Closed [Sanctuary Beach] Hearts of the Horsemen (Ronan)

[Vanator]

Timestamp: 72nd Day of Fall, 512 AV

Vanator had only arrived back in Sanctuary a couple chimes ago. His expedition into the Sea of Grass had proven successful in some ways, in others, he still sought clarity. He was glad to be back home. The Drykas never thought he would consider any permanent structure his home. But the Sanctuary was just that. It was his pavilion, it was just constructed of wood and stone rather than canvas and leather. Sanctuary was where his family was, where his duties lay, where his heart now dwelt.

But he was still a Drykas. He felt a weight upon him for Endrykas, for the pavilions that struggled after the catastrophic djed storm, and for any news of them. He garnered some information while he traveled, but precious little.

Larik had told him Ronan was at the facility, that Kavala had brought him in from the grass seriously wounded, and that he had been recovering there ever since. Once again, his sister had come to the rescue. It was becoming a common practice with the Konti, saving and healing her own. Ronan was a special case, Vanator knew well, for he had stolen the heart of his beloved sister. That made him of particular concern to the oldest Denusk. After Ronan and he had met again earlier in the season, Vanator had told himself he was not going to interfere, even though he knew Ronan's relationship with Kavala often left her heart aching. It was very difficult for the brother to watch. Van himself was torn as to whether he should begrudge Ronan's decisions, divided between the understanding of what the Sunsinger's Drykas duties demanded, and fierce feelings of love and protection for his sister.

But Ronan was also in touch with Endrykas, with the efforts to rebuild the Web, and may have news. Besides, Van honestly liked the man.

So he sought up top and within for Ronan Sunsinger, finally finding the young Drykas grooming his Strider outside the arena.

"Ronan!" Vanator called out, walking over to the man. "What brings you back here?" The Denusk had yet to sit down with Kavala to catch up on all that had transpired in his absence.

[Ronan]

Ronan felt a heaviness in his heart, knowing he would be leaving tomorrow at dawn. He could not linger for too long, not with his family waiting, and yet he so wanted to stay. It seemed, as always, his hands were tied.

As he thought over things, he brushed Tairell, patting her down at the same time. She would be doing a big ride tomorrow, galloping across the grasses and back to the familiar tents of home. He had come down to the stables to make sure everything was ready, and give her a little attention too. Tairell had always enjoyed the time they shared together - she often made it clear when she was stroppy with him for abandoning her for days.

Now, she swished her tail around happily, and Ronan gave the brushing a break to reach into his bag and pluck out an apple. She bit into it with large, strong teeth, and chewed ravenously. Her dark eyes seemed to twinkle at him.

He turned, giving a little start as a strong, male voice announced his name. He turned from Tairell, still holding the apple to her mouth with the other hand. He hid a little pang of surprise at the sight of Vanator. But of course, he knew the man was residing in Sanctuary these days.

"Vanator," he said with a nod and a faint smile. The man had that look about him - the look of someone who had gone round and round in circles of thought. Ronan recognised it from himself. He knew the dangers of wasting so much time with analysis and doubt. "I leave at first light tomorrow," he began to explain, "I figured I could come and groom Tairell a little, and make sure all the equipment is ready to be used on the morrow."

His eyes flitted back round, witnessing Tairell take the last chunk, leaving only the core in his hands. He pulled it away from her so she wouldn't start chewing on apple seeds.

"But you know it's a short ride really, for the Striders. We, the Drykas, are blessed with their presence I think." He patted her again on the side, and rubbed her nose affectionately, before turning back to Vanator. "What brings you? Are you heading out for a ride?"

[Vanator]

"Actually I just came back in from a tenday in the Sea. But I was thinking of taking Sirocco down to the beach. You have not met him. He is a fine Strider and a good stallion. I think we are going to use him for breeding as well, since Windsong is the only Strider stallion we have."

Ronan was leaving again. Vanator was not sure how long the Sunsinger had been at the Sanctuary, having arrived after the Denusk's departure. He wondered how Kavala was. Ronan had an effect on his sister that he watched with a guarded heart. She had a weakness for the young Drykas man, loved him. He himself was torn, knowing the kind of love that his sister longed for, and the vulnerability such affections exposed. Van was sure tomorrow would be a difficult day for both Ronan and Kavala.

Vanator looked over Ronan. He could see the weariness in his face, a face etched with cares far beyond those the man shouldered when they first met. "Ronan, why don't you join us for a ride down the beach. I could use some Drykas company. Meet us by the Sea Cave doors in ten chimes?"

[Ronan]

"I thought I hadn't seen you around," he exclaimed, before realisation crept into him. He had missed the attack on Riverfall. He chose not to say anything though. Perhaps when tongues were looser he would mention it.

Sirocco. It had a ring to it, but not only that, it was a strong name. It suited Kavala's brother well. Ronan smiled, nodding in understanding. It was still odd to him, that the tides had changed. But it was good, truly good, and he would not doubt on its coming.

"It is a strong name," he replied, repeating his internal sentiment. "I don't think you have met my strider either. Tairell. A she. One of the bravest, she is a loyal companion." He gestured to the horse standing beside him, and he gave her an affectionate rub in the meanwhile.

For a moment, Vanator seemed a little lost in his thoughts, but he kept Ronan in his vision. Was he the object of his constrained thinking? Or was it the fact he had missed his chance to defend his sister? Ronan had lived enough regrets like that to recognise the emotion.

He was pleasantly surprised by the Ankal's offer. He nodded firmly.

"That sounds good. Tairell could do with stretching her legs before journeying proper tomorrow."

With that, Vanator left, presumably to get his strider ready. Ronan sorted the yvas and led Tairell to the door he had spoken of. He wondered what they might chat about while riding along the beach, but he was just welcoming the chance to be outside, and to bond with this man who curiously now seemed like he could be a future friend.

[Vanator]

"Tairell, you are a beautiful creature." Vanator spoke directly to Ronan's Strider. To Van and Ronan, to Kavala, to anyone of Drykas blood, A Strider was not a mere animal. Vanator even hesitated using that word. Even though the Denusk breed that Kavala created for the Akalaks were amazing, they were not Striders. Striders were marked by the entwining connections between human and horse, the web and the land, and the souls of Drykas tied to the strands of djed that still, though in shreds, lay across the plains. It made the Drykas horses so unique. Vanator looked into Tairell's large eyes. He wondered if the soul of a long gone Drykas webber dwelt behind her intelligent gaze.

Van nodded when Ronan accepted is offer. "Great, I will see you on the beach shortly." Van excused himself so that he could yvas Sirocco, and grab a small pack of supplies. Once man and beast were ready, The Denusk headed out to the beach.

The buckskin stallion seemed anxious to get out again with Vanator, even though it had only been a few bells since they came in from their travels. He raised his head, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply of the salty air, then snorted. Van found great comfort in feeling again the barrel of a Strider between his knees, feeling contraction and expansion of the horse's chest as it breathed, alive and majestic. Strider and Drykas had bonded tightly during the tenday alone in the grasslands, getting to know one another and finding a sync between them.

Ronan appeared, and Sirocco carried Vanator at an easy pace to meet up with the Sunsinger. The riders fell in side by side, the casual pace through the sand continuing as they moved north up the beach.

Vanator decided to cut to the chase. The world just didn't seem the place anymore for idle banter. The man's sober tone rose about the roar of the surf. "Ronan, what is Endrykas like now, after the storm. What of our people. " The Denusk's heart was at Sanctuary, it was his home now, and he had taken upon himself to join in all that was happening there. But his soul was Drykas, and he held a treasured hurt for his people.

[Ronan]

Ronan watched as Vanator came forward onto the beach, astride his horse. The strider was a handsome one indeed, well built, and athletic in all the right places. His gait was trained and majestic. The bond between Van and Sirocco was almost palpable.

They fell into step together, Tairell giving the other strider a few looks in curiosity. They had not been acquainted after all. He watched her glance back and forth with a smile. She was a sly one, he thought comedically. Vanator had that same look on his face though as they began to ride up the sand though. Thought. Worry. Anxiety.

When he spoke, Ronan began to understand what it was that made his countenance so. His words were bold, a strong sense of fear beneath them, and as he talked, he outdid the waves that rolled up on the shoreline, cresting, falling, and ebbing again. A never ending cycle was the ocean, an unbroken circle that mirrored the earth itself.

Even now in Sanctuary, Vanator still had that Drykas pull to Endrykas, but he had not been there since the storm. Ronan frowned, his face pained for a moment. Tairell slowed a little, Vanator's horse would likely do the same.

"Understand I speak in honesty," he said, bowing his head a little. "The storm hit hard... half our people are... have returned to the Web."

It was the truth, and that was only an estimate. The tent city had faced total destruction at the hands of the magickal storm that had apparently raged across all of Mizahar.

"I was in Taldera when it hit, but we returned to destruction. Vanator, many pavilions cease to exist, and even now disease spreads among the clans. A pox, that has already taken some lives."

He swallowed, turning to look out at the ocean. There were numerous peoples and races, some across that very stretch of water, but in that moment they had returned, all that had mattered were the Drykas and their moving city.

"To make it worse, the Web lies in shreds across all of Cyphrus. There are not enough Watchmen left to fix it, it is a losing battle."

Kavala's words returned to him darkly.

"Your sister... that Konti sense inside her fears the annihilation of our people Vanator."

His words stuck in his mouth, eyes rigid and unmoving. He looked back to the Ankal, witnessing the Denusk lion's reaction.

[Vanator]

The cliff wall on one side, the pounding surf of the vast ocean on the other, created a sliver of solitude for the Drykas riders, men accustomed to wide open grassland and the expanse of the sky above them. The stretch of beach afforded them the sense of privacy, where weighty matters could be discussed, the Pavi words silenced by the blowing sea breeze just beyond the men and their horses. Ronan's news was similar to that which Sam had offered at the beginning of the season, except for the pox. The Denusk's countenance grew dark, his brows furrowing.

"To suggest the end of the Drykas is a grave prediction, but I do not question my sister's concern." It was a matter he would take up immediately with her upon returning. "Our people had survived the first Valterrian, they must survive this catastrophe."

Vanator considered a new paradigm for the Drykas. "The Pavilions will need to come together. bloodlines and feuds and rivalries between clans must be laid aside. Those that remain will have to form new families, like the Sunsingers...and the Denusks. Kavala and I have formed a new family here, with Kav and my children that had been rejected by my father. And Aweston, though not a blood relative, his mother bore me a son...now he is a Denusk too."

Van looked over to Ronan. "Eventually, the Sunsingers and the Denusks should consider welcoming any Drykas who has no pavilion. But the plague will require great care in doing so in the meantime." Vanator was sincere, though he did not admit that anyone considered for adoption into the Denusk family must be deemed suitable by both he and Kavala. "The time will come, as well, when we will need to take wives, Ronan, if the pavilions are to once again be populated." Recently, Vanator had felt the weight of loneliness. He loved Kavala dearly, the siblings finding comfort and encouragement in one another as they faced adversities. But each of them longed for someone to love. Now, the threat of the extinction of the Drykas added urgency to the matter. He looked down at his chest, knowing beneath the cotton fabric three Lacun marks memorialized three lost wives. Vanator struggled with taking another wife, and risking losing yet another loved one.

"The disease will only make it more difficult, preventing families from accepting loners for fear of spreading the plague. What else did Kavala say when you brought her this news?" He would get his sister's full reaction when he spoke to her, but he was sure she and Ronan discussed it in detail.

[Ronan]

The stretch of beach they now stood in was a place of solace. Stone and sea kept their words Drykas to Drykas, the striders watching the waves with curiosity.

Ronan nodded at Vanator's words. Despite his ominous statements, he could not believe the end of the Drykas was nigh. As a race they had lived through so much, and survived with such a simple culture of tent and horse. They were hardy people, the men and the women of the grasses.

"I do not think the Drykas will fade either. No sooner than the whole land itself."

He touched Tairell, the chill in his body fading, eyes glancing to the stone in his hand. The earth itself was the most stoic of all, and the Drykas were integral to that. In a way, they were the children of Semele and Zulrav. The earth and the sky.

"You are right. The whole world has been changing, since the storm. We have to find new ways of doing things, and realise blood is not the only tie that binds us anymore. The Sunsingers, my family, are a coming together of lone Drykas. There are many of us alone now, our families lost to time, but you are right. It is the only way for us to move forward."

He felt a little pride at his words. Ronan didn't often vocalise his most internal thoughts, but Vanator was his elder, and wiser too. A Drykas he could look up to and share his views with.

He looked down to his yvas, nodding sullenly. "I know I must take wives," he muttered softly. There had been a woman once, but her betrayal had torn up his heart. And Kavala was no simpler. He looked back up, blinking to shake away those hollow emotions. "We did not speak at length, since I was recovering from my attack. But she took it very seriously, and I think she's going to start getting Sanctuary ready to be locked down and shielded from visitors who could be carrying the disease. It would be fatal if it escaped Cyphrus too - I only saw Avanthal, but the storm must have effected every city and settlement in the land. The people there... they spoke with dreaded. They had never seen the frozen city thaw in all their lifetimes."

He shifted in the yvas, releasing a breath. Autumn clouds, mellow, shifted across the sky. A pattern that was ever changing, mimicking the struggles of life below.

"Vanator, may I ask you a personal question? Did you take your wives out of love... or... or did you take them out of duty?" He felt uneasy asking, and the gentle whimper from Tairell let him know she could sense his anxiety.

[Vanator]

Vanator's hand combed through Sirocco's long dark mane as they rode along. He was not surprised at word that Kavala would quarantine Sanctuary. Its very name indicated it was a place of shelter from the world. They were already making it secure against hostile forces, a self-contained fortress to withstand siege. Now, they would have to shut out the plague as well.

A quiet laugh greeted Ronan's question about his wives, finding some relief in the turning of the subject from such dire matters. The Denusk had told himself he would not interfere any longer in Kavala and Ronan's affairs, and he did not know if the younger Drykas' question had anything to do with her, but he turned and gave the Sunsinger a warm smile.

When he was not married, Vanator had earned a reputation for being 'open' with his love. It was something that chafed at his parents and Kavala had harangued him about quite often. His parents knew, if the heir was to marry, it would have to be out of love. "I have done many things because of duty. I was raised to serve my family as a leader, to sacrifice for their good. But when it came to my wives, I took each and everyone of them because I loved them. I was blessed that way I suppose, though, I don't know if its any easier to lose a wife you marry out of duty." He paused, a silent moment spent honoring Tamar, Kashik and Khiara. "But, I can't say I would not take a wife out of duty if it was necessary. My father married his brother's wife after he died so she would not be alone. If I am to marry again, I hope it will be for love."

The horseman came upon a stretch of beach littered with driftwood. Vanator brought the buckskin Strider to a halt, turning to Ronan and giving him the sign for fire. "Lets stop for a while." Hoping Ronan concurred, Vanator slid from the yvas and began to gather pieces of wood of various sizes. "I grabbed some of Kav's meat pies from cold storage, I can smell them in my pack and I am starving!"

Collecting some of the dry beach grass before the Striders began to forage through it, and adding some bloody bandages they always packed for tinder, Van began to build a small frame work suitable for a cooking fire.

[Ronan]

Ronan was pleasantly surprised by the Ankal's response. He seemed jovial in his words. Ronan valued love too, and though duty was necessary for survival, love would bolster a marriage and make it all the stronger. If the marriage bore no love, Ronan knew it would fester, working its way into resentment.

He turned back to his riding as they came upon sand strewn with driftwood, washed up from who knew where. Vanator made the grassland sign for fire, and Ronan nodded gratefully. He was enjoying their dialogue. Vanator spoke from the heart, that much was evident. He had judged the man so harshly in the past, but in truth, he could tell he was Kavala's brother.

He nudged Tairell to a stop near the Ankal, and followed suit and climbing from his yvas. Feet pressed into springy sand. He gave Tairell a quick rub to say thank you for the ride.

"That does sound good," Ronan said, motioning his hand in a circular motion over his stomach. "You know, I've been trying to teach myself some cooking, following some of Kavala's advice in the past. She's a good home cook, reminds me of my childhood."

He crouched to help Vanator with the fire, gathering more of the dry grass and the dry pieces of driftwood also. They gathered a small mound with which they would set it aflame. He stood back, hands on his hips to survey, allowing the elder Drykas the honours of lighting the flame.

The horses were rummaging through the grass themselves, taking select bites and chewing happily. He saw Tairell's tail swishing and raised an eyebrow in amusement at her. Then he turned back to Vanator, anticipation of the meat pies rising.