[complete] How to Make Friends (Arrival & Attn: Marla)

[Jenn]

The young woman seated at one of the corner-most tables of the Inn had her chin cupped in one hand, propped up with an arm. She leaned in on that elbow, casual and indolent, dark hair fanning out over her shoulders. The other arm was busy pushing around the half-eaten food on her plate, which she seemed entirely focused upon as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Dark eyes followed the back and forth motion of the fork, the silvery tines scraping hypnotically from side to side.

It was a shame really, that she had no real appetite. The dish had been prepared to perfection: the fish was tender, the turnips cooked just enough to still retain texture, the blanched greens a bitter counterpoint to the richness of the sauce. All she was missing was a bottle of wine. Or maybe five. With her thoughts lingering on wine, some of her control slipped. Katrie let out a despondent sigh.

“Was it not to your liking?”

She almost jumped, her gaze lifting too quickly, guiltily, first to the small shadow that distorted and leaned over the table, then to the serving girl whom it belonged to that had come out of seemingly nowhere and was regarding her with a worried look.

“It was,” Katrie answered hastily, dropping the fork on to the table. “I'm sorry it was wasted on me... I... it hasn't been easy. There's nothing wrong with the food.”

And there truly wasn't. The Cairhienin Domani could find no fault with the food, the service, the rooms, nor with the Inn itself. Even the people that worked here seemed impeccable; they had been nothing but kind and understanding with her. Never once did they make her feel unwelcome... and it was a relief, since she had been stranded here for three days. Initially, it hadn't been her fault... the Aes Sedai that had found her in Katar had told her to wait right here in the Inn for a time. Katrie hadn't asked why – there were probably things Anesune Sedai had to do. But to be forgotten...? That was just outright insulting.

“Still nothing, eh?” The serving girl – Jana? – smiled sympathetically. “Don't you worry, I'm sure someone up there knows and they'll come get you soon enough. At any rate, they'll know once we send them the bill!” The last part was said so cheerfully that Katrie couldn't tell if the girl was serious or merely joking. It wasn't a jest she appreciated, but if Jana had been serious... well, her situation wasn't unique then. Good to know. It didn't make her feel any better.

Katrie nodded weakly in return, suddenly very interested in the way Jana whisked away the plate and fork. She very nearly ordered some wine, even though it was barely midday. Maybe coming here to Hama Valon hadn't been such a good idea. She'd been looking – needing – to try something different... She sighed again, very nearly putting her head down on the table.

In theory, she supposed she could just march straight through Hama Valon and into the Grey Tower, announcing why she was there and who had brought her... but the petulant, affronted part of her (she'd been forgotten, for Light's sake!) felt no inclination to make things easy for anybody. She refused to admit that the more significant reason was because she was very much intimidated and unlikely to make the walk there on her own.

Her stomach gave a slow, nauseating turn. She should've ordered the blasted wine. Irritated now, and eager for something fun or interesting to distract herself with, she decided to head outside for some fresh air and sun. The chair scraped loudly over the floor as she pushed it back, standing quickly. Rolling her shoulders back, she lifted her arms over her head, stretching out some imaginary kinks in her back. She was dressed modestly, her skirts lined, stout walking shoes, a pretty blouse with floral embroidery, fitted to flatter but not to entice. The neckline of the blouse was square, sitting a few inches below the hollow of her throat. The black stone of her necklace slipped free every now again, warm against her coppery skin. Despite how uneasy she felt, the familiar sensation of admiring eyes on her made her smile inwardly as she straightened to her full height. Buoyed somewhat, her spirits lifted a little. Some things at least, did not change.

She made her way past the other Inn patrons, able to look some of the men straight in the eyes. That never failed to surprise, and Katrie smiled at the consideration in their gazes. She left well enough alone, however, not at all comfortable with the idea of having fun with so many Aes Sedai and Asha'man nearby. It was such a strange thought, one that she mulled over as she exited the Band of Brothers. A slight shrug of slender shoulders. She supposed she'd best get used to the idea, and soon; if she had to spend another night here, she was most definitely not going to spend it alone. She had needs, after all.

The sigh that came this time as she came to rest against one of the sun-baked walls was one of satisfaction. It was not much, but the heat against her back was soothing and from where she was lounging, if she tilted her head back just so, she could almost pretend that she didn't see the giant silhouette of the Tower.

Through half-closed eyes, she began watching all the people that were in nearby vicinity to her. Some milled about, some moved with purpose, and still others rushed to and fro. A handful flitted in between all three types, and more did not fit any type. It was fascinating. They all seemed so alive, filled with purpose, something she did not have. Yet. It rankled that she'd been forgotten, but maybe... just maybe she wasn't quite ready to have a purpose that meant being a Novice at the Grey Tower. It was different than the White Tower – even Aunt Jae had said as much, but it still made Katrie nervous.

She stayed for what must have been a quarter of an hour, content to simply observe the flow and ebb of people. She did not move until the black stone was nearly burning against her skin, the metallic surface soaking in the sun and warmth much like she did. With some reluctance, she readjusted her blouse, smoothing the material of her skirts over her hips. Then, at a loss with what to do next, she stood there, turning slow circles as she took in the breadth of her options.

“Excuse me.”

Katrie stilled, head canting ever-so-slightly to the side as she looked to where the voice had come from. She met eyes as dark as her own a short distance away, watching her from out of an ageless face. Her brows lifted nearly straight off of her head. A Grey Tower Asha'man! Her first encounter with one! Bloody flaming Light...! Curiosity warred openly with apprehension. Was he coming to bring her to the Tower? She honestly couldn't say whether that delighted her or horrified her. She wasn't ready... but she had to be ready. Didn't she? He approached her slowly, and inexorably the distance closed between them. As he drew even with her, Katrie stared openly at the dark mop of glorious thick curls that crowned the top of his head, feeling a moment of intense envy. He was clean shaven, olive-skinned, and undeniably handsome. Also an Asha'man!

He looked... agitated, though his smile seemed genuine when it came. “You look lost.”

“That obvious?” She gave him a rueful look. “Is that why you're here? One of the serving girls kept telling me that someone from the Tower would come and find me. I arrived here with Anesune Sedai, but she told me to wait for her at this Inn as she had something she had to go do before she could bring me into the Tower proper.” Katrie paused, a hint of indignation creeping into her voice despite her best efforts. “That was three days ago. I think she forgot about me.”

The Asha'man laughed, but it was not unkind. “What's your name?”

She hesitated a fraction of a second. “Katrie Ariasca.”

Heavy brows lifted, and he nodded as if to himself. His gaze was penetrating as he leveled it at her and she found herself trying not to squirm beneath it. “Your real name?”

The surprise on her face was as bad as the guilt that chased it. She gave him an appraising look, then lowered her voice. “Aikaterine Riatin.” Katrie gave him a coy smile as what had to be recognition of her House dawned on him. “But only half a Riatin. Now you see why I don't use my full name much. Technically, the one I gave you before is also my real name, just... a shorter version of it with my mama's maiden name.”

“I suppose that would explain why you sound Cairhienin yet look Domani.” He grinned. “Jaryd Kosari. A pleasure.”

She smiled in return. “The pleasure is all mine.”

His eyes flicked lower, and for a moment she thought he was trying to catch a glimpse of... but no, he was looking at the black stone of her necklace. “That's very pretty,” he began casually. “Where did you get it?”

“I –” Suddenly, Katrie realized just how very far away she was from Cairhien and Bandar Eban, from her papa, and her mama... the necklace... “I... don't want to talk about it, I'm sorry,” she whispered, pushing past Asha'man Jaryd as tears burned behind her eyes.

“Wait, please –”

But she didn't give him a chance to finish, ducking back into the Inn and bolting straight towards the stairs. She didn't want anyone to see her cry. She took them two at time even as her vision blurred, the first of hot salty droplets rolling down her cheeks. She slammed the door behind her, locking it out of habit, frantically rubbing at her eyes in the vain hope she could stem her tears before they overwhelmed her.

At first, she thought it was her imagination, a trick of light reflected and refracted through her tears playing tricks on her vision... But through her watery, hazy vision, she saw the locked door in front of her shudder... before the latch mechanism broke free. The door gave another shudder before it lifted several inches off the floor and simply floated off its hinges. As the rectangular panel of wood was placed with a strange sort of gentleness to the side, Katrie found herself face-to-face with Asha'man Jaryd again.

He had his hands out, held palm up, as if he was showing her he didn't mean her any harm. “Please. I just want to talk.”

The Cairhienin Domani backpedaled slowly until the backs of her knees bumped against the bed. She fairly collapsed on to it, the hand she put on the nearest bedpost the only thing keeping her sitting upright. The well of tears stopped in much the same sudden fashion as they had started. For a full minute, all she did was glance between the Asha'man and the door.

“Well.” Katrie said, when she finally found her voice again. “That's hardly fair.”

((OOC: Yay! And yes, I do have permission from Marla to puppeteer Jaryd, just as she has my permission to puppeteer Katrie. )

[Sunny]

"You all need more practice, but that is to be expected. We will meet again tomorrow at High," Jaryd said calmly as he swept the classroom with expressionless black eyes. The small group of novices and soldiers gathered there began to gather their things, whispering quietly to each other. Jaryd had an open book in his hands and pretended to read, but in truth he watched them carefully. It intrigued him to see what people revealed about themselves in such unguarded moments. That soldier radiated boredom. That novice was profoundly uncomfortable about something. That trio in the front were up to no good. The duo in the back were in a heavy discussion, faces serious as they methodically packed their things. He flicked from page to page taking mental notes on his students until they had all given him their respect and filed out.

The Creator certainly has an odd sense of humor, he thought as he wiped the blackboard clean of the diagrams he had drawn there. He had come to the Tower fifteen years before, angry and resentful of his ability and the way the Black Tower had treated him, confused about what to do next, and profoundly lonely. He had found friends, found a purpose, learned to forgive, and learned to love the One Power...and he had also been jerked around in the currents of Grey Tower politics as hapless as a rag doll in a flash flood. Now it was time to pick up the pieces, one small shard at a time. The problem, he mused, is that I have no idea how those pieces fit together once I've gathered them.

Jaryd left the classroom, intending to get his midday meal and return to his chambers to study. The corridor outside ran in a straight line from the outter wall of the Tower to the inner ramp that would lead him to the dining hall. He turned towards the ramp, and the sun shining through the glass wall behind him cast his shadow faintly ahead of him on the pale carpet. Abruptly, the need for something different overwhelmed him, memories of the freedom he had enjoyed while traveling overtaking all sense of duty. He altered his course, taking a right at the first cross corridor and then ducking down a narrow winding staircase that took him deep into the underpinnings of the Tower. From there it was a few quick steps to the shadows of the Red Ajah's temporary quarters.

He paused outside of Carra's quarters, then after a moment knocked, and stuck his head in once given leave. "I'm going to the Band of Brothers," he told her. She waved acknowledgement, but she seemed tired, and her attention shifted almost immediately back to the assortment of leather, papers, and weapons spread on her bed. He raised his eyebrows curiously, but withdrew without comment; she would tell him what she was doing when she was ready. He went the extra few feet to his own rooms, and deposited his book bag on the table there, swiped a few coins off his desk, and swapped his gray Altaran vest for the crimson red that he preferred. Then he departed, his step quick as he worked his way up and away from the Grey Tower.

As he emerged from the gates, the universal noise of a busy city enveloped him. He strode through the crowd silently, knowing that in Hama Valon of all places an ageless face and an air of command would clear a path more assuredly than any number of words. For a moment, intense longing filled him- for the days when those who knew him loved him and those who did not simply went about their business. Perhaps I will grow my beard out again. He shook that thought off as ridiculous even as he thought it. This moment of melancholy would pass- he enjoyed being Asha'man, he simply needed to remember his purpose.

When he approached the Band of Brothers, he could see a dark-haired woman standing outside. She had the posture of one who had lost her way, turning this way and that uncertainly. She was taller than he, and even if her posture had not carried the sensual self-confidence of the Domani, he could have detected her heritage by her copper skin. "Excuse me," he said once he was within comfortable speaking range. She froze, and looked at him. He would have smiled, but something caught the light at her throat, and when his eyes dropped to see what it was, the world froze. Where did she get that? "You look lost," he managed to get out.

"That obvious?" She said. She mentioned Anesune and a long wait at the inn, but his thoughts were far away. The cord that hung around his neck beneath his shirt pulled at his neck, the black stone he had worn for seventeen years as heavy as a millstone. After a moment, he collected himself enough to pull himself into the Void, where his shock could only beat at the periphery of his awareness.

He laughed, then, allowing himself to response as naturally as possible to this stranger's quandary. "What's your name?" he inquired politely, struggling to keep his eyes on her face, and not on the necklace she wore.

"Katrie Ariasca." The lie shone plain- her hesitation, her face...anyone who had spent any amount of time with thieves and thugs would know the signs. He raised his eyebrows, and asked for her real name. "Aikaterine Riatin," she said. She explained why she chose not to use it, and he felt amusement creeping along the edges of the Void. She sounded like many young noblewomen he had encountered in his life.

“I suppose that would explain why you sound Cairhienin yet look Domani.” He grinned, allowing his amusement to show through.“ Jaryd Kosari. A pleasure.” She demured with a smile, and he smiled back, but then that stone caught his eye again, and he couldn't hold back. “That's very pretty,” he said as “Where did you get it?”

She froze, her face contorted with sadness. "I don't want to talk about it, I'm sorry," she said in a soft voice, trying to duck around him to get away. He resisted the urge to channel; she was only a girl. Wherever that necklace came from, she was no threat.

"Wait, please," he said, in an effort to detain her, but she pushed past and went inside, hiding her face. When he went in after her she was already halfway up the stairs, her head bowed. He exchanged glances with the barkeep. "She is to go to the Grey Tower," he said carefully. The man nodded. The Band of Brothers saw many newcomers to the Tower, and their reactions no longer phased him. Feeling slightly guilty over his subterfuge, Jaryd followed Katrie up the stairs.

It wasn't difficult to find her; he could hear her sobs through the door. He tried the door, but unsurprisingly she had locked it. He paused for a moment then, fingering the stone that lay agaainst his chest through his shirt. Maybe they are cursed to bring their wearers misery, he thought, anger seeping through the Void to tinge his thoughts. Maybe I should just burn it and be done, and let this poor girl rest. But....he couldn't. Where did she get it? Maybe if he knew, he could unravel the mystery of Marisa.

He channeled, saidin gleeful as flows of Air snaked around the door. He could have used Air and Spirit to move the lock mechanism, but impatience won out, and he simply pulled. It required little effort -for him, anyway- to pull the door off its hinges and set it to the side. With hands out, he walked towards the entrance. "Please, I just want to talk."

She stared at him. Even with tears streaking her cheeks and eyes rimmed with red, she had an air of unearthly beauty. He could not shake the feeling that she seemed familiar. As if from a dream. "Well that's hardly fair," she commented dryly.

The Void shattered as the Asha'man laughed, her assumed poise in the face of all odds somehow striking him as incredibly amusing. Then he fell silent, looking at her. "I did not mean to bring you grief," he said quietly, leaning against the door frame, "and I must apologize for my lack of manners in...barging in like this." His eyes twinkled. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head. Of course she wouldn't laugh with him- he was a threat, not a friend.

A pause. Silence. She had her fingers wrapped in her skirts, and he had his fingers on his chest, drumming against the necklace hidden there. Finally he gathered his courage. "I have seen your necklace before," he said slowly. "It belonged..." he hesitated. Marisa had not been as she seemed. What if this fresh-faced Domani was the same? How are there two of them? "It belonged to a woman who was dear to me," he said finally, "she wore it to the day of her death." The Marisa of his memories had died in a fire; what she had become after was not the woman he had loved. He could still remember her dark eyes glittering in the flames as she watched him bond Carra. "I do not mean to bring you pain, but I had not thought to see its kind again. Please....where did you get it?"

[Jenn]

She couldn't stop staring at him.

The way he laughed was something she was not prepared for; the vibrant fullness tickled at some fragment of long buried memory forgotten upon waking. It tumbled around her like something alive. Katrie couldn't say if she imagined it or not, but she could have sworn that the stone beneath the hollow of her throat... tingled. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if he was doing something to her with the Power. Anger erupted at the thought of being manipulated, and the surge of volatile emotion swept everything else to the side. Katrie gave herself a rough mental shake and the peculiar sensations disappeared.

Blistering clarity returned, as bright in her mind as the man's crimson vest was to her eyes. The sound of Jaryd's – she refused to tack on the honourific Asha'man – laughter faded. The silence that descended upon them had palpable weight. He shifted, and took to lounging indolently against the door frame. He hadn't made any threatening move towards her yet, but Jaryd would find that she was not so easily cowed. Katrie forced herself to meet full on the other set of eyes that were as dark as her own even as she quailed inwardly.

“I did not mean to bring you grief and I must apologize for my lack of manners in... barging in like this.” His voice was soft, but his eyes... he looked... amused. Lack of manners? Understatement of the Age, there. Katrie didn't trust herself to speak, so she gave him the flattest look she could muster instead, brow arched to perfection. What was his angle? What was he really after? Jaryd just shook his head. Was... he actually trying to reassure her? After taking down the door with saidin?

The heavy silence dropped on them both again.

Katrie filled her shaking hands with fistfuls of her skirts, watching Jaryd watch her. Only she had no earthly idea what she was supposed to be watching for. She had encountered persistent men before, but not like this, and never one wielding the male half of the Source. This one topped them all. She should have been more frightened of him. But she wasn't. She never had been. She started to question why, but found herself redirecting her scattered thoughts elsewhere. She was afraid to delve deeper into why she wasn't. It must be because her mind was still struggling to wrap around the fact that he had floated the door straight off its hinges without even touching it.

He was drumming his fingers against his chest, the flurry of motion perhaps some hint into his mindset. Was he as acutely uncomfortable as she was? What was he thinking? What did he want? She started a little when he finally spoke again.

"I have seen your necklace before." The words came out slowly, almost like he was dragging each syllable past his lips. "It belonged... it belonged to a woman who was dear to me, she wore it to the day of her death." Once again, Katrie's eyebrows nearly shot off her skull. Death? No no no no... that wasn't true. Mama's still alive... Her heart began to pound and her stomach gave a slow, uneasy turn. What under the Light was he talking about? "I do not mean to bring you pain,” and here he actually did sound genuine, “but I had not thought to see its kind again. Please....where did you get it?"

The Cairhienin Domani jumped to her feet. The fear that wrenched at her gut was reflexive, the sound of her blood roaring in her ears drowning out everything else. Sick dread pulled at her spine and made her speak far more openly than she would have, to this strange man that she did not know. Quite frankly, he was upsetting her.

“I don't know what you're talking about, but my mama's still alive,” Katrie asserted sharply, battling down a rising wave of fish, turnip, and bile. Without conscious thought, she reached up and gripped the black metallic stone tightly, protectively, red rimmed eyes glaring back at Jaryd. “This was hers, she's had it for as long as I can remember, and she gave it to me the day I was sent to the White Tower.”

More words blurted past her lips, Katrie almost hysterical with the need to erase the things Jaryd had said about the other woman that was not her mama. “She was an Aes Sedai of the Red Ajah! She accidentally killed a man when she tried to stop the Asha'man she was bonded to from murdering someone, but that didn't matter! They didn't like her... and she wasn't able to play along with the politics. They kicked her out of the Ajah and the Tower after they Stilled her. But she's alive, Jaryd Kosari! She's still alive!” She screamed that last part at him, ashen beneath the coppery warmth of her skin.

She sucked in a swallow of air before abruptly turning away and running to the basin on the opposite side of the room. It was all too much. Being forgotten for days on end, having an Asha'man chase her up into her rooms, doing what he did to the door, and now this, insinuating that her mama was dead... Katrie shuddered and emptied the contents of her stomach out into the gentle curve of the ceramic basin.

[Sunny]

What in the Light? Jaryd braced himself for- what? attack? as Katrie jumped to her feet. Her eyes were ablaze, her fingers wrapped around the all-too-familiar stone as if her life depended on it. She snapped that her mother was still alive, told him her mother gave it to her when she went to the White Tower. He felt a little like he had stepped into the sea and had his feet taken from him by a rip tide. Why was this woman here, at the Grey Tower, if she had gone to the White? And who was her mother? That last question was answered almost immediately- An Aes Sedai fo the Red Ajah?! He wanted to laugh hysterically. What would she say, this passionate stranger, when she found out he shared her mother's Ajah in a backwards sort of way?

More importantly...How did an Aes Sedai of the bloody flaming Red Ajah of Tar Valon come by the same stone that Marisa wore? The thought burned at him, distracted him. He barely heard the rest of her diatribe, until the word Stilled cut through his confused thoughts like a hot blade through wax. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. To lose the ability to touch the One Power, to be forever separated from the ability he had once hated...the thought shook him to his core. No wonder this woman seemed so...unstable. With a history like that, how could she possibly trust any Aes Sedai -or Asha'man, he supposed- again? And yet she is here. Peculiar. SO many questions, so few answers.

Where did she get the bloody stone? Anger was rising as his mind shifted the puzzle pieces around. Marisa had died in a fire, and he had taken her necklace as a keepsake. An Asha'man had happened to be in town, and had been more than happy to take him to the Black Tower. Except Marisa was alive, and the Asha'man was a liar, and now this woman's Red Ajah mother had given her the exact same necklace.

His frenetic thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his unwilling companion emptying her belly into her washbasin. He took another deep breath and summoned the Void, wrapping its calming shadows around him until he stood in a pool of stillness. Then he went to her. She was oblivious to his presence, emotions similar in caliber to the ones he had fought with a moment before etched across her pretty face. He took the towel from its hook near the stand and channeled, Air and Water pulling moisture from the space around them to collect and wet the cloth. When she finally fell still he handed it to her, careful not to meet her eyes for too long. Some women were extraordinarily defensive about having men -let alone strange men- see them in a state of distress.

He moved away again, but this time chose a spot away from the door. If she wished to go, he would not stop her. It was clear from her reaction that she knew little more than he did. Her mother, on the other hand.... "I am....so sorry that that happened to your mother," he said quietly, after a very long silence. "That is a fate every channeler fears worse than death, I am sure it hasn't been easy on her." He paused, then continued, "I did not mean to imply that she had died, only that the woman I knew wore it until she...sort of....died." Now that he spoke of the situation more directly, he had no choice but to add the qualifier. Burn the Oaths.

"What do you mean, "sort of died"?" Katrie's voice was as sour as her stomach must feel. He grimaced at her, realizing too late that he had opened himself to questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

"I mean that she died. Sort of." He said, the Void keeping his face and voice neutral.

"That isn't an answer," the woman said, her Cairhienin accent coming out sharply in her impatience.

He gave her a long, level look, dark brows gathered over dark eyes. "You should be glad you haven't yet donned a novice dress," he said sharply, "speak like that to an Asha'man once you have and you'll be sitting on cushions for a month."

"And you should hope I don't report your behavior to the M'hael once I have! I can't imagine ripping an inn's door off its hinges and upsetting a total stranger to the point of being physically ill is behavior fitting of your station." Her voice was scathing, and utterly unimpressed by his rank.

The Void collapsed and vanished in his shock. It wasn't just her words that were shocking, however; it was the realization that for that moment, he had felt entitled to respect based on a title alone. Had serving as M'hael really changed him so much? Respect is earned, not given, he reminded himself sharply. When did I lose sight of that one simple fact? He collected himself. "You make a good point," he said mildly, and she nodded agreement. "I watched her die when I was younger. It was...a bad way to go," he explained carefully, "and then a few years ago I found out she is somehow quite alive, but not- not as I remembered."

He touched his chest again, then after a moment, pulled at the laces at his throat, and pulled the stone out. "See? It's quite real."

[Jenn]

Of course she made a bloody good point, the sincerity of his clumsy apology about her mama immediately forgotten. He was evading the question about the other woman and they both knew it. Repeating it, rephrasing it, changed nothing. How did one “sort of” die anyway?

Jaryd had the ability to make the start of her new life here absolutely wretched. But she could repay him tenfold for that. Katrie had guessed correctly that the Grey Tower, like the White, held its full ranked members to a higher sort of propriety than it did its initiates. She might be unable to sit for a month, but after what he had done to her, he would suffer something far more humbling. That his actions had indirectly affected her was a point of semantics. This was the Game at its simplest. She had better leverage. Even so... she was surprised at both the way he acknowledged it, and at the sour taste it left behind in her mouth that had nothing to do with her earlier bout of vomiting.

Her hand tightened around the damp towel – an unexpected kindness – as she listened to him speak. He seemed different now, calmer. Katrie was still wary. Reluctantly, she began studying the way the shape of his face morphed and changed, the way that the lines and angles shifted along with the plane of his forehead, the subtle curve of cheek and chin as his heavy dark brows drew together, the slope of nose and jawline, forgetting herself with a visible flinch when Jaryd spoke of watching the woman in question die when he was younger, only to find out that she was very much alive... somehow... and not at all the way he remembered. His expressions were a study in marked opposites; emotionless and blank one moment, then cold, only to blaze with heated animation the very next.

I could watch him for days, Katrie realized with an discomfited start, and not grow bored. It had nothing to do with how handsome he was. Then... what? She fumbled around for an answer, but none came. She didn't know what to make of the sudden unwelcome realization, so she stamped down the discomfort instead. She didn't have time to deal with it.

Confusion creased her forehead as he undid the laces at his throat. She tensed imperceptibly, the fist around the towel white-knuckled. What in the Light... But her mouth snapped shut when he pulled out something that had been hidden beneath his vest and shirt. Katrie gaped at the metallic black stone that looked in every way identical to the one sitting beneath the hollow of her throat.

"See? It's quite real."

“I...” Everything in the past quarter of an hour suddenly made perfect, terrible sense. “Oh.” Katrie felt her mind hiccup along as it began tracing the path back to their chance encounter outside the very inn they stood in. Jaryd had watched a woman that had been dear to him die, except... she wasn't really dead. The stone he wore was once hers. Katrie had the exact same stone – only it had once belonged to her mother, who was most definitely not dead, had never been physically dead... had been Red Ajah... and now, Katrie and Jaryd were facing one other, with no answers, and enough questions between the both of them to fill an ocean.

That must have been why he had followed her... he had commented on her necklace from the very beginning. He must have noticed it when he had seen her outside. The young woman sat down very abruptly onto the bed again, the damp towel clenched between both her hands. Katrie released a long, shaky breath out into the silence.

“I'm... sorry, you watched your... someone dear to you die,” she said finally, the words rolling awkwardly off her tongue as she tilted her face up in order to maintain eye contact. “I... you're welcome to sit down, so long as you don't take apart the bed too. I don't think I could handle that.” No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, did she realize the tone in which she had used. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers as a pained expression crossed her face. Katrie shook her head. “I'm sorry, that's not...” She breathed in deeply, then forced that breath out. “What I meant to say was: please, will you sit?”

The laugh that burst from him sounded the same yet different; genuine amusement and a release of tension perhaps. She could certainly relate, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched in response only had a little to do with actual mirth.

“I believe I will. Thank you, my lady.” The flourish he made caused her eyebrows to lift again, but she shifted over to make space for him regardless. The mattress bowed beneath their combined weight, but being seated next to a man who could channel was otherwise anticlimactic.

And then, because it struck her that she had done something as embarrassing as vomit in front of Jaryd, a stranger and an Asha'man to boot, Katrie gave a decidedly unladylike snort, followed by a giggle. Her nerves were so utterly frayed, it hardly mattered at this point. “Don't call me that,” she made an offhand gesture, the ends of the towel flailing about for a moment. “Proper ladies don't go throwing up in front of strange men.”

“If I were a gentleman, I suppose it might matter,” Jaryd said matter-of-factly after a pause, then indicated the forlorn door leaning haphazardly against the far wall. “But a true gentleman would not have done what I did.”

Katrie grinned at him, feeling manic, her voice thick with emotion. “If you had explained it all in the first place, I might not have had to stink up the room.”

“It's not that bad,” he responded, voice perfectly neutral.

She laughed, despite not wanting to, slender shoulders rocking with it. Katrie gave him a searching look when she had recovered, the uncertainty in her expression more honest than anything else she had shown him up until this moment. Who are you? she wanted to ask, but the words stuck in her throat. She cleared it in the attempt to dislodge her question, but a breath in at the wrong moment reduced her to a coughing, doubled over mess. This was going so very splendidly. That thought made her laugh again and combined with the hacking fit, it was not a pretty sight. Finally, Katrie was forced to shove the knuckles of her first two fingers into her mouth. She was hysterical. The Cairhienin bit down, hard enough to break the surface layer of skin, and the pain was enough to shift her away from the sorry state she found herself in.

She gasped for air. Through streaming eyes, she waved away Jaryd's hovering hand but he simply ignored her. Taking the towel out of her grasp with a firm pull, he...did something with saidin because the cloth was wet and cool again. He began gingerly wiping at her face as if she were a child. Katrie couldn't bring herself to feel much more than a tinge of outrage – she supposed she was acting very much like one.

“Thank you,” she managed to get out, voice hoarse, when she could finally sit up again. “I swear I'm not usually like this.”

She might have imagined it, but for the briefest of moments, a strange look flitted across his eyes. “It's alright, child.” Jaryd shrugged, nonplussed.

The look Katrie shot him in response was tepid at best as she barely stopped the retort from leaving her lips.

That brought a ghost of a smile to his face.

She glanced at the black stone around his neck, then down to the one nestled beneath the hollow of her throat. “Are we even sure they're the same?” She reached back behind her and unclasped the simple gold chain, cupping her black stone pendant in the palm of her hand. “May I?” she asked Jaryd quietly, holding up hers and indicating that she wanted to compare the two.

Long seconds passed before he finally nodded.

Katrie inched closer, extremely mindful of the fact that this had the potential to go sideways quickly. She kept her mind on the task she wanted to accomplish, wrapping the chain around her hand so that her black stone was kept in the appropriate middle of her palm. She tried very very hard not to startle him, or touch him, keeping her movements fluid and obvious. This close to him, she could feel the heat from his body emanating up through his clothes. She cringed inwardly and mentally shook herself. Light, what if she breathed on him?! They were so uncomfortably close... If Jaryd turned his head, their foreheads would collide.

Despite her best efforts, the back of her hand ended up brushing against the sensitive skin of his throat and Katrie almost squeaked at the contact. He didn't acknowledge the slip at all, but she murmured out an apology as quickly as her mouth would form the words. The last thing she needed was a jumpy offended channeler. Somehow, she managed to keep outstretched fingers still while she carefully manipulated Jaryd's black stone into position next to hers.

The black stones were identically shaped, both having the slightly irregular flattening near the bottom. What striations she could see were identical, the subtle patterns matching up perfectly with each other no matter how she turned or lifted. They even ended in the same places where the stone had been rounded off, the distorted lines there exactly the same down to the faintest wobble. In fact, the only thing different about the black stones... was who they belonged to. It was surreal. Katrie withdrew her hands, letting Jaryd's stone fall back against his chest while she closed long fingers over hers. She placed her hands in her lap, once again watching him watch her.

“Someone with more experience might be able to find something I didn't, but as far as I can tell, the only thing different about these stones, is us,” she told him quietly. “That's... not normal. Even if the stones came from the same vein, their markings at being made into jewelry would be somewhat different.” She canted her head to the side. “Could... your friend have known my mama?” That was asked hesitantly, Katrie unsure if she wanted to go down that road with him.

[Sunny]

"I'm not usually like this," Katrie said, her voice rough from coughing. He blinked- for some reason, those words felt like an echo. Everything about this little encounter is bloody strange. He pulled his hand back, and dropped the cloth over the bedpost.

"It's all right, child," he quipped, referencing their earlier conversation about his rank. She gave him a look that could have curdled milk, and pressed her lip tight together. His own lips spread into a grin, his eyes dancing. He wasn't certain, but despite their unconventional method of meeting, he thought she might be warming to him- a little. If she completely dropped her guard, she was a fool, and she didn't strike him as the type to make that mistake.

She was asking about the stones; he froze in place as she asked to compare them, his brain spinning. Do I want to know? He still had a chance to walk away, to pretend like maybe they just came from the same artist and bore a close resemblance. After a ver long moment, he nodded stiff consent. He tried to lift his hands to untie the bit of leather that held it around his neck, but his body would not cooperate. Instead he sat mute and motionless as she reached for him. She jumped, and he realized she had actually touched his skin. Light, I'm not going to eat you, he thought, but then realized that given the series of events that lead to their current situation, he couldn't exactly trust her to believe that.

He couldn't see what she was doing, but he could tell she was turning the two stones back and forth, could hear the click when she pressed them together. Finally she looked up. “Someone with more experience might be able to find something I didn't, but as far as I can tell, the only thing different about these stones, is us. That's... not normal." A chill crept its way up his spine. " Even if the stones came from the same vein, their markings at being made into jewelry would be somewhat different.” She hesitate, head tilting. “Could... your friend have known my mama?”

That was a possibility he had been contemplating since the moment he ascertained that Katrie knew no more than he did about the stones. Now that he knew they were identical, other thoughts began to come to the surface- how had Marisa come by a rock so clearly manipulated with the One Power? "It's possible, but unlikely," he said finally. "When I acquired this stone, she was only seventeen and had never left the Rahad." Shadowy screams filled his ears, a dark female face contorted in agony floating through his memory. He flinched, and hurried his mind away from that image.

"It seems that this mystery may remain just that, for now," he said, tucking the stone away beneath his shirt again. "I hope someday I might speak to your mother, however." Her eyes widened, and then she looked down, shaking her head. Why...? Oh. She was Stilled. Seeing a channeler is likely the last thing in the Light she would ever want to do in her condition. "You know there are people in the Grey Tower who could Heal her," he said slowly. "To be Stilled is no longer the death sentence it once was. I could speak to the Yellows on your mother's behalf. The White Tower treated her poorly- perhaps the Grey might prove more understanding."

[Jenn]

He was silent for long while, Jaryd clearly as discomfited with the idea of his friend and her mama as she was. It made Katrie sad, she realized, turning over the emotion so she could examine it. She didn't really know her mama... had never really known her. Most of her knowledge had come second hand – and the pieces that had come from her mama seemed only to bring about more questions. What other secrets were there? Thankfully, she was interrupted from her unpleasant thoughts by Jaryd's answer.

"It's possible, but unlikely. When I acquired this stone, she was only seventeen and had never left the Rahad." Katrie noticed his flinch but she did not comment. What was there to say, really? This was painful. They were circling around one another in an awful parody of a dance, all elbows and knees and flailing limbs. It's his fault. He brought this upon us both by following me up here, Katrie couldn't help but think angrily, lips thinning further.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to expect her to answer – not that she would have anyway – and continued. "It seems that this mystery may remain just that, for now." There was an air of finality to that as he tucked the stone away beneath his shirt again. Her fingers curled tighter around hers. "I hope someday I might speak to your mother, however."

Dark eyes widened at that, Katrie unable to meet his gaze. No. No, no, that would end badly. Katrie shook her head, suddenly unable to swallow past the lump in her throat. How could it possibly not end badly? Jaryd seemed to understand, pausing a moment before addressing her again. His voice was lower, softer, almost as if he was sharing a secret with her.

"You know there are people in the Grey Tower who could Heal her. To be Stilled is no longer the death sentence it once was. I could speak to the Yellows on your mother's behalf. The White Tower treated her poorly- perhaps the Grey might prove more understanding."

Her anger fizzled out and she was back to staring outright at him. Had she heard him right? Her mind was completely blank. They could... heal her mama? Katrie felt herself blink several times, her mouth opening... only to close again when nothing emerged. She might... might get her mama back, as the woman she once was?

“You'd best have everything arranged before you even think of going to see her,” the Cairhienin was speaking before she realized she was. The edge in her voice, sharp enough to draw blood, surprised her. “If you get her hopes up and then... it doesn't happen...” Katrie made a curt gesture with her hand, unable to articulate the way that thought made her insides turn to icy water.

She gasped a little, shaking her head from side to side again, seizing upon every ounce of self-control she had. Her eyes closed for a moment as she visibly tried to compose herself again. What was it about the idea of Jaryd getting close to her mama that set her on edge? Taking apart the door with saidin notwithstanding. But... he looked so serious. What if he really could do what he said he could? She couldn't believe she was actually considering it...

Blood and bloody ashes.

“If... if you're serious about doing this...” She met his gaze head on and held it. “If... you can give me back my mama... then take this with you when you go to Cairhien.” Before she could regret doing so, Katrie slapped her black stone necklace into his palm, ignoring the way her heart lurched.

At his look of surprise, she gave a quirk of her lips that had nothing to do with mirth. “You'll need to show my papa that and explain to him how you know me. Or had you a better idea for approaching my Stilled mama who happens to reside within House Riatin? Tell him that I told you the phrase 'I don't believe in jealousy' and he'll let you in. I'm trusting you.” Light send that Jaryd would someday know just how much she was, on little more than his word and a whole lot of intangible faith. “Promise me you'll see it through.”

[Sunny]

“You'd best have everything arranged before you even think of going to see her,” the younger woman said, her words falling like shards of broken glass between them. “If you get her hopes up and then... it doesn't happen...” Her beautiful face was contorted with fear and hope as she stared at him. As the Altaran watched, she seemed to realize how much she had exposed herself, for she shook her head sharply. He could sense the effort in every stabilizing breath she took until the only hint of her turmoil was in a flicker of her eyes as she stared daggers at his face.

“If... if you're serious about doing this...If... you can give me back my mama... then take this with you when you go to Cairhien.” She slapped the stone into his hand, and as it connected with his skin he felt the rock against his chest grow warm and then throb, a silent resonating chime that made his bones ache. What...? As the feeling receded, the shock of what she had done took over, and his gaze shifted from the necklace to her face in rapid succession. Why...?

At least he didn't have to wait for an answer to that question. “You'll need to show my papa that and explain to him how you know me. Or had you a better idea for approaching my Stilled mama who happens to reside within House Riatin?" He resisted the urge to laugh. You may find my rank amusing, but House Riatin knows not to stand between me and what I want. She was still so young behind that mask of pride. "Tell him that I told you the phrase 'I don't believe in jealousy' and he'll let you in. I'm trusting you.” The fear faded from her eyes, replaced with something he could not identify. "Promise me you'll see it through.”

The Asha'man felt old, old, older than the Spine of the World. The Void had become such a natural part of his life, a barricade against anything he did not wish to feel; how long had it been since he had allowed himself to simply feel what needed to be felt? How long had it been since he had so readily trusted anyone at all? It felt like he had been doing battle since before he could remember, taught to fight to win from his first breath on. He had learned honor and obligation at the business end of a dagger, and never forgotten the lessons learned. Duty is heavy as a mountain, he reminded himself.

He closed his fingers around the stone with slow precision, pressing it so hard against his palm that his knuckles went pale from the tension. "I am incapable of speaking anything but the truth," he said, "so please believe me when I say I have never broken a promise in my life." He reached out and touched her chin with his other hand, his dark face intense. "I swear by the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth: I will bring your mother to the Grey Tower for Healing if it is the last thing I do on this earth, Aikaterine." He smiled, an ironic quirk, "assuming, of course, that she wants to be Healed. I will not force her to do what she does not want for herself."

His hand fell and he stood, striding toward the door. "I need to speak to the innkeeper about compensation for what I did," he said briskly, not looking at her. "I will wait downstairs; when you are ready, come down and I will take you to the Mistress of Novices." He strode out, and as he passed through the frame, the Void wrapped its shadowy fingers around his soul, pushing everything that had just happened away, far away, banishing it to a place where he did not have to think about it, feel it, or even acknowledge it existed. By the time he reached the common room he was no longer Jaryd, but simply Asha'man: a shell of mortal flesh around a core of cold steel and raging saidin.

He had a promise to keep.