The tear-dropped shaped courtyard in the middle of the Soldiers' Quarters was mostly empty. Part of that was the hour, during lunchtime when most soldiers scurried to cram as much food into their stomachs as possible in the time allotted. The other part was the driving rain that poured out of near-black clouds overhead. There were a few trees spotted around the tear-dropped lake in the courtyard, and Ilarin Pachenos was sheltering under one of those. He watched the ripples the raindrops made on the lake's surface in quiet fascination, although he was oblivious to the drops that struck him through the foliage.
Chomping on an apple he had procured earlier in the day, during chores in the kitchens, Ilarin felt along the invisible division that separated him from saidin. The torrent of power that surged from that immaterial place was a constant curiosity to the Illianer. What could be done with it? What impossibilities were made possible with the Power? Could fictions become realities, or realties fictions? There was a lot, he knew distantly, that he had to learn still. But the Dedicated and Asha'man were too focused on protocol and propriety. That had nothing to do with saidin.
Ilarin knew the rules about channelling unsupervised, but seizing the source wasn't the same? Even if it was, Ilarin wasn't one to learn a lesson without being taught it a few times first. Putting the apple down on the sodden grass, the soldier reached out to saidin. The raging surge of energy struck him like a storm wave, but he seized onto it with a practiced hold.
Saidin made reality pop to life. Ilarin felt like he could see each droplet of rain landing on the pond. He reached for his apple, feeling the individual blades of grass brushing against his skin as he did so. A recurring thought returned to him just then: Life should always be like this.
With his senses heightened, the Illianer became aware of another presence in the courtyard. The torrent that was saidin vanished. With a mournful groan, he returned to watching the lake whilst finishing his apple. If he just ignored whomever it was, maybe he could be left in piece for a few minutes longer.
Chomping on an apple he had procured earlier in the day, during chores in the kitchens, Ilarin felt along the invisible division that separated him from saidin. The torrent of power that surged from that immaterial place was a constant curiosity to the Illianer. What could be done with it? What impossibilities were made possible with the Power? Could fictions become realities, or realties fictions? There was a lot, he knew distantly, that he had to learn still. But the Dedicated and Asha'man were too focused on protocol and propriety. That had nothing to do with saidin.
Ilarin knew the rules about channelling unsupervised, but seizing the source wasn't the same? Even if it was, Ilarin wasn't one to learn a lesson without being taught it a few times first. Putting the apple down on the sodden grass, the soldier reached out to saidin. The raging surge of energy struck him like a storm wave, but he seized onto it with a practiced hold.
Saidin made reality pop to life. Ilarin felt like he could see each droplet of rain landing on the pond. He reached for his apple, feeling the individual blades of grass brushing against his skin as he did so. A recurring thought returned to him just then: Life should always be like this.
With his senses heightened, the Illianer became aware of another presence in the courtyard. The torrent that was saidin vanished. With a mournful groan, he returned to watching the lake whilst finishing his apple. If he just ignored whomever it was, maybe he could be left in piece for a few minutes longer.
OOC: Anyone can come across Ilarin as they like, on whatever agenda  |
