Fated Paths [Hadrian]

[Rhuryc]

Late Summer, 510 AV
Outside Syliras, Early Evening

Foolhardy was the warrior who allowed his skills to dull. With both sword and shield in hand Rhuryc lay within the shadow of the fading sun, his massive form silhouetted against the backdrop of sparse trees and foliage within its last breadth of green. Grey clouds above foretold of violent weather, shifting winds below acted as heralds of the storm, all wrapped into an estranged cacophony of furious nature. The man seemed insignificant in his existence. A mere outline of a warrior, the man was well armed, but his clothing was that of a vagabond, a wanderer; long, leather coat covering a simple dull tunic and faded breeches, heavy-set boots completing the attire along with the addition of an ever-present sword belt, sheath and dagger present to affix the combatant image. His motions were smooth and precise. Adapted to some form of a stance, his foot remained a shoulder length's distance at all times while his torso remained forward, shield raised and set forward while the accompanying blade was held either back at a downward angle or up with the flat edge in parallel to the ground. Like clockwork the man struck, his sword leaving the its state of rest to collide against the unassuming base of a tree.

Rhuryc was bored with the exercise. While it served its purpose, kept his muscles strong and technique practiced, the same, repetitive motions were quick to wear on his mind. The ache in his arms begged him to stop, but the man was content to chip away, sword shifting to what appeared to be six separated notches, all marking points on the human body. Step, strike, hit. Every attack was the same in execution. His arm would left, grip tightening, then cross over a shoulder. A foot raised, stepped forward, then the sword followed, the blade searing through the air with all of the considerable power its wielder possessed. There was only a moment of pause before the leg was withdrawn and Rhuryc reset his pose, once again following through with the motion. A consistent, loud crack followed the first motion, the shield that complimented the weapon sliding out from it's defensive posture and braced into the center of the man's opponent, pushed, then taken back. A queer sort of one-two punch.

The loud, cracking impacts came to a halt as Rhuryc finally ceded to his body's demands. Blasted joints. With a loud groan the man turned his head back toward the city, his distance just enough to avoid any sort of notice from the guard. Sure, he was a queer sight for travelers, and more than one merchant found himself at odds with the unique training regime, but Rhuryc was quick to dismiss their machinations. He, after all, had some sort of schedule to keep. Maybe. Not really. The sword found its way back into the scabbard and was replaced by a waterskin, the contents of which were greedily sucked down in an attempt to replenish the water that now poured out over his skin. If anyway, at least the wind felt nice. He could use some rain.

[Hadrian]

Syliras wasn't home anymore. Though Hadrian had grown up here, traveling with his father on the occasional caravan and reading of far off places had convinced him early on that Syliras was a nice enough place, but why stay there when wonders abounded in other places. Of course, he had done some traveling now and had earned a few knocks for his troubles. As soon as he was old enough, he moved to Zeltiva to attend the University. Not long after graduating, he traveled to Sahova for a research trip. And now he was back here, his mother fading out like a candle, his already dysfunctional family operating at their best (and by best, read: worst), and he was still trying to assimilate his adventures in Sahova and Syliras.

He had been walking outside the city gates, avoiding his family, and even his old familiar haunts: bookstores, curiosity shops, and the like. He wanted to be alone, or at least no where his family could catch up with him. Baa, baa, black sheep. As the sun began to go down, though, blinked, willing his Vision to return to him. With auristics, he could see at night, and see more than normal whether day or night.

Enhanced this way, he looked around him at the djed, trying always to learn more and more from what he saw, though he was far from a master aurist. But it was in quiet contemplation that he walked, and in such a mood that he happened upon the man resting from his swordplay.

Hadrian could have avoided him, but it would have been rude and for some reason that bothered him when he was in Syliras. Or outside it. Here he was Trajan Aelius' odd boy whereas elsewhere he was just Hadrian. It was best not to reflect poorly on the family, as that only caused more tension.

"Hello," he said, approaching without any attempt to sneak. That would only be suspicious. This close to the City, he hoped he would be safe, but if not, there was the hope that he would see a flash of read in the man's aura before any sort of attack happened. It was possible to anticipate some things; they showed up in the djed before the action manifested, but that took a careful attention to detail that Hadrian could not always bring to bear with his limited skills.

All the same, he paid careful attention to the man's aura, trying to seem normal and nonchalant. It was a new pattern to remember, anyway.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc's gaze flicked to the newcomer. No stealth? No attempt to sneak up from behind? No shenanigans meant to inspire violence? Who ever this person was, Rhuryc made a quick, sudden decision that he liked him for no other reason than his approach. Respectful without a shred of apprehension. Glorious. This, of course, did not prevent him from giving the new arrival a thorough examination. Tall, as much as he was, but without the same muscular build, this Hadrian did not seem the combative type. Or even a worker. His skin just looked too soft, his hands bereft of the usual callouses. At least the man seemed focused, thinking perhaps? Or something more. In a typical fashion Rhuryc felt a spark of curiosity. Most folks would have just walked around him n a rather large circle, yet here he was, face to face. Fun.

"Hail." He said, his thick baritone slicing through the air like a knife. Neat trick, that, Rhuryc's voice seemed fit for nothing less than a battlefield. "Sorry I'm not much in a presentable fashion," He paused for a moment and turned, reaching over for a pack that lay discarded just beside his nicked tree. The waterflask was placed inside and he withdraw a queer shaped stone, one with several white marks stretched across the side. His eyes fell back on Hadrian after the motion and he continued, seemingly civil in his manner. In fact, he held absolutely no hostile feelings toward his new found companion, determinedly in a state of sheer neutrality.

"But you caught me in the middle of, ah. Training I suppose. What can I do for you?"

[Hadrian]

"Oh, nothing at all," Hadrian assured him. "I was just getting back to the city before full dark falls. I didn't mean to interrupt. I will continue on."

He found that he missed the noxious kelp beer so common in Zeltiva. It had been disgusting proof that he was no longer in Syliras, and now he was back, trapped. Perhaps a little to drink wouldn't go amiss. However, the sight of arms made him want to experiment with Flux again, to see if the added speed and strength, when channeled through tempered metal, might do less damage to the body in combat. Surely there was a treatise on military applications of Flux somewhere, but matters military were not his ultimate goal. He sought to know the mind of the gods, was all. The rest was details.

So perhaps later he would find a place to experiment with a sword and a dummy, to see if his slender arms might actually land a blow harder than some thick-thewed barbarian. It was an amusing thought, anyway.

"Have a pleasant evening."

[Rhuryc]

Huh. That was odd. Rhuryc found himself confused, a single brow raised in to illustrate the emotion. Why say hello if you only intended to leave? While the man had intended to tend to his sword the maintenance could wait. With a quick decision the stone was replaced and the back brought up, slung over his shoulder and set against his back. Still carrying his shield, he let the large slab of iron hang off his arm, the clank of the material on his leg making for a loud, if somewhat rhythmic accompaniment. Have a pleasant evening? Maybe. Resigned, Rhuryc figured he would at least figure something about this man, even if it only was a passing conversation. After all, what harm was making another friend?

"You didn't interrupt," He said, adjusting the pack for means of comfort. "I was finished for the most part; you wouldn't mind some company back, would you? To the gates at least."

Rhuryc stepped up next to the man, assuming that he would not deny the request. Even if he did, they were both headed in the same direction. Whether but choice or force, the man deemed himself such a traveling companion. For the time being anyway.

"Rhuryc, by the way."

[Hadrian]

Though he didn't explain himself, Rhuryc simply had the luck of being between Hadrian and the gates, and once he had determined that the man was not in the middle of his practice, it didn't seem like a terrible thing to walk past. He nodded, shrugged, and smiled all at once -- truth be told, he was not a little socially awkward. Though he was well schooled in etiquette, the actual execution of proper behavior somehow got lost in the mix when he was actually confronted with people.

"I don't mind," he said, hoping he didn't look like a damsel in distress or anything like that. "I'm Hadrian."

He put out a hand, ink-stained and pale, to make the swordsman's acquaintance.

[Rhuryc]

Rhruyc felt his senses overload. Three gestures at once? The man shook his head and a hand rose to rub the back of his neck, the motion allowing him some time to contemplate what just what happened. He deemed this conversation to be awkward. When the palm was extended he returned the gesture and shook, his grasp firm as he peered into the eyes of his newfound companion. There was a lot you call tell from a man's greeting. Confidence, strength, maybe even intentions. Rhuryc seemed an honest sort. His hands were calloused, hard, a direct opposition to the marks of the scholar. No doubt a laborer of some sort, or even just an estranged traveler, one that liked to abuse trees. How upsetting.

"Well met, Hadrian." He spoke as he fell in step next to the man, his hands settling within the pockets on his flanks. Rhuryc seemed relaxed as if he already trusted this new acquaintance. Friendly. "What are you doing out from the city?" He started, moving toward the city gates before the weather decided to act up. Rain, no doubt, was on its way.

[Hadrian]

"Indeed," he said, with regard to the quality of their meeting. Hadrian's mind was too quick, too spastic, too tangential for most people. He could do moderately well when he found a kindred spirit, one who studied anything and everything due to a profound interest in everything that came within the range of their attention. But he was fey for it, unduly focused on other things when he should have been paying more attention to what was going on around him, too trapped in the ivory tower of his mind to truly inhabit his body and the space around him unless he was in meditation or practicing a form of magic that dealt with his body.

As they began to walk, he thought about the question.

"I just had to escape, I suppose. I have been doing some traveling recently, and now it feels odd to be in a city for so long. Which is strange. I'm not normally much of an outdoorsman. And you, are you an amateur warrior? Pardon, but you don't look like a knight."

[Rhuryc]

Despite the civility of their arrangement Rhuryc could not help but feel a particular strangeness between himself and Hadrian. They were worlds apart. And not that the distance made the man uncomfortable, but already he could see a strain in future conversation; what did you talk about with someone of whom you shared little in common? The weather, maybe. Occupation. Camaraderie was such a strange instinct, one that Rhuryc professed no great understanding of; though, maybe he would just enjoy the company and allow his thoughts the time they needed to gather themselves. Worn muscles were never fit for fair fair tidings.

"I can relate I suppose." The man's head bobbed as he spoke, the action involved in his habitual ignoring of an increasing pain in his leg. If one looked closely enough they could see a stiffened lip every few steps or so. Old battle wounds, perhaps. "And you'd be right. I'm no knight. And no amateur." Was that a bit of pride there? Rhuryc was not one to brag, but he had killed men; with that experience he figured no man could be an amateur. A grin spread itself across his lips. Was Hadrian worried for his safety?

"You've no need to fret, friend, I don't attack honest travelers. Or merchants, or. Ah." He paused, his gaze flicking to the side. "What do you do yourself?"

[Hadrian]

"I apologize; I didn't mean to imply that you were somehow less than the knights." It was generally understood that Hadrian was socially retarded. Sometimes he could pull off a 'normal' act, but frequently people glanced askance at the lad with the too-intense gaze -- that is, when he wasn't absent-minded and vacant-looking.

"I'm a scholar," he supplied finally. It was his go-to answer. In Zeltiva, people were open-minded about such things. They had the cosmopolitanism of a center of education. Syliras wasn't so bad. After all, there were a few places in Stormhold for recognized wizards. But still he didn't like to tout the fact that he was an enchanter. It often put people off and Hadrian could do that well enough with his personality. "I graduated this spring from the University at Zeltiva. I'm home visiting my family."