Every Breath You Take

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Dena breathed a sigh of frustration, holding one of the old volumes gingerly, its leather spine pinched between her thumb and finger in front of her wrinkled nose. She thought there should be a cloud of dust sprinkling from the splayed-out pages, but it was immaculate. How was that even possible? She knew her nose wasn’t broken. The disease had sharpened her senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Even if he read every single one of these books every bloody day, they should not be this clean. Suddenly the book tumbled from her fingers onto the bed underneath her as she realized he must clean them with the one power. She didn’t know which made her more uncomfortable, the male half of the source, or a male who used that power to clean his books. No she knew, it was the latter. Definitely.

Julian was an odd duck. First, he ran away from her immediately after bonding her, and then he ran even further away on some secret mission not long after. How was any of this fulfilling his promise to help her? She supposed she couldn’t expect him to drop everything in his life for her immediately…this mission was probably decided on long before she showed up unexpectedly at his doorstep. But why did he leave her with books both times? Didn’t the poor guy have any friends? Probably not if he thought it was reasonable for her to stay locked up in their rooms while he went on some exciting adventure.

It’s not that Dena had anything against reading, but she was getting stir crazy in here! Sure, it had only been an hour since Julian left, but how dare he tell her what she can and can’t do? She wasn’t some caged animal!

That thought made her shiver. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to get any reading done now she told herself, smoothing her leather skirt. Golden eyes flicked to the mirror to see that her braids were in place and she pursed her lips wondering how to hide her unnatural irises. Possibly a cook in the kitchen could loan her a bonnet. She threw her cloak over her shoulders before slipping out the door, not completely sure where the kitchens must be, but feeling confident her nose would get her there. Oh how nice it was to get a breath of fresh air!

[Cirus]

Watch her.

Those had been the orders, and Cirus had not had the guts to question the Asha’man. He had pushed for some clarity, would he be expected to keep an eye out during chores, what about during his training? Vague assurances were all he’d received, not exactly comforting to the young soldier but he couldn’t go around questioning a full brother within the spirit legion. So he’d done his best to watch this woman who was a complete stranger to him. He’d watched from the training yard when he could, looking in the general direction for the description of the woman he’d been given. So far he’d seen no movement, just the usual wives and daughters moving around the tower, no stranger. No one that ‘he would know instantly was the one he was watching.’

So it was today as he worked on his hand to hand drills, solo sparing that wouldn’t have seemed out of place for a soldier to do. Yet his heart wasn’t in it, his eyes were constantly scanning as he moved slowly, and he had to stop himself from slipping into that half state of meditation several times throughout his training. He had to keep his mind sharp, taking note of everyone who walked by the area that the Asha’man had their quarters in. It was exhausting, but at least about an hour after nightfall, he was able to return to his sleep. No one walked the streets that late save the brothers who, like him, were on a task or preferred to train later into the day.

He knew little of who he was looking for, save she was a young woman, approximately his own age. Not much to go on, but a decent enough description. At least she wasn’t a regular of the tower. So he kept his eyes peeled for someone who might match the description as he continued through his own drills. He was about to slip into that semi-meditative state when he noticed someone who was definitely not a regular wandering the streets. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew that figure was one he hadn’t noticed before. No, he would have made note of a woman like that before.

He paused in his drills and moved to a watering pump, all the while trying to keep his eyes on her. He was hardly being inconspicuous, but he could only assume that the Spirit Legion brother had told the woman his intent. At least, Cirus certainly hoped that was the case. The last thing he needed was a bad reputation, especially with the full brothers. He’d heard of what could happen to men who chased after another man's wife or lover, it wasn’t pretty. He shuddered slightly as the water went down his throat. He definitely didn’t need that, but he could only hope that Julian would remember the order he’d given.

As the woman continued to move off, Cirus grabbed his coat from where he’d set it and put it on. Watch her. Those were his orders, and he intended to see them through.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Nose in the air, Dena marched towards the smell of the kitchens. Though she hadn’t been hungry before, the scents that drew her towards her destination were making her salivate. She moved instinctively with a hunter’s grace, avoiding obstacles without seeming to notice them. Even sweaty shirtless muscular men could not distract her from her dinner and disguise. She reminded herself somewhat ruefully that she should look for a bonnet before filling a bowl as her stomach began to growl.

A sudden feeling caused her feet to falter for the first time since leaving her rooms. Something wasn’t quite right. The hair on her arms stood up and she hugged her hood lower over her face while simultaneously trying to peer out from under it.

Abruptly, everything came crashing in around her. All the other sights, sounds, and smells she had filtered out before, rushed into her all at once. Turning around in a panic, braids flying, she slipped and fell flat on her bottom, causing her to let out a strangled sort of yelp. She didn’t seem to notice that her hood had slipped, and her golden eyes darted around, scanning for threats. When they fell on the young man watching her beneath a head of blond hair, they narrowed. She had found the source of her wrongness.

She pointed a long delicate finger and called out to him.

"You! Well, this is all your fault, the least you can do is help me up."

Luckily the ground was dry, but she was embarrassed and didn't want to risk falling again while trying to get up.

[Cirus]

Cirus watched the petite figure as she made her way through the camp, what he thought might have been wandering initially he quickly realized was a walk toward the kitchens. It was a direct route, but it seemed to him to take a little while longer than normal, might have been because he was having to dodge through the crowds rather than take side streets he usually did. It certainly did seem direct, and the woman seemed focused. That was good, it meant he could afford to get just a little closer. A memory came up unbidden from one of his old ‘friends’ from his life before the Black Tower. ‘A distracted mark won’t take note of someone getting close, even less note if that person suddenly starts to drift away and their coin purse is a little lighter.’

He shook his head as the woman moved away after getting her meal. If she sat down that would give him a chance to grab something. He considered getting something, even if it was just a roll to sit down and munch on. He could hardly look inconspicuous if he wasn’t eating in the kitchen unless he wanted to volunteer for kitchen duty, and THAT would certainly draw eyes from the mistress of the kitchen. No one volunteered for that particular duty, well, not unless they were stuck like he was without any useful skills.

Cirus watched and moved instinctively to help as he saw the woman suddenly turn and she looked like she was going to lose her balance. Sure enough, she seemed to fall flat on her bottom as she turned, dark braids flying around her hair. For a moment he thought she was in a panic. She certainly reminded him of how he used to look around whenever he heard the clank of boots on the pavement.

"You! Well, this is all your fault, the least you can do is help me up."

For a moment Cirus' heart froze in fear as he also froze in motion towards her. Had he been that clumsy? No, he’d been following her the same way he’d followed his marks before, and at that distance, there was no way she could possibly have known he was simply following her. He took a deep breath before moving forward to offer her his hand.

“You must be mistaken miss. I was only heading toward the kitchen.”

As he got closer he froze once more, not out of fear but shock. Her eyes shined gold, not yellow or sickly, but gold like the dragons that the full Asha’man wore. For a moment he forgot his orders, he forgot the persona he was trying to adopt, he even forgot that he was only supposed to watch this woman.

“Wow.”

His statement was barely a breath, and he couldn’t recognize it for the fool thing to say that it was. His eyes remained locked on hers as his hand reached out closer to her. His mouth was still half-open, and he wanted to ask a hundred questions. Sheer shock kept him from doing so, but he could only wonder where they had come from. He’d heard that the Prince-Consort of Saldea after the last battle had golden eyes. Could she be Saldean? Probably not, she was too short, too pale. Maybe she was related? He’d heard that some nobles would marry far away for political reasons.

He fought not to go red as his mind came back to him. As embarrassed as he was that she caught him snooping he didn’t want to go beet red. He’d been asked to watch her, not make a fool of himself while talking to her.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Dena’s eyebrow lifted at his denial. He had been staring at her so intently. She had had the feeling of being stalked, she was sure of it…and to be completely honest, something smelled off about this young man. Trust your instincts said the voice in her head.

She told the voice to be quiet and allowed him to take her hand, her lips curving into a smile at his one-word utterance. Realizing belatedly that he was staring into her eyes, her features tightened, but she resisted the urge to throw her hood back over her head.

She stood, with his assistance, and did her best to think quickly. He smelled…impressed? She wasn’t sure that was quite right, but he didn’t smell afraid the way he had after her accusation. He must not know what yellow eyes meant. Dena took another sniff, rubbing her poor behind that was likely already starting to bruise, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was sniffing to smell and not out of annoyance.

The smell of danger had lessened if anything when he saw her eyes. The scent of wrongness from the beginning of their encounter was completely gone. He probably had just thought her pretty and was embarrassed to have been caught looking. Dena knew how to work with that. The Domani blood running through her veins felt like it actually warmed in anticipation of putting her mother’s teachings into practice.

She hung her head for a brief moment and then giggled, slowly bring her head back up to look at him through her long lashes.

“I guess it was pretty silly of me to blame you…I was embarrassed. Apparently, I cannot even make it to the kitchens on my own. Since we are headed to the same place, maybe you could see me there safely?”

She inquired, holding her hand out in a way that demanded he offer his arm to her. Her big golden eyes stared up at him, imploring him to stay close.

[Cirus]

Cirus was surprised at how quick the woman's demeanor changed. She seemed annoyed but not defensive, at least at first. That was the only reason he could think for her sniff, a fair feeling since she’d just stumbled and fell. As he looked at her further the eyes became less of a concern than the rest of the petite woman.

Her clothes were unlike much of what he’d seen, and he could not place the style. Well cut, modest, and dark. It was an interesting style of clothing. He knew he’d seen the style before, but for the life of him he could not possibly place it to a nation.

Her clothes quickly took a back seat to her face, oval shaped, framed by long dark hair. In comparison to the eyes her face was nearly as captivating.

Focus! You’re supposed to be watching her not leering at her!

She certainly wasn’t making that any easier by looking up at him with those golden eyes through her lashes. He fought not to go red, trying to summon the calm that the flame and the void brought. It worked, partly. Enough that he could focus on her words instead of her face. The kitchens, yes… the kitchens. It was close to mealtime anyway, going to the kitchens wouldn’t be out of place. It would make it easier to watch her too. At least, it would make it easier to do so without looking like a fool or letcher.

He extended his arm as she put out her hand. He tried to smile in a way that could be considered charming. Rhian would have had a better one off hand, but he was no Rhian al’Mathin. He was just another soldier, at least she wasn’t asking him to do something he couldn’t.

“I’d be happy to escort you to the kitchens miss…?”

He let the question hang as he started toward the kitchens, taking what he knew was the most direct route from where they were, if not the fastest.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

"I'm Dena!"

She supplied, cheerfully entwining her arm with his. 

"And I'm very lucky because you are a dashing and heroic Asha'man, who I am sure is simply full of interesting stories about all of your exciting adventures."

Her lips formed a pout.

"I've had nothing but books to keep me company for what feels like ages!"

She allowed him to lead and pulled up her hood in a way that she hoped appeared casual. It was a warm day and her cloak was far from necessary, so drawing her hood was almost impossible to do without feeling as though everyone they passed must be eyeing her suspiciously. She wondered if he thought the behavior suspicious, maybe she hadn't ought to have done it, but it was too late now. 

Dena wasn't usually known for overthinking things. In fact, her mother had often scolded her for not thinking enough. Keeping secrets was as easy as distracting a baby, but just as exhausting. Dena was not a fan of having to weigh the possible consequences of every move she made, and her dislike of the practice had kept her from practicing it, much to the chagrin of her father. If he was her father. Honestly, he likely wasn't since they had almost nothing in common except for this sudden blossoming of neurosis she seemed to have developed. If she was to turn into either of her fathers she would rather it be the Tinker. Traveling without a care in the world was much more appealing than fretting over Daes Dae'mar every day. 

And here she was in her own personal Daes Dae'mar nightmare of her own making. No, not her making exactly...Julian's! "Tell no one" he had said. Why not though? Did he not trust his own men? Could she really trust him? Was this whole thing a terrible mistake? 

The man in black was talking again, how long had he been talking while she was lost in her own thoughts? She hoped she hadn't missed anything important. Bits of what he had said floated around in her brain and she pieced them together enough to get the gist. They had arrived at the kitchens and she applied a gentle pressure to his arm signalling for him to stop and she laid her other hand upon his chest.

"I am so sorry to interrupt, but do you think the cooks might have a bonnet I could borrow? I feel that it would be most improper to have my head uncovered with all of these men around, but eating from under a cloak is very unpleasant."

[Cirus]

Dena. Well, now he at least had a name to the face he was supposed to be watching. It certainly helped that he could file her away as something more than ‘pretty girl with pretty eyes.’

As she entwined her arm within his he felt himself already start to fluster. He had to focus, to keep his mind on the task at hand or he wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade of just a wanderer. He tried to summon the flame and the void, to force himself to calm down. He didn’t reach for the power when it appeared, but he felt his breath steady and his mind clear. He could focus now. He could talk to her without making a fool out of himself. Her flattery didn’t help, he knew it was flattery but he still felt some chills run up his spine.

“Books, heh. I can imagine how boring that must get. Not having anyone to have a conversation with can be quite boring, especially when the writer is dead and can’t speak to their ideas.”

He felt himself start to babble about books, about old authors and dead men. It was hardly the most interesting of topics but it was the only thing he could think to talk about. Light knew that he wasn’t able to talk with her about his most recent adventures. He doubted this woman was a darkfriend, if she was then she wasn’t very good at remaining inconspicuous. However, Julian had asked him to watch her without providing any kind of reason why…. Did he need to worry?

He was grateful when she asked about a bonnet. A change in the topic that meant he could stop rambling about old dead men. It was odd that she was concerned about eating without her head covered. That wasn’t a custom that he was familiar with.

“Um…. of course, would you like me to ask?”

[Dena n’am Damodred]

He barely even batted an eye. Men were so funny. She probably could have told him the sunlight sometimes caught her hair on fire and he would have believed that.

"Oh yes please, would you? How lucky I am to have run into such a chivalrous gentleman!" She gushed in obvious delight.

While he went to fetch her a bonnet Dena tried to keep her eyes down, but her nose kept pulling her back up. Her mouth began to fill with her own saliva, something which both fascinated and disgusted her. Conflicted though she may be in her feelings, one thing was certain, standing there doing nothing about it was intolerable. With that decided, she moved towards the smells with purpose.

Plate firmly in her grasp, she made her selections. Wherever there was meat, Dena's hand reached for it. With her dish piled high, she found a seat at an unoccupied table, and began to gnaw on a chewy strip of meat which had a wonderfully smokey flavor. She was haunted somewhat suddenly, by the memory of campfires and songs she had to leave, and her munching slowed to sullen mastication.

She perked up again though, when the young man in black returned, and her arm shot up, waving to let him know where she was. She almost yelled to him and then realized she had never asked his name. Well that was certainly embarrassing. At this point it might even be too late to ask politely. She wondered if she could get away with calling him dashing Asha'man all through lunch. Actually, maybe that was what he wanted. It was very odd that he had asked her name and not even bothered to introduce himself. He probably got a big ego stroking from the pretty girl calling him by his title and intended to keep it that way. She rolled her eyes, men were so funny.

"yew-hoo! Over here handsome Asham'man, sir!"

She called out with a giggle, and then was glad for her cloak when every man wearing black within earshot turned to look at her.

[Cirus]

Cirus smiled uncertainly, this woman’s vocabulary certainly was expansive. She made him feel like a complete idiot, but he didn’t dare ask what the word chivalrous meant. Instead, he took that moment to slip away and into the back of the kitchens. He took a deep breath as he did so, whoever this woman was it was almost impossible she wouldn’t see through his games. He felt outmatched at every turn.


He was quickly able to find a woman who had a spare bonnet, and while she did ask questions she was more than willing once she figured out Cirus intentions were literally just to get a bonnet for a woman who wanted one. She even smiled as he walked off, telling him how good a lad he was for helping the poor girl out. That grated against something deep within him, here he was, pretending to be a good guy to spy on her. Somehow it cut deeper to think about than it had before.

When presented with an unwinnable scenario, change the rules.

He wasn’t sure why that particular passage had jumped into his mind, but it was true enough here. He was told to keep an eye on her, he was doing that. He would figure out how to do that without making himself into the bad guy later. After all, he was keeping an eye on her, presumably for her safety.

He got himself a small meal as well. He hadn’t had the stomach to eat earlier, nerves set alight with the assignment. He’d thought it would be alright, and that he’d be able to make it through the day without anything since this was his only chore today and he had no physical training scheduled for that day either. He wouldn’t make it to the midday meal, so he grabbed something simple and small.

"yew-hoo! Over here handsome Asham'man, sir!"

He looked up and walked over, forcing a small smile on his face as best he could. Earlier that day there was no one who would have called him more than “Soldier.” He tried not to think about the conflict brewing in his soul, he’d decided on a course, he just needed to figure out a way to execute on it.

“Here you are, Miss Dena.”

He handed over the bonnet, half absentmindedly. With any luck, she’d just think him struck by her charms, a half-truth.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Well, he didn’t swell with pride when she called out to him, so perhaps he was humbler than she thought. She tried to smell him without giving herself away, but it was too crowded with too many different smells for her to pick out which was his without sitting on his lap. Her lips curled into a wolfish grin at that thought. Oh sure he would most certainly believe she was too modest to uncover her head, but had no qualms with jumping into his lap.

She received the bonnet with as much grace and composure as she could, giving it a light sniff before putting it on. It was clean, but it didn’t match. Men could never pick out clothing. Surely the cook had given him a wide selection of choices and he had just grabbed the closest one, not thinking about styles or fabrics in the least. She knew at home, she had an entire shelf of bonnets, and she never even wore bonnets before this really. Dena loved to feel the sun on her face and feared it would be a long time before she was comfortable enough to bare her countenance to the world again.

That was interesting. She seemed to be switching back and forth between blaming Julian for having to keep her secrets and admitting she wasn’t ready to let others know either. Blaming Julian was far more enjoyable.

She pulled the bonnet too tight around her chin, so lost had she been in thought, and she quickly tugged at it with her long slender fingers to keep from choking. She blushed, but let out a little giggle.

“Sorry if I seem to be a bit flustered. I just realized you have the advantage of me. I would love to know the name of who I am dining with. Men in uniform radiate so much power, I think I was just too overwhelmed to ask earlier.”

She fiddled with the bonnet again, this time doing a poor job intentionally.

“Oh my blood- I mean, dreadful nerves. I hate to be such an imposition to you when we have only just met, but could you help me with this?”

She shrugged at him helplessly, indicating the bonnet strings in a knot around her neck.

Once he leaned in, she hoped to get a better read on him with her nose.

[Cirus]

“Sorry if I seem to be a bit flustered. I just realized you have the advantage of me. I would love to know the name of who I am dining with. Men in uniform radiate so much power, I think I was just too overwhelmed to ask earlier.”

Too overwhelmed to ask…. Right.

“Cirus.”

He tried not to let his own doubt show on his face. This woman might be new to the Tower, but she hadn’t been looking around and gawking at the different buildings and men who had been walking around. She’d been lost sure, but she wasn’t a tourist here, and she wasn’t wandering around aimlessly. What’s more, she had accused him of causing her to fall over. She couldn’t have known she was being followed could she? Well, she certainly didn’t seem the kind to be throwing around foolish accusations. The question was, was she really as wool headed as she was pretending to be?

He watched her play with her bonnet, and absentmindedly she seemed rather sharp. However, when she tried it again she seemed to be worse. Was she toying with him? And if so to what end? He watched her carefully as she fumbled, the movements hardly seemed natural, almost like she was concentrating too hard.

Watch her

Those had been his instructions, now he was beginning to wonder why he was tasked with watching her, and just how much she knew about the Tsorovan M’hael. Cirus had known better than to ask questions of the T’sorovan M’hael, but maybe he could ferret it out of this woman. It would be simple if she was as wool headed as she pretended to be, and if she was putting on a front than she would run circles around him when he tried to poke around the subject.

It will at least show me something!

“Oh my blood- I mean, dreadful nerves. I hate to be such an imposition to you when we have only just met, but could you help me with this?”

A slip, but foul language nonetheless. This woman was trying to put on a front, but for what reason. He couldn’t say for certain, but he was now very nervous about reaching over to assist her. He could very soon find himself in serious danger, or at least in trouble with the T’sorovan M’hael for his actions.

“I can certainly try, but please forgive me for not using my hands. As a Soldier I am required to use the One Power whenever possible.”

As he spoke Cirus was already working to embrace the one power and pull on her strings to hold them centered. He couldn’t see his face, but he imagined that he would look a fool with his concentration. He could feel the sweat starting to come onto his face as he held the two weaves of power in place and the crossed laces in place.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to take it over from here. I don’t have the strength to do much more.”

[Dena n’am Damodred]

"Cirus."

Wasn’t that a name she had read on Julian’s notes? Dena’s face was a picture of bewilderment when he stepped away, but as he informed her of his intention she went stiff as a board. The last time she had been touched by the power was when Julian had first bonded her and abandoned her. If she wasn’t so frightened, she would have sulked.

It wasn’t right, the way these Asha’man felt they could just invade your space and cover you in saidin without so much as a how you please. She had invited his human touch, not ghost fingers about her throat. She was very tired of everything being new, and not having a friend in the world despite having her great uncle inside her skull. He just seemed so satisfied and smug in there too.

It was a relief when he couldn’t quite finish the task either and explained why. Soldier, plus no collar pins, plus weak in the power, all marked him as the lowest rung on the Black Tower ladder. That seemed harmless enough; also, she really wanted a friend.

“I’m sure you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She said, trying to make him feel better. She knew men could be touchy about performance issues.

She finished tying the bow herself then and knew without looking that it was perfectly formed.

If they were to be friends, she was going to have to put away her suspicions and start taking him at face value. She resolved to get to know him the old-fashioned way. As a friend, not anything…oh why did she have such a dirty mind all the time? She stuffed her mouth full of meat again and tried to think of something natural to say.

[Cirus]

She certainly wasn’t calm as he worked, and he could imagine why. It had apparently been over one hundred years since the last battle, but the Black Tower had lost much of its goodwill due to the actions of one of their former leaders. The fact that she wasn’t calm around the one power…. What could that mean? Could it be that she hadn’t been here long? That she didn’t want to be here? He frowned at that thought, he knew what it felt like to be unwanted and having to sit somewhere and wait for something to happen.

He looked down at his food, his own hunger pushed to the back of his mind for a bit. He didn’t know her exact situation, but he knew that she was new to the Black Tower. Some of the men kept families, but none of their daughters ever came into the grounds proper unless they were working. Most of their sons would test for the ability to channel, and those who could 3ould join the ranks of the Soldiers. There were few people to just mingle with within the tower if you were not one of them.

“So… miss Dena, how long have you been at the Black Tower?”

Smalltalk wasn’t his area of expertise, not by a long shot. Yet he knew how hard it could be to break the ice with someone unknown, and they had spent more time together at this point than Cirus had with just about anyone outside of his training or chores. Watch her. That had been the command, but it said nothing of what else he was allowed to do, and he believed that small talk and a small connection would be tolerated.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Dena swallowed the contents of her very full mouth and dabbed delicately at her lips before answering. She might have just devoured half of her food in one bite, but she was still a lady. She shook her head and laughed, a sound that was almost indistinguishable from the tinkle of her bells.

“Forever and a day. Minus the forever, but it feels like it anyway. Not that I don’t like it here. Good food, I don’t hate the company.”

She gestured around her.

“But I came here to learn, and my teacher is unavailable. I’m not really one to learn from books, I need a more hands on approach, like you with the power, I guess. The hard part is that I don’t know when they will be back, and no one will tell me anything. It’s frustrating being on the outside. I feel lost in my own shoes if that makes any sort of sense. I’m a very social creature by nature and it’s been dreadfully lonely being alone.”

She thought her manner of delivery was probably a bit on the dramatic side to a soldier, not that she knew much about being a soldier. She assumed he would think she was whining, they all seemed to have such “suck it up” attitudes. She didn’t know much, but she had noticed that about them. The tiny voice in her head told her that he probably thought she was immature, foolish, and weak.

Was she immature? Maybe a little. She did like to swear to seem more mature than she was. Was she foolish? She admitted she hadn’t really been thinking things through lately. Everything had been happening so fast that all she felt she had done for the last year was react. She thought she had been acting, taking control of her own life, but deep down she knew better. That was possibly foolish. Was she weak though? No. Dena was struggling with her very humanity and she was doing it all on her own.

“What about you? How long have you been here? Did you always know you wanted to be an Asha’man? Do you like it?”