The Past Undying, Redeux [Attn: Ravak Darrow Gaidin]

[Bella]

The darkness was suddenly...very empty, the moment he entered the tent. She had never been a woman who was afraid to be alone, or even minded it that much. In fact, solitude was frequently welcomed. Sometimes, though...well, sometimes it wasn't that welcome. Sometimes, the night was cold and dark and lonely.

Miahala inhaled slowly and looked off at the borders of the fire's light, where shadows danced from its flickering. She thought she imagined the shapes of people dancing, and her memories drifted to times when that dancing had been her.

That thought curved her lips in the faintest of smiles, but the warmth was drawn away when a minor breeze picked up and blew against her, biting her cheek with its chill. But for that wind, things were quiet. None of her senses picked up on any threat, and she felt like it would continue as such. Her attention was drawn back to the tent.

Perhaps... No, she talked herself out of it.

And so the night slipped past. She was not sleepy, and so that was easily achieved. She tended the fire, kept herself warm, let memories and errant thoughts make their place in her mind. More than once she had considered approaching the very tent flap that Ravak himself had looked at, but she never did. And she'd never admit it.

The cold and the emptiness was a tempting thing to escape, though. It made for a hard battle, but one she won. She had won many a hard battle before.
* * * When she saw hints of dawn, she knew the night was ended. She pushed herself up from where she'd been sitting, the night's watch successful, and began packing up. She did not yet hear Ravak stirring, just the soft sound of his snoring, and so she took care of packing what matters could be packed and then readying a morning meal.

In due time, she heard the tent flap rustle. She glanced over her cloaked shoulder and watched him approach, noticing the small smirk as he surveyed the packed and readied horses. Then he sat beside her.

"Aye, that's the idea," she answered his question. Looking towards the pot on the fire, which she had managed to salvage, she plated the food and then offered his to him. It might shock many a one in the Tower to see the Captain-General not only cooking the food, but serving it as well, but they just didn't know her.

There was a strange feeling poking at her mind that she struggled to identify. Somehow she felt... She didn't yet want to talk about the details of the mission? Perhaps she wasn't as practical as she thought.

It was nice to be around those who did not look at her as just the Captain-General, as just the Miahala. She knew that was how Ravak had looked at her to begin with, but he did not now. She preferred it that way. Who wants to be... She scoffed at even the thought of what she might be called. Who wanted such tales woven around them?

She was an Aes Sedai, yes. With a long life full of stories. And yes, okay, she had been dead and now lived again, but she was still a human and a woman and...Miahala. She liked the moments she was allowed to feel as such.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, instead of continuing with theories about what Marwen would tell them and what they might be getting themselves into. That would come later. For now, she just felt like Mia. And Mia wanted to...just talk with just Ravak. Two people sitting beside the fire. For he was now more than just the Gaidin assigned to her, eh?

Soon enough, they would be an Aes Sedai and warder off on a mission. But while eating breakfast, they could simply talk as people, right?

[Craig]

Ravak

"I did," he stated slowly, as his brain tried to parse how that question followed his own. His failed plans from last night came back to him after a moment. Maybe he wasn't the only one that wanted to just talk?

But then it was rude not to eat as well. Ravak looked down at the plate Miahala had offered him. Cooked mushrooms and potatoes, some bread and cheese, and pemmican. Every bloody journey allowed for pemmican. He hated the stuff, but he ate it all the same. One it would keep him upright in the saddle, and two it would be discourteous not to finish everything Miahala had prepared.

He spoke around mouthfuls of food. "I had quite the pleasant dream, enjoying the beauty of the Tower gardens. Growing up in Shienar, you seldom saw many flowers, and certainly never in such variety and magnitude. It overawed me the first time I came upon it after arriving at the Grey Tower." That was where he'd first met a number of people: Betrys, Tia, Avyra. "When all you've known is grey stone walls and the cold, Hama Valon comes as a welcome surprise, the Tower doubly so."

Dipping one end of the bread into the juices on the plate, Rav paused to take a look around. This was Shienar. Maybe it wasn't the fortress walls of Fal Dara, but this was home, right? It all looked so desolate and foreign, and he'd been to the Waste. Even if this wasn't the hometown he remembered, shouldn't he feel something stirring inside when he looked on Shienaran soil? He dug the front of his boot into the ground to turn over some dirt, as if patriotism could be found if he just looked under the surface.

There was a stinging sensation on the back of his hand. Looking down, Rav saw the plate he was holding was listing, dribbling cooking juices onto the face of his tattoo. With a hiss he righted the plate, then rubbed the back of his hand against the outside of his trousers to clean off the fluids. The dragon hand gleamed as he flexed his hand experimentally. "Wish this thing was metal," he grumbled.

[Bella]

Okay, so maybe he wasn't completely nervousness-free around her?

Stifling a soft laugh of amusement, her more personal instincts took over--those that guided her as wife and mother more than Aes Sedai and Captain-General--and she reached out and took the plate from him. She set it on the ground beside the fire but somewhat away from boots and didn't really give a second thought to taking his hand in both of hers.

She looked it over to see if the hot liquid had done much damage and, silently declaring it a bit of irritation and nothing more, she allowed herself to look at the tattoo.

Admittedly, she hadn't really paid much attention to it the night before. Other...body parts had drawn her focus more, after all. Her eyes flickered over the details, pushing his sleeve up without invitation--really, what more could be invited?--and looking closer. "Haven't seen the likes of this before," she commented. "Metal seems like it would inhibit some motions, though."

Her eyes lifted, looking up at him through her lashes with a touch of amusement lingering there.

[Craig]

Ravak

As Miahala took the plate out of his hand, Ravak wondered what was about to transpire. He wasn't used to being fussed over, but that was what he foresaw happening. Sure enough, the Green sister took a gentle grasp of his hand and inspected it for signs of injury. Gold and scarlet glimmered as it caught the light. The dragon stood out in bold contrast against the rest of his pale skin.

Apparently it didn't just draw his own eye. Without prompting or permission, she slid his shirt sleeve up his arm, revealing the entirety of his memento from the Aiel Waste. The sinuous shape curled around his forearm, its tail ending at the crook of his arm. It seemed to move as Ravak tensed from the intrusion, and Miahala's touch on his hand lightened. He forced himself to relax, not wishing to ruin the pleasant mood between them due to a bit of discomfort on his part.

"You don't get out in the yards much, do you?" Rav asked rhetorically. "Almost everyone has learnt not to ask questions about it." He returned the look of amusement at the Saldaean's faux pas even as he got really to regale his tale. He scratched at his beard with his free head. "Well you're right, it's definitely not common. You may recall that I spent over a year in the Aiel Waste during my tenure as Master of Training; not my finest moment. Anyways, near the end of my time there, we were brought to a city, believe it or not, in the Aiel Waste."

"For the Aiel, it's some sort of testing ground for their Wise Ones, and as I subsequently learned, their Clan Chiefs too. Only those that are undergoing one of those tests are meant to enter the city." Ravak started to sheepishly grin. "Well, if they told me it was like the raising tests we conduct, I may not have entered. As it was..." He just shrugged.

"To cut a long story about architecture short, I came to a courtyard in the city with all of these weird objects. I walked around some glass pillars that were just jutting out of the ground, and suddenly this thing appeared on my arm. Just like that, with nothing to indicate how or why it appeared. Some time after I returned to the Aiel, and, well, I'd just desecrated their test. And this marking apparently is meant to make a man a Clan Chief of the Aiel. So desecration and sacrilege saying I'm not Aiel. I'm sent packing without explanation immediately thereafter, and that is that: the abridged history of Ravak Darrow and his dragon tattoo."

Rav shrugged again. It was just a fact of life that this thing was adorning his right forearm, and that every Aiel would look at him sideways unless they finally confronted him. It ranked as an ongoing inconvenience and not much more.

[Bella]

There were many places that Miahala had been to in her long, long life--beyond the veil of life itself among them--but the Aiel Waste, oddly or not, was not among them.

She listened to his story with quiet interest, her eyes flickering between his face and the hand she still lightly held in her own. Truth was, she didn't spend nearly as much time in the Yards as she once did, but even if she had and had "learned" such, she probably would've asked anyways. Age hath its privilege, they did say.

As she listened, her fingertips idly traced the outside of the tattoo--not touching the design itself, but the pale skin that surrounded it. In the back of her mind, she wondered at whether this felt more or less intimate than what they had done the night before. Strange thing, that; how perceptions could function.

Her curiosity sated, she pulled the sleeve back to where it had been.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, her voice soft but genuinely warm in its appreciation. She idly wondered back to last night and what he might have made of the multitude of scarring on her own body; none the least of which the rather ugly thing running down her chest. Even an Aes Sedai did not always have the benefit of an immediate Healer.

Mia's body was a map of proof. But it had been dark and they hadn't lingered much on such details. Though now in the light of day, she wondered.

This, however, she did not ask.

Finally, she released his hand. "The Waste is one such place as I have not been, even in all the years," she commented, echoing her earlier thoughts from when he began. "Been many places, but never a cause to go there." She paused and glanced at the fire. "Are you still hungry at all?"

[Craig]

Ravak

Was he hungry? Absolutely, just not for food.

The way that Miahala had regarded the gold and scarlet mark on his arm, running her fingertip around the outline... it seemed far more personal than what had occurred last night. Ravak was well aware that the berths between love and lust were leagues apart, but the Saldaean was straying into the open waters. He wanted the feel of her lips against his own once more, just for the simple pleasure of a kiss.

The faint smirk faded as he pulled his mind out of his morning fantasies. Was he hungry? "I am, yes," he finally replied. Miahala passed the plate back, and Ravak made sure to eat everything on it. It was a sign of respect, if nothing else. Other sisters would have expected their Gaidin to do all of the chores around the camp, especially something as mundane as cooking. After all, most meals in the Grey Tower were delivered to Aes Sedai and Asha'man in their rooms. They probably hadn't seen a cooking fire in years, unless they were intrepid, or from the Green Ajah.

Rav only spoke when his mouth was empty. He had learned some manners, after all. "If you ever intend to see the splendours of the Aiel Waste, I'm afraid I can't be a travelling companion. The protection the Aiel extend to Aes Sedai and their Warders would undoubtedly be reneged upon the instant they saw my arm. Even if that wasn't the case, I'd still have no intention of going east of the Spine of the World again."

I want to chaperon you again. That was what he'd just said when you cut down to it. He only realised, after saying it, how much he was genuinely enjoying Miahala's company. Not the former Amyrlin, nor the Captain-General, nor even the woman he'd been in bed with last night. Just Miahala, the beguiling and ageless. Even if he set aside what had happened last night, Rav still felt a platonic attraction to the Green.

He knew the last time he'd had these feelings of admiration for someone, and it made a knot in his chest. "By the Light and by my honour..." he mouthed soundlessly. His face hardened, his brows knitting together in thought. The spark of life, of having a meaningful life, not one tethered to a desk, had been reignited once again. The last twelve hours had been filled with more emotional fulfilment than the last several weeks pooled together. It was too early to say that his spirit was renewed, but it was a possibility.

The issue was that he was supposed to find this fire in order to serve Fiona. But it wasn't the pretty Andoran Accepted that had helped to pull him out of the gutters of his own listlessness. It had been Miahala.

The last of the food had vanished mechanically into his mouth, and Ravak set the plate down at his feet. The Shienaran's face was still as hard as a rock face, a perfect depiction of the archetypical Gaidin. Would he really deny himself the opportunity to feel something for another person in order to keep a promise he made at one of his lowest points? Fiona had rescinded her own promise. The only thing that bound him to the Accepted was his own moral code.

Ravak sat up with his back straight, and looked once more at Miahala. He licked his lips in trepidation before vocalising a part of his thoughts. His voice was painfully soft. "Have you ever broken a promise to yourself?"

[Bella]

The subtle shifts his body and face went through were not lost on Mia, though being a Gaidin and Borderlander, they were subtle enough that she could not read them like she might have with someone more...open. Then again, the pair had been oddly open with one another since they opened the door to her office.

Mia was curious as to what was going through his mind, although she did not ask. She wondered if she had overstepped any boundaries... It wasn't something she wondered a lot, but contrary to what people might think, she did have some consideration.

When the mystery was explained, it...wasn't at all explained.

What a curious question, she thought. It seemed not at all apropos of the conversation they'd been having, but then again, perhaps it was--just not in any way that was obvious to her. She considered it, and let her mind roll through the decades that had been her life, although it didn't require much digging.

"Yes," she replied plainly, honestly. "And I have broken promises to others. It's not something I'm proud of, but I have come to accept that life...happens, and things change." She glanced into the fire and lifted her shoulders in a faint shrug. I have always done my best, but that is all I can do.

After a moment's pause, she looked back at him. "That is a curious thing to ask," she said. She didn't ask why, exactly, but the invitation was there. Something about the quiet of his voice... Well. She was considerate enough to not push on this one.

[Craig]

Ravak

"Life happens and things change." Rav mused over that. Things had definitely changed, almost from the beginning of his time at the Tower, and it had never stopped changing. And life had certainly happened: quite literally so in the case of his daughter.

Ravak hovered his hands over the fire. Who decides what decisions I make? Is it me, or the Creator? If he lowered his palm towards the flames, would the Creator burn him? Did the Creator even exert that sort of will over the world? Questions for the philosophers.

The Gaidin was hunched over and frowning again. Fortunately that glare was not aimed in his companion's direction.

"Yeah, sorry, it is a bit random." Rav scratched the back of his head. "I may have made a promise to someone in bad faith. Or possibly just to the wrong person. Or maybe neither." He shrugged. "Sorry, it's not your problem. A man makes his own mistakes." He forced himself up onto his feet before he continued blabbering on about his Fiona dilemma.

"So, I'll pull down the tent now, unless you need it for anything?"

[Bella]

As he trailed off and stared into the fire, Mia felt her own mind slipping. First into musing, then into a battle to not think about the things that she was about to think... The past is nothing but black magnetism. She did not want to let herself fall to that place, but his question and her honest answer had begun to click open locks.

Would you sacrifice even your unborn child for this cause? It was a very dark voice that whispered inside of her now...

Mia looked away from Ravak and into the fire as well, not wanting this savage memory to show in her eyes. The last thing anyone needed was for that to come forth.

They had a mission before them, and she knew they had dallied long enough. They needed to get back on the road, move on to the outpost, and speak to Marwen. Then they would undoubtedly venture out again to investigate whatever things he was unable to himself. What would they find out there? Focus on that, Mia.

Would you sacrifice that which you love most?

Another sob tore itself from her. She pulled her bound hands against her bare chest, trying to hold what little warmth there was to be found inside herself. Would you? The voice was forceful and persistent. It was cold and unforgiving, and who could forgive her for the battle that she was forced to fight inside herself at the moment?

If it came to it and it very well might, would others understand her choices? Could they? Would she be forgiven as she was left to unravel and be rewoven? It truly was the Dark One's own work to put her in a position to have to make such a choice, but she couldn't help but wonder what people would think of her decisions, should it come to pass... Would they understand why she'd had to?

Would the Light forgive her these sins?

Promises... Oaths, and vows... Determining that which was greater... The entirety of the subject drew her down that path now, although perhaps others might not see the connection so clearly as she did.

But she did. And it was the shame she carried in the back of her mind, her heart and very soul, and would, for all the centuries to come.

She heard his words, almost as if at a distance, and nodded mechanically. She was here and there at once, but she was aware of him rising to his feet. They would be leaving shortly. That was probably for the best. Once they were in the saddle, it would be better to distract herself from memories...

Would you sacrifice these things in your grasp for the intangible greater cause? The voice against pressed the question and tore her from her thoughts.

With the answer that bloomed in her mind came a pain greater than anything Garin or Halana could ever truly do to her, despite the question and answer being born of their actions:

Yes.

"Miahala?"

Her name snapped her from the haze more fully and she realized that he'd asked her a question. She looked at him quickly, almost startled, and her eyes glimmered in the dim morning and the firelight for a moment. The silver sheen glistened before she blinked it away. Had it ever been there at all?

"I'm sorry," she said softly, managing a faint smile before she smoothed her features back to their usual placidity. "No, I...I don't believe we'll need the tent for anything anymore. We should be getting back on our way."

Spoiler: show

OOC: The text in the quote boxes was taken from an old RP/Fanfic: A Crime Inside Tower Walls, Chapter III

[Craig]

Ravak

He thought about kissing her again. It worked last time. In a fashion. So to speak. Casting ruinous thoughts aside, he hesitated over doing something. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to think of something to say, and failing. With a mental shrug, Ravak turned away to pack up their belongings and to pull down the tent.

Rolling up the bedding into a tight coil had become second nature to the Gaidin. He remembered the struggle, as a Drin, in attempting to keep the bedrolls both straight and compact. Now he looped rope around it to keep it curled up whilst tethered to the horses.

He put the last bits and bobs out the front flap of the tent, then went around pulling free the guy ropes. They were sodden at the bottom, having been hammered into snow-covered ground. No chance of them drying out over the day. They may freeze. It wasn't really a concern. They should have their own beds tonight; separate beds. This was Shienar, where the division between a man's world and a woman's world was almost as strict as in the Wastes.

Going back inside the tent, Rav lifted up the first pole at the base, and slid it towards the far corner of the tent. He scrambled deeper inside even as the roof touched his head towards the second pole. Once more he lifted it up, slid it across... and found himself with a face full of canvas. Probably should have started at the back. He pulled at the canvas which was heavy and cold from the snow and damp. And he pulled. And pulled. Where the heck is the entrance?

After a minute or two of scrambling around in a space no larger than a broom closet, Ravak slumped onto his arse and let the deconstructed tent envelop him. He turned to face where he thought the Green sister and the campfire was. With a voice full of defeat, he called out. "Miahala? I could do with some assistance."