The Grey Tower

Every so often, the pressure inside of his skull would lessen. The jagged spikes of glass and pain would withdraw, the Altaran’s mind pulling away. The overwhelming chasm of Jaryd’s grief and despair and resentment faded slightly. In those moments, Zeen felt as if he could breathe again, shoulders sagging as he relaxed into the brief respite.

The resentment was the worst.

It felt...bitter, sharp, and it came whenever the Amadician issued a command through the bond with twisting flows of Spirit. Zeen sighed, escaping outside, needing to be away from the crowds and noise, needing physical distance from his...bondmate? Warder? He scrubbed his hands over his face as he walked, fingers tugging irritably at the wavy, curly mess of hair that crowned his head. He gave another tug at the leather cord that hung around his neck, weighed down with the pins that denoted his rank.

He did not want to compel Red through the bond. Light! He sighed again. But what he wanted was irrelevant. He had nudged and directed the former M’Hael using their shared connection and he would do so again without hesitation. I am Green.. Worse, he was the Captain-General. Lovely.

An out of place flash of white interrupted his brooding, and Zeen lifted his head. His thoughts had taken him away from the Tower...into the Gardens? He smiled a little, regarding the girl that sat morosely on a bench nearby. Banded hems. An Accepted. Perhaps she had recently passed her Arches. She seemed oblivious to his presence and his head tilted to the side as he studied her.

Not entirely sure why he did so, the grey eyed man sat down on the opposite end. He glanced over at her and cleared his throat. “You look about as dour as I feel. Sometimes it helps to speak of it...” Zeen’s voice trailed off and he remembered belatedly to smile.

Zeen felt his eyebrows lift at the Accepted’s tone. He studied her for a long moment, adjusting the cord around his neck. The weight of the two pins felt heavier than usual, and he seized saidin, twisting flows of Spirit through the bond as he forbade Jaryd from self harm. Then, the Green muffled the bond, the icy shock of... silence and nothing morphing quickly to giddy relief.

The Amadician ran his hands absently through his hair as he gave the girl on the opposite end of the bench his full attention. What a strange Accepted. If it was not for the fact that she sounded so utterly miserable, he would have thought she was attempting to be flippant.

“I asked, did I not?” He kept his voice carefully moderated, stretching out long legs in front of him. His hands curled around the edge of the bench, arms flexing as his shoulders lifted. Zeen gave her a pointed look. “I hardly consider myself ‘nobody’. If I did not think it important enough to ask what was bothering you, I would not have.”

Silver-grey eyes watched for any kind of reaction. It was small, so faint that he would have missed it had he not been looking for it, but the girl straightened the barest fraction of an inch. The gesture reminded him abruptly of Jaryd and the brown haired man sighed softly, guilt making his tongue looser than it otherwise might have been.

“A man I consider a friend and whom I respect very much lost his Aes Sedai some time ago. I had to leave for a while but when I returned, it was to find that he had not improved. I did not agree with the Yellow Ajah’s methods of help and so I bonded him to try to keep him alive.” The corner of Zeen’s mouth lifted in humourless amusement. “That is what is ‘the matter’ with me.” He leaned forward, part of his weight resting on the palms that gripped at the edge of the bench. “Now, doveling, enlighten me. Why do you look as dour as I feel?”

The corners of silver-grey eyes crinkled and for a moment, Zeen could not help himself. He ducked his head and chuckled softly. It was not meant to be unkind, and he hoped that the Accepted would not mistake the sound for something that it was not. His amusement faded and he glanced over.

“I felt as you do, once. I thought it would be better for the world if I were to simply erase myself from the Pattern. I thought I did not have a purpose and that I was no one of any import. I wanted to die, and every morning after I woke, I prayed for release. A friend was finally able to help me see that such is not the case. You do not look too small or weak or pathetic. You look... sad and lonely.”

The smile that came to his face was genuine and it sat on his face crookedly. “I cannot Heal either. I am no mediator or lawmaker. I have no patience for politics and would rather fight my way through my problems than talk them out. And yet here I sit, an Asha’man of the Green Ajah, despite the fact that there were those that did not think I would make it. There were moments where I did not think I would make it. But my friend believed, and he believed in me.”

He stretched his legs out further, slouching a little. Wavy curls of unruly brown shifted as the Asha’man canted his head to the side, regarding the girl levelly. “You see, doveling, the Creator has assigned us all a purpose. You are here, and simply by existing, you already have a preordained place in the Pattern. Every man and woman is given the opportunity to fight against the Shadow. We are channelers and that fight is all the more important; you will become Aes Sedai, Light willing, and you will be able to change the world in ways that few even dream of.”

The Captain-General stood abruptly. “Come.” The word came out blunter than he intended and he shook his head at himself. An idea was forming and perhaps it would shock the girl out of her current state. Jaryd had done something similar with Zeen himself, and the broad man was curious to see if this approach would work. Reducing Shadowspawn into infinitesimal specs never failed to silence the voice of doubt and self-reproach in his own mind. It was his hope that it would do the same for the girl in front of him. “Accepted...?” He waited for her to fill in her name, and then nodded, turning his thoughts to the Traveling Yard. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Zeen. Walk with me.”

Silver-grey eyes glanced sidelong at Avyra, the Amadician slowing his pace before he stopped outright, turning to regard the girl. Zeen kept his face neutral, though he arched an eyebrow at her. Long fingers reached up and gave the leather cord around his neck a sharp tug, the only outward sign of his mild irritation.

“Are you calling me a liar then, Accepted?” he asked casually, his voice light. He looked at her expectantly. “No? Good. I do not take kindly to being thought of as such when I have done nothing to warrant it.” His tone softened and he bowed his head a little. “I meant every word that was said, Avyra.” The Asha’man gestured for her to start walking again and he fell into step beside her.

“I assure you, doveling, you are not so tiny that I am in danger of stepping on you. Sit you up on my shoulders perhaps,” he mused quietly, “as it would give you a better and farther vantage point to see what you are aiming at... but an idea for another time. And I do not believe that you are hopeless, nor do I believe your claims that you ‘cannot do anything’. If you were truly as useless as you think you are, you would not have survived the Arches.” He looked at her again from the corner of his eyes. “Light’s sake, if you cannot keep up with my pace, then say something. I do not bite.” Zeen grinned then, his brows lifting for a moment. “Not unless asked.”

He was perhaps being inappropriate, but he did not care. The girl needed to relax, and Light, so did he. As they approached the Channeling Yard, he considered what she had said last. “If you believe you are a child, then it is all you will ever be, Avyra. It is not necessarily a bad thing, to be underestimated by those around you. Let them think what they will. Continue to learn and improve. When the moment comes, surprise them, prove them wrong, and then move on to bigger and better things.”

Zeen nodded to the Aes Sedai on duty and at his request, her skirts twitched. He smiled and after a moment, a slash of light split the air in front of them. He turned and regarded the Accepted with a critical eye, nodding to himself. His mouth quirked upwards at the girl and he stepped through. The courtyard of the Citadel greeted him and he was pleased to see that Avyra soon joined him.

He took her hand for a moment and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Welcome to the Citadel. Stay close to me while we are here. You have nothing to fear, I swear it. I will make sure you are safe.”

He released her hand and beckoned for her to follow, keeping his stride shorter so that she would not be forced to jog to keep up. “I am going to take you to the quartermaster first. He will have clothes better suited to the Border. We do not wish to advertise who and what you are to those beyond these walls with those blinding whites. And the clothes they have here will probably fit better than your dress. Then I will take you to our rooms - do not worry, you will have your own, adjacent to mine. Rest, get your bearings, and tomorrow... well, I hope you are ready to have some fun, doveling,” Zeen winked at her, another grin coming to his face. “You will be riding out with the Captain-General of the Green Ajah.”

Zeen lay awake in the dark, on top of the bed with his arms folded behind his head. He stared up, his eyes tracing over every fitted seam he could find as he counted the ceiling beams that criss crossed the entire length and breadth of his room. The Asha’man unmuffled the bond and allowed the sense of the other that shared his mind to spread through his awareness. A small touch of Spirit and he reinforced the command that forbade Jaryd from self harm. They had a made a pact, and distance was no barrier to it. Still, the Amadician would find no sleep tonight.

Callie was not here. He smiled ruefully at that; she would have been utterly horrified if he had admitted that he had actually missed her. He sighed softly. This impromptu trip to the Citadel with a terrified Accepted in tow was perhaps not his brightest idea, but if Avyra was to find courage anywhere, it would be here.

He floated, half-awake in a dream-like trance as his thoughts swirled around him in peaceful currents. Perhaps he ought to bring Red here and - Zeen’s focus sharpened and he found that he was propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze roving around the room in search for... something. What? He seized saidin and that was when he heard it. Faint... so faint, muffled sounds of sobbing, punctuated occasionally by a frightened whine. It was the whine that had grabbed his attention. From the Accepted’s room? Something was wrong.

His legs swung off the bed and he rose to his full height. He yanked on his breeches, lacing them up quickly. He did not not bother with his shirt or boots, padding across the room to the door on silent feet. The Green hesitated, then shook his head at himself. He stepped out into the hall and then offered up a brief prayer to the Creator that he would not have something hurled at his head before slipping into the Accepted’s room.

He carefully eased the door shut and made it halfway across the enclosed space before he stopped. Looming over her would only bring her nightmares to life and if there was anything Zeen could sympathize with, it was dreams that chased you into the waking world. He gave another shake of his head, banishing his own memories before he went to lean back against the wall across from her bed, the scars between his shoulders twinging in protest at the hard cold surface. He slid down and settled himself on the floor, arms propped up on drawn up knees.

“I am sorry, doveling,” he said quietly. “I have nightmares as well.”