A Good Person
Posted: 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.
"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.