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nevertheless-moving · 2 months

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I'm not quite there yet but I KNOW that after wind and truth featuring Szeth and Kaladin's Unwell Adventure, I WILL be adding Kalaszeth to my all encompassing mental cabinet of beloved possible Kaladin ships.

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Which introduces a new funniest time travel companion for a new funniest post book 5 time travel scenario.

Stormlight au 31:

Szeth, having jump scared the bridge crew by appearing lightly glowing in the dark while they were having stew, been hastily ushered by the captain into the bridge four barrack, only to sit on the floor and stare dead eyed at nothing: Kaladin, standing between the crew and the man on the floor:

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Lopen looked around. As usual, he could tell that the men were silently crying out for him, the Lopen, to take charge and speak.

"So!" he said cheerfully. "Gotta say gancho, very excited to meet an old friend of yours! Nice to take some mystery out of that mysterious past of yours, eh?"

Kaladin shifted from foot to foot, face twisting a bit. He had been acting strange since that terrifying glowy high storm vision of his a few days back. Even more broody than usual, which was storming saying something.

"It must be difficult," Rock said slowly. "Being Shin man with great powers and shardblade."

A shardblade which he had summoned unceremoniously, causing all of bridge four to scramble for weapons, only for the crazy man to hand it to Kaladin with a mumble, then sit on the floor.

Kaladin had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before placing it, very, very carefully, under his bed.

A storming shardblade. Under the Captain's bed.

"A Shin with a shardblade who wears white," Moash added sarcastically, eyes flickering to the Captain's bed even more than usual.

(White may have been a stretch, what with all the mud and possibly dried blood. Still. Lopen could perhaps see Moash's point.)

"Yes," Rock said. "Why, were I more suspicious man, I would say Captain, this man on the floor, he can not be Assassin in White? Surely most wanted, most dangerous man in all Roshar is not here, in the place we sleep, asking for aid. Surely it would have been mentioned if this man who caused the war we even now are a part of, was old friend of yours?"

"I..." Kaladin trailed off. "I promised to try and protect..."

The whole bridge crew groaned, Skar even throwing his spear at the ground. Bad form, that.

"Storm's sake lad!" Teft growled, arms in the air. "You can't befriend and save every wanted criminal you meet!"

"If it is of help -"

The men started at the unnerving dead voice coming from the so far quiet assassin.

"We are not truly friends. Merely -"

He said a word, presumably in his language, then frowned, the first recognizably human emotion that had crossed his face.

"I do not know this word in Alethi. In Azish it is I think -"

He said something that made Sigzil choke on air, jaw dropping. "Uh," the Worldsinger stammered out. "I. Ah. I think. That might be the wrong term."

The Captain seemed to pale slightly. "Szeth, we can talk about that later," he said quickly. "We should probably figure out a plan for you to surrender to Dalinar - or Elokhar - without you getting immediately executed - Yes, Dalinar is probably-"

"Perhaps," Sigzil interrupted, voice higher than usual. "You could define the meaning of the word you used before."

"Sigzil!" The captain hissed.

"Captain?" Sigzil challenged, voice still slightly too high.

"I was emotionally and mentally unwell," the assassin in white said in his monotone. He paused. "Even more so than currently."

A few of the men took a step back.

"Stormblessed..." he looked up at Kaladin, and his voice seemed to soften, just the slightest bit. "He felt pity for me. Then he helped me feel. Helped me think that perhaps, someday I would feel the desire for life. He did this despite no great love for my being."

Many of the men nodded at that. Sigzil's shoulders slumped in relief.

"He accomplished this primarily by fucking me in a cave."

The nods froze. Sigzil closed his eyes.

The Captain slapped a hand to his face.

"The translation for this from my language would be 'pity fuck', but there is more cultural nuance..." The Assassin shrugged. "In any case it is not a bond such as that of friendship. My soul is still far too damaged for that."

"Szeth..." The Captain said, looking down at him with obvious concern. He glanced at the room, blanched at the men's expressions, then slowly pressed his head back into his hand.

Moash made an indecipherable noise and stomped towards the door, before making another noise and stomping back.

The Captain kept his palm pressed to his face.

A sudden wave of epiphany hit Lopen. "Hold on. Now hold on just a storming minute!"

The room turned slowly from staring at their Stormblessed leader to staring at Lopen.

He pointed accusingly at the Captain. When the man failed to pull his massive hand from his beautiful face, Lopen faced the others, glaring.

"I know that I joined bridge four late! But are you telling me that before I got here, the whole famous 'pulling everyone out of bridge crew misery' was actually the captain...I mean did storming all of you..."

He made a deliberate gesture, pointer finger moving extra emphatically to make up for the missing hand with which to form a hole, meeting each man's eyes with a challenge.

Drehy let out a wheeze. He and Skar looked at each other before dissolving into quiet, helpless laughter. Drehy sank to his hands and knees, wheezing more, and Skar bent over, tears streaming down his face as he gasped around his laughing.

"That ain't an answer!" he said indignantly.

He looked at Teft, but the older man had put both hands over his face. His shoulders seem to shake occasionally. Lopen's eyes narrowed as he turned to Rock.

The horneater had a hand over his mouth, but he brought it down, coughing once as he stroked his beard.

"What," Rock said mildly. "You thought it my stew that bring back men's will to live? You honor me, the Lopen."

Lopen gaped at that, and he wasn't the only one. The handful of other 'late' additions, men who had been rescued on the field from other crews, started in shock.

The rest of the crew completely lost it at that point.

Skar and Drehy collapsed further, banging their fists on the floor. Bissig started laughing as well, falling onto Natam, who had made a strange grunting whine at Lopen's question, a whine which grew louder at Rock's reply.

Moash's lips turned up reluctantly before a snort escaped against his will. He fell back against a wall, knees seeming to grow weak. Another snort. "Imagine!" he gasped out. "If he just started punching people in the stomach, ran around like a madman, and expected people to follow him!"

Leyten went from chuckling to a booming laugh at that, clutching at Pete and Yake to stay upright. He looked at Lopen, who made another questioning gesture. That was enough to send all three toppling over, Leyten loud enough to be heard the next barrack over.

Renarin squeaked from the corner as Natam hit the wall beside him in mirth, howling. Talek's breath, he had forgotten the lad was there, light eyes wide in shock.

Shen was next to him. Was it Lopen's imagination, or did even his eyes seemed to be sparkling with mirth? No storming way...not the parshman...the Captain wouldn't...

"Crazy!" Torfin agreed, cackling. "What kind of idiots would start pooling all their pay to buy storming bandages for doomed men, start laughing during chasm duty, swear to stand by their storming bridge, if they didn't have at least one, um - uh -"

"Stormblessing!" Leyten offered with a gasp from the ground.

Torfin pointed at him, "Stormblessing!" he repeated with a yell. "To remind them that life was worth living!"

Lopen narrowed his eyes, finally coming to a conclusion. "You fellows are taking the piss out on me," he accused.

"You know Captain," Drehy said, whole body heaving, tears still streaming down his face as he lay helplessly on the floor. "I still get nightmares."

This inspired a new wave of laughter mixed with jeers about their own issues, and suggestions for how the captain could help. Lopen shook his head, grinning widely at the room full of uproarious men. Some of his best work. And mostly achieved on accident, which was the best kind of accomplishment!

The Captain finally pulled his hand from his face. There was color high in his cheeks, and he was frowning, but the corners of his eyes were creased with suppressed laughter.

"Sorry Drehy, one time offer," he said dryly, to hoots.

And Lopen," he said, faux apologetic. "I am sorry for the oversight. I... didn't realize you were interested."

The crew edged well into hysteria, most men only able to breathe in strangled gasps and wheeze out an occasional ''Stormblessing!'

Bridge four's captain was good at playing straight man, when the mood struck him.

The Lopen huffed, but decided magnanimously to move past the slight to his honor. Even if it turned out they weren't joking.

"It's still nice to be included," he sniffed. "Ain't that right, Renarin."

The Brightlord seemed to shrink as attention was drawn towards him, face a brilliant red as he pressed into the corner. Some of the laughter trailed off as the crew remembered he was there. More of it got louder, even less uncontrolled.

The Captain's eyes widened and the flush on his cheeks spread to his ears.

"Renarin! Oh - Jezrianssake, the men are full of chullshit, alright? I didn't - that wasn't -"

The Captain gestured helplessly. "The thing with Szeth was - we were - the world was going to -"

He threw up his arms as Renarin's eyes just got wider.

"It was the stew!" He said desperately, turning to look at Eth, who looked bemused back at him. "It really was the stew!" He pleaded.

"I know Captain," Eth said soothingly. "I know I came in a bit later, but I know. That's not exactly something these idiots would be able to keep secret."

"Things might have gone faster, though..." Skar said leadingly, which set off another round of helpless groans and gasps for air.

The Captain rolled his eyes, scoffing, still the perfect comedic straight man.

...He did get the whole joke though, right? The bit of truth in the jeers? The Lopen was not generally interested in the more manly sex but Storms. It was sometimes hard to tell if the Captain realized just how pretty he was, just how much people reacted to his general...Stormblessedness. Not to mention the glowing! Everyone loves a man who can glow and run up walls.

Hm. Maybe that helped explain the Captain and the Assassin.

Moash stumbled, still snorting, over to the Man in White - to Szeth - looking down at him, appraising.

Kaladin grew tense.

Gancho had been especially strange around Moash for the last few days.

"Assassin," he said thoughtfully. "Are you sure it was just pity?"

The wide eyed man, who had remained utterly impassive as the room fell apart around him, cocked his head as Moash leaned down.

"There's a certain kind of person who finds killing light eyes, especially powerful lighteyes, a rather..."

Kaladin cleared his throat, interrupting. "We're not killing the king."

Moash turned sharply, glaring at Kaladin.

"I do not wish to kill anymore," Szeth whispered. He paused, then spoke again.

"I will kill if the Blackthorn orders, or if you ask, Kaladin Stormblessed, son son Tanavast."

Kaladin winced. "Maybe let's not mention...that whole last part when we go to the King. We...we should definitely practice exactly how we're going to explain all this."

He starting towing the still blank faced - no there was a bit of confusion there, if you were looking - infamous Assassin to his office, the men letting out the best jeers they could (considering their incoherent state) as they went.

"You should for sure mention the 'pity fuck' thing though," Lopen called helpfully. "The King will definitely be interested in that."