Raekal stepped out of his office at long last, snapping the door shut behind him. He was finally finished with his grueling task, writing the last letter to the last family of the last man that had been lost in all the recent action. His hand ached from holding the quil so long, and black stains smeared all of his right hand from the ink, but it was done. He dropped the envelope, sealed with a glob of wax with the M'Hael's seal pressed into it, into a bag waiting for a Soldier to come pick it up and run it into town for disbursement.

Walking down the hallway, he pulled at the black vest he wore. He had neglected proper uniform today, choosing a sleeveless vest instead of the coat and left off any cloak, though the vest still had a high neck that sported both the silver sword and golden dragon pins. His boots clicked on the floor underfoot, and men all around him recognized him in a glance. His hard blue eyes, framed and half-covered by his thick blond hair, the rest pulled back into their unique braids, marked him who he was more than any unifrom ever would.

He had started to get over whatever had happened to him at Tear, the madness that had crept into his veins after killing Narab, and Aran had seen what had happened to him as what it had been, and not held it against him. Aran was still a good friend, even now, even when times were as hard as they had ever been. He turned the corner, reaching into the depths of his mind to find Brenna. He intended to do something that he had not for a while--spend time with her. They had, he was forced to admit, grown rather apart over the crises that had arisen so rapidly close to one another, and he intended to begin reclosing that gap. But, instead of sensing her in their rooms, like she usually was, engrossed in something or another, he realized that grief was the primary emotion coming through their bond, and that she was somewhere outside.

Following the bond, he went down outside, stopping when he came in sight of the gardens. He hated to go there anymore. It was a mockery of what he was, what he stood for. The beauty of the Gardens seemed misplaced in the midst of the black stone of the Tower, though the rising building next to it, Aran's masterpiece of the library that he meant to one day rival the White Tower's, seemed a mockery to the training fields, where men practiced and dueled with saidin as much as he and Rodgin ever had. His eyes narrowed as he found the all-too familiar mound with the ever-lasting flowers on top, where Daylen rested eternally, and felt something inside start to give. He had not been strong enough to protect her . . . how did he expect to be able to protect Brenna forever?

Then he spotted her, and went to her at once. She was kneeling, and even from here he could hear her tears. She hadn't realized he was so close yet. He kept his emotions in such a tight rein these days it was very close to keeping the bond muffled or blocked. He knelt behind her, wordless, hearing her tears, seeing her shake. He hated the world at that moment, to make something to beautiful weep at it's horror, and reached out one hand to touch her shoulder. One touch was all it took to pull her too him, to wrap his arms around her and bring her to him, to feel her fragile form "safe" within his protection at least once. "Shh," he managed. "It's alright. Things will get better, you will see."

-Yasha Murikovine Queen of Saldaea-
-Brenna Selanos BT Civilian-
-Aiden D'orgen BotRH-
-AND Bio Checker-

-Yasha Murikovine Queen of Saldaea-
-Brenna Selanos BT Civilian-
-Aiden D'orgen BotRH-
-AND Bio Checker-