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[renkholin-blog]

“Are we friends, Mina?” He asked out of the blue. It may seem so to other people, but truly, the course of conversation he spoke aloud and the words he struggled with internally were two entirely different things. Almost as though he were able to hold two conversations at once. That did not yield for smooth transitions on occasion. While a thing made perfect sense to him, it could leave the partner sharing his company reeling when he flung such disjointed thoughts in their direction.

“I....” He was struggling to steady his words. 

The thoughts that swirled inside were contradictory by themselves, but there were also so many of them that he wanted to focus on at once. Renarin did not speak haphazardly. Whatever thought he termed aloud was thoroughly considered before it was unleashed. Thus, when he was stricken with such a confusing mashup, he was left somewhat at a loss for which to tend and which to extend.

He felt excited to be a part of a group, Bridge Four his own little corner of the world to slip into. At the same time, he felt eternally held at a distance by them as well, a critical eye studying him when he passed, making it infinitely difficult for him to feel like he made any progress at all in fitting in.

He wasn’t quite sure where he stood in any regard.

Bridge Four uniform pressed, pristine and proper garbing his royal self, he stood at attention, lips pursed, eyes focused on the figure across from him. He'd come with an explicit purpose in mind! Er, a purpose that wasn't supposed to be simply standing and staring as he had come to do. He swallowed, eyes shifting only enough to try to capture the thought before it fluttered hastily away from him. As it had already done. But it would only take a brief moment to call it back, surely! Surely.

“Are… are you okay, Brightlord?”

Mina didn’t normally use Renarin’s title when they were off duty, but it was a good habit to get into. Other lighteyes liked it, at least, and it staved off some trouble for that.

Mina didn’t normally ask after his sparring partner’s health just before training, either, but sometimes Renarin… well, it paid to be careful with him, sometimes.

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“Okay.” He agreed to the terms, happy, at least, the consideration would be made. Perhaps it was a detail that didn’t so much matter in the long run. Perhaps he was dissecting occurrences too far as he could on occasion, breaking events apart and putting them back together to keep himself occupied. Perhaps the Captain accepted the potentially derogatory address as something of a term of endearment between them those days rather than anything of the contrary. It could be so. That was a thing entirely up to the two of them.

He withdrew from his thoughts long enough to listen to his brothers instruction, though his eyes were unfocused, distant in his consideration of the previous question for clarification of the disjointed thought spoken aloud. Sometimes Renarin spoke if only to release the pressure of the ideas compacted on the inside, almost as though they would somehow implode if he didn’t get them out. It led to some fairly confusing situations for those that didn’t know him quite so well as Adolin, who only just managed to pluck from the utterances what he needed to begin the process of interpretation. That in and of itself could be a drawn out event.

As intense as Renarin’s gaze could be, there were those brief moments when they lost clarity, as they did then. When he was preoccupied or caught up in some internal affair not many were privy to. But he stood still, his lips slightly moving, mimicking what Adolin was telling him of each precise step needed in accordance to that particular dance.

Dancing was an important affair, however frivolous those on the outside might consider it. Grace and poise was nothing to disregard.

It was a funny thing.

The less he focused on a task, the more easily he was able to retain the information. Could be it wouldn’t be a truth so apparently successful with all of the endeavors he faced, but with the motion of the dance he was shown, it seemed to reflect well. He stumbled once in following the precise steps his brother showcased, but was able to shift back into the rhythm a mere beat later. A tad off course, but not bad for one not terribly practiced.

“No, brother, I don’t think that’s.... quite right.” It didn’t sound right in his head. Grief into daggers. Fury and anger or the steel to endure building up that metaphorical wall across what was left of his soul. That wasn’t... it wasn’t quite what he meant. 

Thoughts, especially those careful considerations of the particulars of his feelings weren’t always easy for him to express. There was little in the whole of their language that would adequately put a label upon certain things he saw of the world, try as he might to find them. There was always something tragically lost in his translation.

... it didn’t quite meet the mark, but it wasn’t far from it at all.

“You have a good dynamic with him. He’s... not an easy person to get to know. I’m trying, too.” There was something odd about his feelings toward the Captain. Something that was significantly separate from how he felt toward Shallan. Almost like an opposing force. But that was getting way way too deep into the mess of his mind he couldn’t even begin to penetrate.

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“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….

Painful.

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. 

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It was sick.

However necessary the evil, there was something inherently twisted about people’s ability to gaze so intimately upon the twisted remnant of a lost soul. Someone that had been filled with something of a life, now rendered an empty shell. Blood no longer pumping, breath no longer coursing through. To be without the ability would be to accept the happening without the possibility of consequence, but still....

It was... horrible.

Renarin did not gaze at the wounds of the body openly. Rather, absorbing the details others provided, or looking at it all through his peripheral vision. Just barely glimpsing the slight traces of evidence left in the wake of the occurrence. 

It made him feel a little squeamish with more than simply the idea that there was a murderer amongst them. One without fear of getting up close and personal with their target. How much anger would it take for one to plunge a knife through the eye? How much motivation? There was hatred behind the act. Something ingrained so deeply in the blood, it was no wonder it eventually carried to fruition in that way. There was no other way it could be. No other method to approach.

That sort of motivation did not have the capability of festering for very long. It hit its boiling point much quicker than anything else.

Silence by itself was not an altogether bad thing. Sometimes the mind needed a spot of silence in order to expand on thoughts radiating on the inside, lest they burst free through verbalization spoken too soon. They needed time to stew. NOT stagnate. NOT fester.

That was the real danger.

Let it ‘stew’ too long and it might begin to poison the self, directing those thoughts and ideas to realms they didn’t rightly belong.

“It seems.... very random.” The attacks were the same, the body position the same, but the people. Why aim for those so extremely opposite of one another? It was difficult to fathom the killer was aiming to project anything by rendering such a confusing act. It would be rather obvious how those in their company would respond to such a thing. Utter confusion. What else would there be?

The best course of action would be to ignore the second occurrence. Not that the life of the man was less than Sadeas, but to focus on them both at once would be a critical impairment to their progress!

“.... ‘Lin, why do you suppose the Highprince was alone with the culprit?” Because there was no other conclusion to make. The Highprince had been alone with whomever it was that ultimately killed him. There had been no evidence of anyone else being involved. They would have heard about it. It was just... it was hard to believe there would be enough corruption in Sadeas’ own camp to suggest that his own soldiers turned against him in that exact moment. It was ridiculous. He could handle his own against the likes of them.

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There he went. Renarin smiled.

Just mentioning the trigger for his brother set him to deep internal contemplations in a personal attempt to dissect exactly why it was he may have felt what he did toward the Captain. If anything. Of course, Renarin did not haphazardly share his feelings on any one particular topic, so there must certainly be something to what he said about it! He was a near expert at the art of observation. He could see those lingering traces of behaviors people projected when they may not even notice themselves doing it during their interactions with the world at large. He could notice a misplaced twitch or when nerves were on fire. Or when secret glances were shared between lovers. Sometimes even the tone of the voice could unveil truths that contradicted the words shared aloud.

Yes, he did act energetic in the company of the Captain. That... may not be the most accurate way to put it, but it was the closest he could get that made any sort of sense at all. At least, when reflected in his own mind. 

It was hard to imagine something more appropriate, because.... it was hard to know exactly what would come out of it. Adolin was open to speaking with just about anyone. But the Captain. He was a hard man to reach. To penetrate? Mmm.

“Brother, that’s a little---- mmmmmm.” He hummed, nibbling at the corner of his lip. “It’s a little mean to call him bridgeboy.” He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. He knew Adolin didn’t mean anything about it, but he thought he should say so! Hey, if no one else in the world would tell Adolin truths, it was Renarin. It wasn’t usually unprompted, but there were those occasions when he felt he could do so.

.... all the bridgemen didn’t have a nice life. Not before. Hopefully that would be able to turn around somehow, for the survivors of the ordeal.

Renarin snapped back into attention with the lesson opening its way back up. He bowed to mimic the gesture granted to him, trying to pick up on the hints shared with him on what to do next. Left. Always start with left. Okay, that was an easy thing to remember. It was a little awkward on starting with the left foot. He was sure with practice it would feel more natural.

“You might have to run through it once for me.” He would watch and he would do his best to mirror it.

“..... you know, he turns grief into daggers.” That was a dangerous way to exist in the world. Some couldn’t help it.

Not everyone could be strong. That was fact.

That’s what the Captain did.

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The atmosphere in the negotiation room was understandably tense in make and decision. It was a natural energy to settle over the heads of the chosen ambassadors with such a serious topic under scrutiny, almost as though the lot of them felt to be anything less would cheapen the proceedings. There should be a passionate embrace of the circumstances that led them to those discussions in the first place. If they treated it like any other political affair, well, that just wasn’t right! Once released from the throes of business, however, it was easy for the Alethi to unwind, to roll their shoulders and revert to a much more relaxed state of being. The absolutely gorgeous sights that welcomed them helped! Almost a salve for ailing souls used to facing the wilds of the world directly. And frequently. 

Many large groups were taken with a need to investigate their curiosities more thoroughly. Renarin couldn’t say he was without such need himself, though he did not wander as they did. He sat still, listening to their conversations unfold... almost living through them rather than bothering to involve himself. It wasn’t difficult to fathom exactly what it was that held him back. There was a lot of activity, a lot of uncertainty around their visit. It made it difficult for him to know exactly where it was he should direct his inquiries. So he would keep them silent for the time being.

He sat, body in a bunch, breath held tight in the back of a throat that somehow constricted to hold it in place. He had to remember to release it here and there, mimicking the part of a, well, a person, lest someone truly begin to believe he was a piece of the furniture rather than a living entity. He wrung his hands together to keep them still. But even then they squeezed together and retracted in swift succession. A puff of air sounded when his palms collided and released.

Those haunted light eyes of his slid to regard the wandering folks of the foreign territory, and beheld the sight for a long, lingering moment. Too long to be considered a chance glance. The way he focused solely on the other people made it impossible for him to backtrack if caught, quibbling that he had only been looking at something over his shoulder! Or perhaps in the distance! No, there was too much of a hold for him to ever claim as much.

He was startled from his revelry with the gentle prodding from the Lady herself.

He swallowed, standing swiftly to his feet.

Should he bow? Was that proper?

He bowed.

... he hadn’t even thought it through, trying to filter through the protocol they rehearsed before their arrival.

He opened his mouth, but she commanded obedience even in the casual way she made her advance. Her very aura an immense representative of strength and endurance. Of passion and compassion.

Oh no.

She saw him. She came over. There were so many people there, what were the chances??

Be calm.

Answer the question first, but be calm.

It was a difficult request to follow. Gather all those emotions coagulating on the inside, set them aside in favor of more orderly expression. It would have been an ends absolutely achievable for those who recognized what feeling coursed through, but he didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand the heady bursts of sensation suddenly coursing through at what seemed to him to be random occurrences. What would set off such a storm? And should it be something to be avoided?

Answer the question.

Renarin swallowed, smiling awkward, standing back to his full height. “O-Of course, Your....” Oh Storms. What was the proper title again? “Your Majesty?” That was right. Wasn’t it?

“This is a... a beautiful country. There’s a feeling... of oldness and strangeness in the air.” 

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Dalinar & Evi. My favorite Stormlight couple (former) so far!

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You don’t have to go under to feel like you’re drowning.

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@oraculideluna

The negotiations were going well, as far as negotiations could go in so foreign a territory. It was a bunch of political lingo shared, dissected and interpreted in various means, rehashed again in rotation - in that direct order, over and over and over again.

Did they not already address that point?

Were they seriously going to pretend they hadn’t already come to a conclusion on this one topic?

None of them were new to the art of the dance, but… truly, were they secretly all bored out of their minds? A subtle lean of the body forward, a short inhale of breath, a finger tap tap tapping the side of the cheek could be indicative of a need to free themselves from the stifling atmosphere, but there must first be a little give and take!

They were looking for some common ground to attach to, something that would benefit both of their people. That wasn’t a wrong idea to hold. It wasn’t bad that they sought an alliance between them, something that would provide much needed backing for whatever trouble came hailing their shores. At the same time…..

Not all aspects of their lives should have to be honed in on one explicit purpose. Sometimes, it was nice to simply settle and allow the wind to carry them adrift.

How angry would such a reaction be to their respective enemies? That they should be able to maintain some semblance of normalcy in spite of the catastrophic trouble they were faced with confronting. They could still laugh easy and enjoy themselves.

Funny he should be the one thinking such thoughts. He was tense enough for the entire crowd in that room combined.

Mercifully, meetings disbanded eventually - a temporary reprieve - and the ambassadors from Roshar were permitted a chance of exploration of this bold new world. Or so it seemed. So far removed from their own, it was only natural to wish to wander the terrain, to get a feel for the differences. To meet with the people and start to introduce ideas of their own amongst them.

The young Prince Renarin was no different, though he seemed to be averse to the idea of breaking free, if only judging by simple action alone. Dressed for the part, he was looking quite removed from the rest of the party in attendance. Yes, he looked sorely out of place, uttering only a few choice words where it was necessary, offering no real commentary of his own. 

Then again, he was never asked to do so. He was just sort of there because of his position. Because of his father and brother. It would be odd not to have the youngest Kholin in attendance.

Indeed, he sat sheltered off in his own distinct corner of the world, eyes downcast, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his uniform. He seemed to have taken a keen interest in the stitching of his trousers, as rigorously as he studied them. He inhaled a long, long breath, holding it tight, releasing it slow and gentle like. He could use something to drink....

He could have asked and anyone might have directed him to the appropriate location, but... but----

Well, it seemed an overwhelming effort to do so.

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Here is another one of the tarot card inspired drawings I did of the Stormlight Archive! This time it’s Adolin! 

Kaladin | Shallan | Dalinar | Szeth | Jasnah | Lift | Renarin | Venli Patreon

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I’m done with the Renarin tarot card! Only two left to go in this series :)

Kaladin | Shallan | Adolin | Dalinar | Szeth | Jasnah | Lift Patreon

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“.....” Renarin eyed him for a moment, falling into that reflective silence that he sometimes did when he carefully considered what it was he would say next. Context did not always give away the correct trail of thinking he should engage. There were moments when his mind veered a certain way without blatant suggestion to guide it in that direction. It could be his doubt weaseling its way into things, his lack of self confidence sprinkling meaning where it didn’t rightly belong. 

He swallowed, head lowered, though his eyes did not leave Mina’s face. 

“.... not a bad thing that I think of it as dancing? Or that I’m not fit to be a warrior?” 

He was so scared. Scared that if he gave into what everyone said, that he would fall into the finest representation of whatever image others had of him. He would truly be rendered the sickly prince lacking for any sort of real position of power... or otherwise. He did not want to be the prince everyone thought he was. He wanted to be something more. ... he just... he didn’t quite know what that ‘something more’ was supposed to be. 

“I.... have a confession to make.” He stood up tall, though it was clear he was near shaking in his boots.

Bridge Four uniform pressed, pristine and proper garbing his royal self, he stood at attention, lips pursed, eyes focused on the figure across from him. He'd come with an explicit purpose in mind! Er, a purpose that wasn't supposed to be simply standing and staring as he had come to do. He swallowed, eyes shifting only enough to try to capture the thought before it fluttered hastily away from him. As it had already done. But it would only take a brief moment to call it back, surely! Surely.

“Are… are you okay, Brightlord?”

Mina didn’t normally use Renarin’s title when they were off duty, but it was a good habit to get into. Other lighteyes liked it, at least, and it staved off some trouble for that.

Mina didn’t normally ask after his sparring partner’s health just before training, either, but sometimes Renarin… well, it paid to be careful with him, sometimes.

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Renarin turned to look off to one side, where that incessant light was honed to shine in one bright, unwavering spot.  It blinked in and out until it was gone completely, certainly not a natural progression for light to go, even when exposed to the conflicting secondary elements of the environment itself. 

“Glys has been hiding so long, he’s very happy to be acknowledged. In fact, he’s screaming.” It was the best way he could put it! It wasn’t in the scary kind of way that the dead spren advertised. It was much more.... full. Full of life and a rush of sentiment. There were words surely sprinkled somewhere in the midst of his passionate screeching, but Renarin couldn’t discern them at all! At least, not at first.

“He wants you to know---” He paused a moment, his brows scrunching and confusion etching itself into his features. “Wait, Adolin does many things. Which do you mean?” He fell into silence, blinking his eyes, listening to the hushed whispers he could hear his spren try to express in a rush of feeling and sentiment.

They’d been together for some time, but that didn’t always equate to the ability of translating an incessant babble of sounds strung together in swift succession, excitement bubbling up!

“.... mmhmm.” he nodded, continuing with the thought he interrupted for clarification. “Glys wants you to know he truly enjoys that one specific thing you do. I guess you’re just going to have to use your imagination to determine what that thing is. He can’t get a breath to tell me.” He laughed. Sometimes it was easier for Renarin to express himself when the energy around him was light. When Adolin laughed, he could laugh too, like he absorbed from the atmosphere those things he needed in order to project it all the right kind of way.

Renarin had an image of what brave should be and he certainly didn’t fit it. It was why it was so difficult for him to take the words shared with him at face value and relate it to himself and his actions. He did.... what needed to be done. That was all. Without his interference, well, things would have been a lot worse. He could admit that. But he hadn’t been.... he hadn’t been exactly right for the part that he played.

He was very still when he hugged his brother, eyes staring ahead, not uncomfortable with the touch.... just.... listening. Listening to the words he said, absorbing them slowly. If not for the blinking of his eyes, he might have been mistaken for a perfectly chiseled statue, unwavering in intensity, something forged out of that moment of intense relief to forever immortalize it for the coming ages. It was a turning point in time, one he could sense but couldn’t fathom exactly why it was.

If Adolin thought a world without him was a terrible place, a world without his brother was---

The foundation of said world simply wouldn’t be the same. Everything would crumble without the light his namesake suggested.

“The visions I see are horrific, Adolin. I....” He smiled. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong. You and Father are here. You’re here and things are not quite so scary now that you are.” It didn’t matter how uncertain the future was before them. His brother and his father were whole. Maybe not their souls. Maybe not their minds or their hearts, or whatever it was that would compel their steps from that moment on, but they were there and that meant.... there was hope.

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Oathbringer Countdown: 10 days - Kholin babies

Update: Colored version

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When you start a series from the beginning and pretend all of the bad things aren’t going to happen

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Evi & Kholin babies prompted by this post via @witblessed

Thank @nerdradiant @jasnahtheelsecaller for the mention =)

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“I think I’m treating this more like a dance than a bout. I tried to memorize the steps…” Obviously in the middle of a spar, there would be counter maneuvers and offending gestures meant to gain the upperhand. Even in a controlled spar, that was the entire point of the process. How could one improve if there was no differing factors to their actions? If it was all the same. That would be a really boring battle out on the fields.

…. they couldn’t expect their enemies to know their personal rules and regulations. Nor to follow them even if they did have some knowledge of it all. 

There was no definitive pattern to be discerned for battle. The stances were one thing, and the style something else, but after that initial decision, the battle would bloom in creative ways all its very own. 

“I just don’t seem to have the instinct for this.” None of what he spoke was a question or even a request that his initial words suggested. Perhaps what he meant by ��favor’ was the favor of sitting back and listening to him dissect what he could of his actions to try to come to a clearer understanding of it.

Bridge Four uniform pressed, pristine and proper garbing his royal self, he stood at attention, lips pursed, eyes focused on the figure across from him. He'd come with an explicit purpose in mind! Er, a purpose that wasn't supposed to be simply standing and staring as he had come to do. He swallowed, eyes shifting only enough to try to capture the thought before it fluttered hastily away from him. As it had already done. But it would only take a brief moment to call it back, surely! Surely.

“Are… are you okay, Brightlord?”

Mina didn’t normally use Renarin’s title when they were off duty, but it was a good habit to get into. Other lighteyes liked it, at least, and it staved off some trouble for that.

Mina didn’t normally ask after his sparring partner’s health just before training, either, but sometimes Renarin… well, it paid to be careful with him, sometimes.