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Search for the need, Vstim had always taught her. Don’t be a barnacle, simply leeching money where you can, Rysn. Find the unmet desire.
Most of Rysn’s contemporaries entered a discussion asking, “What can I get from this?” Rysn had been disabused of that notion early in her training. Her babsk taught a different way of seeing the world, training her to ask, “What need can I fulfill?”
Fly up close, and they each had their own distinctive jagged bits and places where the rock showed through. He’d even found flowers growing on a few, near vents that let out warm air. The problem with people was that everyone saw other nations from far away. Saw them as big mountainous blobs. Foreigners. Strange. Got it. Up close, it was hard to see people that way. Each was so distinctive. Everyone should use a “the” in front of their name. He’d merely figured that out first.
“I do what Vstim did,” Rysn said. “Spend my life earning the trust of those around me.
Emotions could take on a life of their own, like spren,
“You know,” Nikli said, still kneeling beside her chair and scanning the ship, “I have this strange, perhaps selfish piece inside me that didn’t want the crew to like me. It was easier to think of them all as bigots.” He looked down at his feet. “That was small of me.” “No, just human of you,”
dropped. The Voidbringers had come back. But they weren’t actually the Voidbringers. They were just parshmen, but different. And the war had started, like in the old stories. There was a new storm, and the world had basically ended. It all seemed so intense. But in reality, it was so storming slow.
“Hmmm? Oh, no. I was napping during that. No, those two Windrunners were playing with my spanreeds this morning.” “Correction,” Lopen said. “Huio was playing with them. I was being a responsible cousin and making fun of him for doing so.”
But Rysn knew exactly what she’d lost. “Hey,” Lopen said, taking the arm of the chair to steady it. “Feels good, I bet. You deserve this, gancha.” “How can you know that?” Rysn said. “We’ve known each other for only a few weeks.” “I’m a good judge of character,” Lopen said, with a grin. “Besides. Everyone deserves this.”
“Don’t let people tell you that style is limited, pretending it will run out like Stormlight. Style is the best resource in the world, because we can make as much of it as we want—and there’s plenty, sure, for everybody.”
“And thus, my great fortune evaporates like a man’s beauty upon the weathering shores of time.
“I will protect even those I hate,” Lopen said. “See? I can say it.” He dodged again. “It’s easy.” Rua-monster wagged another limb. “But I don’t hate anyone!” Lopen complained. “And nobody hates me. I’m The Lopen. How could they? These rules, sure, aren’t fair!”
“I’ll do it, then,” Lopen said, standing up. “I’ve got to protect people, you know? Even from myself. Gotta rededicate to being the best Lopen possible. A better, improved, extra-incredible Lopen.”
