A Good Person

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Matty
"The Path of Daggers"
Posts: 963
Joined: December 16th, 2015, 8:19 pm
PC: Murdock Mather, Keeper of the Archives
SC: Nathaniel Carridus, Asha'man (Blue)
TC: Maever Donovan, Asha'man (Yellow)
Location: Plain of Lances, UK

A Good Person

Post by Matty » November 29th, 2022, 9:46 pm

Maever Donovan "Do you walk in the Light, Maever Donovan?"

"I do! I do be walking in the Light, please..."

"The Light will protect you then, if you are a good person."

"I do be a good person. I do swear it!"


---

The flash of light seared Maever's vision and he woke up with a sudden shriek, one he cut off as soon as he realised he was in his quarters. His torso was drenched with sweat and he was breathing as if he'd run circles around the Tower all night. Another dream. The Illianer was not much assured by this realisation.

They came and went, the dreams. Maever bound to the chair being questioned by Varros, the hawk-nosed Red who seemed to enjoy his administrations a little too much. Maever writhing as he was burned alive from the inside by some terrible weave he couldn't fathom or recognise. Maever trying to punch Ravak, only his arms were noodles and Ravak punched him right back.

This can no go on. He was exhausted with the rigamarole, tired of the trauma, and he was going to take back control. He was the First Weaver of the Yellow Ajah; he was not the farmer's son to be bossed around, nor was he a shy Dedicated being overlooked for his lack of violent tendencies. Heads of Ajahs did not let bad things happen to them without punishing the people who did the bad things, that was justice. He wasn't a Grey but the simplicity of it made sense to a man who was, well, pretty simple at the heart of it. Earnestness might make him seem moreso than he truly was, but at the end of it all the Illianer was a Healer. Now? He was going to heal himself.

He had a quick wash with cold water, then donned a clean uniform by the light of a small candle. He wore his yellow shirt beneath the Asha'man attire, cleaned and pressed, with the pins gleaming proudly. His hair was as grey as it was blond at this point but it was still thick and cowlicked. Maever tousled it back and supposed he was as ready as he was ever going to be.

Afterwards he would say he was led by some unknown force, as if someone else had taken over his body. Quite keenly he would impress upon a listener that he was not a violent person, that he did not hurt people intentionally. The fact that he could say this around the Oaths should speak volumes about the state of mind the man was in at the time, sleep deprived, rushing from his dreams, triggered on a subconscious level.

He moved calmly through the corridors from the Yellow quarters to the Red. He knew Varros' door well, had imagined this very place in his dreams often. The Illianer seized Saidin and drew on the Power, menace and dread pumping through his entire being as he drew on as much of Saidin as he could. By all accounts he was as average strength as one could be, but he had the advantage that nobody expected a late night visit from Maever Donovan.

He opened the door with a smart knock of Air, entered and shut it behind him. He could sense Varros in his bedchambers, could hear him stirring, and he threw up a shield to plant on the man as soon as he rounded the corner. Varros was strong, but Maever's shield was in place and neatly tied off before he could react. Standing there in his smallclothes, the Red looked bewildered at Maever before collecting himself a little. He didn't flinch when Maever lit the candles in the room, or when he checked the soundproofing weave was in place.

"You," he said with a very even tone.

"Yes. I do be a good person Varros."

Recognition flashed across the Red's countenance, but he was silent.

"Tell me I do be a good person Varros."

"You are a good person, Maever." Said with that same level of calm and self assurance. Maever wanted to wipe that silent smirk off his face.

"It do be interesting to me to hear you say that. I did insist many times I do be a good person, and you did no believe me. So that do be making me a bad person by your account." Maever stepped forwards, weaving Air to slap Varros' arms to his sides and his legs together. "Either way, I do be compelled to return the favour. I do no have the Oath Rod to hand. But tell me Varros, do you be a good person?"

"This is misuse of the Power, Illianer," Varros growled as he strained against the Air.

"It do be," Maever agreed. And then he began to channel.
Image
------ Murdock -------------- Nathaniel --------------- Maever -------

User avatar
Matty
"The Path of Daggers"
Posts: 963
Joined: December 16th, 2015, 8:19 pm
PC: Murdock Mather, Keeper of the Archives
SC: Nathaniel Carridus, Asha'man (Blue)
TC: Maever Donovan, Asha'man (Yellow)
Location: Plain of Lances, UK

Re: A Good Person

Post by Matty » November 30th, 2022, 9:07 pm

"Do you be walking in the Light, Varros?"

"I do! I walk in the Light, please..."

"The Light will protect you then, if you do be a good person."

"I am a good person. I swear it!"


---

Maever woke up with a yell, falling out of bed in a pile of covers and flailing limbs. He rolled out of them to his feet and stumbled to the washbasin where he shoved his hands in the cold water. The shock wasn't from the cold, but from the fact that they were clean. Not a spot of blood on them. I did dream, he thought to himself, wet hands shaking as he pulled them from the water and dried them on his smallclothes. He shuffled back to the bed and sat down heavily.

Just a dream. His dressing, and making his way to Varros' rooms, to showing him who was the goodest of people... just a dream. All that courage he had put together to go and face his fears, just a prank. Even my dreams do be making fun of me, the Illianer thought as he sat there, wallowing. He was wide awake now, shivering from the chill in the air that settled on his bare skin in the deep of the night. His mind was already set to racing, the anxiety of it all kicked up to full force.

There was no point sleeping when he was like this. Maever had been through these motions many times before. He let out a small sigh as he lit some candles, put on a buttery yellow robe, chewed a sprig of mint, and took out a thin book from a chest. It was a diary, and Maever rooted around for a pencil in the drawer with a resigned expression. An expression that turned to alarm at the knock on his door.

It was a stupid time to visit other people. Maever knew this, because he'd just done it in his dream. Maybe this was still the dream, and he was stuck trying to wake up? He pinched his cheek, which earned a small "ow!" from the sensation.

"Maever, it's Varros. I know you're awake."

Maever's stomach churned and he looked at the door as if it was going to explode inwards. He tried to remember how he felt in his dream, powerful and in control and so sure of himself. He tried to put it into his voice with nary a falter, but it didn't really work. "It do be late, Varros. Come to the Infirmary in the morning."

"No, I think we need to talk now."

"Uhmmm, no, I do be disagreeing," Maever said, his voice an octave higher, "there do be nothing to talk about."

"So that dream where you came to my room and tortured me? The one where I've woken up with marks around my neck?" Varros' voice was louder, "I can keep talking, wake up all the Butter Brigade."

Maever hurried to his door and threw it open, "do no be calling them that!" he hissed, and Varros took the opportunity to saunter into his room. He was wearing his Asha'man uniform, and he was limping slightly. Maever saw the hand marks around the Saldaean's neck, and when he thought about what else he'd done, he paled in the face.

"How did this happen?" Maever asked, shutting the door. "I was asleep."

"The World of Dreams. Tel'aran'rhiod." Varros sat on a chair heavily and rubbed a hand over his eyebrows. He had a black eye. "I don't have an innate gift, but using a ter'angreal I can enter the World of Dreams. A little too well, it seems. I was pulled into your dream, and you know the rest. It takes a strong dream, lots of emotions and willpower, for that to happen. I couldn't pull away until near the end which given the way you were, is probably for the best."

"I do no be sorry," Maever said. Varros looked at him, surprised. "I did dream those things, but I did dream them with intent. I did think it be real. I do no think hurting others do be right, but I do suppose that do be some form of catharsis. You should be careful in the World of Dreams if I do be dreaming there too. It does happen a lot, the dreams of you."

Varros for his part had the decency to look away from Maever's clear, blue-eyed gaze.

"You did enjoy hurting me, a little too much. Rooting out the Evil in the Grey Tower. You did see me cry when the family of ducks in the fountain did die as a Dedicated. You do be knowing I do be a good person. And still, you did... all that. It do no be good of me, but I do be glad you did experience some of the things I did feel thanks to you. Maybe it will help you learn compassion and kindness."

Maever sat on a chair facing Varros, folding his arms. He was actively not offering Healing as was his gut reaction to when he saw most people in pain. Of course Varros was not most people. Maever was not going to feel bad about Varros getting what he felt was exactly what he had coming to him. After all, Varros most likely hurt lots of other people in just the same way.

And then Varros opened his mouth, and in his low voice, said something that made the hair on Maever's arms stand up and a shiver to run down the back of his spine.
Image
------ Murdock -------------- Nathaniel --------------- Maever -------

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