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Tweak says, "OoooLAaaa!!!!!"

Lady Vera of Beit-Orane (v_eritas) wrote in caeleste,
@ 2011-01-03 18:43:00

Entry tags:

close to home, eithne savastian, eragos feareborne, sleeping tiger, vera of beit-orane

What the Smoke Left [ Eragos, Eithne, Sleeping Tiger ]
Oak planks from a broken armoire were used for the campfire, which roared from the confines of a circle constructed of stone and metal pieces. Her brother, Gavrie, had taught her how to build a good fire when she was young. It was an odd, stray thought that came to her when she was tossing another piece of wood into the flames.

Gavrie had always been good at setting camp, at provisioning the right amount of supplies and looking ahead. She wondered if the coldness in his heart was as great as the man that he was named for. She wondered, as she had always wondered, what it was he believed. Would he agree with Faxril? Or would he agree with her father? Those questions never seemed important when she was younger.

But back then, she thought she could stop this.

Dinaden had returned some time ago, before Eragos and the rest arrived at the site she had cleared. She was glad to see her horse and her pack. The task of cleaning the blood from her nephew and wrapping him up in every blanket she owned was a tedious one. Veros didn't want her to touch his ears. Something had exploded close to him though he would not speak on what it was, and he cried bitterly when she finally made him sit still. There were glass and splinters to be removed from his feet and she did so as quickly as she could. He would be fine in a few days, so long as he didn't get sick. That was something Vera did her best to prevent.

None of her efforts eased her nephew's heart, but they did make him tired. She gave him every comfort she could manage -- her bed roll, a place by the fire, and the safety of her sitting not a foot away from him when he fell to sleep. The fire made her cheeks red. She and Veros had not spoken, but Vera knew that they would eventually. She spent her time alone by the fire trying to figure out what she would say. That was easier by far than thinking of the dried flowers she spun between her fingers or the corpse of her niece wrapped in a cloak too large for her body.

She'd bought Hania a cloak two months ago. A merchant convinced her it was a good buy. It was impractical, Faxril had protested in a letter, the amount of beadwork on the hood. The bright blue color. It wouldn't keep out rain or protect her dresses from mud. It turned her into a small, pretty target. But it is pretty, his wife's elegant handwriting countered in the margins of the parchment. Vera had never seen Hania in it. It probably was. Pretty.

When the others arrived, Bahn looked haggard and everyone else looked equally drained. Shadows fell thick in Eragos' hood. He was not as battered as he usually was after a catastrophic battle. But that was only because he hadn't gotten a chance to fight Talon. She did not try to find his eyes. She did not try to look at Eithne and Sleeping Tiger. Vera couldn't find words, so she kept to herself. Water she'd heated from her canteens and whatever rations she found in her pack, set out for them to have if they wanted. She had done her best on the campsite. And that had to be enough.

She went back to staring into the fire as they situated themselves. Meditation, or at least this was as close as she'd come while in a group. Really, she was simply trying not to fall asleep. Her cloak sat on the ground beside her, so she wouldn't get too warm. She folded one leg toward her and rested her arm on it, so she didn't lean back on her elbows.

Grief could be avoided when she was awake. She could be angry, she could listen to Veros breathe, she could take comfort that none of her friends were dead. But grief, that bottomless thing, was waiting for her deep beneath her consciousness. Occasionally it clawed at her stomach, forcing nausea upon her. It made her want to get up and leave Veros, just so she could collapse somewhere else. Her mother, her teacher...she would say she needed to face this. If Vera ever wanted a calm mind she needed to face the worst of what was inside of her. But Vera thought if she faced it, it would...she didn't know what would happen.

There were people with worse wounds, she told herself. Look at Eithne. There were people who lost more. Remember Tyrus.

It wasn't a comfort. But it kept Vera's shoulders from tensing when someone sat next to her.

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proscribed
2011-01-04 01:41 pm UTC (link)

Snow fell.

If you were the sort, you could look out across the burned and ruined landscape to find pockets of steam were still rising. Charred and ruined beams melted snow even still, as they met in the wasteland. Cinders glowed. Eragos had used one such oddity to light his torch. This torch was his guide as he searched for Rand among the desolate skeletons left behind by the raging fire. It looked as though a battle had been fought here. He'd been present as an observe during the Battle of the Iron Spire, and again later for the engagement at Duvarin's Crossing. Each time the layer of smoke was thick on the land Soldiers called it the fog of war.

Even more somber was the duty for which his war horse had been collected.

It would have been proper to carry the girl. Eragos could not make himself, even after what had happened, carry her more than a few feet. You were graced with many chances in this life to prove your worth, to see the right thing to do. It was not what you could and could not prevent that made you a villain. It was how you reacted to those things, and what you did or did not do in response. That was, finally, what stilled Bahn's tongue. He was left to recover Eithne and Sleeping Tiger as best he could while Eragos searched for his animal. Rand had a touch of ash streaking down the side of his face. A burning branch, most likely, and he'd taken a solid blow to the face from it.

"She isn't ready to walk far," Bahn's voice broke through his thoughts.

He was no man if he played games in his own mind. If this or that had been different... none of it was different. It all led to this moment. He could not help asking himself if the world would have been better served by the death of the brothers Feareborne. Was this, finally, what it meant to defy a god? Not to feel personally cursed - but to feel as he'd felt before, in his younger years, that everything you touched or valued was but a shadow easily stolen? Was this the judgment of Bahamut? He did not know when, precisely, he had stopped believing as fervently as he had in his youth. Perhaps it was just as the ink began to dry.

Perhaps it was his mother, relieved of her head, thrashing wildly on the cart they led deliberately past his stocks.

"She ain't heavy," the burly driver had said. "But nobody wants to touch her."

"Help her onto the horse," Eragos said.

The hood fell away from Hania's face as he pulled her slight form down from the saddle. There was blood on her chin, and soot stained her face, but she might have been asleep. He'd seen death before. He'd failed at both goals he'd set for himself. Find Talon and kill him. Bring the children back alive. There was but one remnant of Faxril's family, now, and the final drive to see the fate of the sole survivor would begin soon. If it had not already. Rand did not like this idea of strangers. He quieted himself at the sharp whistle of his rider. All the same, his tail danced, and his eyes were wide as he watched Eithne.

"Did you know a warhorse could bite your arm clean through?" Bahn asked cheerfully as he helped Eithne onto the horse. "I've seen it, you know; the horsemen of Simanel are very good at what they do. Even through the bone. Their teeth shear through it like swords. Quite an amazing sight, I think, if you don't mind all the bl-"

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proscribed
2011-01-04 01:42 pm UTC (link)

"Small talk?" Eragos barked.

Bahn had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Rand is a very gentle soul. As I'm sure you know."

It was not far to the makeshift came that Vera had established. Somewhere, a fire still burned. Clouds lay heavy on the sky. Yet the moon's light came through breaks in the cover - just long enough to see ash mixing with snow and streaking across the sky. It was cold without his cloak. Not as cold as the mornings in Aetherius, when he'd gone shirtless in his sparring, but he was no longer young enough to exert that kind of power over his mind. Bringing Eithne down from Rand developed into a far more laborious task than helping her up. Eragos could not help but wonder, just then, if he was right to withhold his anger.

It was not Eithne's fault that Hania was dead. But she'd gone in secret - with Sleeping Tiger! - and had nearly cost more than one girl her life. Eragos believed the Dragon Knight when he said that Talon had planned on killing the children all along. It had the right sound of madness to it. Together, they might have had a chance to stop him. Hania's lips parted, just long enough to seem an innocent sigh upon waking, and he could bear no more. She was placed as gently as he could upon the ruined earth. His hood pulled down, over her eyes. A turn, only long enough to seize his bedroll. He was still the first into the firelight. Bahn snatched the thing from Eragos' hands as the knight turned to offer it.

"Right this way, Eithne," and the bone-thin man still managed to sound sprightly. "Definitive proof that Eragos' travel bed is softer than a rock. You can try them both today."

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got_a_light
2011-01-04 11:03 pm UTC (link)

Eithne hated this sort of treatment almost as much as she hated the general silence from Eragos. She'd walked into this knowing that he'd be angry with her, maybe even worried about her, but she'd walked into it anyway. With her head held high. She would do the same if, and when, he decided to yell at her about it. She wanted to start it, either way, there was still a long road ahead of them now, and the sooner the fight happened the better. Eithne would not apologize for going, she had all the reasons in the world to, but she would apologize for not succeeding in everything she set out to do. She wanted to stop Talon, kill him if she had to, but she hadn't done that. She also wanted to save the children, that would have come before the second. She'd saved one of them. One of them. It didn't seem like enough. Sleeping Tiger was right, Talon meant to kill them both from the beginning. But she still felt terrible for either dying.

Children. They were only children.

Talon Feareborne had been nothing but a monster, through and through. She'd wanted to know more about him, maybe something would crop up and then she'd have a reason for all of this madness. But looking for answers from a monster didn't help anyone. Certainly not her. She didn't go around trying to ask Dragons to make sense, so why bother? Weakness infected her limbs, she didn't laugh at Bahn's joking manner, or at the fact that Eragos yelled at him, as she normally would. She could not pull a smile together for anything. Her lungs still felt like they were on fire even with the healing she'd been given. Broken robs mended, cracked ones set. Arm workable, but it felt heavy. She was sure she was still pale, when she saw her fingers, blackened in places, soaked in dried blood i others she could see the pale white of her skin. How much blood had she lost?

Was it enough?

Going to sleep wouldn't be easy, either way. She knew when she closed her eyes she'd see his eyes. She'd see the dead bodies they all left behind. She was sick of this mess. Sick of all of these people. There were no answers for them, and now she had to deal with the fact that Eragos was probably mad at her and she cared about it. She didn't want him to be mad about it, but he was going to be mad and she was too tired to try to explain her reasons. She couldn't even explain them with all of them around. Did it matter, in the end, if he were mad at her forever? Would she care? Yes. But if he was alive another day, another week, another month she could be at ease. She'd give him a lifetime if it were hers to give, her own if it came down to it.

She couldn't look at Vera when she finally made her way toward the fire, with Bahn for support.

"I'm not tired." She said defiantly, but with little fight in her voice. She wanted to be somewhere alone. She wanted to go find her horse and just start the journey somewhere, wherever they decided that they needed to go, alone. Alone. There was no way she was going to be allowed anywhere alone right now, or possibly in the near future either. Wonderful, she thought as she was guided and supported. Finally once Bahn had unrolled the roll close to the fire, Eithne carefully sat down on it. Immediately she began stripping the gloves away from her hands. Once they were off she carefully started to peel the strips of white cloth she'd wrapped around her palms and knuckles off. It was an automatic thing, done without much care.

Her knuckles were purple and red underneath, from crushing them under the brass plates, not injured, so much, they would be shattered without the careful placement of wraps and padding, but bruised all the same. Here her fingers could breath and feel the warm of the fire. it felt good. She probably needed to drink something, and eat something, but she had the stomach for neither thing right here. They'd probably want a better idea of what happened. Eithne didn't want to tell them anything more than they already knew. She wanted to move. But she sat as still as her sore appendages would allow her to. Shifting to try to relieve the ache. Her uniform was a mess. Once again, she'd need a new one.

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oniwaban
2011-01-06 02:50 am UTC (link)

Every other time he went somewhere with these people he was nearly burned to death. If they weren't running away from a fire they were riding to the next one. But in their defense he'd gone into that one willingly and almost alone. Probably would have ended differently if Eithne hadn't gone. He certainly wouldn't have hopped in through a window to introduce himself.

She didn't look ready to hear anything, so he didn't say it. He just stumbled along tiredly until he was in something rather like a camp, and then he slumped down in a heap. Horse could go stand wherever it pleased. He wanted to drink three gallons of water all at once but he settled for a canteen. The liquid washing down his throat made it feel somehow more raw, but at least it was cool now.

The knight glanced over at Veros. Asleep. That probably wouldn't last long once the boy's mind recalled what had just happened. Then he'd wake up crying. Couldn't really blame him.

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v_eritas
2011-01-07 05:19 am UTC (link)

Smoke rose from the fire the way it did in her dreams -- twisting serpentine lines that crawled up and up until snow broke them apart. She felt the shadows from the fire more than the actual flame; shadows stole her eyes from her sockets. She listened to Sleeping Tiger settle on the ground and down an entire canteen, to the clash of Bahn's tone against Eithne's. Eragos was still standing. Bahn, Bahn was...

Her mind wandered.

Snow flakes settled on her arm with specks of ash. Her uniform was chilled enough to keep them from melting immediately. She should have worn her cloak, if she had sense. The cold wind could be painful if it cut across the skin the wrong way. But she had to stay awake. Veros' blood was on her cloak. She could smell it there.

Vera rubbed her fingers together. Even in gloves, they felt cold. So cold that she could imagine them being wet. If she went too much farther with that thought, she would end up removing one of the small pots from by the fire and finding a way to clean her hands again. How many times had she washed her skin since Agethlea?

She turned her face away from the firelight to brush snowflakes from her arm, from her hair. The sound of fabric against fabric seemed too rough and she realized only then that no one around her was speaking. It was strange to be offended by that. Strange to be angry over silence. Vera didn't pretend to understand her heart in that moment.

"I have to take him to Simanel."

Her voice was as quiet as the embers. I... There was no we any more, was there? Eragos had made her choose once already. He followed initially because...of guilt? Because she had pressed him? Because she threatened to reach his goal before him? He would ride after his brother again, wouldn't he? And Sleeping Tiger. And Eithne. And Nieve. They would...do whatever they would. When it came down to it, when it had been so important to stay together, they split apart.

"I won't be able to track anyone. Not with Veros, not like this."

Not like this.

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proscribed
2011-01-07 04:09 pm UTC (link)

"You aren't thinking clearly," Eragos said, as quietly as he could. "The boy's father is a day's ride to the south. Simanel is four days' ride to the north. There are other concerns, as well."

He did not mention her name, but his eyes drifted toward his horse, and the bundle of cloak at the horse's feet. No one wanted to see her buried as part of the sprawling tomb system reserved for White Riders who elected to be buried in and around the Castel. No one wanted to see what would become of her, finally, and who could blame them? Yet this was one duty that needed to be discharged by family. Eragos could not fathom taking on the task himself - not when he could barely contain his contempt for Faxril and the decisions the lord had made. His wife and his daughter were dead. A high price to pay for arrogance. Eragos still could not summon anything other than pity for him. When you'd lived long enough in this world, you knew what you were prepared to tolerate.

The duty fell to the Lady Vera. Not because she was senior among them, or because she was exemplary, or even because she was most honest and honorable.

It was her family.

"Bahn, do what you can to make Eithne comfortable enough to ride," Eragos ordered sternly. "We leave in five hours for Simanel. Anyone who cannot ride waits here, to come after with the Lady Vera."

"She won't be healthy enough to ride for a week," Bahn protested.

"I said comfortable, not healthy," was all Eragos said in return. "From there the decision is hers. No one will fault you, Eithne, but I cannot wait."

"Why can't you?" Bahn demanded.

The silence that ruled the small campsite was stretched thin from the beginning. The Lady Vera only watched, half-aware, as if none of this was penetrating that aura of calm shock around her. Bahn looked as though he planned on laying about himself with that knife at his belt. Eithne merely looked to be her angry, belligerent self - denying things that were painfully obvious and pretending she'd taken no hurt - while Sleeping Tiger seemed content to sit in silence.

These were as beaten a group of people as he'd ever seen.

"I need to speak with the Captain, as soon as possible," Eragos' words were softer now. "I mean to gather as many White Riders as I can, and put an end to the Grey Riders. Whether they make their home in Eistocene or the Fire Peaks, I will find them."

"Just like that?" Bahn seemed stunned, himself.

Eragos' hands slapped together. Everyone around the fire gave a start save the sleeping boy - and how he could sleep, Eragos did not know. Perhaps he thought he was going to wake up. Fingers trapped fingers as his hands overlapped. Until the knuckles were white and they felt coldest of all his extremities. This was what he should have done after Hatharida. One defeat after another. One death after another. He would not let himself become numb to it. He would not let himself believe in secrecy any longer. Words were out, and rumors were spoken, and soldiers wore blue scarves despite their red capes. In a land as mad as this one, he was beginning to sound sane, and he did not think the implications of that were positive for anyone.

"You're welcome to come, of course," and now he jabbed a finger at Sleeping Tiger. "But only if you're willing to take orders. If not, ride another way, with my best wishes. The choice is yours."

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got_a_light
2011-01-09 07:21 pm UTC (link)

Eithne sat up more stiffly when Eragos mentioned her name, and turned her head to look as he was speaking. Ignoring everything was out of the question now because Eragos was talking about leaving and soon. There wasn't time to try to ignore the pain or the misery that went along with getting her ass handed to her in a fight and watching another small child die because she wasn't able to save them. Another litle girl. It hurt just as much as the first and there were people she wanted to kill because of it, just like she'd wanted to in the courts. The problem was there wasn't anyone to take that agression out on. She couldn't get angry at anyone here, save Sleeping Tiger and his idiot move with whatever that had been. Her ears still felt as though they were ringing and Talon had known what was coming. But, at the same time, he probably thought this was her fault because she went runing in and Eithne already had assigned herself the blame for that. A wonderful position, only not. Sitting didn't help.

She thought standing might, so she did, slowly, Bahn moved, but she waved her hand in an angry fashion to keep him from running over to help her again. Finally she could shake herself out, painful as that was, she didn't feel right standing. Her uniform was heavy with dried blood, dirt, ash, and whatever else was in it. Glass she thought. She would ahve stipped out of it and thrown it into the fire if everyone wasn't there, but right now everyone was here. Well, everyone that was left.

"We shouldn't split up." She could already hear the angry noises in her head, the barks of dogs ready to leap upon her for doing that very thing not hours ago. "I know. I just did that. It obviously wasn't the brightest idea in the entire world, and I've learned my lesson." What a lie. "So I don't think that Vera should go without us, I know that means riding in another direction for a day, and then going on for another week or more, depending on how much we need to stop." Eithne said that last bit for herself, she would need to stop. Even if she was as comfortable as Bahn could make her. She would need to stop because even standing on her own was making her dizzy. She'd never been this roughed up, or at least it was far enough behind her that it felt weird to be like this.

Probably in her youth. Maybe she was getting old. What a poor thought.

"And Vera would be an easy target carrying two people with her. And no, that doesn't mean I want to go ith her alone because I'm not much of a help to her either. I already told you." She was looking right at Eragos. "That I'm following you." Of course, that also meant protecting him even if he didn't want protection. "So if you want to go right now we'll go. But I want to be clear, as I can be considering I don't feel very good, that I don't currently think sending Vera alone is a good idea." Eithne grabbed her arm the, cupped the shoulder and grimaced at the pain of it. If she ever saw Talon Feareborne again she was going to be sure she was better prepared for a sword fight. Because it really fucking hurt when you weren't ready for it.

"But is Simanel where you really want to go?" It was almost selfish to not want to return there. But Eithne knew very well that Agrippa was probably mad at all of them, especially at her because of what happened in Hatharida. She was sure Hasna had said something about it by now. If there already hadn't been a report by someone else. Cols, maybe, before he died, could have written something. He'd been alarmed. The thought of Cols, or Raed, Birloch, Martine, and Grees was a heavy one. They were so very alone right now. Without the easy smile of any of them. Grim in a way none of them should have been. She could remember smiles from everyone in this room. None of them could now. Part of that was her fault.

The rest of that was all Gavrie and Talon. or was it Seca, Gavrie, and Talon? Whoever was in charge in the end, had made their lives a miserable sort of black. She could not be relied on to make jokes these days, and Bahn's were always poorly timed. She didn't want to think that the last time she smiled was going to be her last, even if it was alright with her that her last smile was given to the person she was looking at right now.

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oniwaban
2011-01-11 03:47 am UTC (link)

Sleeping Tiger was trying to get his naginata clean. The polearm was across his lap and his fingers worked as well as they could on the wrapped haft. The digits felt belligerent. He bit down on a noise which was almost all frustration and slapped the rag against the ground.

"I mean to gather as many White Riders as I can, and put an end to the Grey Riders. Whether they make their home in Eistocene or the Fire Peaks, I will find them."

Sleeping Tiger looked up and stared quietly at Eragos. Finally. All of the words he wanted to hear all at once. The younger knight found his feet with a set of slow, bruised bones.

"You're welcome to come, of course. But only if you're willing to take orders. If not, ride another way, with my best wishes. The choice is yours."

"Yes," Sleeping Tiger said with a nod. "If it means killing them, I'll do as you say."

He leaned heavily on the staff of his ancient weapon. Before he could explain that the only reason he'd left alone--or with Eithne, rather--was that he didn't want any hesitations, Eithne was speaking her piece. So Sleeping Tiger looked back and forth at the conversation with dark eyes. If getting what he needed meant pledging himself to service then...That was the will of the limitless wisdom.

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v_eritas
2011-01-13 03:38 am UTC (link)

Something...something inside of Vera resonated with the words that criss-crossed over the fire. A part of her that existed farther inward than the heart yet no so far as the spine. The loud clap of Eragos' hands did not spur the back and forth in Vera's mind, it did not have her pushing her hand almost painfully into the dirt to follow Eithne in standing. It was the furious pulse of her grief, her anger and her beliefs all running together in the cold tension of the camp.

"I am not thinking clearly?"

The tone of her words was not generous nor diplomatic toward Eragos. They were small tremors of what moved through her heart.

"Do you think I forgot the corpse wrapped in your cloak? Do you? I can speak her name, at the very least. Hania. Hania who was three when she was butchered. Hania who could carry a melody even when her home was void of music."

She shook her head. She couldn't say more. Her hair slipped wildly from the braid she'd woven earlier. She didn't care.

"Have I ridden off to kill Talon myself? Have I spoken of being careless with the health of another Rider? Have I suggested leaving one of my own behind? Have I proclaimed my intention to take Riders from Simanel? A city that will surely be attacked? I'm not thinking clearly?"

The blackness that existed in her eyes could have been blamed on the way flames cast shadows. She was without her gloves and the leather belt that contained her throwing knives only seemed more menacing just then. She looked as if she could have hit Eragos with her fist in that moment if she moved too quickly. But all of that was offset by the tears that escaped her eye, cutting a cold path down her cheek.

"If only I had thought clearly Agethlea, when I convinced myself this was a noble task. When I thought the idea of working together meant something. We've done this twice now. You would give Talon the same position again and again by hunting him the way you are. Until he kills you...

Do you think you can take out the Grey Riders without more allies? Do you think those White Riders will be prepared as you rush them along? Does that even matter to you? What if you find the Western Army instead? Will you fight them too?"

Vera did not care how unforgiving her questions were. She wasn't going to go along gracefully. She wasn't going to nod along. No. She'd let Eragos know exactly what she thought before he left her.

She only moved to wipe the moisture from her face. Her free hand curled up into a fist, but already her fire was gone. Eithne's words were too late in coming to reach her, after too devastating a loss.

Faxril was not at his camp any longer. He had been waiting for a sliver of hope and got it in her poor image. The North Tower had to be dealt with. She did not say it. Faxril would have rode out the moment they did. Finding him anywhere short of the North Tower was too far of a chase to be practical. Taking Veros to Simanel was the only road.

She would not say it. It wouldn't matter. And she could do it alone.

"But I'm not thinking clearly. So leave me here. Just spare an hour to watch over Veros. I want the chance to clean Hania's body without his eyes on me."

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proscribed
2011-01-13 10:00 pm UTC (link)

While she spoke, he was adjusting his saddle, ensuring that everything was as it should be. His sword was a part of Faxril's camp. No doubt it had been stolen by one of the more shiftless soldiers. He found the thought enraged him as much as anything could. She was adamant in her refusal to return, and he could not spare the time, for personal reasons only. That was what she continued to fail to understand. Personal reasons were not enough of a reason to do anything. She blamed him for a great many things, it seemed. She angrily speculated on the success of his supposed endeavor instead of wishing him well or even proposing something calmly. Every emotional outburst that leaked from her lips was felt as hard as a slap in the face, illustrating his point and hardening his heart in the same breath.

Eithne had been litttle better.

In fact, he did not have the time it would take to parse out the subtle differences that would make him despise one of them more.

"I will not share a camp with you," was what he said when the Lady Vera finished.

It would do no good to talk further with her. He would not stay to indulge her obvious emotional whims. All that anyone could tell him, again and again, was that he owed it to no one to see Talon dead. Yet Eragos knew of no one else who was the right combination of willing and able to deal with the problem. He also knew that he'd taken an oath to do what was right. What was right? It was not right to call Lady Vera a petulant child, or remind her that thousands upon thousands had died because she and her comrades had kept the machinations of the Red House a secret for far too long. If she would spit a dead girl's name in his face instead of remembering her duty - to protect, not to nurture her own sense of grief and responsibility and rage muddled together - then it was past the point of words.

"Mount up, if you intend to come along," Eragos snapped at the boy. "I mean to make Simanel in three days."

One foot hooked into the stirrup. The other swung over the saddle. An expert motion that felt as a knife to the heart. Whatever came next, he thought he would be lighter without Eithne and the Lady Vera to concern himself with. He also thought he would be poorer.

A choice had to be made. He dug in his heels, and Rand sprang into action, charging into the field of ash without hesitation.

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got_a_light
2011-01-16 08:10 pm UTC (link)

"Eragos!" Eithne yelled. Unable to stop herself from expressing the feelings that normally caught in her throat rather than spilling out of her mouth. Somehow this reminded her of Oisea. He was leaving her again. But instead of turning to the fire and being done with it, she ran, as much as she could, away from the fire and after him. She only managed to make it a few yards before her legs gave way, she managed to keep herself from falling, but not without wrenching her side. Painful wave after wave, each step felt like trying to take a breath under water. Bahn caught her the second time.

"Stop!" She yelled, trying to break away from Bahn. If she could catch Eragos. If she was faster, or stronger, less injured, or something. Grief and anger were muddled in the emptiness that suddenly filled her. Grief for the dead girl, anger at Vera for her reaction and for Eragos in his reaction. In leaving them, no, leaving her here. It didn't matter so much that he'd left Vera, or Sleeping Tiger, Bahn, or the boy behind. It was bad in a way of course, but not one Eithne cared so much for. The fact that he'd left her here was the upsetting part of it. She would have gotten on her horse if she knew where the damned thing was. Bahn's hold was strong enough to keep her from running any longer. But it hardly kept her from trying to deck him.

She couldn't get a good enough angle on him, he had her number today. For some reason that upset her, and she fell against Bahn. "He left." Whatever fight she had in her seemed to evaporate at once. She didn't know which way was up. She was moving, or being lead. Being lead, back to the fire by Bahn. Neither of them spoke again as they moved. Eithne wanted to yell something at Vera, for causing Eragos to leave. It wasn't like..

They'd both reacted..

The blinding pain was enough to keep her grounded this time. Bahn was fixing the bandages. She wouldn't be able to go anywhere until she could travel by horse. Her horse appeared in her line of vision, skittering not far behind where Vera was still standing, on the edges of their 'camp', Laise wasn't the best horse. And Eithne wanted to turn her anger on the beast, if it'd been here a minute ago..

When she could have at least have tried to get on a horse. Her eyes were shining in the firelight, but she wouldn't look at anyone any longer. Sleeping Tiger would likely leave them, leave her with Vera, Bahn, Veros, and a dead body.

The only other thing she could mutter was a string of curses far too colorful for everyone.

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oniwaban
2011-01-17 06:38 pm UTC (link)

Vera exploded. (Figuratively). He knew how she felt, except he hadn't had anyone to shout at when his family was destroyed. It had just been him and an empty monastery, smoldering and hazy, silent corpses gasping up at the grey sky. Grief treats people differently. For him it was anger. Impatience.

"Mount up, if you intend to come along," Eragos snapped at him. "I mean to make Simanel in three days."

Sleeping Tiger nodded with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. If only there was a way to make his body sleep and rest while moving. What few things he had, the most important of which was his polearm, were gathered quickly. His legs felt like stretched rubber and the spear in his hands grew heavier by the second. But he hurried to his horse all the same.

He wasn't in the saddle by the time Eragos and his horse were chargging out of the miserable camp.

"Stop!" Eithne cried after him.

"He's not going to," Sleeping Tiger said as he hauled himself over the saddle. He winced. "Not now."

His agile horse started moving. A quick trot at first and then he eased it into a run. Every buck of the addle against his legs felt like a club, sent a shock all the way up his spine. But it time to finish this.

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