[ Eyes shut; breath steady. She stands with her spine against the wall, a grounded posture. Each word she whispers like a fervent little promise, hoping they might reach across the worlds and draw Ivory to her. Ivory, her spren. Ivory, her companion over the past six years — through whose bond she could access powers, skills, strength. All gone, here. Not even a lick of stormlight left in her veins to demonstrate the fundamental facts of where she's from and what she is. ]
Strength before weakness, [ Jasnah continues, soft. The nearest she's ever come to prayer. Reciting the First Ideal. With her eyes still shut, her head tilted back against the tapestry, she works her left hand into her glove. Even here, she keeps it covered. Only the left. The right, she leaves bare. ]
Journey before— [ A knock on the door. Her door, although she's loathe to think of anything here as hers. It's been a scant few days, and although she's reached an uneasy detente with her host, she remains alert. On edge. Steeling herself with a belly-deep breath, she opens the door. Although she's maintained her gloved safehand, she's since changed into a simple green dress of the local style.
She greets Logan: ] You came. Good.
[ As if she somehow doubted he'd make good when he gave his word that he'd seek her out today for a tour of the grounds. ]
[That reaction is met with a slight stare before he nods.]
Good morning.
[What else did she expect?
After her appearing here, after the Queen's court taking so much time to deliberate over her situation, of course he was here. His sister is far more welcoming than most, so of course she offered Jasnah support. That's what his sister does. Though he can hardly comment on her merciful nature after he's benefitted so much from it. He did, however, agree with her advisors that she's far too busy to be committing her attention fully to whatever Jasnah needs.
That's where he comes in. Assigned to provide Jasnah with help and protection while she figures out what to do, it keeps him out of trouble and somewhere everyone can keep an eye on him. He might not be overly keen on the restrictive task, but he is serious about doing his duty. In whatever form that takes.
[ What else did she expect? Imprisonment, maybe. Back on Roshar, if she hadn't already been passingly accustomed to the notion of off-worlders, she would have at least interrogated a newcomer like her. But then again, perhaps this was the interrogation.
She steps back from the door — maintaining a steady, sensible distance. Not fearful, but not friendly. ]
How much of a difference would it make if I said it wasn't?
[ Jasnah asks, choosing not to address the tray of untouched food. The flagon of water, barely consumed. This caution can only last so long. Something, at some point, will have to to give in her stubbornness. ]
[She steps back and Logan remains exactly where he is. They're scheduled for a tour, so that's what he intends, unless she has something she would like to show him. Some uncomfortable bed or chair for him to resolve like some kind of innkeeper.]
We would try to amend things to your liking... [As he scans the room to see what has displeased her so, he spots the tray.] We have different kinds of food, if you would prefer.
[There have been foreign dignitaries who have commented on the rich, fatty quality of a lot of Albion's dishes. Perhaps that's what's causing her to be so displeased.]
[ — Her retreating step is only to keep a healthy, wary distance between them. Although that's hardly a diplomatic action, either. Jasnah considers testing this resolve, wondering whether he'd try to amend things to her liking if she told him the bed was too soft. So strange. These guest (?) quarters feel more lush and luxurious than even her brother's royal rooms ever were — and he was a far more self-indulgent monarch than she is.
After a long pause where she ways whether to dismiss the offer entirely, Jasnah eventually settles on: ]
Paper. Ink and a pen. [ A shallow nod. That'll do. ] I'd appreciate the ability to keep some notes on my stay here.
[Not the food, then. Perhaps she's simply unsettled by her situation. He would be, if he was torn away from Albion without any choice in the matter.]
That can be arranged.
In the meantime, perhaps you would like to see the grounds.
[A tour might remind her that she's not a prisoner. She's a guest, though the guards throughout the castle might not make things feel that way. It might also give him a chance to gain some insight into who she is, and how she came to be here.]
[ A steeled nod. A bare, brief glance back at the room. She'd given it a thorough once-over the night before and there wasn't anything she could easily or confidently makeshift into a weapon. Not one she could carry discreetly on her person, at any rate. Storms. Again, she wishes she had even a lick of stormlight to make her feel that little bit safer.
She'll wait for him to leave the room first, and then she'll follow with a careful distance between them. ]
I wanted to ask, [ she starts up again. ] What should I call you?
[ Not his name. She already knows that much. She's asking about whether there's an honorific or a title intended for the queen's brother. ]
[Unconcerned by her hesitation, Logan steps outside, waiting for her to come beside him before they continue. If anything, the slight space is appreciated.]
The general protocol is 'Your Highness' or 'Your Royal Highness' at the start, and then 'sir' is sufficient. 'Prince Logan' if you wish to address me another way.
[He could suggest she use his name alone, but that seems overly familiar. Something reserved for friends, family, and enemies. He looks her over, considering.]
And you? Is there a specific form of address I should be using?
[ Following, she chews on the difference. And then digests the cognitive dissonance of being someone who wants to see the monarchy dismantled back home, but equally feels a spike of indignation at the thought of being queen and calling someone else sir.
Still. Her crown means little and less, here. Nothing underlines the sheer arbitrary nature of a title like landing somewhere where you lack the authority to back it up. ]
Brightness will do.
[ Brightness Jasnah Kholin. Or, simply used in the same way as sir: hello, brightness. It's not exactly appropriate for her station, but she's no queen here. And enforcing the distinction feels petty, given her pending legislature back home. ]
[ Ah, right. They must not stratify their society by that same, strange marker. Otherwise the man standing in front of her would never, ever have been royal. So! Her steps also slow, keeping her distance, and she raises her bare right hand. Gesturing with two fingers, she points at her eyes. A light, pale violet. ]
Because of my eyes, sir. [ Matter of fact. She's not proud of this particular cultural practice, but she's not about to hide it either. Having provided a rudimentary glossary upon her arrival (she is from the kingdom of Alethkar, in the continent of Roshar) she continues: ] The Alethi ruling class are all light-eyed. So their members are called Bright Lords or Bright Ladies. Or, simply, Brightness.
[ There is a very complicated and very arbitrary reason why. And she'll explain it, if she's asked. But she doesn't volunteer it when they're simply trying to navigate how to talk to one another. ]
[An unusual, but clear reasoning for it. He relaxes a little and nods. It's not as if he didn't notice her eyes, they are unusually pale, but there were other things to focus on at the time. He'd never have guessed it had any links to her status.]
I see. [It still sounds like a pet name, so Logan clarifies,] And you would prefer that to your name?
[ Would she? Titles are a funny thing. Back home, in Urithiru, she might rankle by instinct of some stranger called her by her name. But the title means something in the tower, on Roshar. Here...? Here, perhaps she should make her peace with being only herself.
Practice, for when peace and progress comes to her people. ]
— On reflection, perhaps just Jasnah is fine.
[ She doesn't see it as intimate. Rather, like a label on a card catalogue. Jasnah is who she is. ]
It feels almost silly to fuss over a station that doesn't exist on this world.
[Logan eyes her, trying to figure out if he's just managed to debate nobility out of recognising her own birthright. That would be an extremely awkward faux pas.]
If it's your title then you have a right to it. You should never feel unsure of such a thing.
[ — Perhaps it's early days, yet, to confess her intentions against the entire title. A spark of survivalism holds her tongue, keeps her from explaining how she intends to see the distinction between dark and light eyes diluted, or extinguished, before her reign is done.
Holds her tongue from saying it's less a question whether she has a right to it, and more a theory that no one does. ]
Is that so? [ Steady, but conceding. ] Tell me, will it cause confusion with others in the castle? Maybe there's an Albion equivalent I can assume for my stay.
[ It would help her stick out like a sore thumb, although perhaps not by much. ]
No one will have the same title, but no one will know it as a title. [The complexities of another culture. Where something so significant can mean less than nothing across a border.]
You are royalty where you come from, aren't you? A queen? Then you should be addressed as my sister is. 'Your Majesty' and afterwards as 'ma'am'.
[He considers her hesitation thoughtfully.]
Or, if you would prefer something simpler... Perhaps 'Lady Jasnah'.
[ ...Is it odd if she protests, now, that she'd like some taste of not being your majesty day-in and day-out. So, drawing herself up to full height and squaring her shoulders, she nods. ]
Simple will suffice.
[ And then, perhaps touch less aloof: ] Could our tour start with the library?
[ Her silence — even as they walk together — stretches long enough that it threatens to slip into something like a no comment.
But, eventually: ] I'll practice self-restraint. [ One, two, three. ] But a shortlist of titles that might be informative or even helpful in understanding Albion, sir, would be appreciated.
[ She asks, curiosity a little less than idle as she cranes her neck and observes the architecture of the halls as they progress. Rugs are interesting, and she's unsure how she feels about the soft deadening of footsteps. And wooden panels! Wood is a rarer commodity, back on Roshar — unless it's been soulcast, but you can always tell. This stuff looks like the real deal. ]
Dialect? Handwriting? Subject matter?
[ The latter she suspects she can handle comfortably. But if it's an issue of archaic language, she can't necessarily rely on the same quirk of Connection that lets the two of them converse comfortably now. ]
[There is no shortage of wood here. It's used for walls, doors and furniture. There are statues and paintings, and even suits of armour to line the spacious hallways.]
The authors are not always the most concise in their explanations.
[A familiar issue for those in academia, but he doesn't know how much studying Jasnah has done. All he knows is that while he appreciates the knowledge gained, he's never found the most informative volumes to be the most enjoyable.]
[ Ha. She wonders whether she ought to take it personally — as she's certain the accusation could similarly be leveled against her works. Some of her works, at any rate. There are particular pieces built to be brief. Effective. But rather than feel sore or bruised, she swallows a thin private smile.
[There are a few turns to take, doors to go through. They pass soldiers who stiffen and salute as they walk by.]
I know the library well. It's also why I know that some books are easier to read than others, and that our more reliable histories are often among the latter.
[Finally they step through a set of doors that open to the unmistakable smell of old books. Ornate wooden bookshelves house a wealth of books, making an organised labyrinth and lining the walls. There are chairs and tables for use, and even armchairs close to a large fireplace.
Logan looks both proud and fond as he walks along it.]
The only larger library is in Brightwall, and that's due to my father's numerous donations.
[ An odd curiosity settles into her voice. It's not that she doesn't believe him — on Roshar, there are numerous nations where literacy isn't gendered. In the Azish empire, everyone is encouraged from a young age to learn their letters. To read and write. However, in Alethkar — in all the nations who follow the Vorin religion — literacy is exclusively a feminine art.
She walks inside, but her attention stays hooked on him a moment longer. It's interesting to imagine him in this vast library, sitting in these chairs, at these tables, reading these books. ]
And do you visit Brightwall's stacks, too?
[ Because she's suddenly more interested in him than in the books. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
—the past is prologue.
[ Eyes shut; breath steady. She stands with her spine against the wall, a grounded posture. Each word she whispers like a fervent little promise, hoping they might reach across the worlds and draw Ivory to her. Ivory, her spren. Ivory, her companion over the past six years — through whose bond she could access powers, skills, strength. All gone, here. Not even a lick of stormlight left in her veins to demonstrate the fundamental facts of where she's from and what she is. ]
Strength before weakness, [ Jasnah continues, soft. The nearest she's ever come to prayer. Reciting the First Ideal. With her eyes still shut, her head tilted back against the tapestry, she works her left hand into her glove. Even here, she keeps it covered. Only the left. The right, she leaves bare. ]
Journey before— [ A knock on the door. Her door, although she's loathe to think of anything here as hers. It's been a scant few days, and although she's reached an uneasy detente with her host, she remains alert. On edge. Steeling herself with a belly-deep breath, she opens the door. Although she's maintained her gloved safehand, she's since changed into a simple green dress of the local style.
She greets Logan: ] You came. Good.
[ As if she somehow doubted he'd make good when he gave his word that he'd seek her out today for a tour of the grounds. ]
no subject
Good morning.
[What else did she expect?
After her appearing here, after the Queen's court taking so much time to deliberate over her situation, of course he was here. His sister is far more welcoming than most, so of course she offered Jasnah support. That's what his sister does. Though he can hardly comment on her merciful nature after he's benefitted so much from it. He did, however, agree with her advisors that she's far too busy to be committing her attention fully to whatever Jasnah needs.
That's where he comes in. Assigned to provide Jasnah with help and protection while she figures out what to do, it keeps him out of trouble and somewhere everyone can keep an eye on him. He might not be overly keen on the restrictive task, but he is serious about doing his duty. In whatever form that takes.
So of course he would come.]
Is everything to your satisfaction?
no subject
She steps back from the door — maintaining a steady, sensible distance. Not fearful, but not friendly. ]
How much of a difference would it make if I said it wasn't?
[ Jasnah asks, choosing not to address the tray of untouched food. The flagon of water, barely consumed. This caution can only last so long. Something, at some point, will have to to give in her stubbornness. ]
no subject
We would try to amend things to your liking... [As he scans the room to see what has displeased her so, he spots the tray.] We have different kinds of food, if you would prefer.
[There have been foreign dignitaries who have commented on the rich, fatty quality of a lot of Albion's dishes. Perhaps that's what's causing her to be so displeased.]
no subject
After a long pause where she ways whether to dismiss the offer entirely, Jasnah eventually settles on: ]
Paper. Ink and a pen. [ A shallow nod. That'll do. ] I'd appreciate the ability to keep some notes on my stay here.
no subject
That can be arranged.
In the meantime, perhaps you would like to see the grounds.
[A tour might remind her that she's not a prisoner. She's a guest, though the guards throughout the castle might not make things feel that way. It might also give him a chance to gain some insight into who she is, and how she came to be here.]
no subject
She'll wait for him to leave the room first, and then she'll follow with a careful distance between them. ]
I wanted to ask, [ she starts up again. ] What should I call you?
[ Not his name. She already knows that much. She's asking about whether there's an honorific or a title intended for the queen's brother. ]
Prince?
no subject
The general protocol is 'Your Highness' or 'Your Royal Highness' at the start, and then 'sir' is sufficient. 'Prince Logan' if you wish to address me another way.
[He could suggest she use his name alone, but that seems overly familiar. Something reserved for friends, family, and enemies. He looks her over, considering.]
And you? Is there a specific form of address I should be using?
no subject
Still. Her crown means little and less, here. Nothing underlines the sheer arbitrary nature of a title like landing somewhere where you lack the authority to back it up. ]
Brightness will do.
[ Brightness Jasnah Kholin. Or, simply used in the same way as sir: hello, brightness. It's not exactly appropriate for her station, but she's no queen here. And enforcing the distinction feels petty, given her pending legislature back home. ]
no subject
'Brightness'?
[Saying it feels... strange. It sounds... affectionate. Intimate. Or perhaps that's because of his experience with the darkness.]
no subject
Because of my eyes, sir. [ Matter of fact. She's not proud of this particular cultural practice, but she's not about to hide it either. Having provided a rudimentary glossary upon her arrival (she is from the kingdom of Alethkar, in the continent of Roshar) she continues: ] The Alethi ruling class are all light-eyed. So their members are called Bright Lords or Bright Ladies. Or, simply, Brightness.
[ There is a very complicated and very arbitrary reason why. And she'll explain it, if she's asked. But she doesn't volunteer it when they're simply trying to navigate how to talk to one another. ]
no subject
I see. [It still sounds like a pet name, so Logan clarifies,] And you would prefer that to your name?
no subject
Practice, for when peace and progress comes to her people. ]
— On reflection, perhaps just Jasnah is fine.
[ She doesn't see it as intimate. Rather, like a label on a card catalogue. Jasnah is who she is. ]
It feels almost silly to fuss over a station that doesn't exist on this world.
no subject
If it's your title then you have a right to it. You should never feel unsure of such a thing.
no subject
Holds her tongue from saying it's less a question whether she has a right to it, and more a theory that no one does. ]
Is that so? [ Steady, but conceding. ] Tell me, will it cause confusion with others in the castle? Maybe there's an Albion equivalent I can assume for my stay.
[ It would help her stick out like a sore thumb, although perhaps not by much. ]
no subject
You are royalty where you come from, aren't you? A queen? Then you should be addressed as my sister is. 'Your Majesty' and afterwards as 'ma'am'.
[He considers her hesitation thoughtfully.]
Or, if you would prefer something simpler... Perhaps 'Lady Jasnah'.
no subject
Simple will suffice.
[ And then, perhaps touch less aloof: ] Could our tour start with the library?
no subject
Lady Jasnah it is.
[He hesitates then before he starts walking. All the better to hide the hint of a smile.]
We can. Are we likely to get stuck there?
[They would if he were in her position.]
no subject
But, eventually: ] I'll practice self-restraint. [ One, two, three. ] But a shortlist of titles that might be informative or even helpful in understanding Albion, sir, would be appreciated.
no subject
I will have a list drawn up. Though the most thorough books are often also the hardest to read.
[He leads them through long halls, their path paved with ornate rugs and the walls lined with wooden panels.]
Would you prefer the list to start with lighter comprehension first?
no subject
[ She asks, curiosity a little less than idle as she cranes her neck and observes the architecture of the halls as they progress. Rugs are interesting, and she's unsure how she feels about the soft deadening of footsteps. And wooden panels! Wood is a rarer commodity, back on Roshar — unless it's been soulcast, but you can always tell. This stuff looks like the real deal. ]
Dialect? Handwriting? Subject matter?
[ The latter she suspects she can handle comfortably. But if it's an issue of archaic language, she can't necessarily rely on the same quirk of Connection that lets the two of them converse comfortably now. ]
no subject
The authors are not always the most concise in their explanations.
[A familiar issue for those in academia, but he doesn't know how much studying Jasnah has done. All he knows is that while he appreciates the knowledge gained, he's never found the most informative volumes to be the most enjoyable.]
no subject
Instead, she asks: ]
—Do you read?
[ An odd question, on its face. ]
no subject
[There are a few turns to take, doors to go through. They pass soldiers who stiffen and salute as they walk by.]
I know the library well. It's also why I know that some books are easier to read than others, and that our more reliable histories are often among the latter.
[Finally they step through a set of doors that open to the unmistakable smell of old books. Ornate wooden bookshelves house a wealth of books, making an organised labyrinth and lining the walls. There are chairs and tables for use, and even armchairs close to a large fireplace.
Logan looks both proud and fond as he walks along it.]
The only larger library is in Brightwall, and that's due to my father's numerous donations.
no subject
[ An odd curiosity settles into her voice. It's not that she doesn't believe him — on Roshar, there are numerous nations where literacy isn't gendered. In the Azish empire, everyone is encouraged from a young age to learn their letters. To read and write. However, in Alethkar — in all the nations who follow the Vorin religion — literacy is exclusively a feminine art.
She walks inside, but her attention stays hooked on him a moment longer. It's interesting to imagine him in this vast library, sitting in these chairs, at these tables, reading these books. ]
And do you visit Brightwall's stacks, too?
[ Because she's suddenly more interested in him than in the books. ]
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