1x1 -- Sarish and Stormy

[stormy tom]

James followed, counting the floorboards as he walked over them like some kind of mantra. He could feel his heart picking up speed, catching in his throat... he was nervous.
As they entered the master's room he hung back and to the side, feeling like a parasite. He deliberately avoided eye contact with the apprentice as he was given instructions and told to leave.
Then the head master addressed James. The Canadian looked up and fixed the master with a green stare that darkened with every word. Somehow the parrot's absence made the pit in his stomach feel bigger. At least the parrot had been in different to him instead of disposing him.
The Master's words made him angry. With speed nobody would have expected from him, he was prowling to the desk and slamming his hands onto it, baring his teeth like a feral creature.
"You have no idea, Grand Master, who the hell I am. You don't know a thing about me, and you haven't bothered to ask. You've been in this little room, making assumptions. I didn't ask to come here, alright? But here I am, and I sure as hell didn't pass out on your Stairs of Hell to be thrown out because one of your own students can't control himself. I haven't started any fights here, and I don't intend to." There was some hypocrisy in the man's words, of course. He was angry, hurt that no matter what conflict arose and how, anyone would assume it was his fault.
Although that was probably because he seemed like it was his fault. Anyone with the sense would assume him to be the instigator. James was aggressive, defensive, and quick to react. He'd hardly proven himself to be peaceful and easy to work with.
James pulled his hands back, leaving small bloody smears on the desk. "I'm not starting any fights, but if someone punches at me, I fully intend to punch back."

[Sarish]

The Head Master's gaze turned cold. The African Grey wandered out from under the desk, its feathers ruffled up. "Trouble!" It said quietly as it made its way to Sarish, staring up at the young master, who was starting to panic. The room seemed too small, the atmosphere too tense. It took him a long moment to realize that the cause of it was the Head Master's powers manifesting from his emotions, making the air hot with barely surpressed anger and a hint of something else... Fear? No, that can't be right...

Nevertheless, this blatant use of abilities was practically unheard of from the Head Master, who was deemed the best of all of them. Sarish took a shaky breath, his chest tight, pushing out with his mind against the oppresive atmosphere with his own prescence. "Master," he whispered almost inaudibly. The older man blinked once, the pressure lessening, though still present in the room. Sarish sighed, trembling hands wrung around each other as he calmed down. What is going on? Why are everyone's powers acting up so unrestrictedly?

"You are telling me that an apprentice started a fight with no provocation? That nothing you were doing could have goaded him to confront you? I find that hard to believe," he said with narrowed eyes. The parrot stepped closer to Sarish, eyeing James now. "You can hardly control yourself," he added derisively, glancing down at the smears of blood on his wooden desk. "And yet you come here, expecting that we will forgive every action you take, that we do not have the right to remove a threat when we see one. You are brash, uncontrollable, disrespectful, and yet you stand here judging my actions!" he spat out. Sarish immediately picked up on what the Head Master had not said: judging my actions when it is my job to keep everyone here safe. To keep everyone from being locked up somewhere, examined in cages by the scientists, poked and prodded and treated like a particularly fascinating, rare species of butterfly, and then beaten like filthy mutts that owe them their lives when they learn that these abilities can be taught.

"We can teach people to strengthen their self-control, but they need to have self-control in the first place. If you truly did not start the fight, did it ever occur to you to simply defend yourself, to ask for assistance?" Sarish glanced up at the Head Master incredulously. He cannot seriously mean that. He's expecting James to just stand there and let himself be assaulted? It would be a different story if these were two capable apprentices, with or without powers. What is this prejudice against James?

[stormy tom]

"I didn't provoke him, but if you don't want to believe me that's up to you. You're the one sitting behind the desk, doing nothing. There must be something special about you. Surely you can tell when a person is lying, and when they're sincere," James growled, looking just about ready to grab the Head Master by the collar and yank him over the desk and fight him, too. "You think if I asked for help anybody would come? You think I didn't learn that lesson when I was a kid? You don't know a lick about me, you don't know what it took for me to call for help, and what it did to me when nobody answered. I'll give you respect when you give it to me. When you give me a reason to respect you apart from telling me that I should."
He was angry, eyes practically sizzling with rage as he challenged the master unabashedly. He'd learned early that he was going to have to fend for himself in this world.
James lowered his voice pushing his face farther over the desk. He had a deep voice to start with, but he was practically growling out the words now. That voice was coming from somewhere deep. "How dare you make assumptions about me, old man. I might have beaten the daylights out of your apprentice when we were kids, and maybe him getting a shot at me is justice or whatever. I know I deserved that, but that gives you no right to talk to me like you're my father." He practically spat that final word. Of course James wouldn't know the first thing about parenting. "I know what I am, and I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even expect you to like me. And if you want something from me you had better let me know. You want me to say I'm sorry? I'm sorry. I'm sorry your apprentice couldn't let go of the past and needed to get it out of his system. I'm sorry that getting punched makes me angry. And I'm sorry that I just can't control myself. I was never good at that anyway. If I'm hardly worth training, I'll leave."
Why does the first thing that pops into my head always have to come out of my mouth? James caught his breath and took a step back. The room felt wrong... different. Like the atmosphere had changed physically, chemically. He couldn't breathe for a moment, thought that might have been his own internal conflict using up all his energy that he just forgot. There was suddenly an invisible pressure on his body. His leg was shaking, then it was folding up under him and he was falling to one knee. His outburst had taken all the energy out of him, and now the adrenaline was running out and he was tired again.
So tired...
What felt like hours were actually only a few long seconds of silence. James looked up, the fire still burning in his eyes, but the primal rage had died out. He was still angry... but some rationality seemed to have returned. "I'm sorry," he said, and it was sincere. "I clearly don't belong here." I don't belong anywhere. Not a classroom, not the hockey team, not the swimming pool, not here.
Was it his own fault, or just some kind of cruel joke all of humanity had decided to play on him? He didn't know, and was afraid to find out... maybe it was just bad luck.
He's right. Everything he said about me is right. I can't control myself. I never could...
Well... didn't I just control myself right there? Hadn't he just tugged everything back inside? After the outburst, yes... but now he felt calm again. It had happened almost... unconsciously. Without him even noticing. But was it too late?
Probably. It was always too late.

[Sarish]

Sarish watched the Head Master carefully, the older man having practically turned into a blank slate as he stared at James without saying a word. Suddenly, surprisingly, he felt something else brush his soul aside from the powers present. This feeling was pure, raw, new... And it was coming from James. Sarish was stunned. How...? He hasn't been initiated... How is this man doing this? he thought incredulously. And how can the Head Master still be insisting that he leave? He must be able to sense this at least as clearly as I am...

Sarish could not fathom how this situation would turn out. Frankly, he was more confused than he had been in years. He didn't know how the Head Master would react to James' words, and he did not understand what was happening with James. But if no one else was going to calm down and think rationally, then he would. The monk took a deep breath, quickly clearing his mind and expelling any negative emotions as he had been first taught so many years ago. A sort of meditative calm settled over him, relaxing him completely as he closed his eyes, posture straightening. Peace, brothers, the thought rang out in his head, as he pushed forward with his powers to first cleanse the room of its restrictive and stifling atmosphere before replacing it with a peaceful and comfortable one instead.

The parrot squawked indignantly, turning on a dime and fluttering back to the desk, pacing across the ruined surface while taking care to avoid the blood, its feathers ruffled up agitatedly. Sarish made sure that his power over the room would hold, still listening to James as he spoke. He nearly lost his calmness when James said that he didn't belong. No. Maybe you don't. But maybe I don't either, not anymore. This is not the monastery I was brought to all those years ago. When did it become so hostile here? When did it become a habit to be distant and reserved to visitors? It's been happening for a year now, and yet I have barely noticed. What changed? If this is how it will continue to be in the future, then I cannot stay here. This is not how I was taught to treat other human beings. We are not better than anyone else just because we have "special abilities." We cannot afford to think so arrogantly. This Grand Master is supposed to be setting an example for the entire monastery. I will not follow such a man if these are the decisions he makes.

"James," Sarish murmured softly. "Could you please leave? I need to have a word with him alone," he said not unkindly, staring at the Head Master to see if he would object. He did not. You wanted to speak to me. I will happily oblige.

[stormy tom]

James rose and flicked his eyes between the two, his eyes electric, flashing boldly and almost shimmering blue as he stood there fuming. there's something else going on here... he thought. And I sure as hell intend to find out what it is.
But that would clearly have to wait. He felt a deep throaty growl rumble inside his chest, almost too feral to come from a human being. But he stalked from the room, resisting the urge to slam the door.

As soon as he was out of the room it was like the air cleared and he could stand straight again. He limped a few steps from the door, not sure where he was supposed to go. He wanted to get as far from the room as possible, yet was hesitant to step back into the open since all those apprentices had seen him in that fist fight.
So instead he sank to the floor, back to the wall, and pulled in his good leg. He put his forehead on his knee and focused on his breathing. In, out; in, out; in, out... It was not often James focused on his breathing like this, but when he did he always remembered the journey from the ice rink to the operating room, the part when he'd woken up for a few minutes. A kind old nurse had been leaning over him, speaking in a soft voice.
"Hey there kiddo, you're alright. But you're going into deep shock and I need you to breathe for me. With me, okay? In, and out. In, and out. Slowly, that's it. Just look at me. I'm gonna get you through this." the man had taken James' hand as he manoeuvred the gurney from behind. He'd squeezed it kindly, deliberately breathing more loudly so James could match the tempo. "Not long, kiddo, not long. You can go back to sleep now."

That felt like so long ago... James hadn't seen that nurse again. In fact the memory seemed more like a dream. Maybe it was. It was hard to say. He'd spent quite some time on heavy painkillers.
But he pictured the nurse none-the-less and started to slow his heart rate. It was hard, being that he never practised this, and was naturally volatile. His own emotions frequently enslaved him.

Now that he could breathe, James started to think about what Sarish was saying in there... would the man stand up for him? Why would he? He brought me here, looked after me out of the goodness of his heart. Whatever I do could affect his reputation. For the first time he actually cared. He didn't want Sarish to suffer because of him, but he didn't know what he could do about that. He had no authority, no respect, and no power here.
So the Canadian closed his eyes and continued to regulate his breathing. It was the only thing he could do.

[Sarish]

Sarish sighed when James stepped out of the room. At least he wouldn't have to hear any more of the idiocy coming from the Grand Master's lips. He remained standing, though stepped closer to the desk. The African Grey eyed him warily now, feathers still fluffed up. The Head Master had now leveled his gaze on him, his impassive mask starting to crack.

"Master. You cannot mean those things you said to him. You have no idea what happened out there, who started what. You cannot seriously expect James to stand there and not defend himself against a trained apprentice. You cannot blame him for becoming angry and lashing out in return. All you have done since he has arrived is treat him coldly. I have never seen you act this way towards a visitor. And yet here we are," Sarish made a broad gesture at the room, at the desk, at the older man in front of him, who was frowning.

"I did. I have to mean every word I say, or else no one will listen. This whole monastery will come crumbling to the ground. Do you really believe that I can accept everyone who strides up to our doorstep, demanding for assistance? Do you think that we have those sort of resources?"

"We always have in the past. You never turned down a traveler looking for help. That's why we're here. That's what we do. What we've always done. And now you're trying to tell me that we can't afford to? Why not? Why did we even offer our help to people in the past?" Sarish asked incredulously. This is ridiculous. What is happening?

"Times are changing, young master, you know that as well as I. Tourism has started to pick up, which means the people who have been here must have talked. How many visitors have we initiated? Who says that they have not been bragging to everyone they know about how they were 'chosen' or about how they have 'superpowers'? How do we know that someone is not striding up the mountainside right now, determined to figure out what these 'powers' are all about? How do we know that he did not come here for that very reason. He does not look as if he wants to ask for our help."

Sarish's mouth fell open. He could not believe his ears. "How... How can you say these things? We only initiated the people we knew without a shadow of a doubt would keep the secret. We've never had an issue..." Wait. Had they? Had they had an issue with a visitor before? Sarish stumbled back a step, a sudden pain lancing through his brain.

"You do not remember," came the Head Master's voice, but not from the Head Master himself. It came from the beak of the older man's Alter, who was now gazing at him steadily with one dark eye. The bird stepped up to the very end of the desk, peering up at the young monk. "You do not remember because we suppressed that memory. We had to. You were falling so deep into despair that we were afraid you would lose yourself. You almost did. But you must remember now." And remember Sarish did. He remembered the man who had staggered up the worn path many years ago, pleading for help. He remembered how that man had chosen him as his master, hope sparkling in those warm eyes. He remembered working with that man for over a year, how he had made great strides. He remembered pleading with the other masters, assuring them that this man deserved to be initiated, to be open to the wonders of the soul. He remembered how quickly the man had learned... How quick he was to turn that power against them, and to... And to...

Tears filled Sarish's eyes. My fault. That was my fault. His hands trembled, his breath hitched. He was nearly overwhelmed with grief, barely able to control his manipulated emotions. The young master hiccuped, stifling a sob as he squeezed his eyes shut. Later.
He could dwell on this later. He had to focus right now. My fault. But... But James... "James... He's... He's not the same. I...
I swear to you, he's not..."

The Head Master's mask broke, his face radiating sympathy, speaking by himself instead of from his Alter. "I know. I know. But we can't afford to take that chance. I can't afford to take that chance. I'm sorry, but he has to leave."

And Sarish was immediately, instantaneously filled with determination. The tears in his eyes dried rapidly, his sorrow abating for the moment. "Then I will leave with him."

The Head Master frowned. "Think carefully, brother. You have only known him for one day. Is he really worth it?"

"Yes," he responded with no hesitation.

"But where will you go?"

"To the shack in the valley by the lake. Where we take the apprentices after they are initiated so they can be taught to control their abilities. You will not need it if you are no longer allowing visitors to stay at the monastery."

"You will not have our support. We cannot recognize James as an apprentice. You will have to renounce your title of 'master' until you return. Even then, you may not earn it back. Are you sure this is the right choice?"

"Yes."

The Head Master looked at him for a long moment. And then lowered his gaze in defeat, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth. "Very well. I will be awaiting your return, Sarish. I hope that you have made the right decision." He bowed slightly, the parrot mimicking the motion. Sarish returned the farewell, before turning and striding out of the study, sliding the door shut, and pausing. I... I hope I did too, he thought in a daze, his mind slowly catching up as he realized all of the implications he had agreed to when he said that he was leaving. My home of eighteen years... But this is not the home I once knew. It has changed. This is alright. Then a thought occurred to him. James might have decided that he will leave and return to Canada. And I just removed myself from the monastery. Sarish groaned, closing his eyes as he held a hand to his forehead. I'm an idiot.

(Oh. My. Gosh this is so long. I am so sorry.)

[stormy tom]

(haha it's okay XD I'm so glad I'm not the only person who makes super long posts every now and then. Plus they're interesting to read too! I don't think I've ever felt like I was reading a book reading someone-else's posts, but I was actually sitting there like 'ooh what's gonna happen next?'
damn, the tension...)

James spent the duration of the conversation sitting. Finally, he couldn't sit still anymore. He decided he should clean up, at least a little. So he lifted his hand and wiped the blood from his face, trying to keep it all on his hands instead of the floor or his clothes.
What have I done? I blew my only chance to start again. And what will I do now? Stagger back to Canada and my empty flat? Sit on my couch alone and watch my old game recordings and old action films? Go back to swimming in the public pool with children and seniors who don't talk to me? I can't live like that anymore.
James had always fancied himself a lone wolf, a creature of solitude. But now that he'd had a taste of living in a group atmosphere, of maybe even having a friend, even if it was just for a day, he didn't want to let it go.
I screwed that all up. Damn you, James hunter, and your uncontrollable mouth. He wiped his face as best he could and pulled himself to his feet. Then he started to limp slowly back down the hallway toward the door, feeling like an escaped prisoner. He didn't belong in this world. He looked different, spoke different, acted different...
But he stopped at the door, unable to take that first step into the sunlight. He'd come here for help, hadn't he? Albeit without planning to do so, but he was here. He'd ended up at this place in the end. James' stubborn soul wouldn't let him just give up and walk away. Not from this, and not so fast. He'd barely put up a fight yet.

So he turned around and went back for the doors to the Head Master's office. The conversation seemed to have ended, so he entered.
Again, he could taste the emotions in the air... Sarish... what did you do?
Regardless, James summoned every ounce of focus he had, swallowing the anger that rose in his throat as he approached the Head Master's desk. This time he stopped before he was within reach. It took all his strength to shove his pride deep down inside and dip his body in the smallest bow any human had ever made. There was apology in his eyes, as well as everything else he was feeling blatantly swirling around inside. It was clear how tightly he was holding onto himself.
The Canadian placed himself between Sarish and the Head Master: this had nothing to do with Sarish. Sarish wasn't the problem. He wasn't the antagonizer. He wasn't the enemy. James was.
Slowly, James reached for his trouser leg and tugged it up so his scars were clearly visible. "I ended up here one way or another, sir, and part of me is surprised I did. That same part knows I won't make it down that mountain on foot. Not without serious consequences. So you're stuck with me until another mode of transport gets here." he swallowed, thinking about his words before he said them. It was so hard. All he wanted to do was shout, drag the Master over his desk and take him down in a good old-fashioned brawl. "I heard this was a place of healing, and frankly, I could use a bit of that after a year... It took me a whole year to be able to walk up and down my own street in one journey. I barely made it up your mountain, and your staircase, and that's my limit with modern medicine. They can't do anything else for me. Part of me had the wild notion that you could."
There, he was asking for help. He was in no mood for unloading his whole story on this guy (who didn't really seem to care anyway), but he wanted him to know how hard James had worked to get here, and that he wasn't going to just wander away.

[Sarish]

(Haha, thanks! I spent a long time agonizing over that post, so I'm glad it turned out well xD)

Sarish barely glanced up as he felt James walk past him and go back into the Head Master's study. You... You've got to be kidding me... James, please. he begged tiredly. No more confrontation. No more harsh words. Nevertheless he stepped in after the Canadian, ready to do... something. He wasn't sure what James' intention was, but after what he had remembered... After all of that... He couldn't say that he could be as lax as he once was. It was true that he had only known this man for one day, and even though he knew, he knew that James would not turn out like his former student, he couldn't help but be wary.

The Head Master accepted James' infinitesimal bow, looking just as tired as Sarish felt as the two watched him bare his bad leg. His Alter had gone back to pretending to be a normal, everyday parrot that was not at all native to this region, blinking sleepily as it murmured nonsense to itself for a moment before closing its eyes. The older man examined the limb quickly, his face giving nothing away as he listened attentively, unmoving. When James finished speaking a silence ruled over the small room for a long while, the gears clearly working in the Head Master's mind as he stared off into space. And then he sighed, a great, weary sigh, a hand coming up to wipe over his face exasperatedly. "Alright... Alright. You may stay if you wish. But be aware that you are walking on a fine line, boy. We have had issues with visitors in the past," Sarish startled a little at that admission, fighting down the rising sorrow insistently. "But maybe we have been... Harsh. However, if we have even an inkling of the idea that you are going to be causing serious trouble, you will have to go." He paused, glancing at the other monk in the room. "Master Sarish will teach you."

"Are you sure?" the young man swallowed nervously, his mind helpfully supplying images of the last visitor he had taught.

"Yes. I still believe in you, Sarish. Everyone makes mistakes. Look at this as a chance to redeem yourself, if you like." Sarish nodded, lowering his head. No way... There was no way that this is happening. The Master is changing his mind? There's no way I could have done that... he glanced at the Canadian. He is something special. There's no doubt about it. The Head Master turned back to James, weariness writ into every line of his aged body. "Is this acceptable?"

[stormy tom]

And just like that he'd won. A siren-like noise blared in the back of James' mind, the sound the score board made at the end of the game. The stands were all rising to scream with elation as the their winning team dropped their sticks and slammed themselves into a victory pile.
James smiled. It was a tired smile that held relief and gratitude in it all at once. Perhaps it was out of that tiredness that he bowed again, but very low this time. When he spoke it was sincere, perhaps even warm. "Thank you." He straightened.
Maybe there was a chance after all...
"I'll prove you wrong about me," he said, and it was a promise. And as he turned to leave he saluted the parrot once more, then offered Sarish a smaller, remorseful one that was an apology all in it self. It was a tribute to the monk, for fighting for him like nobody else had.

And it was about time he got clean. The blood had dried on his face and hands. He looked like a mess.
"Got a sink or something?" He asked. There was a crackle of excitement in his eyes... what was he going to learn?

[Sarish]

"I hope you will," the Head Master responded, inclining his head. Sarish was pretty sure part of his soul escaped through the sigh he gave, feeling his knees go a little weak. Thank goodness. Thank goodness. That was enough drama to last me the rest of the month. Though something tells me that this was just the start of it," Sarish thought. He was nervous, to be sure, though he attempted to keep his expression neutral. To have that avalanche of a memory restored... To think they even surpressed it in the first place... I can't imagine how I dealt with all of that a few years ago... So I suppose I don't blame them. And now he was thrown right back into teaching? This is going to be difficult, he admitted to himself. I'll probably have to take a different approach to teaching James. It will be hard to get him to do anything that he doesn't want to.

Sarish waved away the salute, a little embarrassed. I did what anyone else would have done. Though Master Sanjay would have convinced the Head Master within two minutes. He followed James as he moved towards the door, glancing over his shoulder at the old man and his Alter, who had turned to watch them leave. Gratitude flooded through him. "Thank you," he called to them. The Head Master gave a tiny smile and the parrot held up one foot in a wave.

Sarish closed the door to the study, trotting to catch up to James. "Ah, yes, there is a washroom at the end of the apprentice's room's hallway. Here, I'll show you." He offered, taking the lead as they walked through the monastery. "Right in there," Sarish said, stopping in front of a door identical to all of the others. "Take as much time as you need. If you're hungry you can stop down at the dining hall for the midday meal. Everybody else should have eaten already."