that, but he couldn’t remember anything quite so dramatic happening before. There was also a high chance he’d developed something the Asha’man had called a ‘block’, channelling without training, but there was no way to tell for sure until he actually tried to reach for saidin through the proper methods.

“My father wasn’t best pleased, either,” he added. He wasn’t sure how much he felt like talking about his family, but if he was going to be sharing a room with Owen, it was bound to come up sooner or later. “Well, my grandfather was the real problem — his father was a channeller. Or… is a channeller. He’s an Asha’man here, in the Grey Tower — anyway, my family isn’t terribly fond of Asha’man, and now I’m going to be one.” Saying it out loud made it sound more dramatic than it felt, really, but then he thought about Ivan, about his sisters, about how he’d not see any of them for a long time, about the look on his father’s face when they’d said their farewells… He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just… a little strange, is all.”

[Sunny]

Owen

He’s related to an Asha’man? Owen sat up a little, interest more than piqued by that point. Valentin could channel naturally--Rodric had explained the difference, but until then Owen had not had need to understand it--and he was related to an Asha’man. And yet here he sat in plain black, looking just as lost as Owen had on his first day. Then again, the other boy had said something about a disapproving family… Oh.

“That was a lot to live through in a short time,” Owen commented. It felt rough and nowhere near what Valentin probably needed to hear, but what else could he do? “It must be nice to just stop, even if you aren’t sure what your family will do in the future.” Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “but it’s not like you developed the ability to channel to spite them! From what Angryface told me, you had no choice in the matter at all.”

Valentin gave him an odd look; too late, Owen realized what he’d done. “Rodric,” he said with a sigh. “I meant Rodric. He’s angry all the time, you’ll understand when you meet him. Anyway, the rest is still true. Do you suppose they’ll come around with time?”

OOC: Catching up on stuffs.

[Elan]

Valentin

Valentin gave a slightly incredulous snort at the ‘Angryface’; it was odd to see the other boy talk about an Asha’man with such sheer irreverence. Granted, Owen probably wouldn’t have done so to the man’s face, but still. Valentin had grown up to treat channellers, especially Asha’man, as a deathly serious topic, certainly not something you joked about, but he could see that there was no room for such detachment here.

As for what the other Soldier had actually said, minus the ‘Angryface’ part… Valentin gave a slightly lopsided shrug. “I hope so?” he offered eventually. “They did let me come here, so clearly having another Asha’man in the family is the lesser evil to having me die from untrained channelling.” And that probably came out a little more morbid than he’d intended, but he wasn’t sure how to fix that so he just forged on, “Anyway, do you think I’ll be allowed to keep training with weapons, here? I mean regular ones, not the Power. They didn’t let me bring my own sword—” and that still annoyed him, but apparently it was the rules, “—but there’s Warders and such here, so…” He trailed off, looking at Owen with hopeful eyes.

[Sunny]

Owen

Are there families who would allow their children to die rather than train their ability? Pragmatism instantly banished that horrified thought. Of course there were; he’d read enough to know that. It seemed more likely in Amadicia or Tear, but the Borderlands did have their odd ideas about honor and duty. If Rodric hadn’t been there, if I had sparkedon my own, would my father have let me go? Now that was disturbing.

“I assume you left your sword at home?” Owen asked curiously. Valentin nodded. “That’s good, actually. You already know they burn what you bring with you, right? Some things they set aside, but I haven’t figured out how they determine which item goes to which pile beyond clothing.” That probably wasn’t comforting his new roommate; Owen reeled himself back and changed direction. “So basically, now you know it’s safe until you can get it when you’re raised,” he explained. “In the meantime...you can’t carry a weapon with you like you could at home, but if you want to, the Practice Yards are open to channelers. You just have to fit practice into your other lessons and somehow still get sleep.”

Owen thought he would rather be in Shayol Ghul than the Practice Yards, but to each their own.

[Elan]

Valentin

Valentin nodded when Owen asked about the sword; Asha’man Jaryd had told him he’d not be able to keep it if he brought it so it had been left in Kandor. He’d actually not brought much besides the clothes on his back, for the same reason. He supposed it was good that he’d had someone to tell him all that before he got here, because he wouldn’t have been impressed with having to relinquish his sword to a stranger. Still, even knowing all Owen was telling him, it felt like he was missing something.

The rest of what the other Soldier had to say was far more encouraging, even if Owen himself didn’t appear too enthusiastic about the idea of training. Asking Owen to train with him probably wouldn’t go over too well, then. A pity; it would have been something fun to do while getting to know each other. “I’ll find the time,” he said, more confidently than he probably should have considering he only had a vague idea of what his schedule was going to be like. “Somehow.”

His eyes found the paints on Owen’s desk again and he eagerly latched onto the potential topic of conversation. “What about you? Do you find time for…” was there a fancy word for painting? “…art?”