Jasnah is unfasionable, or perhaps prescient. She becomes infuriated after about the first sixty seconds of the first song.
She spends most of the time sitting wherever she's trying to work, looking alternatingly irate and incredulous. Music on Roshar involves drums, involves ceremony- maybe a flute if you're feeling particularly fancy. If you're a soldier maybe there's a dirty limerick or two about a brightlord and his horse. What she's hearing now is grating and tasteless and she points out, with an outright snarl;
"The words 'baby' and 'crazy' are not a rhyme."
This to the world at large.
Powerlessness
People believe princesses should have relatively few things to be frustrated about, but it's actually quite the opposite. There had been endless restrictions; she'd still felt penned in by her father's will and ther ardents and their strictures around impropriety. There had been many, many suitors, each more presumptuous and frustrating than the last. Everyone had been perfectly happy to make a fuss about how important she was, but no one had been particularly inclined to listen to a word coming out of her mouth. They'd say 'anything you wish, Brightness' and then proceed to force her to do the exact opposite, and at thirteen all Jasnah could do was try desperately to hide the tears of frustration.
By the time she was sixteen she'd learned to turn that rage into icy composure, and to make the system work in her favour. She'd learned to tell when 'you can't do that' meant 'I don't want you to do that,' how to change the first and entirely disregard the second. Because Jasnah is a 'no emotional grit in the microscope of my perception' kind of thinker, she'd assumed that the end of the tears had been the result of that lesson. She doesn't like to remember or acknowledge that perhaps being a hormonal teenager had something to do with it.
The drugging feels the same. Jasnah tries to distract herself with her research notes, and finds herself sitting out on the observation deck with her face hot and her eyes stinging. She wants to go home. All of that desire and all of her will haven't been able to make that come true. She should be with her mother, mourning the passing of her brother. She should be with her kingdom, leading them through the beginning months of the war.
Jasnah is determined not to cry in public, but her cheeks are a scalding red, and her eyes are bright, and she stares fixedly at her notebook without absorbing a word.
0 0 4 ยป AFTERMATH
Later, Jasnah makes the round, prioritizing everyone she either screamed at or wept on.
Jasnah Kholin: OTA
Jasnah is unfasionable, or perhaps prescient. She becomes infuriated after about the first sixty seconds of the first song.
She spends most of the time sitting wherever she's trying to work, looking alternatingly irate and incredulous. Music on Roshar involves drums, involves ceremony- maybe a flute if you're feeling particularly fancy. If you're a soldier maybe there's a dirty limerick or two about a brightlord and his horse. What she's hearing now is grating and tasteless and she points out, with an outright snarl;
"The words 'baby' and 'crazy' are not a rhyme."
This to the world at large.
Powerlessness
People believe princesses should have relatively few things to be frustrated about, but it's actually quite the opposite. There had been endless restrictions; she'd still felt penned in by her father's will and ther ardents and their strictures around impropriety. There had been many, many suitors, each more presumptuous and frustrating than the last. Everyone had been perfectly happy to make a fuss about how important she was, but no one had been particularly inclined to listen to a word coming out of her mouth. They'd say 'anything you wish, Brightness' and then proceed to force her to do the exact opposite, and at thirteen all Jasnah could do was try desperately to hide the tears of frustration.
By the time she was sixteen she'd learned to turn that rage into icy composure, and to make the system work in her favour. She'd learned to tell when 'you can't do that' meant 'I don't want you to do that,' how to change the first and entirely disregard the second. Because Jasnah is a 'no emotional grit in the microscope of my perception' kind of thinker, she'd assumed that the end of the tears had been the result of that lesson. She doesn't like to remember or acknowledge that perhaps being a hormonal teenager had something to do with it.
The drugging feels the same. Jasnah tries to distract herself with her research notes, and finds herself sitting out on the observation deck with her face hot and her eyes stinging. She wants to go home. All of that desire and all of her will haven't been able to make that come true. She should be with her mother, mourning the passing of her brother. She should be with her kingdom, leading them through the beginning months of the war.
Jasnah is determined not to cry in public, but her cheeks are a scalding red, and her eyes are bright, and she stares fixedly at her notebook without absorbing a word.
0 0 4 ยป AFTERMATH
Later, Jasnah makes the round, prioritizing everyone she either screamed at or wept on.