When the Apple Seeks a Tree

[Rhylen]

Timestamp: 29th of Spring, 510 AV Request: Hex, Vanator [Closed, PM] As the early morning light began to take its hold a chill breeze set about the pavilions, delighting itself in causing only the barest discomfort to those daring enough to reveal more skin then they ought to in the still meager blossom of spring. Rhylen ventured hurriedly through the swelling throng of Drykas and their mounts as they set about the day’s various chores. He’d left Thalla near the perimeter of the nomad city with his tent and supplies, trusting in the webbing to protect her and his belongings. Predators and the odd outsider would sometimes cross Endrykas, seeking an easy meal or some form of forage. Few could escape the bow shots of the Drykas once discovered. Rhylen moved with intent, seeking the purple plumes which often decked the massive tents of the Amethyst Clan. He quickly found the sprawling camp of the Way Finders, pleased to have reached his destination. It took nearly three bells for him to find anyone with the wherewithal to tell him his search had been in vain. He was not a member of the Amethyst Clan, they had no knowledge of his family and no record of him ever having existed. Upon mention of Raghnall the Amethyst’s representative scoffed, mumbling about the mad Shaman and his shaky reputation among them. This stirred some revulsion within him, but the spirit could not be sought for any further comment, nor would he remark on the lie Rhylen had grown up believing. He felt suddenly hollow, staggering from the whispered words of clanless, exchanged surreptitiously at his heel. At a time when he’d finally worked up the gall to seek out his clan, save any shame or burden they may have felt, Rhylen’s realization of his status among the Drykas served as a discouraging reminder of his youth. Torn from his home, and cast out into the Grass. Alone. Forced against his will to share the fire of a detached old man. Years of grumbled life lessons and harsh tutelage. For what? With no one to turn to, what chance did he have of survival in the Cyprhus? Melancholy suffused his being, seizing his limbs and forcing him away from the milling bodies and curious glances. Finding a space between pavilions Rhylen escaped the main thoroughfare, falling to his knees as a surge of emotions overcame him. He seethed and felt powerless all at once, hating himself and his unwelcome passenger as his mind waded through the new complexities. Clanless. The curse echoing in his haunted skull.

[Hex]

"Did you hear that" Hex shot her hand out onto Vanator's chest to quiet their conversation. Through the canvas of their tent muffled sounds of Endrykas boomed around them, the distinct sound of a breaking heart could be heard through the noise, a tiny voice that reverberated against the tent. Twisting her neck around, Hex actively searched for the sound and followed it back to... their tent?? Neither her or Vanator emitted the sobs of agony, so it had to be someone close. Instinctively, Hex cupped her right hand over her eyes and stretched out the palm of her left. With her auristics, she scanned the aura that trailed from a figure 15 yards from their tent, burying its head in its hands and crying out psychically to the heavens in a question of justice and meaning. Real pain existed there, and something..else. A futile attempt to read the second aura within Rhylen resulted in a sensation of choking from the over giving that raked at her insides and snapped her out of the trance gasping for air. "I have to help him" was all she said After taking a moment to calm herself from the use of magic, she finally regarded Vanator, "He needs me to help him", came the stunned words from her mouth before she crawled to her feet and exited the tent. With an air of urgency she rounded towards the back and found the sobbing Drykas man there in the grass on his knees. Salty tears had streaked his face and neck, trails of clean skin glistened from under the dirt that powdered his torso and face. "Rhylen" she felt a pang in her heart when she looked into his darkened eyes, heavy with a plague of the mind. Something contorted within him, twisting the vigilance she once saw in his step. An entire season had passed since she last saw him and emotions that once stirred her when she saw him were lost; to what looked like, but was certainly not Rhylen. "Whats happened to you" she scanned his face and knelt in front of him, gingerly stretching her arm to touch his forearm; attempting to get a good look into his eyes. If she tried to read his aura again she didn't know what pains she might endure and so questioned him plainly, "How did this happen Rhylen? Wait, we shouldn't speak here". She ushered him onto his feet and turned to Vantor "I know this man and he is in distress, may we use your tent to clean him up", she felt grateful for his generosity when they met in winter and wanted to repay the favour.

[Vanator]

Vanator cut his sentence short when Hex's hand pressed against his chest and her questions interrupted his words. "Hear what?" he asked in response to her question, though he wondered if the inquiry was really directed at him, brows knitting together. They were surrounded by the drone of daily Drykas life, exactly what was he supposed to have heard?. He strained to catch what Hex was intent on identifying as she cocked her head. The Drykas man, now familiar with the exotic mystic's talents, simply sat quietly as she closed her physical eyes and strained to see through the realm of auras. He could see the physical toll of the effort suddenly increase and her body was wracked at the approach of overgiving. Vanator laid a hand on her shoulder and was going to ask if she was alright when he saw the worry darken her eyes, heard her simple words laced with stark concern. Vanator followed Hex' swift exit and trailed her around the tent, surprised find a man kneeling there on the grass. The lean Drykas appeared to Vanator much younger than himself, and unfamiliar. The eyes that peered up at Hex were cloudy blue and reddened with tears. It was obvious he was in distress, even despair as the raven-haired woman, softened with compassion, knelt before him to speak.. Rhylen. She knew him. At Hex's request to use his tent, Vanator simply replied "Of course". the Drykas-Chaktawe knew she did not have to ask, his tent was always opened to her, but this Rhylen was a stranger to him, and he appreciated the respect she displayed in asking first. As Hex helped Rhylen to his feet, Vanator moved to the tent entrance, holding open the flap for them to enter.

[Rhylen]

“You needn’t help me,” he sputtered through tears as he was lead into the tent. He felt ridiculous, as though he were a tottering child who had fallen and cut his knee; broken and in need of tenderness. The recognition of one from his past did little to surprise the Drykas, though he found it strange that fate had spun them together again. “Hex,” he breathed, after slumping back to his knees safely within the warm interior. “So much has happened,” his eyes bulged with disbelief. “So much has gone wrong!” A new tide of despair wracked him. It felt so good to cry, to hurt, and to share that pain with another. His face was suffused with scarlet, making the shimmering blue of his eyes stand out more starkly from their bruised sockets. He regarded Hex first, noticing how she’d taken on the look of a Drykas, more at home in this place than even himself. Rhylen then gazed at the other man, obviously of strong blood and bearing the heft of a warrior. He felt burned and looked away, as though he’d stared into the sun; Rhylen’s pitiful state was as much a disgrace to him as the words which still wrung his breath. “I should go,” he said in a slightly studier tone, choking the words out nonetheless. “You are not bound to help me, Hex,” he said the words even though he wished that she would, or could. “I am Clannless and below the help of one such as yourself.” He regarded the older Drykas once more, but only barely, ashamed to be in the presence of his own kind. His mind reeled over the consequences of his admission. He would leave this place. Go far from it, far from the Cyphrus, far from his home. “I should go,” he repeated more calmly, taking a breath and grinding his stare into the earth. Would Thalla allow it? Would Raghnall? The spirit remained hushed, though Rhylen could feel something within it stirring. You bastard, he screamed within his own skull, you old foolish bastard! You’ve cursed me! He wished he could move. Wished he could run. But the shuddering took him again, seizing his body.

[Hex]

"Clanless? No that can't be right, you're Drykas Rhylen!" His incoherent babbling confused Hex, completely taken a back by the change in behaviour of the handsome young Drykas she knew. From the stoic demeanor to the emotional turbulence that he appeared before her then, the change was just so drastic and so unexpected. The pitiful sobs that broke from his face concerned Hex deeply, and watching him made her feel a pang in her heart, one that pierced her soul and made her ooze with agony. Unsure of how to help, Hex pulled the shaking Rhylen into her arms, not allowing him to pull away even when he went on about his lack of self worth. To her, he was Drykas and that is what made him so, not the title of a clan. But the issue was clearly of great importance to Rhylen, and for that she would do whatever she could to ensure her friend could find peace in his heart again. "I don't want to hear anymore that you should be going. Something has brought us together again, so please stay. I am here for you Rhylen." She relaxed her grip on him enough to push him away and look into his blood stained eyes. She used the side of her hand to wipe away at the tears that flowed down his cheeks and she swayed back and forth with him, attempting to dispel his anxiety even for just a moment. "Now, start from the beginning Rhylen. What happened?"

[Vanator]

Vanator stood back, watching the man in Hex's arms wallow in his own tears. Vanator resisted judging the man, though he bawled as if he had no Drykas spirit. But Vanator had suffered great loss himself, had even shed tears in his agony and grief. Indeed, for a Drykas to believe he had no clan was almost too horrible imagine. The older Drykas kept his peace, allowing Hex's compassion minister to Rhylen, attempting to help him regain his composure. Vanator went to the corner of the main tent chamber, retrieving a wooden cup and dunking it in a bucket of cool water on the floor. He returned to the others, holding the cup out for Rhylen to accept, or for Hex to take and offer to him herself.

[Rhylen]

Something about the woman’s touch soothed him then, as she rocked them gently. Their brief encounter the prior season had awoken a feeling of camaraderie within Rhylen which he’d not felt in another human. Hers was akin to the bond with Thalla, though even their linking had one of urgency, born in the heart of a wild storm. She was a wildlander, like himself, but very different. He’d suspected her to be a healer, even then. Their eyes met and he felt whole again, or at least more whole, the destitute simpering faded to something between mourning and pained resolve. “I know not where to start,” he said softly, his flickering gaze took in the warrior, returning in an instant. “Since I was very young, a boy, I have lived with Raghnall,” he breathed the words. The warrior would be able to hear them nevertheless, and might even have heard of the eccentric Shaman. “He was my Master, and taught me of the Grass, the ways of the Earth and of the Sky.” It was not common for Rhylen to open up so easily, but Hex’s presence relaxed his barriers. “It matters not how,” the thought of it still haunted him, “But Raghnall is dead now, and I bear the weight of his title, as well as his vision for me.” The visions came in his dreams, the unrelenting and fragmented thoughts of a madman. “I am bound to the Clans more strongly than most, but I have none to call my own." He took in the man again. “Among our kind, it is not so common to find alliance between Clans.” They did exist, however. “I am in need of assistance. Aid in matters relating to the Grass and its people,” he felt foolish speaking of his plans, but continued. “I need a Clan, a family, so that I might request that aid. Without it I am destined to fail.” He sniffed, still under Hex’s strange spell, his mind finding peace, unity of thought.

[Hex]

Rahgnall The name was familiar to Hex, she had heard Rhylen speak of him before, always referring to him as his master, or 'the shaman'. Past that, Rhylen didn't let out much information about himself and had been a total mystery to Hex. When he spoke of the Drykas clan ways, such talk disoriented her as she knew little of what or how Drykas conducted themselves. What was of interest to her was the emotions of her friend, who seemed utterly distraught over his feeling of not belonging. He felt caught in the hurricane of what he thought was his home and community and then more than ever, he didn't much feel like Drykas at all. Upon reading his aura prior to their conversation in the tent, Hex saw what she knew to be the energetic signature of djed, emanating from Rhylen like a noxious aroma that lingered strongest around his core. What Rhylen had delved into she could not say, but she felt the anguish and pain he had experienced harnessing such power. For a moment Hex began to realize just how dangerous Rhylen was developing into. He had built up his strength to manipulate certain elements, and whatever was residing in the dark crevices of his soul, was bound to come out at a critical time when Rhylen was most emotional and susceptible to over giving with his reimancy. Hex would have to keep an eye on his djed arousal levels, she didn't even begin to imagine the horrors that might occur is Rhylen were to lose control over himself and his elemental abilities... "Rhylen I will try my best to help you get the assistance you need but you need to tell us first what it is that is of such a concern to the people here. Is something going to happen? Do you know something the rulers here don't?"

[Vanator]

Vanator stood, arms crossed against his chest as he carefully listened to Rhylen's words. The man had regained some of his composure, certainly due to Hex's calming presence. He did not understand yet what Rahgnall was, nor the significance of his impact on the young male Drykas. There was something more to the man's dilemma, beyond the shame of being clanless. That surely wasn't entirely accurate. If he was born a Drykas, he was born into a clan. Perhaps he just did not know what that clan was, for some reason. Van's interest piqued as he mentioned some mysterious matters he had to attend to, matters that required the aid of other Drykas, it seemed. Van had questions, but he held his peace. Hex had the situation in hand, Rhylen in hand as well. She would get to the bottom of this mystery. Vanator held a grin inside. Mystery and Hex seemed to go hand in hand. So the older Drykas simply listened, waiting for the story to unfold before him.