1x1 -- Sarish and Stormy

[stormy tom]

James tightened his folded arms and snorted again. "Whatever man." He didn't care about some stupid leg work. The pessimistic side of him was convinced he'd never be able to twist his bad leg like that anyway. Not without hurting a lot at least.
And this guy clearly thought he should stay the night. "Wow, tourism must be rough out your way," James commented, starting to rise to his feet. Mr. James... he liked that to his own surprise. It wasn't a number, and it wasn't the dry, uncaring sound Mr. Hunter had to it. Because that was how everybody said Mr. Hunter. He was just a player, or just a patient, or just another face at the supermarket checkout.
He hadn't gone by his first name for a long time. Hadn't felt like a person. This monk didn't care about tourism, he could see that. He actually wanted to make sure James was okay.
As painful and difficult as it was, James swallowed his pride almost visibly. He sighed himself into submission. "I'd better stay the night," he said quietly, looking away, as if he were sacrificing his soul to admit it. "I don't think I can walk much farther."
Now the second admission surprised him... he hadn't admitted the weakness in his leg aloud for some time, and certainly not to anybody else. It was as if saying it made it permanent (although it already was).
James gathered his bag and stood up, testing his weight. A little rest had made him feel better but he wasn't sure how many more steps he could go before his leg gave out. His limp was already a lot worse than it usually was.
"Lead the way then," James offered. It was hard for him to express gratitude since few had shown him much to be grateful for. But it showed in his eyes. James' eyes always spoke for him. They were honest and he'd never been good at hiding his emotions.
The taller man took a couple of steps, his face darkening. Why on Earth did I choose to come here. I really am stupid.

[Sarish]

(Oh jeez, I just realized I used Sarish as my character's name xD Oops. I got confused, I was going to use my other Nepali character with an "S" name, but I got them mixed up. Oh well, it should be fine.)

Sarish could see the hurt clouding James' expressions. It wasn't difficult to see how far he had sunk into self-loathing and resignation. The monk was fairly confident that he could convince James stay at the monastery for a time, if only for a few days. Watching him struggle with his injury and himself only reminded Sarish of his younger self, and he already felt invested in this young man's path to healing himself both physically and mentally. His heart went out to James, and he hoped that he could help this stranger, even if he only managed to make some small difference.

Sarish snapped out of his musings quickly, adopting a casual tone. "No, we do not get many tourists. There are plently of bigger, grander, more well-known monasteries both further up and down the mountain for anyone to give us much thought. Though we do have quite a few travelers approach us for instruction or unclouded opinions," he phrased carefully, making certain that his words would not convey how desperate most of their visitors were and how many of them begged for help after hearing stories from former tourists who had sworn by the monastery's healing and transformative atmosphere. He did not want to suggest to James that he saw him as in need of help; he would ask if and when he was ready, and Sarish and his fellow masters were not quick to treat their guests like inferiors... Though some tried harder to portray that viewpoint than others.

Sarish's soul soared when he heard James' begrudging admittance that he might as well stay at the monastery. "Of course, travelers are always welcome. I'll have to warn you, though, that our lodgings are likely quite different than you are used to, but we always try to be accommodating." The monk leaned forward into a normal position before deciding to try his luck and stand up in one fluid motion instead of his usual preference of pushing off on one side to alleviate the stress on his back. To his delight, the motion was not only effortless, but his muscles made no protest. Maybe those extra hours of sleep were beneficial after all. I'll have to sleep in until noon every day. Then I'll truly be able to connect with our western visitors. he thought amusedly to himself.

The monk noted the gratitude that was displayed clearly in the young man's eyes, and appreciated it, though it was not necessary. He had worked with a man even more rude than James many years ago, and had learned long ago that expecting gratitude from this visitors was a childish notion. Although it was true that many left their monastery with nothing but kind words about the residents, the sometimes unpleasant and taxing methods they employed left many resentful in the first few months. However, it was also true that each master had their own approach to teaching.

Sarish executed a polite bow to James before turning on his heel to face the direction that the monastery was located. The monk looked back over his shoulder at James, his usual warm smile decorating his features. "This way," he said jovially, starting at a leisurely pace to allow James to keep up easily.

[stormy tom]

(haha XD whatever works dude I don't mind)

Totally weird, was all James could think. He stuffed his hands in his pocket, but on second though kept them out for balance. "Whatever dude, that's great," he replied. "I just want to go home." No I don't. This is the most exciting thing that's happened to me since the accident.
Really, it was the human interaction. Weird, yeah, but at least Sarish was nice.

James stumbled along behind with all the grace of a battered fish. He was tired, and frustrated, and very sore, which made each footfall heavy and poorly placed. His limp was actually audible, as his injured leg practically stomped heavily with each step it made. But, determined as ever, James ploughed on after his monk friend, seeking for a conversational topic but not managing to find any. They were too different... And James had all the conversational skill of a salt shaker, as well a downright irritating personality.
His coach had put it best. "Hunter, you're the best player this team has ever seen, but I can't keep you as Captain if you don't change your attitude! The boys... the boys don't like you."
And his reply? "This is hockey, coach, not a meet-and-greet." And that was probably the single best piece of evidence explaining why he hadn't gotten many visitors.

James was struggling to keep up with the Sarish. It was taking all his energy not to trip over something.
Sarish's warm smile was starkly contrasted with James' deep scowl, a scowl so deep it was practically coming out the back of his head.
"I hope it's not far," he growled under his breath. I'm not gonna make it too much farther. He didn't care about who came here or why, he just wanted to sleep. And dear heavens be smiled at again like that... It was sort of... keeping him going, fuelling his already quite stubborn determination.

[Sarish]

"Oh yes?" Sarish answered conversationally, easily latching onto the only offered topic that he could make a reply to. He wasn't very skilled at holding a conversation, in his humble opinion, though he was aware that many people enjoyed talking about themselves. And, if not, then offering them someone to complain to was just as well; Sarish considered himself a good listener. "Where are you from?" I'd guess from the States by his appearance, though I believe that not everyone in England speaks with an english accent? Although with how diverse a lot of countries are nowadays, I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be Japanese. The monk mused, turning his attention fully onto James. He made sure to slow his own pace to match the stranger's, conscious of the bad leg that was obviously very painful if the way James was walking was any indication.

"Do not worry," he added quickly, directing his smile at his companion before looking back in the direction they were traveling. "We're very close to the monastery." The cliff wall ended in fifty paces or so, and would fall away to reveal the impressive structure with its many steps. The quickest way to reach the monastery itself was obviously to climb the steps, but he doubted that James would be able to climb the imposing, mountainous staircase in his state. They could walk past the steps and take a small, winding path upwards that ends at the very backside of the monastery, but that probably wasn't much better, considering his friend's condition would most likely be even worse when they got to the path. However, the monk had an idea of how they could reach the top of the staircase without putting too much strain on James, though he wasn't sure how the man would react. There's no need to let him know just yet, and he's more likely to agree when he sees the obstacle before him.

[stormy tom]

James hustled along. Sarish's slowed pace did not go unnoticed, and he was grateful the man was not racing on ahead. He scowled into the dirt. "Canada," was his reply. "Good ol' great white north." The land of snow, hockey, and maple syrup. The land of good things. "You speak pretty good English." He wondered if it was part of the tourist business. Whatever, this monk guy was an excellent salesman.
Or just a good dude. That ever occur to you? Yeah, it was constantly occurring to him.
He looked up, then... Are you serious? Stairs. And lots of them. Fine. One step at a time, as they say. The dark-haired Canadian placed his foot on the first step, pausing for a split second as his green eyes flicked upward, making a rapid estimation of how many stairs there were. Too many, that was certain. A groan escaped his lips, although it sounded more like a cat making a mildly displeased sound as a child tugged on its tail for the hundredth time.
But despite the challenge, he lifted his other foot to the step above, then took another step, and another, and another. Well to hell if I'm going to let a stair case cut my journey short. "You'd better have tea when I get up there, and it had better be damn good," he muttered, more to himself as usual, yet still loud enough to be heard.

There was some surprise in James' face when he placed his foot at the top of the stairs, mixed with relief and pleasure. He'd done it, a whole flight of stairs, and a massive one at that. He was at the top.
No more, please no more... he thought. It seemed every time he drew the line something new stepped in his way to challenge his determination. He wanted to collapse, to fall asleep, to submit to the aching all through his damaged leg. But the pain was giving him strength, and he hadn't expected that. Hah, I still made it. Screw you Striker, if only you could see me now...
And the brisk, unlikeable, unpleasant, ungrateful James Hunter started to tip sideways. He quickly caught himself on a stone pillar, pressing his face against the cool surface as he took the weight off his leg and just let it hang there tingling and pulsing in time with his rapidly beating heart.
James hadn't been active enough to elevate his heart rate this much since his final game. It was refreshing to feel his heart thundering like a steam train, a familiar and reassuring feeling.

[Sarish]

"Wow, you have come a long way!" Sarish remarked, impressed. His guess was quite far off. He couldn't quite recall if they had had a visitor from Canada in the past... Then again, he didn't work with all of newcomers, so it was possible. "And thank you, most of us learn the basics of English, though some decide to learn other languages as well. I had a lot of time to myself when I was younger, and I was fascinated at the prospect of learning a new tongue, so I picked up English quickly." The monk remarked as they drew up to the base of the steps.

He opened his mouth to offer James his idea, but stopped short as he watched the young man put his foot on the first step, glance upwards, and start to climb the steps. Sarish stared after him, frozen, mouth wide open as the Canadian climbed step after step, barely registering his comment about tea. Suddenly he recalled the first time he had climbed that imposing staircase, many years ago, little more than five weeks after his fall. He had only made it up eight steps. And here James was, conquering the staircase on his first try in a worse condition than Sarish had been in. Why did he come here again? The monk thought wryly, admiration and respect coursing through him as he watched the injured man reach the top of the flight of stairs, who then slumped sideways against a pillar in what must have been pure exhaustion.

"Wonderful, James!" Sarish called up in his excitement as he started his own climb. "Truly amazing!" He praised. He could compliment the Canadian truthfully for minutes more, but he's not even sure if he can hear him, so he closes his mouth for the moment. The young master gazes at James steadily as he reaches the doorstep of the monastery, right next to his panting companion.

A thought strikes him, and Sarish murmurs a quiet "Rest here for a moment, please," before tugging open one of the large doors to the monastery and slipping inside. Judging from the echoes of conversation from deeper in the temple, Sarish assumes that the masters and apprentices are eating their supper. While he would usually be expected to report the arrival of a new visitor, his primary concern at the moment was getting James a room, food, and rest. The apprentice's and visitors quarters were on the left side of the building, and the masters' were on the right. Sarish slipped his outdoor sandals off and put on a pair of indoor slippers, trotting quickly to the left from the entrance before pausing. The apprentices and visitors sleep on the worn down futons* The monk remembered suddenly. He turned slowly and instead went down the right hallway, padding forward until he reached the storeroom that held the nicer masters' futons. He grabbed one and awkwardly carried the large rolled-up bundle in his arms, maneuvering carefully back down the hallways, nodding respectfully as he passes an apprentice, who doesn't even spare him a glance. Sarish stopped in front of one of the empty visitor rooms-which was fairly large, considering that the visitors did not have to share a room like the apprentices did-and placed the futon down on the floor, unrolling it swiftly before exiting the room and switching footwear before stepping back outside.

"My apologies," he says as he bows to James. "How are you feeling?"

*Japanese-style futons
(Obviously I'm taking a lot of creative liberty with the monastery and its set-up and rules and everything, so if there is something you want to add, change, or remove, please let me know; I don't mind at all!)

[stormy tom]

(haha it's okay, do whatever you like! I'm always making stuff up and throwing stuff in so I don't mind ^^)

James felt his scowl deepen as the monk praised him. It was the only response he could conjure at the moment, but his eyes betrayed him yet again glowing softly with pleasure. Yeah... he was pretty pleased with himself too.
"Sure, Bruce Willis, knock yourself out, I'll be here," James wearily closed his eyes as Sarish disappeared, recalling a Bruce Willis movie he'd watched not long ago in the dark, lonely hours of late evening. His tired mind substituted the American action hero's face for Sarish's equally bald but far more sympathetic one. He chuckled to himself but was snapped out of his own thoughts by the return of his monk friend.
James waved away the bow and pushed himself off the pillar. Finally, some rest... ah, he could just taste it. Something under his back, a pillow...
He realised then he hadn't eaten since leaving the hotel breakfast buffet very early in the morning. James sighed and wandered toward the monk, his limp blending with his stagger to form what could only barely be called walking. He was sore and bruised from his tumble, exhausted from trekking those mountains, not to mention that hefty stair case, and hungry enough that it hurt.
Again, why exactly did I choose to do this? James wondered. The monk was asking him a question. Okay...? On a scale? Relatively? Did James even know if he was okay?
Screw it, he thought. It doesn't even matter. But he answered anyway.
"I always hated hiking," he muttered, reaching for balance with the closest solid object: Sarish. His strong hands groped for the man's shoulders. As he started to fall he heard the voice of the ref ringing in his ears. "Red card, Striker!" A whistled blared, echoing around inside his skull.
"And I hate stairs..." James trailed off as his body gave up. No amount of determination could keep him upright. He'd already pushed against the bar several times today, had gone above and beyond what his body was used to and barely capable of doing.
"Wonderful, James! Truly amazing!" he took those words and that smile with him to the land of the sleeping, and it was the first time in a long time that he took that journey peacefully.

[Sarish]

Sarish watched, equal parts amused and concerned, as James barely acknowledged the bow and pushed off of the pillar, doing a lot more stumbling and staggering than walking. He mumbled two somethings that the monk could not discern, eyes staring at nothing as he pitched forward, hands grabbing at the young master's shoulder as he slumped. Sarish froze for a moment, startled, before grasping at James' relaxed form, barely holding him up due to their awkward position. He braced himself quickly, adjusting his posture to accommodate the Canadian's weight. Oh my. I suppose it was better that he was able to climb the stairs on his own; I'm not sure I would have been able to carry him the whole way. The monk reflected. He was not at all weak, quite the contrary, actually, but with James' muscle mass and the fact that the Nepalese man was shorter that him, not to mention the unpredictability of his back, it would have been difficult.

Sarish awkwardly shifted his weight while attempting to hold up James, managing to get one of the man's arms over his head. He widened his stance before hauling the unconscious man up into a standard fireman's carry, taking a moment to find his center of balance before shimmying back to the door of the monastery and, very carefully, using one hand to pull the door open and slip inside. The monk switched footwear once more, sweat beading on his forehead as he focused on not dropping James and maneuvering normally. As he stepped into the hallway, he was quickly met with many pairs of curious eyes staring at him and his cargo. Dinner is over. Sarish thought uselessly as he stared back at the apprentices, many of them the same age or older than he, who were gazing at him with expression ranging anywhere from confusion to derision.

"Shouldn't you all be in your rooms?" He asked, watching most of them snap to attention, like they forgot where they were and who he was, and went on their way. He would usually stay longer and attempt to exchange a few kind words with the apprentices, but his back was already beginning to strain in protest, so he didn't complain when the hallway mostly cleared. A few lingered to watch him stride to the empty visitor's room, clustering together to whisper at his back. He paid them no mind.

The monk slid open the door to the mostly empty room, stepped in, and slid the door closed again. He strode rapidly to the center of the room where the futon laid and kneeled slowly, a small gasp escaping his lips as his back seized painfully, making him freeze. Sarish took a moment to rest, breathing measuredly as he adjusted his grip on James, who he had almost dropped. Slowly, carefully the young master knelt all the way down, reaching with one hand to pull the covers back from the futon before patiently-moving at a snails pace-letting James slip easily from his shoulders and onto the futon. He then arranged the man until he was in a normal position on his back, and then pulled the covers over the unconscious Canadian.

Now what? Sarish wondered in a sort of stupor as he gazed down at James, trying to figure out what to do in this strange situation. He placed one hand to James' forehead and one to his own to check his temperature, but it seemed relatively normal. The monk let his hands fall back to his side, suddenly finding that he was feeling quite mentally drained. He rubbed a hand over the back of his scalp, exasperated. Well. This has certainly been an interesting day, hasn't it? His mind supplied helpfully. He watched the dimming afternoon light dance over James for a moment more before hesitantly pushing himself up from the floor, his back twinging painfully. His gaze latched onto the Canadian once more. He is stronger than he knows, in every aspect. If he decides to stay, I have no doubt that he will make progress easily. He'd probably only stay for a couple of months. For some reason, that thought ruled over Sarish's thoughts, upsetting him. Startled at his reaction, he swiftly turned and walked to the door, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Knowing full well that he should probably report to the Head Master about their new visitor, Sarish ignored his obligations and instead went back outside, back down the steps of the monastery, and back to the maple tree. He sat at the base of it, his protesting back leaning against the trunk while still in what he had found to be the most comfortable upright position when he was having pain, and sighed, closing his eyes in a lazy meditation as the sun dipped lower over the mountains and the moon rose higher in the chilly night sky.

[stormy tom]

It was the best sleep James had had in over a year, which was the first thing to cross his mind when he awoke early the next morning: wow, he felt well-rested. What a glorious feeling it was.
But... where was he? No matter how hard he tried James couldn't seem to remember how he'd gotten here, lying on a sort of roll-out mattress with a blanket across him. The dark-haired Canadian pushed himself into a sitting position. His body was sore from his long hike the previous day. He hadn't stretched prior to or afterward. James stood and stretched, shaking out the stiffness in his leg and limping for the door. It was amazing how much better he felt this morning... He found his backpack beside him and stuffed his sweater into it. Deciding his current jeans and t-shirt were acceptable, he left the room.
There were a few people milling about, but it seemed most of them had managed to get to where they were going. He found breakfast to be that place. The smell of food led him to a full dining hall. People dressed similarly to Sarish, although clad it different colours, sat around tables talking.
Many of them tossed glances his way, tried not to stare as he wandered from table to table aimlessly. He could hear some of them muttering amongst themselves but he didn't care. James was well used to this sort of treatment.
"Good morning. Please, sit. You must be hungry," said a voice from behind. James turned to see a woman in her sixties standing behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to a table. "You must be the new apprentice who arrived in Master Sarish's arms yesterday evening."
In his arms...? "Hey, I'm not an apprentice or whatever... That guy's a master?" James frowned, narrowing his eyes to hide his surprise. Then again, was he really that surprised...? The old woman sat him at an empty spot near some other apprentices and placed a bowl of sliced fruit and egg on rice in front of him. She smiled softly at him, then left him to eat.
The other students eyed him with mixtures of curiosity and disgust.
James looked around for his friend, unsure of where he was or what he was supposed to be doing here. He finished his breakfast and left the eating hall, navigating his way outside and searching.
"Hey Bruce Willis," he called, ignoring his bare feet in the dust and dirt.

[Sarish]

Sarish jolted awake, a hand flying to his chest, his heart beating rapidly due to a nightmare that he could not recall. Swallowing dryly, the young man gave himself a moment to recover, noticing that the early morning light had just begun to creep over the horizon. At least I awoke at my usual time today. Was his first thought. I didn't eat all yesterday. Was his second.

Fully awake, the master blinked a few times to clear his cloudy vision, unfolding his legs from their crossed position. He cautiously stretched his back, barely wincing at the tame twinge that shot through the lower half of his torso. That's better than yesterday. The monk paused. Yesterday. The visitor. James. How could he forget?

Rubbing a hand over his jaw, he contemplated whether or not the Canadian would be awake yet. He didn't want to disturb the man if he was still asleep, but he also didn't want to leave the visitor to wander the monastery that he had been carried into while unconscious. Sarish agonized with this for a while before ultimately remembering how late Westerners usually tended to sleep, and considering how worn-down the young man had been yesterday, it was likely that he was still asleep, and would be so for a while.

Sarish stood slowly, using the trunk of the maple tree to hoist himself up, noting the dull throbbing in his lower back. He supposed that he had probably been meditating for a solid four hours-although much of that time was interrupted by thoughts of James goodness he hoped that he decided to stay-before he had fallen asleep, so there wasn't much sense in meditating again. Instead, he moved through his usual Tai Chi routine, the exercises specifically picked to gently stretch the muscles in his back. He completed the routine twice before deciding that some soreness and stiffness was probably as good as he was going to get today. Sarish glanced back at the horizon-the sun had risen now, but it was still quite early-before leaning back against the tree trunk, allowing his turbulent thoughts an audience.

I wonder if James will decide to stay. I wonder what his story is. He clearly resents himself, and his leg is obviously a main part of it, but I've never seen a traveler that physically fit come to the monastery before. I wonder... I wonder if he thinks I am a crazy better-than-thou monk Sarish grinned to himself at the last thought for a moment. If he does choose to stay, I'll have to be honest with him. Many of the apprentices and masters dislike me. I wouldn't want them to associate him and I... He probably came here to escape from such prejudices, if his defensive personality is any indication. His mood evened out, the grin slipping into something more neutral. It's a shame he had to meet me first. Maybe I can pass him onto one of the more lax masters. Master Hasan would be a good fit for him. A small sadness weighed his shoulders, though it quickly passed when he cleared his mind and allowed himself to think rationally. It's only fair that he should be treated with the respect he obviously deserves while he's here. If he stays.

He heard a faint voice call in the distance and he turned to the source. He couldn't see whoever it was, but when the call was repeated-He wasn't sure who "Bruce Willis" was, but he recognized the voice-he straightened and strode over to see none-other-than James.

"Ah, James, my apologies, I did not think you would wake so early! I would have given you a proper tour and introduction if I had known. How are you feeling?" Sarish called as he drew closer, giving the Canadian a bow as he walked, not reacting to the protest his back gave at the movement. As he straightened, the monk examined James from feet to... Bare feet? Sarish thought incredulously. "Oh my goodness, you didn't take put anything on your feet...? Ah, here," The young master stepped out of his sandals, and then took a few paces back to allow James the space to put them on.