Hope Extinguished [Closed/PM to Join]

[Andy]

There were times, few times for Alrim but they existed still, where words failed him. On the rare occasion his actions might fail him too, despite his intentions and they had improved since arriving at the Grey Tower. Never had his emotions failed him, had his purpose - however ragged and rogue like in concept, however hopeless - been shattered. Yet now, sitting there in the Yard looking into the middle distance, eyes trying to see into the very earth itself, he found himself without. Just...without. Nothingness, a gaping hole where a score of minutes ago had been...something. Something blossoming. This isn't real. Why? Why? Wh- the words went round and around within himself, echoing off of a shell it now seemed. A letter, such a small thing. Harmless things letters, they were just words. Ink and some form of tree he was given to believe. He had never appreciated their potency and for that he found himself bitterly, irrationally hateful. This one deserved it though, he knew that even if he couldn't bring anything but a blank look to his face. It had destroyed his hope, his reason for even trying, for all of the bruises, scars and more. What was the point now? His fingers fumbled and closed, the parchment in his hand crumpling until it was a ball as tight as could be made, placed too carefully upon the seat next to him. The dagger went atop it, balanced like it meant something. The task done he returned to himself, the only thing coming up within self-loathing. He couldn't even manage to care and that made it worse, so much worse. He didn't know he was in shock, wasn't thinking clearly. All her know is that the words burned and would never be forgotten. Never... he told himself with a dark finality. Pushing himself up he walked past his tasks, making straight for the closest tavern that offered some violence. He knew he couldn't return to the one he had frequented with Nate but there were a few and he knew where others were. If he couldn't get something out of himself that way, he reasoned, there was no point even trying anymore. "He Bells...oi! Bells! Where are yo-" Viktor tried to step in front of him for attention and instinct took over, fluid motion sending the man flying and turning, a nice little throw Dax would be proud of. "What was that for? Bells! Wait, what in the Light?" was shouted at his back as he made his way towards Hama Valon, towards the nearest gate. He left the speculation and the exchanged words - they would find out soon enough when they saw it. They'd tell someone who'd tell someone who'd do...what? Chang the Pattern? He barked a short, cold laugh as he fled the scene fast as he could walk. The words burned. And so he left them. Master Alrim Farshera, It is with great sadness that I write to you this day, wishing that I was the bearer of better news. You may remember me, I knew your father Havrick well and remember you fondly in your youth. I frequented often and he was the best partner I ever had. I hope that this missive finds you well. I understand that you have taken upon yourself the task of training at the Grey Tower. An honourable path and your father would surely be proud of you for taking up the task. Sadly, it has fallen to me to inform you of his passing, along with your mother and sisters. I am truly, deeply sorry. I know words cannot express or console, but I hope that you will return to Arafel to spend some time with me. I cannot put the details into writing for they pain me too much but please, return and seek me out. I will hold the Farshera estate with expectation of your arrival. May the Light shine upon you lad, in these dark times. Remember your father's motto. Yours, Klarick Jashri

[Andy]

Time had blurred together for him, moments shattering and then reforming into new ones, constructs in a cruel world that merely allowed him to escape. Or that was how he would have rationalised it if he had even begun to think things through. Some things shattered so completely there was no thinking. He had no further cares, no hopes, no future. Not that he could see. He had pinned everything on reconciling with his family. Everything. Now there was nothing. That nothing, however, had managed to provide quite a lot of something in the past few hours. Feet had taken him instinctively to a tavern he went to regularly. They had noticed something was wrong with him but had failed at getting it out of him. Mostly he had sat in the corner and done little but drink as much as he could as quickly as he could. Some old gamblers had hassled him about a rigged game - he had been surprisingly innocent. He had put them both through a chair whilst feeling as f he were floating. He had been sure that hadn't been normal but the event had given him an excellent idea. From there it had been a few more taverns and a few more tussles but nothing that had given him what he needed. What had become quite apparent to him that he needed. Desire, even. Punishment. That was when, strangely feeling quite sober considering what he had drunk, he had been persuaded to take up illegal blood sports once more. This time he had a definite aim - kick as many bastards around ad possible and hopefully get destroyed along the way. Not that he was processing it properly, it was just a deep feeling, at the core of his chest. And so there he was, three fights in and bloodied, bruised...but still standing. "You're not so tough eh? Bleed like the rest of us! Think you're so tough you Tower lot" the ugly behemoth said to him across the darkened sand. Alrim spat blood to the side, a cut lip nothing more but his jaw felt like it had been tenderised. He spat blood at the man's face and darted in, legs aching from their chores, to smash into the enemy. He was pretending it was himself and he tore t apart. Ribs, groin, back of the knee, sidestep and catch of the flailing fist, crunching as the wrist was broken and then the soft sound of the man hitting the floor unconscious from a kick to the jaw. Alrim went to his corner to wait for more. It was clear he was getting tired, injuries all over him were even a danger to the illegal fights now - they didn't want a Tower death on their hands. The fights so far had been sword, dagger, and fists. Pretty soon there would be an accident they knew. "Whiskey!" he snapped and he downed the two he had ordered before the fight. "Lad, don't you think you've had enough? Eh? Fun' fun but...Light you're all messed up and no one wants to fight you. They came here for friendly blood not a corpse lad. Let's just come away now an-" he stopped as Alrim picked him up with one fist around his shirt, a feat only the truly uncaring could ever do. "Get. Me. Another. Fight" he put him down and pushed him away, the man shaking his head and raking his fingers through his sweaty hair as Alrim sat down, staring at his hands as he waited it out. However long it took.

[Roan]

Riahana

Riahana walked through the streets of Hama Valon one evening when Gareth had to work a bit later than usual. There were a couple of merchants she was hoping to meet with before they closed their doors for the evening. Her fancloak swirled about her with each step she took, and she was ever alert as she walked along the streets of Hama Valon.

“He’s mad! I’ve never seen Bells like that!” someone said off to her left. Something registered for Ria that Bells was the nickname of one of their warders-to-be, but she figured the man was likely talking about someone else. She didn’t break stride as she continued on her way.

Not even five seconds later, the same man called out, “Mistress! Mistress Ferria!”

Ria slowed her pace. Her habit was to walk with her hands on her sword belt, but she dropped them to her sides as she looked to the man who called her by title and name. Recognizing a tower guard, she arched her brow, “Durnst. . .what can I do for you?”

“Ma’am...one of your Ji’val is tryin’ ta get himself killed. He’s in the Swallow’s Tail. . .angry, an’ drunk, an’ lookin’ for more fights,” Durnst explained.

Both brows went up with this news, “More fights?”

Durnst turned red, “The ‘Tail has fights some nights. Sanctioned, apparently...anyway, he’s bloodied but refusin’ ta quit.”

Schooling her expression and letting the Void settle over her, Ria nodded, “Lead the way.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the ‘Tail. Durnst stood aside, letting Ria stride in. The Gaidin looked around, realizing the tavern wasn’t perhaps the most reputable of places. Several heads turned to look at her, but she ignored them all.

Get. Me. Another. Fight.

The anger in those four words was unmistakeable. Ria took in and let out a deep breath before she made her way to the ‘fighting arena,’ which was nothing more than a clear section of floor. Her eyes landed on a sweaty, but familiar figure. Ji’val Alrim Farshera. She’d been there when he was raised from Drin to Ji’val. She didn’t know him as well as Ravak or the Master of Training might, but she knew him all the same.

“I think the man might be right. You look like you’ve had enough. Or do you want to fight your Mistress of Arms, Ji’val?” Ria said. There was no anger or malice in her tone. She held none towards the man. Something drove him here. . .drove him to the state he was in, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be.

[Andy]

There was little upon his mind as he looked at his hands, moments seeming to drag on into eternity as he hoped for someone else to step up. It was unlikely, the rational part of his mind told him, he had already finished a good number of usual contenders, mostly in a very definite way. No deaths but it would be a little while before they would fight again, that was for sure. The supply was running dry and his body was protesting all over, a fact that part of him relished with satisfaction. It was a deserved set of pains. He looked at his bruised, bloodied knuckles and totalled them all up. Still don't feel much, don't deserve to. They died, should have been there. Only fair I give the Pattern its best shot at me too. What was it Zeen said? Something about fate and choices. Tested both and still breathing he sighed to himself. So lost was he in his own depressive musings, he did not notice the Mistress of Arms at first. Even her words took a few moments to trickle in and grab at his attention. Something about the tone of command, reminded him of the training and his gaze flicked up, focused and the a wry twist to his mouth was clearly visible as his head sunk and fists clenched. He shook his head, bells muted by the sweat, dust and blood for once. A groan of frustration bubbled up from within, deep and earnest. "Oh come on," he snapped, the Pattern was being a right bastard now he knew, "of all the times I get caught it happens now? Burn my eyes I cant even..." he sighed and sat there for a few moments. He was clearly considering the offer of the fight, after all if anyone was able to do him in it'd be the Mistress of Arms. Yet he knew he would just end up knocked out in the Infirmary, hurting and maybe healed if he were shown mercy but very much alive. It'd be pointless and he'd just end up getting the worst punishments known to man for his troubles. Fingers clenched and then unclenched in annoyance, the decision upon a knife's edge. He shut his eyes, screwing them up just before he burst upwards to kick the stool a good few feet, a last and pointlessly defiant act. He said nothing to her at first, he wished she wasn't even there and maybe if he ignored her she'd leave him be. "There'd be no point fighting you Mistress, you can't give me what I want" he finally said before he stepped out of the ring, grabbed the bottle he had won previously and made his way to a table in the dingiest, darkest corner. He didn't even bother taking up his jacket. He wondered idly, as he scratched the long scar upon his back, whether it would have been better had that blade bitten a bit deeper. A pointless wonder, besides which Nate would have blamed himself forever. Even in his current mindset it was hard to wish pain upon others. He was only interested in his own. He found his shadowed corner and slumped down with a number of winces and hissed breaths. He took another swig, hoping she would leave him alone. Small chance but Fiona was lucky enough, perhaps he could be too for once. "To pointless attempts" he toasted the top of the bottle to the world in general, not drunk yet but if he had his way he would be soon enough.

[Roan]

Riahana Gaidin

Riahana arched a brow at the man’s initial reaction towards her. Usually, when learning ranks were caught doing something they ought not be doing, they tried to back peddle or offer excuses. The Ji’val before her did neither, and it seemed he was seriously considering taking her up on the offer to fight. Clearly, things were anything but ok with Alrim, but he had enough sense to turn down the fight.

“There'd be no point fighting you Mistress, you can't give me what I want,” came the man’s defeated reply.

The Gaidin watched as the man stepped passed her to grab a bottle of something before moving off to a table in the far corner. Those still standing around the ring looked at her, hoping for some form of entertainment, but all they got was the flat look of a very unimpressed Mistress of Arms. Slinging her Fancloak back off of her left shoulder, Ria followed her Ji’val. The table he sat at only had the one chair he occupied, but a table nearby had a couple of empty chairs. Ria took one of these, turned it so the back of the chair was closes to the table and sat astride it, folding her arms across the back of the chair.

Watching the man for several silent seconds, Ria chose her words carefully when she did speak, “The times I see men driven to fight as if they have nothing to live for are usually because they’ve lost something dear to them they can never get back. Be it a lass, or family member. So Ji’val. . .what is it? What has driven one of our up and comings to want to throw everything he has worked for away?”

[Andy]

Truthfully he had known she would sit with him, she had no other choice given the circumstances. Some part of him told him she had a duty of care for those under her, even if that care sometimes involved sticking her boot up somewhere soft on occasion. He supposed he should be thankful she wasn't hauling him out bodily but that idea was a small, muted portion of his thought processes. It would likely shock him in the morning but for now it was quite thoroughly drowned out. Of all the bad luck to have her find me and then my fam- he stopped that thought dead, he didn't want to admit it, not really. Or think about it, too many images were trying to batter down his internal walls and he hated it. "Care for a drink? Up and comings indeed, need better candidates if I'm that" he told her, being far too obstinate for his own good but finding little reason to care as he swigged once more, of course she wouldn't want a drink either, she was far too...administrative. Or at least that was what he had been told. His sour mood and drinking turned to a slight freeze mid-swallow followed by a manic laughter after he had gotten over the coughing fit and burning sensation in his throat, bottle still firmly held in his hands but knuckles slightly whiter now from the tension. The laughter was the dark, empty kind that he imagined people did before they were annihilated by some enemy or other. The kind he imagined himself doing on those walls right before getting blown apart by the damned Seanchan. Another bittersweet memory he wished he didn't have but had no choice over. Or rather I had a Ravak choice...no choice at all really he told himself sourly. "That's right!" he told her cheerfully, too cheerfully and it was clear it was a thin veneer indeed, "nailed it! Mistress of Arms knows what's what. Told me you was savvy they did. Guess which one, hmm? Guess what's wrong? No?" he took another swig and looked off to the side in silence, trying to keep back the despair, he didn't want to break in front of a commanding officer, it set bad precedents for future competency according to the soldier types back home in Arafel. Still the internal battle was a tiring one and his rational mind was gaining some ground, enough to force him to actually engage with the woman. She had come over after all, there was no sense in not talking even if he hated doing it with every fibre of himself. She wasn't going to lave him alone anyway, that was all too clear. She probably thought he would end up getting himself killed, which was probably right. "I'll tell you then," he put the bottle down and tilted his head as he counted them off, his voice changing as the names were said, "Havrick, Sasha, Karaena, Lolan and Jessie. Lost one? One?! All gone. Whole...flaming...family. Gone Tell me why I should care anymore Mistress, why I should give a damn about a future when I have naught left to make it worth it. Go on" he finished, breathless by the end and angry, not at her but at the world in general, he wanted to burn the whole thing to the ground and start again. He slumped back and didn't even bother carrying on drinking, reality had its nasty habits and one of them was that it asserted itself eventually. Like it or not it was starting to crush him under its weight. It only served to enhance the misery and rage within.

[Roan]

Riahana Gaidin

Ria watched and listened, knowing it was better to let the man have his drink (at least for now) and get the rant out of his system instead of bottling it all up. It didn’t take long for him to admit what drove him to his current state. The Mistress of Arms had a reputation as a hard task master, but she wasn’t so firm as to lack compassion and empathy for her battle brothers and sisters when they experienced loss. Many who came to sign the roster for the Yards came by way of loss, and those who didn’t often experienced loss of some sort during their journey to attain the Fancloak.

The Ji’val before her experienced a loss so great, Ria knew she could not relate. She could, though, offer empathy for the man, and compassion. His anger was hard to miss, though she’d question the kind of man he was if he showed none. To lose one’s entire family? Ria’d gone into a rage when she learned the Seanchan had captured Tia, and had it not been for her husband and Memma, she’d have done something foolish, likely gotten herself killed in an effort to free Tia.

As he slumped back into his chair, Ria suspected he was done venting, at least for the time being. “You ask me to tell you why you should care anymore, Alrim,” Ria spoke, using his first name and soothing tones as she watched him with furrowed brows. “I can provide you with empty platitudes, but what good would that do either of us? You wouldn’t believe them and might lose respect for me. I’d likely lose respect for myself, as platitudes are often meaningless.

“A man has to have his own reasons to care and give a damn for his future. Perhaps for you, your reasons are simply to honor them by living a life they are no longer able to live themselves. I do not know the details behind their demise, and I am truly sorry for your loss, Alrim, but perhaps for now. . .you go on simply to honor them,” Ria replied. She reached across and took his bottle, raising it in toast, “To the Farshara family.” She then took a pull from the bottle before setting it down. Out of character it may have been, but in that moment, she doubted the man before her needed the Mistress of Arms as much as he needed an understanding ear.

[Andy]

As the moments of silence passed after he had spoken, Riahana likely mulling over what he had said, he had to snort in amusement at the world in general. He didn't know if he had shocked her, it was possible but either way he already knew what the answer to his question was - there was no answer. It was senseless to try to make sense out of such an event, the wiping away of one's entire past, so to speak. Not to mention what he had assumed - hoped - would have been his future. He toyed with the lip of the bottle. Except they could have been saved right? You were told, weren't you Alrim? Oh no words or anything but you saw what you saw, yet you did nothing he told himself bitterly. When she did speak, however, he found the response not what he had been expecting. There were no words about high ideals or duty, nothing about obligation of fighting the Shadow and all other injustice. He had thought she might at least try to remind him about what is was to be a Ji, attempt some stab at giving him purpose. Surprisingly she said the right thing, she showed empathy and offered him nothing but his own conscious. It made him feel better and worse at the same time. His eyes did track the bottle she took from him and eyebrows rose when she drank from it. There was a small silence after as he tried to centre himself amidst the internal chaos. "To the Farshera," he muttered, he didn't say anything else, it seemed too disreputable even for him. His anger was seeping away now, little of it left to battle impotently against the reality that was now his life. He still felt it deep down but the surface, his actions, were now mollified. Only time would tell for how long but for now a blackness wreathed him, pulling at him in all directions, trying t turn him inside out. He couldn't be bothered to fight much more, Riahana was right, you needed your own reasons and he was not so sure he had many left - if any. "Should have stopped it when I was told," he sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his face, "it happened before...in those...arch things. It was a warning, maybe. Should have tried to go back and defend them" he fell silent for a time. "No one should have to live through it twice. Be asked to put the Tower first, twice. It's too cruel," his voice was quiet, subdued in tone as he cast his gaze across the ragged tavern, "I should have done...something. I am not worthy of the Farshera name, I can't live for them" he said the words quite definitely, believing what he said. "I am not sure what I can live for. I suppose I have only one home now. Perhaps I should feel some loyalty for that. But it's difficult to see it as worth it right now," he looked at her directly for the first time in a while, "I want to go and tear them apart, whoever it was. What would you do? You say live for their honour but what's left when you don't have much honour to do that with?"

[Roan]

Riahana Gaidin

Ria tilted her head as she listened to Alrim. She understood the desire for revenge. Who wouldn’t? All she wanted to do to the Seanchan who dared collar her daughter was run her through. Even the Void couldn’t keep those feelings at bay. His mention of his raising test caught her attention, though, and she found herself shaking her head, “The raising tests are not foretellings, Alrim. They show you what could be, but not what will be. You do yourself no good by beating yourself up for what you saw through your raising tests.

“The tests, be it for our Drin or our Novices and Soldiers, aren’t meant to be discussed, but they leave their impact on our learning ranks,” Ria explained, remembering the state her daughter had been in for the weeks following her own raising. It took Miahala pulling the young girl aside to help pull her out of her shell.

Letting go a slow breath, the Mistress of Arms continued, “The tests are meant to seem real, and are meant to put learning ranks in difficult situations, but they are not real. Nor are they a portent to what’s to come.” She was repeating herself somewhat, but it was an important point to make. “Try not to waste your energy by beating yourself up on what you could or should have done.

“As for what would I do if I were in your shoes? I’d want to avenge their deaths…seek out those who dared strike my family, and strike them down,” Ria admitted. “As Mistress of Arms and a Gaidin of the Tower, I cannot condone such acts, but as a human being, I can acknowledge the sense of closure such a quest might give a person. Whether finding those responsible and striking them down is the right thing to do is another matter entirely. I cannot suggest anyone take justice into their own hands, as I cannot keep you from being brought in front of a magistrate if you break the law.”

The Gaidin let those words sink in as she watched Alrim, trying to suss out what was going through the Ji’val’s mind. “At the very least, I would go home and speak to those who might know more of what happened and try to find closure by mourning those lost with others who are mourning, as well,” she added, wondering if he’d request leave to return home.

[Andy]

He couldn't stop himself from snorting at the idea of returning to Arafel, he sorely wanted to he knew, had known for a while, but he was certain he wouldn't get the most cordial of greetings even at the time of mourning. He supposed thy would let him out of respect for his family but not for him, perhaps that would be enough but he doubted it. It would merely serve to highlight the fact he would never earn back what he had lost what seemed so long ago now. "Not sure I'd be welcome back there, reason I'm here is because I was thrown out" he muttered almost to himself as he thought. I never listened to anyone but myself much before, look how that turned out. Lesson's don't count. Not really. Maybe... he thought to himself as he looked into himself more than the middle distance of his gaze. "I'm not sure what's real or not anymore Mistress, all I know is that it happened twice now. I suppose you are right though, you would know. Don't see the Seanchan at the walls either," he sighed, "but yes, least said and...well secrets. Sometimes I wonder whether that's a good thing but you are the Mistress" he conceded. Still the words took hold in him slightly, perhaps a dragging back of emotion or perhaps he was just getting tired from the effort of its upkeep and tomorrow would bring a new flood. He didn't know and found it hard to care. He wanted to find out who was responsible, he wanted to kill them and at the same time die in the process. Yet he had no chance of doing that as a Ji, perhaps not even as a Gaidin. He would have to finish what he had started, he realised, hardening the resolve without thinking about it. But that would take years, he couldn't wait years to respond to that letter. "No, I didn't think you would let me even if I could do so. Death seems a fair judgement for death but not in the eyes of the law. I always hated the law for that, for its weakness. Murderers don't care about rules but rules stops them being hunted down," he shook his head, "but I thank you for the honesty. I'm not up for a hunt anyway. Still, I would like to go home. Don't know if that's allowed but if it could happen I'd....appreciate it" he told her. He was fully deflated now and even if still a bit sullen and miserable was not apparently about to have a fight for the sake of it. That impetus was gone, fading faster by the moment. What remained felt like old rock, washed and eroded by impact but steadfast in its implacable nature. The problem Alrim had was he hadn't worked out that nature yet and wasn't sure he wanted to see how deep and dark it went into himself.