[ should that be comforting? the sentiment is so unbearably kind; but the rand al'thor that abel professes to never knowing is the person that he wanted to be. wanted to stay, for the rest of his life.
the person that abel does know is a version that can never go back to that simple life, that has been pulled apart and put back together for use by the Pattern. since the kenoma had started appearing in godsblood the first time, since the regent's address a matter of days ago, since his stint in captivity, he's moved closer and closer to being the dragon reborn. he'd told ernesto not so long ago: if i could stop being a channeler by wishing, believe me, i'd've done it already. running from being this person has always been an exercise in futility. and the running means abel can't know who he's talking about now, not really.
there's the old fear of being honest, or being open, but he's been cracked open already, the truth given in parts to people like ernesto, like akua, like amos, like misa, even the regent. why stop now? ]
Twenty years ago, I was born in the snows of Dragonmount. You saw it, in Venera. [ it'd been visible from the window of a dreamed hallway in tar valon, had started to smoke and shake as he'd come closer to the truth of the dream. his eyes raise to abel's face as he speaks. ] The mountain. My mother died, I think; I never met her. My dad found me there, and brought me home to his wife. My mum. They raised me in the mountains, in the village you saw. I learned farming, and sheep herding, and I was happy.
[ the burnt village that had haunted rand, reminded him of the what was the real world and what was the innocence-fueled dream. ]
There's someone in my world very like the Regent, and he sent an army to Two Rivers looking for me. He chased us across the continent. And he promised me better things than the Regent has, because the Dragon Reborn was destined to seal him away and save the world, or cause another Breaking as he — I — did the last time, three thousand years ago. Someone told me that denying the Dark One meant my death at the Last Battle.
[ well, not exactly. but that's how he'd understood it. ]
But our world would live. [ and that's what matters. a beat, before confessing, ] I don't know what I did wrong.
[ because: here he is, alive. and his world is dead. small wonder he'd reacted so strongly to the regent. small wonder, too, that he'd woken in the shrine of the martyr. he's lost any chance to return to the life he'd had. he's lost the purpose that he didn't want, but was a duty, and would've at least guided him to the end of his life knowing he'd done something worthwhile. instead, he's here, grasping for purpose, for identity, and to make sense of himself as much as his situation as much as his past. there's no leaving any of that behind for the new world he's in, when it haunts him in real, tangible ways.
so maybe — maybe now it will be easier for abel to understand why his reassurances are so hard to take. ]
no subject
the person that abel does know is a version that can never go back to that simple life, that has been pulled apart and put back together for use by the Pattern. since the kenoma had started appearing in godsblood the first time, since the regent's address a matter of days ago, since his stint in captivity, he's moved closer and closer to being the dragon reborn. he'd told ernesto not so long ago: if i could stop being a channeler by wishing, believe me, i'd've done it already. running from being this person has always been an exercise in futility. and the running means abel can't know who he's talking about now, not really.
there's the old fear of being honest, or being open, but he's been cracked open already, the truth given in parts to people like ernesto, like akua, like amos, like misa, even the regent. why stop now? ]
Twenty years ago, I was born in the snows of Dragonmount. You saw it, in Venera. [ it'd been visible from the window of a dreamed hallway in tar valon, had started to smoke and shake as he'd come closer to the truth of the dream. his eyes raise to abel's face as he speaks. ] The mountain. My mother died, I think; I never met her. My dad found me there, and brought me home to his wife. My mum. They raised me in the mountains, in the village you saw. I learned farming, and sheep herding, and I was happy.
[ the burnt village that had haunted rand, reminded him of the what was the real world and what was the innocence-fueled dream. ]
There's someone in my world very like the Regent, and he sent an army to Two Rivers looking for me. He chased us across the continent. And he promised me better things than the Regent has, because the Dragon Reborn was destined to seal him away and save the world, or cause another Breaking as he — I — did the last time, three thousand years ago. Someone told me that denying the Dark One meant my death at the Last Battle.
[ well, not exactly. but that's how he'd understood it. ]
But our world would live. [ and that's what matters. a beat, before confessing, ] I don't know what I did wrong.
[ because: here he is, alive. and his world is dead. small wonder he'd reacted so strongly to the regent. small wonder, too, that he'd woken in the shrine of the martyr. he's lost any chance to return to the life he'd had. he's lost the purpose that he didn't want, but was a duty, and would've at least guided him to the end of his life knowing he'd done something worthwhile. instead, he's here, grasping for purpose, for identity, and to make sense of himself as much as his situation as much as his past. there's no leaving any of that behind for the new world he's in, when it haunts him in real, tangible ways.
so maybe — maybe now it will be easier for abel to understand why his reassurances are so hard to take. ]