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Aug. 11th, 2007 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
turn_the_wheelHe had not signed up for this—willingly—but he fully intended to finish it.
Duty was calling, and as a tarot card, you do that first before everything else...
It really wasn't hard to find the wizard. Misery had seen him enter the woods that morning, seemingly unarmed. But One Crow could tell he wasn't; that he was carrying something somewhere on the outside of his right leg, though hidden from mortal sight.
Following her instructions and general directions, he found the one he was looking for.
"Your enthusiasm is lacking, even with your promise."
The wizard gave a start and dropped his sword. Then swore. Heatedly.
"You are also an easy target if you don't extend some of your concentration to what's around you. Not everything happens in front of you." Wheel smiled, much to Rabastan's annoyance [he'd turned around soon after picking up his weapon]. "I thought your hearing was now your best sense. You can fool anyone now."
Rabastan cursed again, with feeling. "I didn't think you knew anything about weapons and fighting."
"I don't."
"But you—"
"Except what I've learned from my siblings, or was shown by them. Journey was most obliging with his knowledge, as befits a warrior-scholar. But I never took up a weapon. My interest was mere curiosity. I'm not of the Sword Suit after all."
He sat down and motioned Rabastan to do likewise.
"Something is bothering you. Enough to keep you from fully concentrating on what's being taught." He stopped speaking momentarily because Rabastan was giving him that disbelieving look. "I know there is; it's all over you. Radiating from you. Not as strong as before, but now, with you out here doing what you're supposed to be doing—and getting no further now than you were with an instructor—it's as though you were casting a second shadow."
"Nothing is bothering me," Rabastan said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was the tarot card now sitting across from him.
"That's a lie and you know it," Wheel said, clearly unconvinced. "Even you don't believe it. There's a lot on your mind isn't there? And it distresses you doesn't it? What? You thought I couldn't tell? I can," Wheel said as Rabastan's expressions changed. "I can't read your mind, but I can see enough to give me a rough estimation of what is on your mind at any one time. A little like Legilimency, in a way, though there's no looking inside your mind to tell me what I want to know.
So lying to me is pointless. You might as well tell me what's got you in knots."
Rabastan picked up a twig and proceeded to tear it to pieces. He was going to avoid discussing this unless prodded. A lot.
"Destroying bits of wood won't make the words come easier, young man," Wheel said patiently. Rabastan could be as difficult as he wanted to be; the card had all the patience in the world.
Besides.
He'd dealt with cases far more difficult in the past; Rabastan wasn't going to be that hard a nut to crack.
Ten minutes of waiting did not bring Rabastan any closer to speaking his mind now than he did when Wheel happened upon him, so, with the kind of patience only immortal beings possessed, Wheel decided to do the speaking instead, and without any kind of resentment for having to do so. It was necessary to do this sometimes.
"Since you are unwilling to tell me what you are thinking, I will tell you what I think you are thinking. And feeling. And when I am done you can correct my assumptions, if I am incorrect."
Wheel could have added, "if I am incorrect," but Rabastan was already on the defensive, and provoking him would not help the wizard's cause any.
"What I think," he said, waiting only a moment; enough to get Rabastan's attention before proceeding, "is that you're frightened. Afraid. And when you're afraid you avoid the thing of fear unless someone forces you to confront it, and even then you will retreat from it, if only in mind or spirit and not in body. You couldn't run from Voldemort, you couldn't run from your brother, you could not run from Azkaban even if you wanted to, and even the fear that your society's prejudices and preconceived notions are colouring your views still despite your attempts to overcome them. And you can't run from the wolf because he lives inside you and there's no way to get it out of you. Ever. You're afraid. And more than those things you're afraid to go home. Because to go home means to go home friendless and alone. Truly friendless and alone. No support from anyone; you've only got yourself to rely on for survival and you're not sure you'll be able to do that well.
And ... you're afraid to die.
Aren't you?"
Rabastan looked very pale. And the dim light of the forest made it stand out even more.
"You are, aren't you?"
No answer.
"You are."
Still no answer.
"Well. I see we've come to the root of all this. Doesn't explain your tendency to act childish, but I suspect that's psychological damage and requires me to approach it from a different angle than this, but for now we'll deal with your fears first, and then whatever immaturity you possess."
Rabastan had another twig in his hand, but this time he just turned it over and over without really looking at it.
Likely he wasn't listening at all. Just retreating into his own mind the way he always did when dealing with fear.
"Running from what frightens you won't help you come to terms with it. It never works; only worsens it."
In the gloom he could see Rabastan's shoulders heaving. The wizard was crying now. Crying as a release.
"Do you want help? You're not as alone as you think you are. Never alone, unless you want to be."
It took several minutes, but at last there was a nod of the head.
"If I help you you'll have to do as instructed even if you'd rather not. And no, this won't involve anything absurd, like jumping off cliffs, but far more serious. You have to face what scares you, sooner or later, and I'd rather you learn it now."
Another nod.
"I have no intentions of hurting you but I won't make it easy for you either."
Nothing was said for a while after that. At least, not for a good five minutes.
"Get up young man; it's time you went inside. You might not feel it but you're hungry and besides, a good tea would do you some good. Now come along."
Duty was calling, and as a tarot card, you do that first before everything else...
It really wasn't hard to find the wizard. Misery had seen him enter the woods that morning, seemingly unarmed. But One Crow could tell he wasn't; that he was carrying something somewhere on the outside of his right leg, though hidden from mortal sight.
Following her instructions and general directions, he found the one he was looking for.
"Your enthusiasm is lacking, even with your promise."
The wizard gave a start and dropped his sword. Then swore. Heatedly.
"You are also an easy target if you don't extend some of your concentration to what's around you. Not everything happens in front of you." Wheel smiled, much to Rabastan's annoyance [he'd turned around soon after picking up his weapon]. "I thought your hearing was now your best sense. You can fool anyone now."
Rabastan cursed again, with feeling. "I didn't think you knew anything about weapons and fighting."
"I don't."
"But you—"
"Except what I've learned from my siblings, or was shown by them. Journey was most obliging with his knowledge, as befits a warrior-scholar. But I never took up a weapon. My interest was mere curiosity. I'm not of the Sword Suit after all."
He sat down and motioned Rabastan to do likewise.
"Something is bothering you. Enough to keep you from fully concentrating on what's being taught." He stopped speaking momentarily because Rabastan was giving him that disbelieving look. "I know there is; it's all over you. Radiating from you. Not as strong as before, but now, with you out here doing what you're supposed to be doing—and getting no further now than you were with an instructor—it's as though you were casting a second shadow."
"Nothing is bothering me," Rabastan said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was the tarot card now sitting across from him.
"That's a lie and you know it," Wheel said, clearly unconvinced. "Even you don't believe it. There's a lot on your mind isn't there? And it distresses you doesn't it? What? You thought I couldn't tell? I can," Wheel said as Rabastan's expressions changed. "I can't read your mind, but I can see enough to give me a rough estimation of what is on your mind at any one time. A little like Legilimency, in a way, though there's no looking inside your mind to tell me what I want to know.
So lying to me is pointless. You might as well tell me what's got you in knots."
Rabastan picked up a twig and proceeded to tear it to pieces. He was going to avoid discussing this unless prodded. A lot.
"Destroying bits of wood won't make the words come easier, young man," Wheel said patiently. Rabastan could be as difficult as he wanted to be; the card had all the patience in the world.
Besides.
He'd dealt with cases far more difficult in the past; Rabastan wasn't going to be that hard a nut to crack.
Ten minutes of waiting did not bring Rabastan any closer to speaking his mind now than he did when Wheel happened upon him, so, with the kind of patience only immortal beings possessed, Wheel decided to do the speaking instead, and without any kind of resentment for having to do so. It was necessary to do this sometimes.
"Since you are unwilling to tell me what you are thinking, I will tell you what I think you are thinking. And feeling. And when I am done you can correct my assumptions, if I am incorrect."
Wheel could have added, "if I am incorrect," but Rabastan was already on the defensive, and provoking him would not help the wizard's cause any.
"What I think," he said, waiting only a moment; enough to get Rabastan's attention before proceeding, "is that you're frightened. Afraid. And when you're afraid you avoid the thing of fear unless someone forces you to confront it, and even then you will retreat from it, if only in mind or spirit and not in body. You couldn't run from Voldemort, you couldn't run from your brother, you could not run from Azkaban even if you wanted to, and even the fear that your society's prejudices and preconceived notions are colouring your views still despite your attempts to overcome them. And you can't run from the wolf because he lives inside you and there's no way to get it out of you. Ever. You're afraid. And more than those things you're afraid to go home. Because to go home means to go home friendless and alone. Truly friendless and alone. No support from anyone; you've only got yourself to rely on for survival and you're not sure you'll be able to do that well.
And ... you're afraid to die.
Aren't you?"
Rabastan looked very pale. And the dim light of the forest made it stand out even more.
"You are, aren't you?"
No answer.
"You are."
Still no answer.
"Well. I see we've come to the root of all this. Doesn't explain your tendency to act childish, but I suspect that's psychological damage and requires me to approach it from a different angle than this, but for now we'll deal with your fears first, and then whatever immaturity you possess."
Rabastan had another twig in his hand, but this time he just turned it over and over without really looking at it.
Likely he wasn't listening at all. Just retreating into his own mind the way he always did when dealing with fear.
"Running from what frightens you won't help you come to terms with it. It never works; only worsens it."
In the gloom he could see Rabastan's shoulders heaving. The wizard was crying now. Crying as a release.
"Do you want help? You're not as alone as you think you are. Never alone, unless you want to be."
It took several minutes, but at last there was a nod of the head.
"If I help you you'll have to do as instructed even if you'd rather not. And no, this won't involve anything absurd, like jumping off cliffs, but far more serious. You have to face what scares you, sooner or later, and I'd rather you learn it now."
Another nod.
"I have no intentions of hurting you but I won't make it easy for you either."
Nothing was said for a while after that. At least, not for a good five minutes.
"Get up young man; it's time you went inside. You might not feel it but you're hungry and besides, a good tea would do you some good. Now come along."
