One of Those Days [Veldrys]

[Seodai]

50 Fall, 511 AV Seodai had a lot going on. Hell, didn't everyone in Denval? Times were crazy. Everything was crazy, what with the murder of a child and all that had followed. It was unthinkable, really, that something so cruel would happen from within. Denval was a fierce and strong place, but as each young boy grew and learned to wield arms and was indoctrinated into the thought processes that kept Denval strong, he learned that the threat was outside. Denval was something like an enormous family within the walls, a place that was good and safe to grow and learn. The murder had shaken that, somehow. And though Seodai was pulled in a million directions, he had days where he couldn't get away from it. The chink in the armor, the glitch in the system. Bala was his fortress, his patron god and his beloved. He spent his days in constant prayer and praise and, when his attentions were divided, his attentions usually shifted to Syna. He knew all of the lore that went along with Viratas and Aquirus - what Denvali didin't? He felt proper respect, but no special connection with either. Sometimes, though, he felt comforted by the thought of Denval's long past. Sometimes he liked to go to the chapel and sit in the quiet pews. He liked to gaze at each stone, lovingly and intentionally placed, and imagine that the gods really were involved. That they did care. That they were somehow watching over them. Today was one of those days. A heifer had given birth out of season, and the pitiful thing she had borne had bleated only once before it passed. A bad omen, Seodai was certain. It reminded him of the child Denval had lost and, altogether, did much to subdue his mood. He had slipped away from the farm just as the sun rose and walked the dusty trail that led him to the chapel. The grounds were lovely, and sometimes he invested the gift Bala had given him into pruning and encouraging the vegetation that lived there. Today was not such a day. Today was for his own, private sort of mourning. Today was for his own awkward prayers. It was quiet as he approached, and he was met with the same amiable silence when he entered. The promise of peace lured him in, though Seodai knew that this sort of peace almost never lasted.

[Veldrys]

It was truly one of these days. The Symenestra had left Kalinor to find a little peace of mind, so that there would be no conflict of conscience anymore, so that he could help his people, but Denval had been anything but peaceful recently. There was no time for research anymore, no time to find the things out he had come for, or rather, he was not in the mood to brood over a book or try to persuade the humans to tell him about their city’s history. He could only think about Viratas‘ appearance in the chapel, but a season prior, the ominous prophecy he had given to him, the mark. What did it mean and how could he prevent the disaster the god had spoken of?

Was the child’s murder the first sign, another step closer to the end? He had tried to find out who or what had caused the murder, but the blood that had been spilt had already been old so that not even a man that had been marked by Viratas could find anything out, and there had been no traces of the murderer, as if he, she or it had never existed. There was only that unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach, the awareness that something was utterly wrong.

He had already gone into the Chapel very early in the morning, immediately after he had tended to a patient. While some people here were still suspicious of him, the majority of them accepted him, especially after Viratas‘ appearance, and the rest did at least not run after him with pitchforks and accuse him of being a monster. He had already made a sacrifice, a few drops of his own blood, as usual. There was nothing more precious than that. He hoped that his god would tell him what to do or at least give him a sign.

Seodai would find the Symenestra sitting on one of the benches, close to the altar. At first Veldrys would seem like just another human to him, albeit with unusual, brilliant silver hair and a bit too pale, but if the young man came closer he would see that the one person that was in the Chapel besides him was anything but human. There was something appealing about his face, about those amethyst eyes, but at the same time there was something strange about him.

One of his slender hands that ended in black claws was bandaged, as if he had hurt himself a short time ago. The robe that he was wearing was made of blood red silk, and he was whispering something, a prayer in a language that Seodai couldn’t understand, a prayer to Viratas, the blood god, in the language of the Symenestra, the language that was best suited for that kind of prayer.

[Seodai]

Seodai was not a gregarious sort of person in the best of circumstances. There could have been a dozen people in the chapel, and Seodai would have still gone to great lengths to avoid each and every one of them. He was only relieved that the place was largely unoccupied, and the single figure on the bench was easy enough to sidestep. There were plenty of places to sit, after all. Seodai was as inobtrusive as he was antisocial, and so his steps were quiet and unassuming as he moved into the chapel and did the logical thing. He sat down. A day might have passed in that silence. Seodai was comfortable enough being unseen. There was a peace that came with solitude, a safety from being ignored. People couldn't hurt you if they didn't see you. Seodai didn't recognize the figure near him to be one that might have been particularly threatening anyway, but as he twisted his fingertips around a callous on one thumb and mulled over the reason he had come here at all, he finally heard the voice of his fellow worshipper. The words, of course, were lost upon him. It was like a lullaby, almost. Or a song. It was breathy, whispered just loudly enough for Seodai to confuse the syllables and muck it all up in his mind. It was appealing, though, if only because Seodai could recognize the sincerity in the tone. Seodai understood that, the weight of meaningful prayers. Even if the words were nonsensical and whispered, he felt somehow in communion with his companion in the chapel. They all needed prayer, didn't they? Desperately, right now, it seemed. And though he seldom turned his emotional energies towards any other than Bala, and Syna, Seodai was willing to labor towards earning the help of the gods. He dropped his blonde head and, with a lack of grace that might have been a stark contrast to the lyrical speech whispered near to him if he had spoken it aloud, uttered his own prayer. When some time had passed, Seodai stood. The bench he had left behind creaked in his absence, and he began to retrace his steps. To exit as quietly as he came. Passing down the aisle where the other presence sat, Seodai allowed curious blue eyes to drift aside. He felt oddly encouraged, buoyed on the borrowed faith of another. He wondered from whom he had stolen this sliver of hope. Interrupting, Seodai's presence was apparently disruptive enough to cause the figure to glance up. It was not at all what he had expected, the face that greeted him. Lovely, somehow. Nice to look at. And yet the sum of it, the figure cut in the silk, was almost frightening. Intimidating, at least. The claws would have been enough to make Seodai scuttle back, had he not found those amethyst eyes to arrest his attention. He'd never seen eyes that color, except perhaps for the times when a glimmer of it danced through the Vantha artist's eyes. They were so unnaturally appealing. Pretty. Gods, Syllke was rubbing off on him. Seodai opened his mouth. He thought to say thank you. For the prayer, perhaps. But Seodai was awkwardly terrible when it came to socialization and, ultimately, his own self-doubt won out. He clamped his lips closed again, his blue eyes diverted to the floor, and he gave a little nod. His unruly blonde locks fell into his eyes, he hesitated a moment longer, and then turned to walk the aisle again instead. Maybe the strange, unusual creature - who did not at all match the soothing voice Seodai had appreciated - would simply understand his appreciation, though to do so from his backwards body language would be difficult indeed.

[Veldrys]

Being in the Chapel always calmed him down and eased his fears a little. He felt closer to his god when he was here. It had been here that Viratas had appeared to him. It had been here that Viratas had marked him. The problems that the world was facing seemed further away and easier to solve as long as he was here.

It was cool here and quiet, so quiet that Seodai’s arrival in the Symenestra’s sanctuary seemed as loud as an explosion or a thunderstorm. Veldrys stopped his prayer for a moment and raised his head, thinking. If the person that had entered wanted something from him, they would likely approach him, and if they just wanted to pray, they wouldn’t appreciate his interruption anyway. There was no need to acknolwedge the stranger’s presence.

He lowered his head again and continued to pray. The language he was praying in had an eerie quality to it. Some found Symenos appealing, and some shuddered when they heard it. To Veldrys it was just a means to get closer to his god. He recited passage after passage from the Viratassa, the holy book of Viratas.

He had already learned most of it by heart when he had been a child.

As Seodai stood again, the Symenestra raised his head once more, although he still didn’t speak. It seemed wrong to speak loudly in a place like this one. Their eyes met for a moment as Seodai passed him by. For a moment it seemed to Veldrys as if the human wanted something from him, as if he had a question. The Symenestra smiled very lightly to let him know that he didn’t mind and waited, but the human didn’t say anything.

Veldrys arched an eyebrow, confused. As Seodai turned around and was on his way to the door, he could hear a voice, the same pleasant voice he had heard before, although the Symenestra was speaking Common this time, with a noticeable accent.

„It seemed as if you wanted something from me, as if you had something to say, but then you chose not to speak.“

„Why?“

[Seodai]

The voice which called to him gave him pause. Seodai's booted feet froze on the polished wood of the floor beneath him, but he didn't immediately turn back. Like one of the statues in the courtyard, he remained motionless, like granite. Syllke had a way of speaking, on and on sometimes, without giving a single thought to his words. He seldom offended, his charismatic nature soothing over any bumps in the road, but Seodai was much the opposite. He often thought so hard on his words that he never spoke them at all. And now, in a new and uncomfortable situation, Seodai was not certain how to respond. What would the stranger want to hear? Pleasing other people had always been an aim of his, if not consciously. Perhaps it was his own way of atoning for his failure, his inability to be as Denvali as all the rest, as helpful and useful as he should. Seodai was as wholly absorbed in the issue of blood as the Symenestra. His entire life had hinged upon the flaw in his own. Because of that flaw, he had exaggerated his limitations and downplayed his capacities. He did not recognize that the whole of Denval was largely reliant upon his efforts on the farm, as most of their sustenance came from his fields. He didn't see the value in many of the things he did, but oh how he saw the shortcomings. Possessed by a spark, a spirit he couldn't explain, Seodai turned his head aside, to speak over his shoulder. "Because it is easier to be invisible." Clearly he didn't mean it literally. They both recognized that their eyes had met, they had very plainly looked into one another's faces. Something inside Seodai assured him, however, that the silken-robed figure would understand what he meant. That he would read into the nuance of his words and pluck out the deeper, more philosophical meaning without a struggle. What that figure would not know, however, was that Seodai had expressed more truth about his cracked spirit in that single cryptic sentence to a stranger than he had given to nearly any living soul. And he couldn't even begin to explain why. Why he had bothered, why he was even standing there with his fingers on the cool, curved wooden edge of a pew, waiting for a response.

[Veldrys]

Veldrys didn’t expect the human to actually answer his question. He had seemed so intent on leaving the Chapel after he had said his prayer. And thus a look of surprise crossed the healer’s pale face as Seodai actually turned his head. To anybody else the young man’s reply would likely have been confusing beyond measure, but Veldrys understood exactly what he meant. He had thought the same thing once. In fact he still did. Life was so much easier if you stayed invisible, if you were just another face in the crowd.

„I know“, he said. His voice was a mere whisper, as if he were still a little afraid of raising his voice in this place. „Better than you can imagine. It’s always easier to be invisible. It doesn’t hurt as much. But sometimes the easy way isn’t the right way. Sometimes you have to become visible, to reveal a bit of your true self and let people know what you are really thinking. Do you know what I mean?“

It would have been so much easier to stay in Kalinor and do exactly what his people expected of him. His path would have been clear. There would have been no great conflicts. He would have gotten married, to a girl he might or might not have loved. He would have gone on a Harvest and captured a human to bear his child. He was pretty sure he could have found a way to numb the pain a little, to kill his true self or at least ignore it.

He would have worked as a healer at the Purging. Maybe he would also have served in the Temple of Viratas every now and then. It would have been an easy life, the typical life of a Symenestra, pleasant in a way.

But he had never been able to forget that night under the stars, years ago in Lhavit, that boy of mixed blood, a brief romance. He had shown him that those of mixed blood were not tainted. All creatures that bled were worth the same, no matter whether they were Symenestra, human or something else. Maybe it had been because of him that he had begun to see his existence and the things he did with different eyes and left.

There had to be another way, another way for his people to survive but to kill and look down on those that weren’t like them ...

Living here, on the surface, where he always stood out, wasn’t easy. Facing the humans‘ often justified discrimination, listening to the stories of the crimes his people committed wasn’t easy. But it was necessary.

[Seodai]

Sometimes the easy way isn't the right way. Seodai was struck by those words, moved by their seeming relevance to his own life and experiences. No, he didn't understand. Not in practice, not really. He had Theo, and he had Talen. Beyond that, his circle had recently expanded to include a persistent Vantha who just couldn't be told no and had somehow wormed his way into the farmer's trust, and an ethaefal whom he loved from afar. Seodai did not understand about taking risk, not really. He remained guarded, shielded, almost always. "No," he replied after a thoughtful pause, turning to face the other more fully. "I do not understand. I hear you, but... Why must we share anything with people? The ones who matter most will know it, and the ones who do not know hardly matter. What exists in life that makes the risk worthwhile?" Would it be worth it to expose his emotions to Lysander? To, plainly and without mincing words, explain the predicament he found himself in, the daily struggle? When Seodai considered the possible consequences and implications from such an action it made him cringe. How could he cope with losing Lysander altogether? And why bother looking like a fool, if it was a situation Lysander very well couldn't change? But perhaps he was using Lysander as a diversion. Maybe he had more important issues he should be considering, other things he should be thinking on. Like the mother and father he hadn't seen for more than a couple of moments in almost a year. Like all the bitterness and disappointment and hurt that he still harbored towards them, and a whole slew of others. "Shadows do not wound. Why leave them behind?"

[Veldrys]

„Because ...“ the Symenestra began, but he didn’t finish the sentence right away. Instead he averted his gaze and looked at the altar where he had sacrificed his blood regularly since his arrival in Denval, hoping to get an answer from his god. He had asked the same question so many times. The shadows didn’t wound. It was so much easier to hide, so much easier to ignore what was wrong with the world and yourself. It was so much easier to do what you had always done, to live your life the way you had always lived it, until the bitter end.

„If you hide in the shadows, if you become invisible, you will eventually disappear completely, and nobody will remember you. You will have lived your life in vain. Do you want that? What will happen if your parents die and your friends or your siblings leave as they often do? What kind of place would the world be if we all just hid in the shadows and tried to avoid unpleasant things where we can?“

„Sometimes we have to take a chance, step out of the shadows and try to touch other people with what we do. Sometimes you will be rewarded if you take a risk. And sometimes there is nothing that makes the risk worthwile, there will only be pain, but you still have to do it. If you don’t take a chance, you’ll never know what will happen, you’ll never know what kind of life you could have had, and you will mourn those lost opportunities forever.“

„Do those that matter to you the most really know? Do they really know you and how you feel?“ He stopped and pulled his sleeve back. Seodai could see a red chain on the Symenestra’s arm. „Do you think my god marked me because I hid in the shadows? Sometimes it hurts, more than you’ll ever know, but I don’t want to be like the rest of my kind and accept what they call the fate of our race. It’s better to fight and die fighting than to lie down right away and wait for your life to end.“

[Seodai]

Seodai hadn't really recognized the slow, inevitable turning of his body towards this new source of wisdom. He hadn't been thinking of taking the steps that led him back, closer to Veldrys, to those strange colored eyes and the general sense of different that the other possessed. Seodai thought, for a moment, that perhaps he should be unsettled. Ultimately words won over, though, and he took a seat on the bench just behind Veldrys instead. With his forearms resting against the wood that served as the back of the bench the Symenestra sat in, Seodai steepled his fingers and, pursing his lips, considered his response. He'd never had a discussion like this in his life. Not so forthright. Not even with Theo, with whom the closeness of love and fondness skewed even the most frank of discussions. Not with Syllke, whose opinion he valued too highly to expose so much to. Certainly not with Lysander. "No, I do not think so. I do not think anyone knows me, really." The silence that fell after his admission was a loud one. He went on, speculatively objective. "Bala knows me. I have her mark, and I did not have to sacrifice myself to earn it. Is living in peaceful avoidance waiting for life to end? It doesn't seem as if the two must be one in the same. I hardly speak to anyone. I was born in this town, and there are probably people who do not know my name. But I work hard, I please my goddess, and I am happy. Why should I change anything?" Calloused, farm worn fingers lifted to scratch at the nape of his golden neck. Seodai, perusing Veldrys' form with a lazy curiosity, felt the tinge of falseness on his own words as soon as he spoke them.

[Veldrys]

As Seodai took a seat behind him, the Symenestra inclined his head very slightly. He had hoped that the human would come to him and listen, that his words would have some kind of effect on him. „Why do they not know you?“ he asked. „Are you not worth knowing? Are your feelings not worth knowing? Are you such a terrible person?“ He understood Seodai so well. He had been exactly like this before he had left Kalinor. In a way it was as if he were looking into the past, at some kind of strange, human version of himself. He had been a different person back then, less conflicted, happier in a way. He suddenly couldn’t help but second guess the things he had just said.

Was what he had told Seodai really right? Was it really better to reveal yourself and be hurt over and over again? How could he adivse him when the decisions he had made had caused him so much pain? Because there was no other way for him to exist, no other choice. Maybe he could have spent a few more years in Kalinor. Living in peaceful avoidance would have been so much more pleasant, but in the end he would likely have asked himself what his life could have been like, if he could have easied his people’s suffering a little. But it would have been too late then. He wanted Seodai to know this, so that it wouldn’t be too late for him.

„Maybe it isn’t exactly waiting for life to end“, he decided. „But if you live your life in so called peaceful avoidance, you might regret it in the end. Nobody cares about a man that has lived his life in peaceful avoidance. If you live your life that way, they will eventually forget you. It will be as if you had not lived at all. It might be easier now – I know that my life was easier before I came here – but when you are old, you might find yourself constantly wondering what would have happened if things had been different, if you had been a little more open. But it will be too late then.“

As Seodai admitted that there were probably people in Denval who didn’t know his name, he arched an eyebrow. Denval was even smaller than Kalinor, and everybody had at least known his name in his old home. How could it be that the Denvali were not aware of this young man’s existence? What was wrong with them? With him?

„They should know you. If you have been marked by Bala, isn’t what you do important for this community? Aren’t you a special person? They should be aware of your existence and what might happen if you are suddenly gone.“

As Seodai asked him why he should change anything, the Symenestra hesitated, but then he replied, „Because you don’t really believe what you say. I can see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice. You have doubts ...“