Jaren
Jaren had been delighted when Asha’man Jaryd had agreed to teach him about Wards, and when he’d got the note telling him to meet the Asha’man in the gardens instead of a classroom, well, he couldn’t say he minded in the least. The summer was in full bloom, though Jaren was almost surprised to discover that; he’d not exactly had too much time to enjoy the sun as classes and chores were piled up on the first ranks with such ferocity that one would think the day suddenly had at least two extra hours. (Alas, no extra hours, just extra everything to fill up the existing hours…)
As he walked along the garden path, however, Jaren felt more in focus than he had in— days? Weeks? Half an Age? Maybe it was the sun lending him some of its energy; maybe it was— well. Suffice it to say that he was looking forward to the lesson and not only because of the fascinating subject matter.
He found Jaryd lounging against the eastern wall, eyes closed, face lifted to greet the sun. The Asha’man was in rather more casual dress than Jaren, who suddenly realised how ridiculous it truly was to be wearing a black coat in this weather, not that the heat touched him much anymore — and not that he had a choice; Soldiers were required to wear the uniform — but regardless. Jaren approached slowly, thinking he should probably speak up — the last thing he wanted was to startle the other man — but somehow the words failed to form as he stared, couldn’t help staring at the Asha’man.
And then Jaryd’s eyes opened. Dark eyes met Jaren’s, and Jaren was struck by the warmth in them; the Jaryd before him now appeared alive on a whole new level compared to the hollow shell of a man who had walked into the classroom to teach Jaren the basics of channelling. Jaren had thought him attractive then. Now he had to revise that opinion; in the sunlight, life returned to his eyes, Jaryd was stunning.
“Apologies, it seems I have a lot on my mind,” the Asha’man said after— a moment, an eternity, probably something in between though Jaren couldn’t have said how long.
You and me both, Jaren thought, and nearly said out loud but managed to catch himself. He had to smile at the comment about wilting like a flower without sunlight, though — and as for getting comfortable, well. He shut the door on that thought; this was neither the time nor the place. “Of course, sir,” he said instead, and gestured for the Asha’man to lead the way. “It would be a shame to be stuck indoors on a day like this. Though,” he continued as he followed the other man, “I have a question already, if I may?”
Jaren thought the Asha’man sounded amused when he replied, “Go ahead.”
“From what I gather,” Jaren went on, “you can Ward enclosed spaces, like a classroom, or a strongbox or a drawer?” That was not the question, and he barely waited for the affirmative nod before carrying on. “But what about open spaces? Like, say, a part of the Gardens? Or I mean, a part of any open space. I assume weaves are not tied to walls or physical structures, but is there a difference in difficulty?” He suddenly realised what he must sound like, and laughed softly. “I’m probably getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”