The Grey Tower

Life had become frighteningly simple for the tall Amadician; he ate when he was told to, he slept when he was told to, he held still when the dressing and bandages across his back needed to be changed – as he was told to. He even allowed them to bathe him as if he was a babe, as he was told to. All as he was told to. His dignity tried to reassert itself every now and again, but it failed to go far as it was still next to impossible for him to lift his arms over his head. The last time he had tried, he had reopened half of the partially healed marks across his back.

Zeen refused to be Healed, and clung to that stubbornly even as he was berated for being a stubborn, foolish boy. He was no boy though he kept being called such. The women with the ageless faces, Aes Sedai! his mind shouted at him, treated him with the same kind of curiosity mingled with mild neglect, as if he was a stray dog in need of care and a home. He exasperated them. It amused him a little to do so, he could not lie.

So long as they did not send him back to the Fortress of Light, they could fuss and ignore him in equal turns all they wished. He could even tolerate the idea of male channelers... these Asha'man, so long as they let him stay here. Zeen kept to himself mostly, spoke only when he was asked a direct question, using as few words as possible. He much rather preferred silence, grey eyes watching everything and everyone warily.

He grimaced faintly, shifting against the bench he sat on as he eased his back gingerly against the wall. The Infirmary was quiet today. He had become somewhat of a favourite of the Yellows. He used that term correctly...? Zeen frowned, running a hand absently through unruly brown hair, grimacing again as the motion tugged at the mess of forming scars and scabs between his shoulders. Yellow was how some of the women referred to themselves. Sometimes there were pretty girls in white dresses, a few with stripes of colour at the cuffs and hems. Other times, there were boys in coats with the occasional sword pin breaking up the unrelieved black. He wasn't entirely sure what it all meant yet, but he was almost positive that the sword pin and the banded colours indicated some kind of position or rank.

As if summoned by thought, grey eyes caught sight of one of the black-coated males, the sword pin visible only as a metallic glint from this distance. He looked vaguely familiar and it was with a shock of trepidation that Zeen realized the black-coated individual was speaking with an ageless faced woman and that they were speaking of him, as both of them turned at the same moment to stare at him. The tall Amadician sighed inwardly. He was not in the mood for company or conversation, but he prepared himself for the arrival of both.

The corners of metallic grey eyes tightened imperceptibility as the black-coated man approached, Zeen finding it difficult to keep from pressing back further against the wall. The mess between his shoulders blared at him in response, the ensuing rush of agony knocking the breath out of him. Abruptly, the world blurred, and the Amadician felt a rush of disgust at himself for being so senseless. His jaw flexed, long fingers clawing at the underside of the bench he sat on. A pained growl threatened to force its way of of his throat. It was only through years of enduring his father's Light inflicted “justice” that he managed to keep his face from twisting, keep the sound from escaping. And it was only through sheer will alone that he kept the rush of startled tears from falling.

Broad shoulders remained tensed, the injured man allowing himself to draw in a deep soundless breath as the other turned to gather fresh bandages and what Zeen guessed was salve from a nearby cabinet. His back began to ache in preparation for what was inevitably going to happen. Briefly, he entertained the notion of refusing to cooperate again. Just as quickly as the thought had come, he dismissed it. If he did that, then he would truly be the foolish boy that these Aes Sedai insisted he was.

He glanced up as the other man entered into the area that had been designated as Zeen's, light blue eyes briefly meeting grey before a slight gesture was made towards the narrow bed. “Hello, I'm Ayden,” the black-coated man said softly. “I'm here to change your bandages and to check on your progress, would you lie on your stomach on the bed, please?”

Zeen wanted to laugh. Progress. Every time they peeled the old bandages from him, he wanted to howl. He sighed mutely and did not bother to hide the grimace that flickered over his face, nostrils flaring slightly as he shoved himself to his feet as quickly as he could. He stared blankly ahead, throat moving up sharply, then down as he waited for the sickening lurch of nausea to pass. He pretended not to see the expression on Ayden's face, the tall Amadician shuffling to the bed, hesitation noticeable as he had to take several long moments to prepare himself.

Again, he felt his jaw flex, the breath hissing out between clenched teeth. His body protested and groaned at him as he eased himself onto the Infirmary cot, laying down on his stomach as he had been told to, his feet hanging off the end. Grey eyes squeezed shut and it was with no small relief that he let his cheek rest against the cool, if hard, pillow. He waved aside Ayden's concern, suddenly irritated at himself and his show of weakness.

“Do not trouble yourself on my account,” Zeen said curtly, his voice somewhat ragged as his arms looped together underneath the thin mattress. He hated what came next. “Do what you came here to do.”

He couldn't see the other man, but the grey-eyed man felt the exact moment Ayden touched the bandages. Hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. “What's your name?”

The Amadician appreciated the attempt to distract him, even if it did not work. “Zeen.”

"Try to be still for me, I'll try to be quick and as painless as possible."

Zeen was not entirely sure how to respond to the teasing tone from earlier, merely grunting in acknowledgment at the request that he stay as still as possible. His cheek pressed down against the hard pillow, a soundless breath easing out of his body.

His eyes widened as he felt... something wet trailing along his back, the tall Amadician shuddering at the unexpected cold. He had not seen anything that would warrant the sensation being carried in the black-coated man's hands upon Ayden's arrival, but that did not mean much. Zeen readily admitted to himself that many things could have slipped his notice and - his thoughts seized and ground to a halt as he felt the distinct unpleasantness of... tugging... along the place between his shoulders. The bandages were coming off.

His brows drew together, nostrils flaring again. The level pain that he had grown accustomed to was curiously absent; it was still excruciating, but... strangely tolerable. Zeen found himself more discomfited by the fact that he was able to endure it without wanting to howl more than anything else. Is he using the Power on me? That... no... Ayden would not. Would he? The Aes Sedai had not. Zeen felt his terror and rage rising and quickly pushed his face into the pillow and closed his eyes. He retreated within himself, forcing his mind to go still.

He could not say how long he lay there, blank and unfocused. It was not until the overpowering scent of... something medicinal and pungent besides, that brought him back to the present. That salve was wretched smelling, but he could not deny that the numbing properties were sorely welcome.

“Whatever you did,” Zeen began hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to know exactly what it was that Ayden had done, but feeling as if he was obligated to say something on it. “It did help.”

Zeen had not been expecting the rush of words from the other man, much less the admission that Ayden had indeed used the Power on him. The Amadician's teeth ground together as he flexed his jaw, using the brief sensation of discomfort to force himself to relax. Water, instead of Healing. A technicality, to be sure, but as he listened to the guilt-ridden words tumble out of Ayden's mouth, Zeen let out a heavy soundless sigh.

"My pain and discomfort should not be of concern to anyone else, save myself," he said gruffly, his reluctance evident. "However, I... appreciate the sentiment. I would not have thought to wet the bandages first." He very carefully did not look at the other man, the urge to lash out warring with the understanding he attempted to give; any outward influence could tip him away from one towards the other and the grey-eyed man did not wish to lose control in such a confined space.

It was still difficult not to simply curse at the black-coated man for going against his wishes. Zeen grimaced at the effort it took to calm himself, the broad Amadician breathing steadily through his nose. What Ayden had said required some kind of further acknowledgment, but as he shifted his shoulders and back against the fresh wrappings and bindings, he was not certain if he was qualified to give a response that would suffice.

"I would not have given you permission, had you asked, but what is done is done. There is no point in lingering. As for whether or not I prefer that you attend me or not, I do not believe that is up to me." Zeen tried to soften his tone, realizing how irritable he sounded. "But if you do return, I will not fight you if you decide to wet the bandages again. If you are finished, may I stand again?"

None of this was going as Ayden had hoped. He couldn’t think that every time he opened his mouth, he was making it worse. He started gathering his equipment and the bag of used bandages that he would take to be washed. “Yes, you may stand up again. I’m done with the bandages and the salve.”

He turned to leave and was almost to the edge of Zeen’s ‘room,’ such as it was. Something in his mind, stupidity probably, made him stop and set his things down before turning back to regard Zeen as the man sat up slowly. “Why would you assume your pain or discomfort wouldn’t be a concern to anyone else but you? I mean, you do know what an infirmary is? I don’t come here to change bandages because it’s the most fun thing to do.” His inner voice continued, Or even because you’re attractive beyond belief.

“The people here dedicate their lives to easing the suffering and pain of those around them. I hope to be one of them someday. I, personally, hate to see you… or anyone else,” he quickly added, “in this kind of pain. I wish you would let me try to heal you, but I won’t use the Power at all with you anymore, until you ask me to.”