Closed ghosts that we knew.

[Caelum]

Ghosts That We Knew Timestamp: 03 Fall 513 The wind gusted through the main courtyard of the Sanctuary, bringing with it the crisp, earthy scent of infant autumn. Caelum could have sworn he heard it while lying in bed, unable to sleep despite the day’s industry. He had spent too long gazing at the ceiling, dreaming of the wind and what half gone songs it attempted to return to him. His mind raced too fast to tumble into sleep, sweeping back through the hours of his time on Mizahar both as Syna’s beloved and as a fate ridden Ankal in the age of the Valterrian. Since his weak memory of his last past life had been strengthened to full capacity during the cataclysmic events of his time in Denval, he had found himself with a great many new minutes to sift through, secrets and dreams to rediscover. Dreams, perhaps, most especially. Nysel had neglected to mark him thus far in this life, but Caelum knew now that he was of a dangerous and mysterious order of dreamwalkers known as the Cytali. It was these thoughts that ultimately drove him from his bed while the wind whipped the sea below into frothing white caps. He ended up in the courtyard, dressed in leather riding breeches and his tall boots ringing against the cobbles, throwing back echoes at the night. Initially he thought to rouse his Windrunner and take to the air, a long habit of his to chase and to run horse back when the pressure inside of him readied to burst. Fortunately, sense caught up with him while he wandered down the cozy, dim interior of the boarding stables, listening to sleepy shifts and whispers of the horses in their stalls. It was madness to go riding past the safety of the Sanctuary in the middle of the night, alone with little more than his wits to defend him. Returning to the courtyard, he stood awhile in the wind, head thrown back and the thick, heavy knot of his braids sagging against the nape of his neck. He studied the stars, tracing their familiar patterns, and gave Leth’s shining face a wry, familiar smile of acknowledgement. Even that failed to ease the tension spiking in his blood, however, and before long he was shedding his coat to leave him in shirtsleeves, baring heavily inked arms. In this form, his windmarks and scars told an ancient story, one nearly equal in mystery to his sun washed, day form. One memory gained a little ground over the others -- a sea cliff at the feet of mountains, snow blanketing the wolf’s hour before dawn, and a lesson learned in self-defense and how to read the maps of souls. This held carefully in his mind, he fell into a defensive stance, aligning his bones for greater equilibrium, and began to move through the forms of punch and deflect, kick and guard. He held his muscles tight, dark eyes straight ahead, and tried very hard not to dream.

[Vanator]

The stimulus that stirred the Drykas from his slumber was lost almost the instant Vanator's eyes cracked open. Bleary, they peered around the stone room, the craftily carved walls illuminated by the embers of the brazier in the corner. His tawny-maned head shifted slightly so his vision could encompass the whole room, but all seemed in order in their suite.

Beneath the blanket, Sybel lay against him, a lean arm draped over his bare chest, a long leg hiked up and lain across his thigh. The Benshiran's head rested upon his shoulder, raven hair a tangle, warm, deep breaths tickling her lover's neck. In the stillness, Vanator felt the beating of her heart against his torso. She was in a deep sleep, a ragdoll. Certainly she did not awaken the Ankal.

Still, something nibbled on Vanator's awareness, a tick that the veteran Drykas would not ignore. Slipping carefully from Sybel's embrace, he sat up, rotating to sit at the side of the bed. Eyes slid shut again as Van reached out with his being to the strand of web nearby, placed close so that he could monitor movement within The Sanctuary, traveling the short circuit around the facility. Several lines still vibrated with someone's passing, all leading to the center of the courtyard. Caelum. The man was lingering. Perhaps this, for some reason, had tickled Vanator's subconscious.

Turning his gaze back to Sybel, the woman resting so soundly that her mouth hung open, Van pulled the cover over her and stood, sliding into his trousers and boots, then slipped on a shirt. A dagger and hand ax were selected from the wooden rack along one wall and tucked into his belt. Then Van slipped from the room into the corridors of the Within. Of course, Caelum was free to do what he wished, but the late hour activity, and the subtle nudge Van felt, compelled the Armsmaster to investigate.

Coming out of the door to the courtyard, Van's eyes could see rather well in the light of Leth's and Zintilla's canopy overhead. His gaze darted around quickly out of habit before settling on the form of Caelum in the center of the open area. He moved fluidly through his martial dance, heavy braids dancing around his head. The Drykas had seen the Eth's more mortal form on occasion, the shape of a strong male of the Horseclans, adorned with the inked designs of his own people. There was a curiosity about that nocturnal man, whom appeared like a haunting, the living manifestation of a ancient Ankal who died centuries ago.

Vanator strolled towards the man, halting a distance he deemed respectful, given the nature of Caelum's preoccupation. Even in the dim, white light, the Denusk could see the lacun marks laid into the skin of his flesh. As he thought of his own marks, Van wondered how much he and the ancient Drykas might have been alike.

Folding his arms across his chest and shooting a glance up to the heavens, Van's voice cut the crisp moving air. "If I knew how serene and quiet it was up here in the middle of the night, I would wait until midnight to get some things done. Why does sleep elude you, Caelum?"

[Caelum]

"Only on the worst nights is this a bad hour," Caelum opined. He had not startled at the sound of Vanator's voice reverberating through the courtyard, made louder and of more portent by the quiet previously qualifying the night for his use. Rather he had watched the Drykas approach, taking note of his stride long before the details of his identity had bled out of the distance and the dark. It had been the same man who taught Caelum the self defense forms to show him how the fastest, surest manner of recognition was to notice the way a man walked. People could change their faces, their coloring, thought about altering aspects such as accents and mannerisms, but only veteran professionals remembered to change the way they walked. Caelum slowly raised his hands, palms facing outward, and held his muscles tight while pulling in his elbows and completing the curvature of a deflecting blow. It ended with his arms at his sides and his spine straight as a stalk of grass, velvet dark eyes blinking a little owlishly at Vanator. Without warning, he broke into a grin. Even in the skin of a drkyas, it was a brilliant expression; and it was still rare enough to be considered valuable. "I know, it's weird. But I couldn't sleep for dreaming. Know what I mean?" His spine relaxed and lean shoulders pitched forward as he wandered loose hipped toward Vanator. He walked that way in both of his forms, long strides that nonetheless seemed ambling because he never seemed to his joints tight enough. Of course, he was taller in his day form, but there was the dust of a thousand roads on him and he was largely unconcerned with getting anywhere fast anymore. "There's so much to do during the day," he admitted. "I also thought it would be easier to practice self defense at night." His hours in the sun were primarily taken up with the practice of healing and medicine and dealing with the horses in varying degrees. One didn't muck stalls at night, after all. Or at least he didn't. This time his smile strayed toward a smirk and he came to a halt just outside of arms reach. "Where nobody could watch me make a fool of myself. Why are you up, Van?"

[Vanator]

The Drykas-guised Ethaefal did not acknowledge the Denusk as he spoke, completing his training exercise first. The routine seemed to be a effort in controlling muscle as much as employing them with force, a technique perhaps he should learn as well. Vanator waited patiently, not wanting to further interrupt, until the tall Eth broke the solemnity of his ritual with a flashing smile. The laxity with which Caelum walked contrasted with the highly controlled kata he had performed, but Vanator was used to the man's leisurely gate.

Vanator's acceptance of the Eth was partially attributed to his encounter with Eida in Riverfall during the Spring. Before that, Ethaefal were whispered folklore to the grasslander, beings worthy of awe. Van still held great respect for the celestial beings, and a measure of marvel. But Eida had proved to be very human, with hopes, fears and weakness like himself. Still Caelum was an intriguing addition to the staff, and the more he learned, the more significant Caelum's presence became.

The Drykas mirrored the tattooed Eth's smile, one arm unfolding from across is chest to wave casually. "I thought I felt a tug on the web, seems it was just a restless healer working on his self-defense. Of course, I can't complain, you know how I feel about everyone learning to defend themselves and this place." He joked, Van's hand again gestured, encompassing the structures around them, his dark, gold-flecked gaze following the flourish. In fact, Caelum had impressed Vanator in many ways. He was a highly skilled healer, a blessing since Kavala was in desperate need for some help. But the Eth was also a good rider, thoughtful, well-spoken and had at least rudimentary combat training that could be developed.

A finger lifted to scratch at a barely scruffy chin. "Tell you what, since I am already awake, and it is such a fine night, perhaps we could help each other. Without a weapon, I am at a disadvantage in a fight. Perhaps we could work on honing that still together. Iron sharpening Iron. What do you say?" He inquired with a raised brow.

[Caelum]

Caelum had been watching Vanator. Not just tonight when the Drykas approached him beneath the bowl of the heavens, but since he had returned to the Sanctuary and discovered Vanator to be a prominent figure within it. Since Nikali had spilled her five-fold blessing blessing down the length of his body and soul, Caelum had been compelled closer and closer to people and the puzzles that made them up. He had become a great watcher of men, wondering everything from how well their bones were weathering their use to what mysteries were buried beneath the mountains mapping their souls. A healer such as he who had the hubris to consider himself in duty to the world and not just to the health of those peopling it required that level of wonder, that degree of interest, else he might move through the sunlight of his life half detached from the very entities his soul revolved around. That was no way to live. In fact, it seemed to him a fast way to die. He would know, too, considering how many years he had spent doing just that. After dealing with his initial wariness of another Drykas, the first thing Caelum learned about Vanator was the he was a hard worker. Caelum loathed the entitled and the lazy. He himself was a hunter, a seeker, and as such he had a habit of admiring the same qualities in others. Vanator was always neck deep in responsibilities, and he did not shun the more mundane tasks such as mucking out stalls. That was another reason for Caelum's respect of the man. Caelum had been forced to learn that there could be dignity in service. It did not diminish a man. Not, at least, the right sort of man. He smiled now, softened beneath the sky, out from beneath the heavy stone that protected and housed them. He was meant to be beneath the sky, in the wind, studying the blackness between distant suns. "It's been a long time since I've been around anyone who knew what webbing was," he admitted. He gave a faint nod. "It feels good. My ancestor tied me back into it a few years back..." He trailed off, not with uncertainty, but with the yawn of an old memory. It was only a few seconds before the distance retreated in his eyes and he was looking at Van again, eyebrow rising. "Yeah? I'd say yes. This training can be lonely business." He tilted his head in invitation and rolled a step back, arms spreading wide in a gesture easily as eloquent as any grasslands signs they might exchange. "Where do you want to begin? I admit I'm not so very good at any of this yet, but I'm trying." A shadow of a laugh gusted out of him. "Which I know you will appreciate."

[Vanator]

Caelum's nocturnal incarnation was more to Vanator's liking, or maybe it was just that a familiarity clung to the Eth in his more mundane human form. There was no doubt the man was, or had been Drykas. His true condition was something Van struggled to comprehend, who or in what way Caelum should be identified. He bore two bodies, one heavenly, the other earthly, and that had ended its first life ages in the past. It seemed his soul existed strung between the two. So, even as Van found the Drykas face easier to related to, Caelum was far more than Drykas.

A passing distracting thought seemed to have drawn Caelum for a moment before he continued his address. From the glimpse of the man's exercises, Vanator mused that Caelum's unarmed marial skills were no less than his own meager experience, if not a bit more refined. After all, the Denusk had no regimen or routine to peform as the Eth had displayed.

Vanator laughed, his broad smile beaming in the moonlight. "We both will try. Without a bow or ax in hand, I am little more than a barroom brawler, and not a great one at that!" Van entered the imaginary circle, stretching shoulders and arms with much less eloquence than Caelum had demonstrated. The two men were contrasting in build, Van, broader in the shoulders, Caelum leaner but corded with muscle. The Ethaefal sported a wider expanse of ink upon his skin, though the design was in the same vein as Vanator's single Windmark across his back. Both men bore Lacun marks to commemorate lost love, though Vanator sported thrice as many.

"To be honest, I am not really sure how to proceed. I suppose the easiest way would be to just do it." His grin flashed again, his posture centering in a slight, bouncing crouch, hands raised. "We will work our way through it!"

[Caelum]

Caelum flashed the Ankal a wry smile and took a moment to draw air deep into his lungs. He sought not just his physical center, but also that of his soul for greater equilibrium when he walked the chain marked path of ranuri. It was one gnosis mark not visible, hidden by his clothing, but if revealed a blood red hue that possessed an almost living quality the same way torchlight might in a glass of red wine. Not for the first time, Caelum considered learning the art of ranged weapons. He had some small experience with the shortbow, but even a sword might prove itself useful. Yet too often he had only his wits and his hands to rely upon, and he knew better than neglect the training of their use. His hesitation was momentary, seeming to skim the surface of the surrounding night, but it yawned deep within him in preparation of dividing his mind into pieces even as he aligned his spine and his feet, his shoulders and his hips in the proper stance shown him years ago. It was therefore only about three seconds after Vanator finished speaking that Caelum pulled his arm back and let his fist fly, aiming to move through Vanator’s shielding hands and hit his cheek. He focused on rotating his shoulder a quarter of the way and made certain his thumb was properly tucked. If his blow landed, he would have to spring back quickly, requiring all the time he could collect between moments of physical contact. Else, Vanator’s needs would tug and distract him, dig in and twist toward alien desire. He’d much rather learn how to deal with it better with a friend such as Vanator than an enemy in an actual fight.

[Vanator]

The obscurity of Leth's white light hid much of the detail of Caelum's inked features, hindering any discernment of intent in the Eth's usually clear eyes. But Vanator would not rely on the flight of facial expressions for a telling of the man's planned attacks. Whether armed or unarmed, many principals of combat are the same. Eyes lie.

Instead, the Denusk gauged the set and angle of Caelum's body itself. The celestial Drykas assumed a fighting posture, a baseline from which Vanator would gauge deviations and calculate probable course of attack. Van drew a mental line down the center of Caelum's torso, then one across his shoulders and hips, and watched for movement in the angles of those imagined lines.

The crafty Ethaefal gave him only a few ticks to perceive his first strike, giving the arms master little time to react. But Van saw the subtle shift in the shoulder, foretelling the chambering back of an arm for a forward punch. Caelum's blow was fast, a quick draw back and release. Vanator detected it with only enough time to twist his torso as the punch passed between his raised hands, Caelum's balled fist grazing his chin before withdrawing, Giving Vanator's head a sharp nudge.

"Solid and straight forward, very Drykas!" Vanator laughed, lunging forward as he uttered the last two words, ducking slightly and jabbing at Caelum's abdomen with his fist.

[Caelum]

Breath whooshed out of Caelum with an edge of a pained laugh. He could be amused while grunting, the muscles in his stomach tightening further beneath Vanator’s jabs. He leveraged a foot back, turning to deliver Vanator his side while cutting his lower arm across and up at the same time. The intent was knock Vanator’s next blow off course and, thereby, the rest of him off balance. His attempt failed and he stumbled, one hand flying up to catch Vanator’s arm before he toppled on to his butt in the dirt. Of course, in a real fight it would have been ridiculous and idiotic to rely on one’s opponent to help keep you on your feet; but Caelum was having a hard time remembering that. They were friendly. This was Kavala’s brother. One day, perhaps, they could be equally as good friends. Besides, as he chuckled, dense and rich as dark earth crumbling through your fingers, the links of his ranuri were stirring to sigh against the face of the ankal’s mountain and attempt to learn all of details. “Petch, but we’re going to hurt ourselves. Aren’t we?” He patted Vanator’s arm and let him go, stepping back so he could bend over for a second and give a rub to the lower curve of his rib cage that had taken the worse of Vanator’s jabs. A sharp curve of need glinted at him through the dark, surfacing from the mass and causing him to blink. He straightened, that wry grin returning, and bounced a little on his heels before bringing up his fists. He held them near his face, remembering well enough Cian Noc’s advise to protect the only “good looking” thing about him. This time he intended to stay out of close quarters and to move faster. It would be better to dodge, wouldn’t it? “Fortunately, I’m a healer.” He raised an eyebrow but then ducked his chin, essentially nodding toward the collection of lacun marks littering Vanator’s chest. His own was a heap of ashes, but it felt tonight more like embers. Red hot and smoldering. “Tell me about them,” he suggested, words following the path Vanator’s need had pointed him down. They may as well make as many hurts of theirs worthwhile as they could.

[Vanator]

Caelum had made a valiant effort to thwart Vanator's pulled punch, and the Eth did manage to deflect some of the blow, but threw his balance out of whack. When he felt Caelum's hand grip onto his arm, Van stiffened the muscles, allowing the man to slow his ignoble descent into the dust. The Eth's laughter was sincere and untainted, simple humor that the Denusk so appreciated. Vanator chuckled in return, helping the once-Drykas back to his feet.

Van could not discern the nudging of Caelum's gnosis, nor knew he bore the same mark of Ranuri that his sister Akela had acquired. He could not know the subtle hints at his own deeper conditions that were being revealed through the probing ranuri. All that Vanator knew was that even in the few chimes he had already spent really interacting with the Ethafael, he found a comfort in his presence, even some affinity.

The spry Eth resumed his fighting posture, a body that seemed looser and more agile than the older Drykas man. But the gaze of his opponent darted to the marks on Vanator's sternum, the same location where Van noted Caelum bore his own lacun mark. Caelum inquired about the memorials etched into Vanator's skin. The Denusk was not one to discuss the painful tales behind those designs. But even as the man asked about them, Van felt almost relief. Maybe it was that the Denusk knew the healer was once a Drykas Ankal himself, maybe it was that, in the cool glow of Leth's light, he appeared very Drykas, certainly it was in some part due to the gift Nikali had given the celestial man. Regardless as to why, Van was willing to share.

Vanator's hand lowered from raised fist and pointed to the first one. It was in the design of a laurel wreath. "This was my first true love, Tamar. She was killed by Zith. We had no children." A nostalgic tone flavored Van's words. "She was beloved by the whole pavilion, especially Kavala, they were the best of friends." Next was the symbol of a crossed battle ax and spear. "Kashik. My next wife. She was strong willed, a warrior, she understood the politics of being a first wife. She bore my first...legitimate son, Zivatar. There was no love lost between Kashik and Kavala, and it drove a wedge between my sister and I." Then the Denusk's finger brushed over the last mark, the shape of a snowflake. "Khiara. Second wife to Kashik. She was from Avanthal, beautiful scintillating eyes and a soft heart. She was pregnant when..." Van paused, he was sure Caelum was aware of his Zith captivity. "Anyway, Kashik, Khiara and Zivatar were lost in the Djed Storm, with the rest of the pavilion."

There was a pained hitch in Vanator's voice. He knew Caelum could hear it. "But I have a restored family here, Kavala, Tasaval, Larik and Cadra. And Sybel will join us." There was a brightening of the Denusk's tone at his last words, a smile crooking up the corner of his mouth. Plans were in the works for the newly announced wedding.

Van lowered his fists and looked at Caelum. "You are right, we are not skilled enough to not knock each other's block off. I have an idea. I know how to hit someone, lets work on something more unconventional." Vanator had learned with his ax that redirection is an effective option to parrying and blocking, maybe it would work with fists.

"When I punch at you, try pivoting, like you did last time, but grab my wrist and direct my momentum some other direction." Van indicated by using his own hands. Then he nodded to the Eth's lacun mark. "Tell me about her."

He added, raising his fist and punching forward, only about half-speed.