Suddenly, Fire [open]

[Elan]

Delaine Taborwin

A month into her new life in the Grey Tower, Delaine Taborwin was bored. Most of her classes were only mildly interesting, if even that, and the hours upon hours of chores that were heaped upon all Novices were making her hands rough! Right now she was hurrying to grab a bite before the dinner time would be over; she’d been held up mending dresses because she had been slow with the needle. How was she supposed to be any faster when she’d only done it once before! She knew embroidery as well as any girl, but this was not embroidery, this was torture!

In the end she only managed to grab a couple of bread rolls to go, but she wasn’t that hungry anyway and was happy to retreat into the gardens with her snack. She found a place near a fountain and sat down on the soft grass, tucking her feet daintily under her. The bread roll was… decent. For all her less than charitable thoughts about the Novice life, the food was high quality, if not terribly fancy.

The only really good part about being a Novice was learning to channel. She had managed to access — to embrace, that was the word — the True Source a couple of times, now, but not do anything with it, but the Accepted teaching her was very kind and encouraging. Thinking about it, Delaine slipped into the already-familiar meditation exercise. Rosebud, opening. River, contained by the banks, flowing peacefully. She didn’t mean to reach for the Source, she knew very well she wasn’t meant to be practising unsupervised, but she figured that simply going through the meditation wouldn’t do any harm…

And then saidar was right there at her fingertips.

And then she was… doing something… the Power flowing through her…

And the half-eaten bread roll in her hand burst into flame.

With an alarmed yelp, she leapt to her feet and tossed the flaming piece of bread into the fountain. She looked around, frantically trying to figure out if anyone had seen her, then winced as the initial fright faded and she realised that she’d burned her hand. Not too badly, thankfully; she might be fine without going to the Infirmary, but it did sting. She stuck her hand into the cool water as well, grimacing… And looked up sharply at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Who’s there?”

[Jenn]

Zarius Iiro

Breathe.

In. Then out.

Keep breathing. Keep breathing. He had to keep breathing. Zeen had to remind himself to keep breathing so that he would not storm back into the room he had recently vacated. No, he was surrounded by soft green fragrance. The day was drawing to a close. There was no reason for him to set anyone on fire, however justified it might be. Indeed, the Asha’man merely had to keep breathing, keep reminding himself to breathe, and not give in to the temptation of wrapping his hands around Lord Kinend Uskad’s chicken-like neck and squeezing.

Light in heaven.

Zeen had not thought that it was possible for someone from the Border, of all places, to be quite so... self-centered. I was mistaken, came the irritable thought. Nothing good ever came about from someone clad in cloth-of-gold -

Ice tingled up his arms. A high-pitched...yowl? shattered through his displeasure.

Silver-grey eyes snapped open, the Void locking into place around him as Zeen seized. So much for deep, steady breathing. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring his boots in favour of speed, his brief attempt to find solitude and peace forgotten as he rushed towards the panicked cry. Loose gravel poked and jabbed into the soles of his bare feet, toes curling slightly in protest. The chill that prickled along his forearms vanished.

The faint scent of char reached his nose and the Amadician swallowed, something sharp rippling against the edges of the Void. He pushed it away, saidin flaring and flashing hotter as it sensed his momentary weakness.

“Who’s there?”

Well. This was not what he expected. The former Green’s momentum carried him several more steps forward before he was able to stop, his eyebrows lifting at what he saw as he released his hold on the Power. The Void disappeared, resigned amusement replacing it. The corners of his mouth twitched. Arms folded neatly across his chest, Zeen sighing quietly before going to lean against the hedge next to him. It held, thankfully. Silver-grey eyes regarded the Novice with her hand beneath the surface of the fountain’s water. Bloody ashes, he should have taken the time to put his boots back on... At least he was wearing his breeches and a shirt. He snorted inwardly.

If there was some cosmic pattern or purpose to these garden run-ins with his nublets, Zeen did not see it. Avyra, Tristram, Alrim... and now this Novice. He eyed the soggy, charred piece of bread bobbing up and down almost forlornly.

“I am there,” he replied unnecessarily, his tone wry. “And you are, Novice...?” His look was expectant as his voice trailed off. He really did not wish to give the speech about the dangers of channeling without supervision, but mentally prepared for it all the same. It was dull and repetitive, but it was still far better than dealing with Lordling Chicken Neck.

[Elan]

Delaine

The very ground seemed to shake as a man approximately the size of a mountain burst into sight. Delaine gasped, eyes widening with shock as she recognised the M’Hael, Zarius Iiro, who… for some reason wasn’t wearing any shoes? And seemed— well, no. He had seemed concerned when he first dashed in but that was gone now, replaced with amusement, of all things, as the sharp grey eyes took in the scene.

“I am there,” the M’Hael said, a wry tone to his strong voice. “And you are, Novice..?”

It occurred to Delaine, a little belatedly, that she was still sitting there, simply gaping at the M’Hael like a halfwit. She rose gracefully — but quickly — to her feet and dropped a neat curtsy. “My name is Delaine Taborwin, M’Hael,” she replied.

Undoubtedly the M’Hael would demand an explanation for her activities, if he didn’t just send her straight to the Mistress of Novices, which he of course would have been perfectly within his rights to do. Delaine had to decide how to present her case before it came to that. She could gather her dignity, apologise but stand her ground; she was a Taborwin, after all, and though she knew that she’d made a mistake, it was no reason to grovel. Or she could put on the face of wide-eyed innocence; she was but a Novice and it had been an accident, surely he would see that!

This all went through her mind in a matter of seconds as she examined the M’Hael’s expression. He had the face of an honest man, and the countenance of someone who had little liking for politicking despite his status. And he wasn’t wearing any shoes. This was a brand of people Delaine had very little experience of dealing with. Err on the side of caution. Honest men tended to value honesty in return.

“I… didn’t mean to channel,” she said, grimacing a little. “I was just trying to meditate, and saidar was just… there, and…” She ducked her head, looking away, but her voice was clear as she continued. “Then there was fire.” She resisted the urge to glance at the unfortunate piece of bread and her cheeks warmed slightly in genuine embarrassment. She didn’t fidget nervously — she’d been taught better than that — as she squared her shoulders and met those grey eyes again. “I will, of course, bear the consequences of my mistake, M’Hael.”

[Jenn]

Zeen

A brow arched as Zeen silently appraised the girl, silver-grey eyes studying the impeccable poise she presented, even now. Taborwin. One of the great Cairhienin houses. He should have expected nothing less, he supposed. He spared the pathetic looking piece of floating bread still bobbing helplessly in the fountain a nonchalant glance, then gave a pointed look at the hand she still held under the water.

“I believe you are bearing those consequences rather well, Novice Delaine.”

It was an easy thing to scoop out the swollen lump of food from the fountain with saidin, the Asha’man keeping it eye-level with the girl as he floated the bread into the space between them. Flows of Air coiled tightly around the sponge-like texture, fat droplets of water splattering down, before threads of Fire ignited. Steam hissed and spat out in a cloud of white vapour. He kept his gaze fixed on eyes that were grey... like his, he realized. The flames burned so hot that not even ashed remained.

“The way I see it,” he continued amicably after he released his hold on the Power. There was nothing soft or pleasant about the hammer-like intensity of his full attention, however, as he leveled it at the Novice. Zeen did not move from his indolent position against the hedge. “You have choice to make. I can take you to the Infirmary, for your hand, where they will undoubtedly ask what happened. Seeing as I will be with you, if you do not answer truthfully, I will be obligated to do so. What you did was dangerous, as I am sure you are well aware by now, and you are very fortunate that all that burnt was your hand. More than that piece of bread could have caught on fire.”

He tapped his fingers absently against his chest, his head tilting ever-so-slightly to the side. “Or. I can attempt to take the sting out of the burns, but I am no Healer. It will still hurt and it will have to heal naturally on its own. But you will not earn penance or stripes across that delicate smooth skin of yours. Then you will sit with me and explain, in detail, why channeling without supervision is dangerous. I also wish to hear some of the ways in which you can practice to strengthen your self-control when it comes to resisting the call of saidar.”

[Elan]

Delaine

Delaine watched, a little more wide-eyed than she’d have liked to admit, as the M’Hael retrieved the unfortunate piece of bread from the fountain and immolated it out of existence. The display of power — well, Power — made her want to be able to do the same. The M’Hael couldn’t teach her, she’d learnt that much already; saidin and saidar were different, but…

As he continued talking, however, she found herself brought back to the harsh reality where she was a Novice who’d made a grave mistake. She listened attentively; she did not want to have to go to the Infirmary, though she still expected that a visit to the Mistress of Novices was on the agenda no matter what else was going to happen. But the M’Hael had mentioned a choice, and she was not going to jump into conclusions…

“Or. I can attempt to take the sting out of the burns, but I am no Healer. It will still hurt and it will have to heal naturally on its own. But you will not earn penance or stripes across that delicate smooth skin of yours. Then you will sit with me and explain, in detail, why channeling without supervision is dangerous. I also wish to hear some of the ways in which you can practice to strengthen your self-control when it comes to resisting the call of saidar.”

Delaine would never admit it later, but the indignant little squeak did indeed originate from her. Delicate, smooth skin?! Could he really just… say things like that! To a lady— no, a Novice! In broad daylight, where anyone might hear! Well, as the M’Hael, she supposed he could say whatever he bloody well pleased, but wasn’t it a little… a little bit… improper??

A second later her brain caught up. Was he trying to shock her? Testing her for some reason? Everything about this encounter was all kinds of unconventional, but she was already beginning to figure out that many things about Zarius Iiro were unconventional. Well, if this was a test, she intended to pass.

She held out her hand — resisting the urge to dry it on the hem of her dress — and approached the giant of a man, meeting his gaze steadily. “It would be an honour to be Healed by you, M’Hael,” she said smoothly. “’Tis not severe enough to warrant bothering the Yellows, anyway.”

[Jenn]

Zeen

One side of his mouth quirked up at the girl’s statement. “Typically, when ‘Healing’ and ‘M’Hael’ are used in the same sentence, it is because I am being hounded towards the Infirmary.” Brows lifted as the girl met his gaze without flinching, approaching him with her hand held out in front of her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Zeen eased himself away from the hedge, straightening to his full height. He grinned down at the Novice. The expression sat crookedly on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Cairhienin. Nearly as small as his doveling. “And you may tell me it is an honour after I have finished. We do not yet know how successful I will be.”

He seized, taking hold of Delaine’s hand gingerly despite the Void snapping into place. The Amadician examined the burn, the bright red standing out in livid contrast against pale skin. To her credit, the girl did not wince. A fingertip probed several places, carefully tracing the outline of the injury. It did not seem too awfully serious. Unpleasant, yes. But not life threatening.

It was an odd thing, to feel burning heat pulsing through cold dampness. The former Green shrugged inwardly. Thin threads of saidin drew out the heat, hopefully easing some of the discomfort. Perhaps it would also bring down the swelling. Next came rudimentary flows of Water, Air, and Spirit. The weave was rough and though formed correctly, he was unsure as to how effective it would be. Soothe the immediate pain... make it more bearable, but probably little more than that. He cast a critical eye over the burn before nodding briefly. A quick ribbon-like swirl of Air and Fire dried the Novice’s hand and the fingertips that had touched her. Then he released his hold on her and the Power.

“Let us walk, Novice Delaine.” He inclined his head and made a slight sweeping gesture with his arm that indicated that she was to step beside him. If she found it strange that his bare feet crunched over the gravel strewn paths, she did not give any indication of it. Zeen smiled a little. Well bred and well mannered, this one. He shortened his stride to match hers, leading the way without obviously outpacing her. He was going to get his boots before anything else happened.

They were where he had left them. When he had finished putting them back on, he bowed a little towards the nearest stone bench. “Please, sit.” He did not settle immediately next to her; he did not wish to crowd her, but he did not distance himself on the opposite end of the bench either, and present himself as too far away. “Tell me, how long have you been a Novice? How are you finding your studies?”

[Elan]

Delaine

Delaine really, really wished she could see the flows of saidin as the M’Hael worked. Whatever it was that he did, it took away most of the pain, and reduced the redness; there was still clear indication that something had happened, but it looked and felt like a several days old injury that had been treated with a salve or a poultice, rather than something that had only occurred moments ago. It came as a little bit of a surprise that the M’Hael had no more ability in Healing, but on the other hand it made sense in light of what she’d been taught about Talents; no amount of learning or practice could make someone a proficient Healer if their Talent dictated otherwise.

She inspected her hand and directed a bright smile up at the M’Hael. “Thank you.”

Walking at the man’s side, it was an exercise in willpower to not glance at his bare feet, and when their first stop was his discarded boots, she couldn’t help wondering what he had been up to when her cry had interrupted him. Should she apologise for the disruption? No, it was too late now; she should have done that already, now it would be just awkward.

She sat on the bench when the M’Hael told her to — or maybe invited her to sit? That was probably closer to his intention, though coming from the M’Hael, and her being a Novice, the end result was inevitably the same. Not that she wanted to disobey, not at all. This was far more interesting than anything that had happened to her since catching Dedicated Alric sneaking in the Novice quarters at night… and this probably topped that, too.

“I’ve been here for almost a month, M’Hael,” she said. “My studies are going well enough, thank you.” That was a boring answer, true though it might be, and so she went on, “I do not mean to brag, but my prior education surpasses that of a lot of my peers, so some classes are a little… repetitive. But I’ve been allowed to assist in the Library one some days instead of going to Basic Arithmetics. I have enjoyed that, and I appreciate the fact that the students’ individual progression is also taken into account.”

She looked up at the man sitting next to her. “Do you always make a point of reaching out to new students like this, M’Hael?”