“I told him you wouldn’t understand that. I told you he wouldn’t understand that.” There was just too much room for interpretation, a dangerous affair with Adolin’s ability of filling in the blanks in accordance to whatever whim it was that guided him at the moment! It could be any number of things in any number of different days, never quite the same! “He promises to show you what he means when things settle down a little bit.” That might be an interesting predicament with spectral light blaring in the poor Prince’s eyeballs.
Did you see did you see did you see? As he was blinded.
Things were never truly as ‘settled’ as his words might suggest. There was little in the way of peace they could embrace in the environment they lived. The foreign aspect of it all was reason enough for natural tension to settle deep into bones, to keep the people always on a high-strung coarse ready to snap at a moments notice. Eventually, it would all come to a head. For the moment, they had to make do wandering the edge of that metaphorical knife, teetering precariously over the edge of being, and hoping against hope they wouldn’t plummet over the edge before they could do something about it all.
However mysterious Glys’ presence had been until that time, it was now very clear that the brief interaction he’d been able to hold with Adolin had solidified their connection as friends forever! Perhaps he might even be able to one day speak to him without going through a secondary contact. Renarin couldn’t communicate much of the details. Mostly because, well, frankly, he didn’t understand how it all worked himself. Glys could tell him bits and pieces, but sometimes he went off on excited tangents, or got lost in his thoughts entirely. Maybe there was a part of his spren that really didn’t quite know it all himself. Renarin could understand what that was like.... being a person and yet not quite knowing what it meant to BE a person.
The truth was a thing that always came out. It wasn’t always pleasant. It nearly never was. It may be buried in the recesses of the mind and heart for extended periods of time, but it wasn’t a thing that could remain hidden forever. It would emerge in different ways, unpredictable, unyielding in its revelation. Compacting the hurt of the past on the inside was a sure fire way to eventually explode. And it could happen in a multitude of various ways, each one of them detrimental.
But even when the hurt was embraced, it was….
Renarin didn’t quite know how to release that type of hurt. It seemed too ingrained in the soul for him to unwind so simply, like it had almost become an integral part of himself.
“Are you sure, ‘Lin? You... you don’t think it’s weird?” The prospect of seeing the future had been so utterly shunned. They were taught and taught again the wrongness of it, it was a difficult concept to embrace that he could so plainly begin to communicate what it was he saw. Openly! As though what perverse image those on the outside concocted could be eradicated on a whim. He wondered if they could. Or if every time he opened his mouth to speak of it, it would garner something... unsavory in the hearts of those who heard it spoken.
It wouldn’t be their fault to feel that way either. Through lessons and sermons, it just.... it became something almost instinctual. It wasn’t their fault to have such prejudice against it.
“You should... you should talk to Jasnah. There’s something.... else. Glys isn’t....” Quite right? Not fitting the image that he should? Renarin wasn’t quite sure how to put it. He near automatically assumed that Jasnah would know more about how to say it. She would, at the least, have the words to say where his froze tight in the back of his throat. Glys and him, they were more alike than he might have ever been able to guess when they first bonded. They were both just kind of.... there, playing a role without exactly fitting in to it.
The momentum of their reunion took an abrupt turn. He could hear the precursor to tragedy in the soft words his brother spoke, a gentle preparation for delivering the inevitable. Renarin watched him closely, careful to focus, careful to ensure that he heard every word shared to hold tight, no matter what it was.
He was stricken with the truth.
He was sad, but he knew it wasn’t a feeling conjured entirely from within himself. It was reflective of what it was his brother experienced, something deeply affecting his sentiment, if only because the shock of the information simply wouldn’t allow for his true feelings to bleed free. They would later.
“He.... died?” The words were resistant, as though they couldn’t quite formulate strongly enough to be spoken with any sort of confidence. “But.... are you sure, Lin?” It was a silly question to ask, but one almost instinctual. “But... the oath?” He took the oath. He shouldn’t have died.
