It was an honest question, come from a candid man with well-intentioned golden eyes, wide and inquisitive. Childlike. He begrudged those eyes. Kaladin glanced up, eyes tracing the stars, still grinning with the mischievous bearing he had previously worn. He did not realize, but it was perhaps the first time he had smiled at all, since his very tethering to the earth. It was not a smile of mirth, nor genuine happiness, but it had to count for something.
The boy – Kaladin could not seem to recall his name, perhaps because he had deemed it unimportant – had not asked his question with any challenge, and Kaladin did not search his face for sign of malevolence or testing. Instead, he kept his eyes to the starlit sky and wondered what it would take to dishearten his acquaintance enough to be left alone. "You think I'm going to let some obscure deity dictate to me if I am worthy?" He said with a scoff. ”If Tempus had intended to control who utilizes his relic, he would not have dropped it.” He frowned, unsatisfied with the brashness of his own reply. Why would he claim the relic as his own? he knew the answer, but how to convey it to another who sought to steal his prize?
“You speak of this deity like he has naught to say the word and all shall fall.” He remarked, more to himself then to his companion. People had spoken of him like that, once – with fear and awe. But his name had never been known, he realized. They had never cared to recall his name after he was gone. Tempus, however, remained. He shook his head. The thought tasted bitter on his tongue as he continued, ”Sometimes, you need to make your own path in life, not look to ethereal idols. Especially ones that do naught then drop their relics to the earth to throw you mortals to each other's throats.” I would have been better. I would have cleansed the world, re-formed it. he pushed the thought away, determined. My time will come again.
He lifted his chin, letting the other boy catch sight of the crystal dangling at his throat, now pale and ghostly in comparison to its earlier light. "You see this collar around my throat?" He asked, giving his head a shake to let the crystal ring in emphasis. "It's cursed. It's a punishment - a punishment for simply existing. And I am hoping that relic will help me break it and release me from my bonds.” Why speak the words? It felt as if an admission to himself, in a sense. The he was confirming that his quest would not be in vain.
Gaining some satisfaction now from his reply, he began to walk steadily, pointed in the direction of the far-off peaks as per the adolescent’s suggestion. He couldn’t help but be curious to see if he would be able to shake off the youngling, or if he would be – gods forbid – followed. As he turned, however, something caught his eye.
He paused, head tilted. The pink scars around the boy’s front left leg, staining chocolate pelt to a ravaged wasteland of skin. He had spent too many years observing the evils on mankind not to guess the source of the scars. His eyes narrowed, glimmering with systematic inquiry. "I – I believe you understand what it is like, to bear the burden of shackles." He glanced up, and allowed their eyes to meet in earnest. "But whilst you have found your freedom, I am still trapped."
The boy – Kaladin could not seem to recall his name, perhaps because he had deemed it unimportant – had not asked his question with any challenge, and Kaladin did not search his face for sign of malevolence or testing. Instead, he kept his eyes to the starlit sky and wondered what it would take to dishearten his acquaintance enough to be left alone. "You think I'm going to let some obscure deity dictate to me if I am worthy?" He said with a scoff. ”If Tempus had intended to control who utilizes his relic, he would not have dropped it.” He frowned, unsatisfied with the brashness of his own reply. Why would he claim the relic as his own? he knew the answer, but how to convey it to another who sought to steal his prize?
“You speak of this deity like he has naught to say the word and all shall fall.” He remarked, more to himself then to his companion. People had spoken of him like that, once – with fear and awe. But his name had never been known, he realized. They had never cared to recall his name after he was gone. Tempus, however, remained. He shook his head. The thought tasted bitter on his tongue as he continued, ”Sometimes, you need to make your own path in life, not look to ethereal idols. Especially ones that do naught then drop their relics to the earth to throw you mortals to each other's throats.” I would have been better. I would have cleansed the world, re-formed it. he pushed the thought away, determined. My time will come again.
He lifted his chin, letting the other boy catch sight of the crystal dangling at his throat, now pale and ghostly in comparison to its earlier light. "You see this collar around my throat?" He asked, giving his head a shake to let the crystal ring in emphasis. "It's cursed. It's a punishment - a punishment for simply existing. And I am hoping that relic will help me break it and release me from my bonds.” Why speak the words? It felt as if an admission to himself, in a sense. The he was confirming that his quest would not be in vain.
Gaining some satisfaction now from his reply, he began to walk steadily, pointed in the direction of the far-off peaks as per the adolescent’s suggestion. He couldn’t help but be curious to see if he would be able to shake off the youngling, or if he would be – gods forbid – followed. As he turned, however, something caught his eye.
He paused, head tilted. The pink scars around the boy’s front left leg, staining chocolate pelt to a ravaged wasteland of skin. He had spent too many years observing the evils on mankind not to guess the source of the scars. His eyes narrowed, glimmering with systematic inquiry. "I – I believe you understand what it is like, to bear the burden of shackles." He glanced up, and allowed their eyes to meet in earnest. "But whilst you have found your freedom, I am still trapped."
