He was not completely sure how to respond. In truth, he had never thought about it. What he was before. Before Kasrjin Khadai. There were moments were discussing his past were necessary, but he had never considered it to be him. Who he was in his previous role was another person, living in another time, in another life, so defined by his role was he, and the subject was treated as such. It was like being asked who a stranger was, or to describe a face he'd never seen before.
“What were you before?â€
That was what Roen asked.
Kasrjin was not sure.
Was that him? Or was it truly someone else? Did he know? Did it matter?
“His...my...responsibilities were different,†he said evasively, glancing away. How could he even begin to explain it? Would she understand? Could she? Somehow, it was a reminder. That he didn’t belong. In this place, this continent, perhaps this world. There was no place. Not for him.
His tone became clinical, the subject deflecting to her earlier inquiries. “One’s inclinations are considered when it is to be determined what role they shall take,†the Xaela explained, shifting his position again. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, in this frigid air, in this space. Who was he before? Did that person have a place? Did he? It was a struggle to maintain clarity. “Placing one who does not wish to function within a certain role is inefficient. An artisan who does not wish to create or imagine shall not be an artisan, even if their personal skill places them as one.†A pause. “And one who does not wish to fight, but is willing to despite that wish, is capable of being Khadai.â€
“My resolve,†he murmured. “There are times where it is possessed by certainty. And other times by doubt.†Kasrjin looked distracted, the Xaela now glancing off into the upper corner of the cellar as the blizzard continued. “It matters not.â€
“What were you before?â€
That was what Roen asked.
Kasrjin was not sure.
Was that him? Or was it truly someone else? Did he know? Did it matter?
“His...my...responsibilities were different,†he said evasively, glancing away. How could he even begin to explain it? Would she understand? Could she? Somehow, it was a reminder. That he didn’t belong. In this place, this continent, perhaps this world. There was no place. Not for him.
His tone became clinical, the subject deflecting to her earlier inquiries. “One’s inclinations are considered when it is to be determined what role they shall take,†the Xaela explained, shifting his position again. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, in this frigid air, in this space. Who was he before? Did that person have a place? Did he? It was a struggle to maintain clarity. “Placing one who does not wish to function within a certain role is inefficient. An artisan who does not wish to create or imagine shall not be an artisan, even if their personal skill places them as one.†A pause. “And one who does not wish to fight, but is willing to despite that wish, is capable of being Khadai.â€
“My resolve,†he murmured. “There are times where it is possessed by certainty. And other times by doubt.†Kasrjin looked distracted, the Xaela now glancing off into the upper corner of the cellar as the blizzard continued. “It matters not.â€
