[Ridge] Elevation (Ronan)

by **Oluse** on November 6th, 2012, 9:37 pm

He knew what a "soul" was, vaguely. It was like one's spirit, their thoughts and personality. He admitted that individual thought was rather inexplicable but he would hardly consider that magic. One's thoughts still lay in their head, their emotions in their chest, instincts in their blood. Ronan seemed more misinformed about anatomy than truly spiritual to Oluse at that point, but he could not deny that magic was in fact infesting the world around him, or at least that is how Adarin would put it. It was even infesting himself. Oluse just didn't know, he did not hate Ronan like Adarin would he knew that, but he felt as uneasy as Adarin might have. Even after everything, Oluse looked to Adarin as a real man. A step Oluse never had the chance to take.

The screech of the falcon braced him, but the bout of terror having passed he did not jump. He simply looked up with Ronan. It was a glorious sight, Syna pouring enough light down that it felt you could see straight through the creature's flesh. Oluse loves birds, how unattainable they were. He did appreciate mystery but how Ronan spoke, it seemed so scary. Magic that was a part of you, a part of the world, that you could never escape or hide from. Was everything truly so doomed?

His eyes lingered longer than Ronan's on the creature his his thoughts milled in his mind, as he passively considered the skeletal construct of the bird of prey. Finally his eyes dropped, still squinting against the sun. He stared at Ronan for a long moment, he was a mystery, more so than a simple bird. He yelled, he saves lives, he has a magnetism that drew people to him, and yet he had such strong personal beliefs. It would be so easy to speak to him if he were hurt, if he were bleeding, Oluse would know what to do. But then, right there on that peak, Ronan was an incomprehensible enigma.

"I know what a soul is..." The young man said almost indignantly. "It's just, that is just a myth, a way of looking at something we don't understand. People aren't magical. Magic is something else, it's for the gods to control and no one else. it's dangerous and it hurts people... Even when the gods use it it hurts people." He thinks of the Storm. "It isn't wonderful or good. It is destructive and it kills people, and it draws blood and degrades minds. You haven't worked with mages like I have, haven't had to strap them down while you tend to their self inflicted wounds. You haven't seen the death that magic can bring to a city." He paused a moment a looked down, his mind becoming taxed by the free speech, which he had grown inherently unaccustomed to in his line of work, where proper premeditated and precise speech was a must.

"I will accept who I am, a cast out son of Denval. Flesh, bones, blood, and the unexplainable. But, I refuse to mistake myself with magic, with a force that destroys families and ends lives. I am a physician and I will do everything within my power to refuse the temptations of power so that I may dedicate my life to healing, to helping. Anything less, to risk magic of any sort, is to risk your own sanity, and the lives of the ones you love.

I am not foolish, Ronan, and if you believe what you have said to me here, that magic is just some fact that we must accept and harness, then you are the fool." His words were muddle din places, manner inconsistent, but his conviction was steady, and growing steadier with each word. He didn't look with anger, however, but with an almost pity, or perhaps persisting weariness from the turmoil which launched them into that haphazard conversation.

by **Ronan** on November 7th, 2012, 11:35 am

Once again, Ronan was locked into silence. Oluse stood thoughtfully, looking to the bird, eyes penetrating beyond even that. But what did those eyes truly see? Ronan wanted to know.

He began to imagine a world without magick. Without souls and spirits. Without the invisible bonds that tethered them all to Mizahar and her great wheel of life. He felt cold. Like ice even. There was an emptiness that came with such philosophy. It sucked all meaning from everything, leaving it drained and devoid of its spark.

"And yet, you do not deny the God's existence. Who could, when we see such power? Are we not modelled in their own image?"

He was finding it difficult to control his temper. This really didn't happen often to Ronan - he was such a calm individual - but never had he found his beliefs and ideologies so challenged. Of course. He had really only walked in Drykas circles, where the people understood, and grew in the knowledge that skin merely shielded the spirit beneath.

"But... but, magick can be for good too. The Web does not hurt anyone. It is there to bind us, so we can communicate, so we can stay safe - and survive. If you had lived for only a day on the grasses, you would not be saying this. It is a different world than your Denval! And can medicine not be dangerous too? Can there not be those with your talent that have bad hearts and bad minds, and misuse their skills?"

He shook his head. Oluse was beyond convincing. It seemed odd. Ronan had known those marked by Rak'keli in his life. They were healers - truly. They did not use their powers for good. What was wrong with that? How was it different to the medicine the boy practised? He sighed deeply, cooling his temper down again. It was futile.

His final words riled him the most. He twitched a little, but Oluse stood so remarkably still, a bravery coming from nowhere. A sentinel for his own convictions.

"Then perhaps I am a fool," he finally said quietly, voice husky with mystery, doubting his own words. "We should move on from here, Oluse..."

by **Oluse** on November 7th, 2012, 6:08 pm

Oluse stared what must have appeared a blank manner toward Ronan as he spoke, though on the inside a chaotic struggle still raged. The debate as an argument between two that had so little practice with the art. The conversation floundered and sank before it made any true headway, both eagerly disengaging.

Oluse could not preach steadfast conviction, however, not in truth. As they observed the valey, and moved along the ridge to continue their scouting Oluse's mind pained itself over Ronan's observations. Were people modeled after the gods? Even humans? Even Denvali? Ronan was right, of course, that medicine did not have to be a chaste practice. Oluse knew this well enough, how knowledge in the minds of the ignorant of heart could turn as harmful as a mage's touch.

Perhaps Ronan was right, though all Oluse could see in his words was a regretful dirge for what hope Oluse may have had for the world. Adarin was wrong after all, there was never a war between man and magic, Denvali and corrupters. No, they had been defeated without chance of reprieve from the start.

He wanted to badly to ask a god why, why make so much cruelness? Why shape existence as it was. It seemed to Oluse they could make it all go away if they wished, they could change all the illness in the world, they could banish plague of misguided hearts from the face of Mizahar and yet they concern themselves with only their domain, and say so very little for the human heart, which they could undue and perhaps even rebuild.

Oluse felt sick to his stomach at the thought.

by **Ronan** on November 8th, 2012, 10:48 am

They finally moved on, remaining in an uncomfortable silence for the duration of the walk. They made their way along the ridge, the whole time Oluse seemingly locked in fervent thought.

He couldn't quite believe that someone's view of life could be so divergent from his own. The Drykas shared a common view of things, and there were others that were in a similar boat. The Konti seemed to agree with much, being such a mystical race.

It was the fear that had struck Ronan too though. A fear which drove Oluse in all of his convictions - the fear of the loss of his family. Well, he probably didn't realise, but Ronan had been through just that too. Life on Mizahar was never easy. Blaming it on whatever was closest to you seemed like a foolish way to go about things.

Yes, magick took lives, but so did medicine, so did daggers and swords, and hate and war. So did the wild and strange beasts that roamed their world. It was a dangerous life. You couldn't turn your back on something so fundamental to many race's survival.

It was still hot, he realised. The sun was sweating their ideals out of the both of them. It seemed, too, that the heat had magnified their spat. It did that to people. Riling them up, burning their passions like cinder.

He glanced to Oluse, wondering if he was angry, or simply indignant.

by **Valkyrie** on November 13th, 2012, 1:46 am

Oluse :

Ronan Sunsinger :

You Will Be Collected if Worthy

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