[Ridge] Elevation (Ronan)

[Oluse]

512 Spring 63

Finally the group had broken from the diminished tundra, and passed through the flat and lifeless forests. Now they between two welcomed ridges, the first valley any of them had seen in some time, marking them all that much closer to Karjin. So long it had been since they Drykas had seen such definition in the land that a series of whoops and hollers were let out by the usually silent entourage.

Sama'el had planned the ride through the valley long before Oluse had even met them, as the Drykas had traveled up. From what Oluse had managed to pick up it seemed the travel was much easier on the way back down, now that the rangers knew their path with more clarity. And so, the group had been briefed the night before on how they would all approach the valley. Leto was tasked with skirting the east ridge, scouting about as a twin to Ronan on the west ridge, as the rest of the group took the easier route through the bottom of the valley, safe in the knowledge that their companions keen eyes would alert them to any danger before it was upon them. Oluse was constantly amazed at the groups preparedness, and ability to avoid almost any melitious hazard.

Oluse felt as struck by the view than anyone else. They valleys didn't look really anything like the giant debris that bordered Denval, but just the same it was alteration from the bland and bleak. And so, Oluse appealed to Ronan's mutual sense of adventure to request to join him on the scouting. He was met with hesitation at first, but the two had been growing if not closer to one another at least more trusting. Ronan seemed to believe Oluse was a responsible man, and the group in the valley already had a healer with them, so splitting him off wouldn't hurt a thing.

The day couldn't be more perfect either. The first truly heated day, with a strong almost blistering heat, in comparison to the seasons in Avanthal, poured through the valley, picking up the sappy warmth of the evergreens packed thickly through the valley's base, soaking up water and sunlight alike.

Syna shown with so much vigor, in fact, that the majority of the group had stripped there shirts free, including Oluse who usually clung to his clothes as if Avanthal has never melted. Instead, today he kept the thick pants and boots he usually outfitted himself in, with nothing but a small crudely crafted whistle, a medallion of Aquiras, and a queerly heavy water skin strapped to his chest, and back. He felt the warmth in him, and around him, and the sweat building along the arch of his back, and under his thick clothing. He embraced the feeling, and feared not his smell, for it was no worse than anybody else there.

[Ronan]

Ronan had taken the western ridge as the group divided, ensuring they knew what was ahead -- and perhaps, what was behind.

They had passed through primeval forest, changed forever by the storm. So many trees had been felled it was unnerving. He felt Semele beneath his feet, and it was not a pleasant feeling. She was angry. He was sure of it.

Oluse walked alongside him. The young healer had chosen to come with him rather than Leto, and Denen had stayed with Sam. Each group had some sort of medicinal capability as a result -- though Leto was no healer, his proficiency with glyphs allowed him to store all sorts of safeguards.

Syna - who now marked Sam - burned brightly. It was a vapid heat, and no time for needless clothing. The Dryka, Ronan included, had stripped off their upper bodies. Ronan's windmarks were exposed, thick dark streaks that twisted about his arm and pectoral muscles. He had bulked up a little during their journey. It had something to do with the foodstuffs they ate, and the constant, relentless excercise. The journey had been hard on some people. He knew Issima was struggling. Ronan though was beginning to glow. He had scars from the storm, but his muscles were becoming more defined, and his biceps were becoming more visible.

Oluse had surprised him, having taken his own shirt off. It seemed he was getting involved. He had grown in confidence too. Ronan turned to him and smiled, mopping his brow with the back of his hand.

"This heat reminds me of Cyphrus. In the spring and summer the plains would become so very dry. What kind of weather did you have in Denval?"

[Oluse]

Oluse had been lost in thought, in the sensations of the world around him, but he took kindly to the words that permeated past the heat to him, lending back a genuine smile.

"I like it, and I'm glad it'll be like this in the south. I heard it got hot in the south, but I didn't know it got like this." The question soured his mood somewhat, he didn't like speaking of Denval. But it seemed that between he and Ronan is happened a lot, they spoke of their homes, and again Oluse felt guilty. What if the storm had killed a family member, what if ever step he took carried him farther from a broken family? Oluse pushed the thought aside, and thought exclusively of the environment back home.

He was quiet for a long time in though, nearly two chimes before he finally spoke, such contemplation wasn't uncharacteristic of Oluse at all, and he felt no shame over that around Ronan. Ronan was no doubt wittier than him, but he was patient. "Rain." He said simply at first, then continues a moment later. "It's very wet in Denval. We are right on the ocean there, and it keeps us alive, but it also keeps us wet." He smiles and gave almost a laugh, something Ronan had never heard the boy even attempt before then. Unfortunately it was more a scoff at a past memory than true enjoyment. "Even in the summer it might rain, though less so. And it's chilly, not cold like Avanthal. Or," he paused and regretfully corrected himself, "like Avanthal was. But one could catch cold quite easily is not smart, especially if they were drinking." He gave a silent grimace, then added. "It was common there. And our population wasn't large, so it was a tragedy every time.

The winters were drying, with snow, again though, not like the snow in Avanthal. In Avanthall the snow was fine and powdery, back home it was always wet. If you tried to make a ball if it you would end up with a chunk of ice more often than not, and the wind, that was horrible too."

He lapsed again into silence, but his face worked in a deliberate way which showed he hadn't abandoned the conversation. Another minute he added, in a much more content voice, "Spring. It was much better. It rained often, but with it came the plants. Flowers would cover the hill just outside the city limit, and the more colorful fish would migrate in. People were happy, those that weren't mourning, and you could go out with less clothes again. Those seasons were the best because you could spend hours harvesting herbs and spices, and classes were still show from winter when the sun set sooner. Daylight came back to use, and do did nature. I love spring. My birthday is in Spring." He hadn't told anyone that before, and it made him quiet to think about. He wasn't upset by that, birthdays had never been outstanding for him, aside from some sweetbread his mother would make. Three children in Denval was a lot, and it mean for little resources, even in a medic family, to spare holidays.

"I guess Spring came to Avanthal this season too." He noted out loud. "The snow just got up and melted away. I wonder if greenery will com to Avanthal now. Probably not." He said, and went back to focusing on his footing. The slope had grown steeper now, and they were officially on there way up. It looked to Oluse's untrained eye like they may have to climb a bit before reaching the peak of the ridge, he wondered what Ronan would do once they got there.

[Ronan]

Oluse smiled, then his face returned to that vacant expression again momentarily. There were things eating the boy up, Ronan was sure of it.

He nodded at the explanation. Rain. Rain was often a blessing back home. "Cyphrus is generally dry. There are storms out in the plains, but they are few and far between. There are winds too, though they sound worse in Denval."

When conversation broke momentarily, there was no awkwardness. Ronan and Oluse continued on in companionable silence, the sun nourishing against their bare skin. He felt alive. More and more each day, he felt alive, one with the world, and a part of it worth living.

As Oluse shared his love of Spring, Ronan smiled. It was a joyous time. The plains were greener than ever then, and infant animals were born all across the camps. Foals in Endrykas, and more dangerous creatures: baby velispar surfing across the grasses.

"I wonder too... I fear for the land, and what the storm means for it."

The ridge peaked higher before them, and it became evident they would have to climb rather than walk some of the way. When they scaled it, Ronan hoped to tap into the Web and scout for disturbances. He was slowly but surely becoming more adept with the Drykas magick. And each time he used it, he felt more connected than ever before to the leylines around him.

[Oluse]

Oluse was very glad for the silence. The conversation hadn't grown weary by any means, but more and more Oluse had begun to understand the value of companionable silence. The Vantha were wonderful sorts, inspiringly creative and passionate about all of life, with a certain flare for what Oluse found to be quite comical. However, rarely did the Vantha spare the time for silence, for calm. It escaped Oluse, went beyond his wit, his ability to process, and ultimately left him in a daze long after they would leave.

Then there was Ronan. Oluse smiled again at the thought. Oluse knew almost nothing about Ronan, about his past. He knew not what Ronan cared for, or about the landscape of Ronan's mind. But, Oluse cared for him, and knew that Ronan cared as well. Perhaps not to the extent of action, for in truth they were to different people. Sama'el spoke his words of family, but it would all fade once they met upon Riverfall. This concerned Oluse, sending his sporadic mind off into another sphere of thought.

This was not uncommon for Oluse, to lack direction in thought, to fall prey to chaos. It alienated him from most linear thought, and most certainly most linear conversation.

They were to climb, and Ronan took to it with ease, his toning body treating the steep incline with even an amount of grace. Though not from lack of trying Oluse did not accomplish such grace.

With his heavy pants trapping head against his damp legs, Oluse hoisted himself up the steep, though not absolute, incline. His boots, new enough, had yet to loosen enough to offer flexibility of toes, and so they scraped frighteningly against the small holds upon the rock, displacing more than a few rocks from the incline itself. Oluse forgot of Ronan's presence as he climbed, and focused upon his fingers, which met the opposite problem as his feet. Agile as they were, the exposed skin burned against the chalky hot rock work, fighting against small and repeated lacerations.

As he climbed he busied himself from the thought of burning muscle with, flexing legs, and outstretched arms, by thinking upon that which he knew. Medical procedures. He knew full well the treatment for blunt trauma, such as that caused if a rock were to find itself upon one of his exposed hands, or if he were to slip. He had even witnessed such a fall before, though this slope was less so. Oluse factored this in, more wounds, less serious. How much pressure would it take to end a man's life? He figured less so for himself than Ronan, due to weight. Then, onto thoughts which concerned his training in Avanthal. He had taken to really thinking upon the treatments he had memorized, wondering if perhaps there might be an improvement to be found within them. The Vantha always pressured him to improve upon the craft given to him. He had never been able to, but he hoped some day he would have a mind for the work.

The broke the crest of the steepest portion of the hill, Ronan's strong hand offering help upon the last bit, and suddenly reality, along with the ache of Oluse's muscles came flooding back to him. Oluse looked a long moment at Ronan, with a blank expression, and heavy unmitigated breath, before recalling the words he had spoken below.

Oluse thought for a moment he should say something, not realizing enough time had passed for Ronan to utterly forget the words upon the storm, his concerns. Still, all was rendered irrelevant once his mind caught up. Silence, it was enough, it was full of meaning, and that was ok. Oluse smiled at Ronan, sweat pouring from his face, and he laughed softly with a demeanor. He wanted to sit down, from fatigue, but knew they still had several chimes to the peak, so he said nothing, just looked to Ronan to lead on.

He had made a decision in these moments, found a nugget of information which seemed to be hidden deep within his own mind. An answer churned up by the exertion of the steep trek. Silence mattered, the unsaid, the undone, it all mattered. And so, even if in Riverfall the man that had rescued him from his frozen and melted prison of Avanthal left him forever, there time had still meant something. The time which stretched on beyond him would still mean something. This thought somehow made life timeless, and added new meaning to the moments that words were not or could not be shared between to people.

He thought of his family, he thought of Alea, and Maevon. He even though of Yurvik, despite his death. Perhaps the silence between them still meant something.

Silently he gave forth a thank you to Ronan, but it seemed wrong, though intended as a secret appreciation. And so, he spoke.

"Ronan, what is the word in Pavi for thank you?" Once received he looked to Ronan, and with absolute silence let a sincere thank you, in Pavi, drift from himself to Ronan.

oocHey, wanted to share how Oluse thought, and how he regards Ronan... yeah I know Oluse is fuckin weird.

[Ronan]

They began to climb. It was difficult, and slow work. Small footholds in the rock were few and far between, and the both of them slipped once or twice. The sun beating down on them made it even tougher.

He looked to Oluse once or twice, concerned for the smaller, more fragile man. When he finally broke the brow of the cliff, Oluse was still struggling, flagging in the heat and under the strain. Ronan crouched, smiling and offering a hand. Oluse took it willingly, and with a little strength he managed to help heave him up. They both nearly fell down on the rock for a moment, flat land a welcome relief.

Oluse looked to him, smiling back. The boy let out a small laugh. Ronan nearly frowned but found himself letting out a small laugh back. He had no idea what they were laughing about, but he would take pleasure where pleasure presented itself. He did not allow himself to laugh often enough.

After a while, Oluse spoke again. Ronan turned to frown, but did not ask why. "Thank you," he said in soft Pavi, before Oluse seemed lost in thought. He looked forward again, wondering what the man was pondering on. This was not unusual for Oluse though - not in the slightest.

[Oluse]

Renewed by his silent appreciation he looked to Ronan with another unexplained smile as his muscles burned under the heat of sky and exertion, stretching his weighty legs outward, struggled to rotate his ankles in his heavy boots, and tipped his head from one side to the other with a quiet series of cracks.

"Ready to continue?" He asked rhetorically with still staggered breath as he began walking up the slope again, this time more sluggishly than before, giving a silent pray that down would be more gradual.

Together they covered the last remaining ground to the peak, the gradually raising soil sprinkled with shrubs which appeared to be struggling as much as Oluse and Ronan in the sweltering heat. What lay, stretched outward from the peak was nothing short of stunning.

Syna has sprawled out a sea of glowing stone, most rich earthy tones, but in a few patched of quarts sama'el had offered some glimmers along the adjacent peak where the second scouting team rose just slightly ahead of them, not slowed by Oluse's unpracticed body. The dip downward contained no shadow from the high sun, pooling heat through wind into the slow moving caravan. Their route winded about, and met with more than a few obstacles, namely boulders. Even Oluse's untrained eyes could see it would be some time before the troupe broke free of the canyon. This relieved the Denvali boy, for it would mean a moment to rest. Still he did not sit until Ronan allowed him.

Instead he squinted against the harsh light and turned to face where they had come from. It had taken him a moment to decide upon this, afraid that he may see Avanthal from here, they it may somehow suck him backward and all his traveling would be for nothing. This of course was impossible, Avanthal had fallen so far into their tracks now there was nowhere in the would that could see it from this distance. Something about Syna's light sure made it seem possible though.

The flat expanse of the Northern reaches stretched out like slow cooking grits in a pan. It smelled different though, earth dry and somehow sweet. He wondered what Semele hid within the dessert's crust that released so sweet, so pleasingly under Syna's embrace.

Oluse smiled again and thought of himself and Ronan as sugared pickles frying in a pan. His mother would do that, fry pickles. Oluse looked at Ronan again, finding the thought of him as a giant pickle rather comical. But, as soon as the smile came it went, and he remembered why he was on the trip, why he was no longer at home. Part of him still prayed there was a home at all. Still, somewhere, part of him knew.

His chest constricted, and the sun went from brutal to unbearable under the emotional swing.

Biting his lower lip he looked away from Ronan again and began scanning the canyon for any threat or challenge that might posed itself adverse to the caravan.

[Ronan]

They set off again. A burn traversed Ronan's legs, from the uphill walking. Gods did it feel good though - Syna against his bare chest. It would be good for him. He had always been a little on the paler side. Not as much as Oluse though - since the boy had lived in the city of ice for a long time. The cold did that to your body.

It was a breathtaking view as they came over. Glistening rock. Lines and lines of it. Syna only seemed to illuminate a realm that was so definitely Semele's. He felt a pull towards it. He always had been drawn so deeply to the earth. And that was because of Semele. If there was a deity he felt closest too, it was her.

"We should rest our legs a little. And eat, perhaps," Ronan finally said. He sat down on the rock and stretched his arms up into the sunlight. He let out a sound as he did. Half relief, half fatigue, discerned in a nonsensical fashion.

Though Oluse looked tired too, wonderment still kept him looking rather awake. He had a good look around first, before settling down too. They needed to be aware of their surroundings, that was true. Now was as good a time as any to practise his very Drykas magick.

"I'll only be a moment. I'm just going to check the Web to make sure nothing followed us, or hides within the shadows," he spoke cryptically.

Breathing, focussing, he forced his will into the Web. An astral form broke free from his body, and within it he stood up, the Web becoming visible around him. It glistened, but the threads were few and far between. Some natural. Some manmade. But none of it compared to the vast, man-made network on the grasses.

He checked behind him, temporary strands appearing just from their movement. They would fade quickly. He touched them. Low vibrations shifting across the plane, but he felt nothing. The only presence was the others on the other side of the canyon. He scanned about but could sense nothing hidden. Slowly he clambered back into his body, leaving the astral world behind.

"It looks clear," he said, before adding, "for now."

[Oluse]

Oluse watched curiously, perched on a low rock only a few feet from the sheer edge of the peak opposite the slow include they had taken the last leg of their ascent. It looked as if some giant entity had taken a carving knife and lacerated a jagged line, dissecting the once whole earth, leaving each side gradual with sheer edged within the wound.

Oluse felt this way most days. There was a side that was ok, easy, then another one that aggravated with pain. He wondered how dangerous it would be, if he fell into that valley within himself.

Ronan looked like he was meditating, which Oluse knew well enough about. Oluse thought it wise to not disturb him as he concentrated inward. Still watching he abstracted some dried stretches of dried meat from his bag and laid one on a rock beside Ronan, and began chewing quietly on the other.

The process of meditation could be long, and Ronan's silence was as well. But, just as suddenly as it began Ronan's eyes fluttered back open, and Oluse felt an odd sensation as he studied this occurrence.

He had never watched another meditate before without joining along before. It seemed odd how the Drykas' muscles became so fixed, his breathing became so repetitive, without the rough inconsistencies Ronan usually displayed. The strained wheeze against the heat faded. He seemed at ease, and that was good, but he also stopped showing discomfort toward the sun bearing down on them.

It wasn't till Oluse opened his mouth to speak that he noticed Ronan's sweat pick up slightly, an almost invisible sheen of liquid condensing into several drops and cascading down his darker southern skin.

Oluse's tongue stopped before the word even formed within the alcove of his mouth, and with scrunched eyebrows his mouth closed as he struggled to process. Even as one slept, their body responded with certain reactions to certain stimuli. It was, however, true that when relaxed the body worked differently than when in motion. Still, was Ronan so adapt at meditation that he could slow his heart, tighten his skin, blind his eyes by pure thought? And what had this accomplished in terms of discerning whetherweather there was a threat around them? What was "the web?"

"What?" He asked impulsively, then stopped, eyebrows still scrunched this time at the confusing cacophony of questions in his own mind. He struggled to form his thoughts into a legitimate question, the shadow of his eyelashes stretching down into his eyes which slowly shifted to a glimmering opal green under the weight of his confusion.

"Was that meditation?" He decided upon, the words erupting in a strained fashion, as if they had left some of themselves behind in Oluse's throat and the separation had to be forced.

[Ronan]

OOCLol, you cheeky little...!

Ronan acclimatised to the sunlight again, and found himself blinking at Oluse. What? What didn't the Denvali understand? It took him a moment to realise it was Webbing that had left him utterly baffled. Of course. It was a very Drykas mystery.

"I'm sorry, I assumed..." he sunk into a smile and began to gesture all about his person. "There are strands all around us, of the life force that connects everything in our world. Have you ever wondered how we Drykas survive out in the grasses, living among such a wild environment?"

Drykas were not town dwellers. Of course, they could live that way if they wanted, but it was not the way they were raised. A layer of cloth was all that separated them from the great untamed beyond.

"That's the Web. We use it for all different things... to check our environments, to keep clear lines of communication, and also as early warning systems."

He smiled at Oluse, hoping his instructions were making sense. He was hardly an expert. After all, it had been Sama'el who had taught him. His own fathers untimely death had left him untrained in the art.

"The Web exists naturally everywhere. Even in Denval, I suppose." He looked to the ground, more forlornly this time. "When our people die, we connect them up to the Web, so that they are forever with us in a way. It preserves their spirit in the kindest form. Death is unfortunately... a very large reality when you live on the grass."

He realised he spoke of his own environment, though once again, he knew little of Denval. Perhaps it too had been a dangerous place. Whatever the case, it was true to say the storm had made everything dangerous to a degree. Sama'el had spoken of the djed in the air, wild and unchecked. If he was being honest, Ronan had felt it too. Much of the Web was severed as well. He didn't want to think about the condition of other places. Important places... Riverfall.