[Drykas Caravan] Shedding Light (Sama'el)

[Oluse]

512 Spring 50th

With each day Oluse put between him and his old life he found himself more outgoing, and personable. He wasn't sure quite yet if the rest of the group thought of him as such, but frankly the opinions of others meant little to him. His travels accomplished his goals, and that had brought him joy, for the first time in a long time. He often found himself smiling for no particular reason, and he met the mornings with a sense of excitement, unjustified by the rather dull, and often painful time upon the horses. Even in that, however, he had been improving slowly, feeling more comfortable upon Velox.

That morning, however, excitement felt far below his primal urge to urinate on his scale of priorities. And so, disregarding his morning routine for a time he took himself from his crude and scratchy sleeping bag, careful to seal the tent behind him against any intruders who might wish the comfort of his sleeping area, and lightly stepped along the rough ground of their camp to a near by bush. He had but a light blanket wrapped around him, having realized quite quickly that none in their party, between the Drykas and the Vantha, particularly cared for formality of body. In situations of emergency, such as taking a wizz in the morning, Oluse had no objections to such freedom. The Drykas, however, would likely have taken to the bushed without even a layer of decent cloth protecting them. Even the spring warmth diminished in the morning briskness, however, and kept Oluse from being so bold.

As he released himself upon the bush he looked about him, breathing in the fresh air. They had cleared the usually frozen reaches, and found themselves into a lightly wooded area, beginning a slope that would eventually become a small group of mountains. More hills, compared to what Oluse could see from his home in Denval, but still, compared to the Northern reaches they seemed colossal. Oluse was as excited for the change in scenery as he was fearful of the inevitable drop of temperature that would come with the increase in elevation. Something the boy had never experienced first hand.

Around him was the soft, and horizontal rays of morning light. That delicate time just as the sun crest. His morning to help with breakfast wasn't for another day, and so he had full intention of heading back to his tent for another hour of sleep before the food was ready, and he needed to finish packing his things to go. The Drykas had made it clear to him that he would be his own manager, gather his things and pack his horse as his own rate, and if he fell behind it was his own responsibility to catch up. Oluse had been careful to wake early and be completely packed before sunrise for the first several days of the trip, but quickly realized the error of his ways. The entire group was rarely ready to travel until some time following breakfast.

Interrupting his intentions, however, was the soft sound of pavi words, strung together into a pleasing rhythm, with a nearly ethereal tone to them as the reach out along the rays of sun. Oluse coughed against the cool air, sending a puff of steam out into the sunrise before him, and fingered his dirty ear a moment till he could hear more clearly. Somebodies voice barely registered through the light circle of trees bordering their comping place, and still in a half-sleepish daze Oluse deliberated to investigate the origin.

Shaking twice, he wrapped the cloth protectively around him, and light footed began exploring his way through the treacherous underbrush toward the sound.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el was still taking it easy. Having a wife and two healers to fuss about him made him all the keener to get better, the sooner to be seen as fit and whole, and not weak. All was well, really, but they rode everyday. They had not needed to take a rest day yet and he wanted to get the Matlians down to the Sanctuary as quickly as possible. But they were making good time, and everyone seemed pleased with his recovery. But today was just like every other day. Something in him woke him well before dawn, and he tumbled out of his tent and his wife's warm embrace to pull clothes on and walk in an easterly direction from their camp, seeking high ground and the least obstructed view of the horizon as possible. It was always darkest before the dawn, but his feet were sure, his eyes seeing by the light of the Web and sensing the auras around him. Dawn had yet to arrive when he found his pile of rocks, the top of the largest flat like a table. He climbed carefully and sat there waiting until the quality of darkness changed and he knew that the sunrise was imminent. With that he stood up, eyes trained on that first faint smudge of something other than night on the horizon and he began to sing. It was simple and light at first, the song that Kasb'el had taught him, the faintest melody of waking and calling out, nature to the life-giving sun, not the raucous cries of a baby for its mother.

[Oluse]

Oluse was spellbound by what he found. Sama'el was a brilliant man. More sentimental, perhaps, than Denvali men. More physical at times, but it did not stop Oluse from understanding Sama'el's heart. He cared, truly and fully for those around him. And it was moments like this, when he thought nothing of who watched him that proved to Oluse that Sama'el had in fact earned his position as the groups leader.

The dim light framed Sama'el in a slowly growing halo as the sun met them all, promising a warm clear day. Oluse's mouth fell open to the sight, then smiled, slacked and quite awed.

Oluse remained silent, and let the song brush over him. There was light in the song, life. Oluse brushed the night's dust form his eyes and looked blurredly out toward the scene again, not wanting to miss the look of it. Sama'el' gnosis faced away from him, but Oluse struggled to reconstruct it in his mind. He admired it all, the mark, the leadership, Sama'el's unbridled compassion and love.

Usually such thoughts lead Oluse to doubt himself, to ponder upon weather he could ever be such a thing. However, something of the moment entranced him, held him beyond personal thoughts, and in truth as the scene grew brighter he forgot his own presence. He forgot the man before him was that, a man, and looked upon him how Oluse would the sun itself, some ancient try bordered in ethereal sunlight.

Oluse drew his blanket tighter around him, as his hairs stood on end. Not to the cold, but the sheer energy of the event. Dimly Oluse could remember such chimed, such songs, and he wondered if it were from a distance as Sama'el's ritual carried on each sun rise and set, or if it had been a memory tucked far away with the rest of his dreams, outside of himself.

None of these thoughts mattered little to Oluse, however, and like he was while meditating Oluse simply allowed the thoughts to come in, flow their course then exit without judgement. All the room in Oluse's mind had been engulfed by pure pleasure of the sun's radiance. And, in this state, Oluse stood in watching until the song finally stopped, leaving a well welcomed mother hanging in her ascent within the morning sky.

He made no attempt to hide form Sama'el as he finished, and instead intended to ask questions of him. Ask what magic he had been working, and if all priests of Syna could work it.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el's face was angled up, his voice lost to the sky and the thickly forested terrain, but this allowed him his full-throated song when the sun had fully crested the horizon. His arms spread wide in an honest awe and quiet rapture. He was no trained tenor from Ahnatep, but the song was old and true, and he meant every syllable and note. The rays of Syna felt like a benediction, and he engaged her gift as the sunlight made it possible. He saw Oluse watching him, and was not upset by this fact. This was no private mystery like Kavala's initiation in the deepest parts of the Sanctuary, but a primal joy and welcoming to the goddess of day. When he was done, he climbed carefully down the boulders, taking ginger steps so as not to cause any twinges within his body. Oluse might nag the way Denen did if he wasn't showing him how careful the old patient was. "Good morning, Oluse," he said, his eyes shining.

[Oluse]

Oluse agreed very much with the statement, and wondered what it must be like to begin each day with such a ritual. His face still tingled slightly from the energy coursing through him, running playfully along his now sunkissed cheeks. It was true, Oluse had been getting a lot more sun in general, and had been growing to appreciate it more and more every day. Every day his face growing darker. This, however, increased appreciation for it ten fold. He had always been an aesthetic, and physical boy. For as lost as he has seemed to other it was all for only his depth of focus on the physical.

Oluse was brimming with questions, so much so that he had all but having forgotten his frigid state of near nudity, now that the air had slowly begun to warm. He could scarcely see his breath, and Oluse hoped for a warm day. He could not seem for several moment to force the questions into words. Instead, he spent those short moment just looking at Sama'el and organizing his thoughts and sensations within himself. Such experiences left Oluse scattered, ripped asunder to the soul, where pits of intrigue and pleasure lay haphazardly without order. Order Oluse craved, but in such situation it became hard to control one's else.

Finally, skipping a common greeting all together Oluse inquired in common, "What does the song mean? I mean, were those words or just sounds?" Oluse looked upon Sama'el's face with a new appreciation, eyes studying the exact design of Syna's mark upon him. Any it happened, for the first time for Sama'el to witness. Oluses' own eyes slipped very slowly, altering after a matter of ticks from his usual light brown to an even lighter ocher, pale yet natural, full of life and serenity. Oluse mistook the feeling within himself at admiration, and wondered upon what it must be like to have such a connection to Syna. To have a mother to always look down upon you, and love you.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

There was something utterly content about Sama'el just now, beatific even, as if Syna had taken him in her embrace with arms rather than the light and warmth of her fiery orb. His smile was accepting and, dare one think it?, loving. In his Drykas way, their ages notwithstanding, he was looking on Oluse as a son to whom certain things must be passed down, and so he began to sing again, not so loud nor so freely, but with true notes albeit haltingly as he translated the words from the old Drykas dialect into Common. "Blessed Syna come, and listen to my song, Illustrious Power, revered by the Peoples of Cyphrus, Lover of Leth, Goddess of the Day, Fertile Source of Wealth, With Your golden eye, renew the rich fertility of the fields, Giant who dwelt long in the Temples of Suva and Alahea, Hallowed and Rural, Light-Bearer, Upon Your daily course, the souls of all are revealed under the gaze of Your brilliant eyes. Golden-Haired One, Hear me entreating for human kind, Hear and be present with benevolence, For You survey the boundless Ukalas, and every part of Earth, Abundant, Blessed, Your piercing sight extends beyond the darkness, starry and profound, The stable roots, deep fixed by You, The World's wide bounds flourish because of You, You inspire all Nature's music, a symphony in harmonious array, Then the last string You turn, to quiver in the sweet and single melody. Hear me Blessed Power, save Your Sunsinger, and in this song rejoice."

[Oluse]

Oluse had never had such a gaze turned on him before that moment. Women would fawn, though not his mother, treating him like something skin to a brother. But never had he seen the eyes of a father, and he did not know what he ought to see in them, instead he looked upon Sama'el's gnosis and drank in the words. Oluse listened to the tone, the meaning again lost to his mind, but the common words giving him a deeper understanding none the less. His skin prickles again, hairs standing on edge, and his heart seemed to steady to a calm patter in his chest, breath slowed to near meditative. Sama'el had always put him on edge, unlike Ronan who made him feel safe, but in this moment, wreathed in the halo of Syna, rising behind him, Sama'el put Oluse's mind to rest, leaving nothing but a deep pool of stagnant emotions behind, quivering and accepting of the words that showered not only over him, but the entire environment. The song was divine, or at least took direct inspiration from such, and showed beautifully out into the world. Oluse seemed to recall the feeling from before, and in attempt to reach it he hummed, not able to sing for lack of words, but joined Sama'el's tribute with shaky and uneven tone. His spirit, however, was in it, and he grasped calmly at strands of lost dreams that always seemed to fall around him, and he tried without any expectations of success, but for the simple sensation of trying.

Oluse did not mind the words being beyond his memory, for he trusted Sama'el to put them forth, and he did not feel shame over his untrained voice, for again h trusted Sama'el for all that he had questioned about him, Oluse never doubted a word that Sama'el said. He meant well, and was true. Oluse loved that about him, and for that moment he let the love come forward. Later the thought would seem foreign, for he had never known a father, and had been taught a medic not a son. But, with divine motherhood showered upon them, and low voice of man, Oluse began to understand what family was, or rather ought to be. He envied the Drykas for their love, for one another, for the world, he was taught nothing but hate in Denval, nothing but hard work and hatred, all driven by fear. In that moment Oluse fancied Sama'el didn't fear anything. He must be a paragon of men.

When finally the song ended, Oluse closed his eyes, and listened to the chirping of birds left in the wake of their song. It felt profound, as if the forest would not have awoken without it, as if they had been a part of something so essential as the sun rising. A grin stretched across Oluse's face, as he felt his toes growing chilled, bare against the ground, and he took a deep and permeating breath. With an exhale he opened his eyes, to witness again Sama'el's peculiar, yet welcome gaze. And, feeling calm and open, he spoke softly, in a voice that fluctuated with the dwindling cusp of manhood, soon to reach it's completion. "I liked that." The words were simple, though he treated them as profound, letting emotion flow concentrated through them. "Can I join you in the mornings to pray with you? Can you teach me the Drykas words for the song?" He wanted most of all to learn the motions and sways of Sama'el's body when he first sung the song, the motions that inundated his speech. They seemed essential, Oluse felt he ought to learn them if he were to ever face a dawn.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el had never taught another person to sing. He had learned from his family when he was young, and then from Kasb'el, who was also family, when he was grown. Kasb'el had known the old songs, like this one he had sung. Eventually, he supposed he would teach it to the child in Issima's belly, for their pavilion would always sing matins and vespers. But he sang again for Oluse, repeating lines and melodies. He was no great singer either, not like certain of his family who were gone now. But the notes and words were written somewhere deep inside him now, even the impromptu Common translation that was somehow lacking in a wild grace. When he had a proper family, a proper pavilion again, the simplicity would become more complex, many voices blending together, a human symphony for the sun. For now he would teach the outlander boy who had helped save him back in Avanthal. "You may," he said, nodding. "I will." He glanced back toward the sun, its slow progress skyward noticeable so close to the easterly horizon. "I might meditate a bit some mornings, too. I was told it will help me make better use of Her gift." He touched his brow absently, then smiled at Oluse again. His stomach growled, and his hand went to the healing place although it no longer hurt. "Was anyone cooking or do I have to do everything around here?"

[Oluse]

Oluse smiled, in a surprisingly soft way for the young man, who often seemed pain by those smiles that did slip through to his face, from wherever he had bottled his happiness up inside. He was very glad for the gift Sama'el promised, and he thanked him in turn. When asked about food he shook his head, and looked back to the rising sun with a severe squint.

"No, but I'll do it." He then looked back to Sama'el, his face shifting again to a serene smile as the sunlight filtered through his slowly bleaching hair. "But, first." He reached out a hand to the spot in which Sama'el had chosen for his prayers. "We should meditate." He gave a calm inviting look. "Every morning, it helps you see." He wasn't entirely sure what he meant, his mind was still fuzzy from the song, but he knew how he felt, and he wanted to feel it completely and utterly through his entire body. He wanted to meditate on how Sama'el felt in that moment, how Syna's habitual awakening felt on his skin, and the smell of pure nature before the cooking fire was lit.

He wasn't one to give another orders, but in this case it felt too right to accept no for an answer. Pushing Sama'el to a decision Oluse took a step toward the shallow cleared bluff, and went to sit, looking back as he did so. "Please?"

He wasn't sure if he thought of Sama'el as a father, or even family at all. But, he knew he felt something for Sama'el, something that would live inside of him forever, something that would always rise with Syna, and take root with her dayly fall. He wouldn't tell Sama'el this, not ever. All that mattered was he felt it. Even if Sama'el turned away to go prepare food, or never let Oluse stand with him in the morning, or learn that song to completion Oluse wouldn't mind. They shared something, and something in Oluse thawed, in a very good way. A healthy way.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el considered for a moment, then nodded. The needs of his body could wait a while longer, but meditation was going to be an important part of his relationship with the gods: Syna and Leth, Zulrav and Semele, Kihala and Dira. They were all two sides of the same coin, his grandmother had told him long ago. He eased himself down next to Oluse, cross-legged, but careful. Oluse and Denen had done their work well, but they had both been leery of leaving Avanthal so soon, no matter how quickly they all wanted to return to Cyphrus. On occasion, there was still the faintest of twinges, more a memory than anything else, and if Sama'el had learned anything on this trip, it was to be kinder to his body. He was young yet, but wouldn't always be so. If he survived to a wiser age, he would have to be wiser with his mortal shell. But unused to true meditation, he glanced sidelong at Oluse, attempting to copy his posture. The boy, while younger than him, spoke with a sort of authority. But he hummed a few bars of the song, then a few more, attempting to let the music bring his mind back to where it had been, to better let go of his thoughts and let them drift away, the better to leave room for Syna and her brethren.