Ball-ance

[Johar Salenas]

Preferring men certainly would’ve been convenient, given their lot in life. Given their location. Oh, they could rip a little hole in the Pattern and end up anywhere in the world they liked, but convince a woman to move to the Tower? Johar had no idea how the married men managed it. Similarly, he had no idea how men dealt with watching their wives and children (and grandchildren!) grow old and die without them.

A chilly thought. Most romances, for them, were doomed to be fleeting ones.

“Oh, that’s alright. You’re probably right, anyways,” Jo said. “I s’pose that’s why I like ter’angreal. It feels useful to make things.”

Even though he doubted the Black Tower’s efforts would ever match the level of sophistication they’d possessed during the Age of Legends. Not in his lifetime, at least. They were feeling their way forward in the dark. It was a vexing thought.

He reached out with saidin to tweak the ball and it fell, hitting the ground hard enough to send up a clod of earth. Ha, ha.

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

Ilya winced at the dirt that had landed on his coat, and used a weave of Air to fling a few specks right back at Jo in retaliation.

“Maybe I should’ve joined Spirit,” Ilya said with a wry smile. “It’s too bad I haven’t got the talent.”

Ilya had never been able to wrap his head around the creation of ter’angreal, though he had tried. Not very hard, admittedly, but he’d been more concerned with learning how to fix people at the time.

That should’ve been enough. His work, his love for Malkier, his friends—it was mostly enough. He wasn’t going to keel over from loneliness or boredom or despair. Still, he knew what he felt like he was missing, and he knew why it would have to stay gone. He’d outlived enough people. He didn’t think he could handle outliving anyone else.

The sun had sunk lower since they’d started talking, and only one or two orbs remained. It hadn’t been long, but Ilya was not keen to be out at night in this weather. Also, this could potentially turn into a dirt war. Though Ilya had lost much of his dignity today with the whole balls thing, he was determined to hold onto some.

“I suppose I could still pitch ideas to you. Inside, though. It’s bloody cold out here,” Ilya said, letting go of the One Power and starting to head in the direction of the nearest door. He paused and blinked. “Anyway, were you looking for me?”

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Privately, Johar thought that fiddling around with objects linked to the Power had much more potential than simple Healing (though it might not seem like that to the person being Healed at the time, admittedly). Still, successes were far rarer than failures, particularly when trying something new, and much of the time successfully-crafted new things weren’t nearly as good as you’d hoped for. Better than the things that melted or exploded or dissolved into unpleasantly greasy ash or somesuch, but still. Not all that impressive.

He flicked a speck of dirt back towards Ilya before releasing the Power himself. Though Johar had no real interest in getting his clothes filthy with a real battle, he couldn’t resist getting the last word in. So to speak.

“Why was I—oh,” said Johar, grimacing. Good grief, he’d be as absent-minded as your stereotypical Brown next. The bloody balls and talk of carnivals had driven it out of his. “Your library fines. You’re not above the law, you know. The...library law.”

Not like Johar himself. Ha, ha. Of course, he tended to return his things on time. Else they’d be cluttering up his study, and he couldn’t have that. There was already far too much clutter in the form of half-finished experiments and sheafs of idle notes that would likely go nowhere, or perhaps be picked up again in five or ten years when he had a new idea to try.

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

Ilya blinked. Ah. Yes. Library fines occupied their own specially shaped hole in his mind. It wasn’t as if he meant to evade them, but they’d started piling up as he’d taken books out and forgotten them. And now he not only had no idea what he owed, but also no desire to pay it. He always brought the books back, anyway. Surely that should be enough. A fine on top was absurd.

Besides, it always annoyed Johar. As his friend, it was his Light-given duty to annoy him.

“Yes, yes,” Ilya said, pretending to be distracted. “Let’s grab some dinner first. Better to have a full stomach. I heard they’re making roast chicken, and…”

Ilya trailed off by discussing the various vegetables and sides the cooks had undoubtedly prepared. His voice faded away as they stepped out of the crisp evening air and through the door.

Johar Salenas / fin.