Slackers [attn: Elan/Jaren]

[Locke]

Nasrin

It wasn’t exactly her most well thought out plan, but it didn’t matter. Nasrin was furious. Sure Marten was good looking enough, but he was absolutely detestable. He was the sort of man who confused boasting with flirting. She wouldn’t now be standing in his room with a pair of scissors if he had limited himself to going on and on about how strong he was in the Power and which Asha’man offered to tutor him. She didn’t care about any of those things but she could have just shrugged him off as an idiot. An idiot who insisted on spending time around her and trying to peek down her and Kaira’s dresses. Earlier today however, he’d tried kissing her. She had shoved him off and stormed away, but she was so mad that her Illianer accident did be slippin’ through.

Nasrin’s plan had not extended further than sneaking into his room to cut the seats of his pants off. She only knew where the room was because he had tried to invite her back there on several occasions. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she angrily sniffed. Good thing she had never let him. She didn’t want to think of the liberties he would have taken.

Now which side of the room was his? Soldiers all wore the same black uniforms. She rummaged through one of the draws pulling out black trousers that seemed to be the right size. She cut up the first pair of pants and tossed it on the bed. Her scissors were dull and the cuts weren’t very clean, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t trying to tailor his trousers, she wanted to ruin them. So there she stood, mutilating pair after pair when the door cracked open.

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren was hurrying back to his room, looking forward to having a little time to read. Asha’man Andrys had lent him a book on the history of trade across the Aiel Waste, and though it might not be a topic Jaren would have chosen himself, it could turn out interesting. The best part was that he’d just seen Marten herded off by a Brown Aes Sedai to copy notes for her, which meant that he’d most likely be gone all afternoon. It was funny how some peace and quiet had become such a rare commodity…

Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to find anyone when he opened the door to his room. Understandably, when he first realised that there was somebody after ally, he first thought that Marten had somehow managed to get away from the Aes Sedai — because who else would possibly have a reason to be there in their room? So it took a second for his mind to process what he was seeing.

It was not Marten. It was a girl, a novice judging by her white dress, with short hair and freckles, reasonably pretty but kind of young-looking, and familiar though Jaren couldn't recall a name… And holding a pair of scissors, which she was in the process of applying to a pair of trousers.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Jaren muttered, not quite under his breath. At least they were Marten’s trousers; the kid was a fair bit taller than Jaren so it was easy to tell. He didn’t move from the doorway, just gestured helplessly at the scene and asked, “Why?”

[Locke]

Nasrin

Nasrin spun, bringing her scissors up like a knife as the door opened. Oh, it’s just Jaren, she thought lowering her hand, heart pounding. It’s Jaren! she thought, dropping the scissors, hand going to her chest. Jaren was Marten’s roommate. She had seen him around the Tower, and he had always seemed so sweet, not that he had ever said more than two words to her.

“I’m sure you must know your roommate is a lout,” she said with a huff, stooping to pick up the scissors. “He do be arrogant and obnoxious and he tried to kiss me without asking.” The last was said with a vehemence that surprised even her. She tossed the last pair of trousers onto the bed and sat down on the edge fixing the short Soldier with a stern glare. “You won’t tell him I was here will you?”

Get out of there, girl, you've got your revenge. But, when would she get another chance like this? Jaren was standing right there, with his golden curls and delicate features.

Just talk to him

About what?

Anything!

She tucked her feet under her and said, “Marten is a lout isn't he?”

Idiot girl, you just said that? She could feel her cheeks darkening and pulse racing. She gave a small smile and batted her eyes hoping to distract from her blush. If only she had spent her teen years in Bandar Eban, instead of on a ship. She could have had him twisted around her finger in moments. Maybe not, he seemed to have his head on straighter than most men. Besides, she wouldn't trade the new ports and salt spray for all the gold in Andor.

Spoiler: show

and Marten is actually dead under the bed... no he isnt

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren made a noncommittal sound in response to the question. He wasn’t about to disagree with that; the younger Soldier had demonstrated that time and again, but Jaren had not imagined that even he would try to force his attentions upon a woman. Light, the Novice sitting on the bed, surrounded by ruined trousers, couldn’t be much past eighteen, if even that! If the Master of Soldiers found out, Marten wouldn’t sit easy for weeks, and that would serve him right.

With a sigh, Jaren moved from the doorway, though he didn’t close the door all the way, just enough that a casual passer-by wouldn’t see into the room. He didn’t want to make the girl feel trapped in the room with him, especially after her recent experience with bloody Marten. Jaren set the book he was carrying on the nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed, facing the Novice. She was familiar; Jaren thought he should certainly know her name…

“Nasrin, right?” he asked, offering the girl a smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. As far as I’m concerned, the perpetrator was long gone by the time I got back here. In fact, if we put the, er, remains back in the drawer, I can say I never even knew that anybody was here.”

[Locke]

Nasrin

“Oh yes, you’re right,” Nasrin said, hopping off the bed. Practiced hands folded the ruined trousers into neat squares, to be put away. “Just call my ‘Nas,’ all my friends do. Well Kaira does.”

Oh no, you’re staring.

He’s so cute though, and sweet. Light those curls.

He’ll send you away. Keep him talking or something.

“They say you were a merchant,” Nas said perching on the bed again. “I’ll bet you’ve seen all sorts of places. I’ve been all up and down the coast, from World's End to Mayene. I was a sailor on my pa’s ship. He’s a ship captain.”

Idiot girl, a respectable merchant doesn’t want to hear about your smuggler pa. Keep him talking. Men like to talk. Her grandmother had taught her that. Even if Nasrin was barely a real Domani, she knew how to follow advice. Usually. She leaned in, with an open expression on her face, imploring him to share.

[Elan]

Jaren

Nasrin seemed to be in no hurry to run away after all, which made Jaren wonder a little; surely, with her prank successful and his silence guaranteed, she should have been eager to quit the place? But since there was not much chance of Marten returning too quickly, he figured there was no harm in letting her stay a while longer.

“Yes, well.” He gave a slightly wry smile. “I certainly used to think I’d seen it all, or at least enough to call myself worldly and experienced.” A midnight chat with a kid from the Rahad had been enough to prove that bit wrong. He wondered idly what else about his world view would turn out just so much empty assumption. “And for that matter, it seems you’ve been further north than me. I’ve never been to the Borderlands; no further north than Tar Valon, actually. Or been aboard a seafaring ship; only riverboats.”

Then he shook his head and chuckled. “You probably wanted to hear something a little more entertaining than that, but truth is…” He gazed wistfully off into distance for a moment before focusing on the Novice again with a warm smile. “I loved the life on the road but all said it wasn’t terribly eventful most of the time. And when it was, I’d mostly wish it wasn’t.” Having your horse stolen in a place where nobody had a spare one to sell was inconvenient, to say the least. The memory made his lips twitch in a rueful grimace. “But what about you, how did you end up leaving your sailor’s life and coming to the Tower?”

[Locke]

Nasrin

Why did he have to ask her that? It hadn’t exactly been a grand adventure. It wasn’t exactly the kind of story she cared to use to impress a man with. Pausing, she chewed her lip slightly. “Well I can channel,” she said, a mischievou smirk replacing her earlier unease. “Jaryd, the Asha’man, found out and brought me here before I ended up killing myself on accident.”

She sat back on the bed, propped up with her hands behind her. “You haven’t lived until you’ve been to sea, stood at the prow of a true ship or hung from the rigging as she cuts her way through the waves.” Her face shone as she stared off at an imaginary horizon. “It’s true freedom,” she said in a slightly breathy voice. Memories of the sea were almost enough to bury memories of her overbearing father. If she was thankful for anything the man had done it was for teaching her to sail. She stretched, rolling shoulders toned by years of hauling ropes, and said, “When I finally become an Aes Sedai, I’m getting my own ship. Captain Nasrin Naceri, how does that sound?” a truly wicked grin began to stretch across her lips. Even if Jaren, didn’t care, she liked the ring of it. Captain Naceri. She froze midway through another languid stretch, there were voices in the hallway.

Sitting still, she listened. Oh no, she recognized that smug voice. Marten as coming. Why did that lout have to come now of all times? Before Jaren could say anything she was on her feet sliding the window open. By the time the door cracked open, she was outside, slippered feet on a ledge, next to the window, fingers clinging to a drain pipe. Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to listen. Fool girl, what would your grandmother think? Hanging outside of window for a man? What kind of Domani are you?

[Elan]

Jaren 'Why Does This Keep Happening' Marle

One second Nasrin was talking dreamily about the sea and the ship she would one day captain — and the next, she was scrambling out of the window. The bloody window! They were, oh, Jaren wasn’t even sure how many storeys up they were from the ground but certainly far enough to be very much not safe.

And then he heard the voice that must have made her flee. There was no time to check on Nasrin — she obviously didn’t want to be seen or she wouldn’t have dived out of the window in the first place — and Jaren had to simply trust that she hadn’t fallen. There had been no scream; surely she would have screamed? He thought of her talking about hanging from the rigging, and hoped there was something for her to hold on for long enough that he could deal with Marten. He grabbed the book he’d set aside earlier and opened it at a random page and sat back, just in time to look suitably irritated by the interruption when the door opened.

It was something of a challenge to look merely irritated when he saw who was with Marten. She was not a novice, or otherwise one not wearing the novice whites — her attire looked like that of a Tower servant — but she looked young enough to be one, all dimples and big brown eyes. Light only knew why she was following Marten to their room, but since the Light didn’t see fit to intervene, Jaren would.

“You got away from Meralda Sedai quickly,” he said flatly.

“And you,” Marten replied, “are a damn inconvenience, mate. Can’t you just be like normal people and read in the library?”

“This is my room, too,” Jaren said, affecting nonchalance. “I’ve more business being here than she does.”

The taller Soldier laughed. “Well look at that,” he said, aiming the words at the maid, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable with the way things were turning out. “Somebody’s just full of frustration. I’m sure you could find someone too if you quit trying to aim so far above your station.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jaren was glad he was able to say that with utter conviction; if there was one topic he didn’t want to get into with Nasrin outside the window, probably listening, it was his ridiculous crush on Asha’man Jaryd. He was still annoyed with himself that he’d let it become a thing in the first place. All students were pretty much treated as children, regardless of age, but that didn’t mean he had to actually regress to the level of one. “And I suggest you take your wench elsewhere—” Calling the girl that didn’t sit well with Jaren, but if it made her storm off in anger, so much the better for her. “—before I report you to Asha’man Jhanic.”

Mentioning the Master of Soldiers gave him an idea. “Speaking of whom, somebody came by earlier looking for you, said you’re to report to him as soon as you’re done with Merelda Sedai.” Jaren gave the taller Soldier a pointed look. “Which, unless your fair companion is Merelda Sedai in very good disguise, would be right about now.”

Marten gaped. “And now you say that?!” He looked around as though frantically searching for an excuse for his lateness. Unable to find one, he turned to the girl still hovering in the doorway. “Sweetheart, I’m afraid we’ll have to continue some other time…”

“I think not,” the girl replied. “You can look in the taverns for wenches if that’s what you want!” She turned on her heels and stalked off, slamming the door in Marten’s face.

Marten glared at Jaren. “Now look what you’ve done…”

“I did nothing but deliver a message,” Jaren replied with a shrug. He considered for a moment continuing about his poor treatment of women, but Nasrin was still outside the window — hopefully; Light, let her still be there! — and this conversation needed to end as quickly as possible. “Run along now. Jhanic will be waiting.” He could deal with the consequences later, when Marten inevitably discovered that the Master of Soldiers had not been waiting for him.

Marten stalked off as well, and Jaren barely waited for the door to close behind him before he all but threw the book aside again and dashed to the window. Throwing the window open, he reached out, frantically looking for the Novice. “Nas! Are you alright?!”

[Locke]

Nasrin

Bloody.. Just bloody leave, Nasrin thought as she clung to the drain pipe. Wind whipped at her skirts, pulling them against her legs and trying to tug her free. Somebody had to see the mad novice hanging from a wall. She looked back over her shoulder and then down below to check. Nobody seemed to be looking, but the ground, light it was far away. She stifled an exhilarated laugh. If Marten heard any peep from her, it would have defeated the purpose of her little climb.

Pressing closer she tried to listen. It seemed Marten had brought another girl with him, the lout. Jaren was doing his best to get the fool to leave. What a heroic man. He was so kind and sweet. Distracted, her knees began to buckle, and she bit off a curse as she tightened her grip.

Her hands and forearms were beginning to ache by now. How long had she hung here? Come on, hurry up, she willed them to leave already. She had begun to weigh the merits of climbing down against climbing back into the window and facing the music when Jaren’s curly blond hair poked out through the window.

Quickly, she edged the few feet back to the window and said, “Help a lady back in?” He offered a hand, and she took it, clambering back into the room. Her dress clung in odd places and her short hair was windswept and disheveled, but she had managed to escape Marten. From the looks of it, Jaren had ruined his day even further.

Pulse still pounding and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Nasrin pulled the shorter man into a tight hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the Novice squeaked breathlessly. She froze, heart pounding in her ears now. Their faces were so close now. His eyes were the color of a storm on the high seas. He smelled like books and soap. Just kiss him. No, he barely knows you. He’ll send you packing like that other girl. Be bold Nasrin, you are Domani, you shouldn’t let this stop you. Eyes closing, she leaned in slowly. At the last second, she changed angles, planting the kiss on his cheek instead.

Eyes snapping open, she let go and sprung away, blushing again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. You were just so kind, and… I have to go,” she turned and began heading towards the door. Nasrin, you’re such a fool.

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren helped the Novice back in, and then she was in his arms, hugging him fiercely and for a breathless moment he held her just as tightly, barely hearing her babbled thanks. If she’d fallen… Light! The whole episode had been a thing of madness. He should have been able to get rid of Marten sooner. No, that was not important; she was safe. She was safe and he needed to get a grip, this was wildly inappropriate and—

The kiss on his cheek was quite chaste, actually, but clearly it was something daring and bold to Nasrin, and then she was turning away, as if to flee; “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. You were just so kind, and… I have to go.”

Jaren reached out instinctively but his brain caught up with him just in time and he didn’t grab her arm. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel threatened, or as though she wasn’t free to leave at any time. But… “Nasrin, wait,” he said; not a command, not that he had any authority to command her even if he wished, which he didn’t.

“Don’t be sorry,” he continued when she stopped just short of the door. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He was flattered, actually; flattered, and slightly bewildered, because maybe he was completely oblivious but he hadn’t seen that coming. But he also wasn’t going to read too much into what had happened. Light knew, adrenaline did interesting things to one’s behaviour and he’d barely been thinking at the moment, either. “I mean, yes it’s probably wise that you’re gone before Marten gets back. There was no message. Obviously. He’ll figure it out soon enough.” He spoke quickly, as if afraid she might misunderstand and think that he was trying to get rid of her. “But if you’d like— if you’d allow me— I’d walk you back to… well. Where ever you should be going at this hour? No strings attached, I swear to Light.”