Valadin was in a foul mood as he stormed through the Ajah quarters.
It was unbecoming for an Asha’man to be so visibly unhinged, but the mixture of Oosaquai and humiliation had taken its toll. That Val still remained standing in itself was the will of the Creator—not that much stock could be put in such things—but now thoughts raced about in a bothersome tiff made the drunken experience at the tavern even more unpleasant to recall.
Should ‘af bloody stopped. Should ‘af bloody wen they…those goat-kissing ox-brains…
Dawn was still crisp on the meadows of Hama Valon and the evening before had been drowned in a barely remembered fever dream of drunken arguments. What was supposed to be a simple outing with a few Brothers of likeable demeanor had turned into a vexing debate on how best to snare a woman. Things would have yet remained…reasonable had not the barkeep introduced Oosaquai into the discussion. From there mortifying confession spilled from the lips of the four men at that table as wine flows from a pitcher. Unpleasantness ensued when the admission of Val’s recent bonding came to pass. As a newest member of the Green Ajah and in many instances one of the youngest still having not seen his thirtieth summer pass, Valadin was a known recluse, breaking silence only for the sake of battle. Even so the men—his so called brothers—shouldn’t have been so surprised when he expressed…somewhat foolishly that he was in love with his Bondmate. The ensuing invectives birthed in shock had been irritating enough. It was when Zolas, an old Domani with a rasp of a voice, pointed out that he’d wooed his wife for years before she agreed to marriage.
It was the mention of matrimony that sparked…the current fit.
Even the sharpness of the Oneness was dulled as Val made his way by one Ajah living quarter after another, vaguely aware of the sidelong glances issued in his direction, but not caring. They judged him even when he dressed by their twisted rules so how the bloody Tower’s fine Sisters and Brothers not cast their self-righteous eyes in his direction now.
A breeze streaming in from one of the Ajah hall’s great windows cooled Val’s chest and making him aware that his shirt exposed more flesh than was appropriate. He knew he should button his shirt, but the cold air against his skin felt …desirable.
Coming on the Blue Ajah lodgings, Valadin was greeted with the customary icy glares. In all his visits he had never paused to take interest in the order’s residents save for one. “Greetings, Sisters. Fine morn is it not?” he tried to say to a clutch of Shawl bearing women sectioned off in a nearby corner, but his lips only partially abided instruction causing a slur along the lines of, “Reetin’s, misters. Eye in the orn’ ish not?”
The women blinked with unnerving harmony, their surprise softening hard expression for the time it took them to realize what ailed him. Thankfully his body responded where his mind did not and Valadin had already swept down the halls to the deepest part of the Blue residences. Gradually the frequency wherein Aes Sedai or Asha’man were encountered decreased until finally there were no opportunities left to embarrass himself.
If he remained capable of such.
As it was the Aiel tipple had done its work in quenching the usually insatiable thirst for a fight. Now Val only had a mind for lying comfortably in the arms of his woman and sleeping the day’s reminder away. Already he imagined the scent of flowers that always heralded that Nykkolaia was nearby. Whether part of an illusion induced by his own mind or his beloved’s natural smell was that of honeysuckle was a mystery Val had never taken pause to investigate.
Nykk’s accomodations were isolated from those of her peers . The woman’s appreciation for solitude mirrored Valadin's though her reasons were far less peevish than his own. Stopping before the room door he exhaled deeply to collect himself. The Void eluded his grasp leaving him at the mercy of his natural deftness; he thing was regularly uncertain of. Slow. Do everything slow and she won’t notice how far gone you are, Val coached his mind and body. In practice the logic was sound, however it quickly became apparent that the reality was far less manageable.
What should have been a gentle rap to signal his presence sounded as an echoing hammering on wood that bounced off the empty, uninhabited walls of stone surrounding him.
“Bloody hell…” Val swore, fingers curling through his hair as he leaned his back against the wall by the door waiting for Nykk to answer. Angry. She’ll probably be angry, he thought, yet found that he wasn’t the least bit concerned with their meeting.
Today would begin Valadin Manelle’s courtship of Nykkolaia Zeran.
It was unbecoming for an Asha’man to be so visibly unhinged, but the mixture of Oosaquai and humiliation had taken its toll. That Val still remained standing in itself was the will of the Creator—not that much stock could be put in such things—but now thoughts raced about in a bothersome tiff made the drunken experience at the tavern even more unpleasant to recall.
Should ‘af bloody stopped. Should ‘af bloody wen they…those goat-kissing ox-brains…
Dawn was still crisp on the meadows of Hama Valon and the evening before had been drowned in a barely remembered fever dream of drunken arguments. What was supposed to be a simple outing with a few Brothers of likeable demeanor had turned into a vexing debate on how best to snare a woman. Things would have yet remained…reasonable had not the barkeep introduced Oosaquai into the discussion. From there mortifying confession spilled from the lips of the four men at that table as wine flows from a pitcher. Unpleasantness ensued when the admission of Val’s recent bonding came to pass. As a newest member of the Green Ajah and in many instances one of the youngest still having not seen his thirtieth summer pass, Valadin was a known recluse, breaking silence only for the sake of battle. Even so the men—his so called brothers—shouldn’t have been so surprised when he expressed…somewhat foolishly that he was in love with his Bondmate. The ensuing invectives birthed in shock had been irritating enough. It was when Zolas, an old Domani with a rasp of a voice, pointed out that he’d wooed his wife for years before she agreed to marriage.
It was the mention of matrimony that sparked…the current fit.
Even the sharpness of the Oneness was dulled as Val made his way by one Ajah living quarter after another, vaguely aware of the sidelong glances issued in his direction, but not caring. They judged him even when he dressed by their twisted rules so how the bloody Tower’s fine Sisters and Brothers not cast their self-righteous eyes in his direction now.
A breeze streaming in from one of the Ajah hall’s great windows cooled Val’s chest and making him aware that his shirt exposed more flesh than was appropriate. He knew he should button his shirt, but the cold air against his skin felt …desirable.
Coming on the Blue Ajah lodgings, Valadin was greeted with the customary icy glares. In all his visits he had never paused to take interest in the order’s residents save for one. “Greetings, Sisters. Fine morn is it not?” he tried to say to a clutch of Shawl bearing women sectioned off in a nearby corner, but his lips only partially abided instruction causing a slur along the lines of, “Reetin’s, misters. Eye in the orn’ ish not?”
The women blinked with unnerving harmony, their surprise softening hard expression for the time it took them to realize what ailed him. Thankfully his body responded where his mind did not and Valadin had already swept down the halls to the deepest part of the Blue residences. Gradually the frequency wherein Aes Sedai or Asha’man were encountered decreased until finally there were no opportunities left to embarrass himself.
If he remained capable of such.
As it was the Aiel tipple had done its work in quenching the usually insatiable thirst for a fight. Now Val only had a mind for lying comfortably in the arms of his woman and sleeping the day’s reminder away. Already he imagined the scent of flowers that always heralded that Nykkolaia was nearby. Whether part of an illusion induced by his own mind or his beloved’s natural smell was that of honeysuckle was a mystery Val had never taken pause to investigate.
Nykk’s accomodations were isolated from those of her peers . The woman’s appreciation for solitude mirrored Valadin's though her reasons were far less peevish than his own. Stopping before the room door he exhaled deeply to collect himself. The Void eluded his grasp leaving him at the mercy of his natural deftness; he thing was regularly uncertain of. Slow. Do everything slow and she won’t notice how far gone you are, Val coached his mind and body. In practice the logic was sound, however it quickly became apparent that the reality was far less manageable.
What should have been a gentle rap to signal his presence sounded as an echoing hammering on wood that bounced off the empty, uninhabited walls of stone surrounding him.
“Bloody hell…” Val swore, fingers curling through his hair as he leaned his back against the wall by the door waiting for Nykk to answer. Angry. She’ll probably be angry, he thought, yet found that he wasn’t the least bit concerned with their meeting.
Today would begin Valadin Manelle’s courtship of Nykkolaia Zeran.
