Closed Private Affairs (Clyde)

[Ianthe]

Private Affairs Timestamp: 54th Day of Spring, 516 AV Location: The Bronze Woods Intarus Molora was used to waiting. He remembered waiting for hours as a hunter, crouched and quiet and listening for his prey. He remembered waiting for his prize to cook, the twin smells of fire and success wafting lazily beneath his nose. And he remembered waiting to die. He was still waiting to die. Except now, he was down one arm and a job. His coin purse was lighter, his eyes were darker, and his patience was thinner. These days, he waited only for drink, for sleep, and for death. Intarus released a noisy belch and wiped his mouth heavily with the back of his right hand. The smell of stale beer permeated the air and oozed through the heavyset man’s sweat and clothes. It was two bells before noon, and he was half-sober. His therapist, if he had a therapist, would have called that progress. Intarus called it a damn shame. If it weren’t for the promise of coin, he wouldn’t have been standing outside the main gates of Syliras and squinting in the sunlight. But coin had been promised, and coin meant drink. So there he was, waiting on his two students to begin the hike out to the Bronze Woods. He had met one of his students in the Rearing Stallion two nights earlier. She was scaled like a fish, and pale as a ghost. She also had an annoying need to convince everyone of the merits of meditation - even for a one-armed failure of a man like himself (his words, not hers). The two had gotten into a lively debate, which ended when Intarus had promised to learn her stupid breathing exercise if she promised to attend a class of his own. He grinned a grin as lopsided as his limbs. The ale may have dulled his senses, but it hadn't dulled his wits. Thanks to his quick thinking, he now had two students. Two more than the zero he had yesterday, and the zero he had the day before. Smart was what he was. He had to, what? Spend a few bells in the woods digging for roots or teaching them to make a fire - or some other dinky skill the city-folk had never had the sense to learn? Then, he would be free to return to his favourite stool in his favourite tavern and order his favourite drink, or three. He patted his the brown tunic that covered his stomach. All that remained was for his students to arrive. . . . Ianthe never broke a promise. Not even an ill-conceived promise made in a darkened Syliran tavern. And especially not an ill-conceived promise that had the potential to bring in another meditation student. Still, she wasn’t without doubts - the primary doubt being whether or not the man would even remember their appointment. Ianthe’s clothes rippled in the breeze as she stepped outside the main gates and nodded to the pair of knights on duty. The konti wore classic Muran attire: all white, from cloak to blouse to pants. Leather sandals clad her feet - a luxury that suited the uncharacteristically warm spring morning. Sylirans pushed past her as she paused to search for her soon-to-be teacher, praying that she would recognize him without the haze of wine clouding her vision. Within moments, however, it became clear that luck was on her side. Few Sylirans lingered outside the walls. Of the ones that did, only one was older, male, one-armed, and belching. Yep, that’s the one. Ianthe hesitated, and steeled herself for the impending encounter: hours alone in the woods with a human whose name she couldn’t even remember. "Luck” was really not the right word for it. Ianthe swallowed and pressed on, making her way carefully over to the man’s side. “Hello,” she began in slow, stiff Common. “I am Ianthe. You were to teach me forest skills?” The man - Taurus? Totoro? - grunted in affirmation. “Aye. We’ll head out once the other one gets here.” …the other one?

[Clyde Sullins]

54 Spring 516

Clyde let out a sigh as he exited the castle, heading out into the spring sunshine of the outdoors. He'd started sneaking out of the castle when he was barely older than five, though back in those days it had been so he could wander off alone in the woods and practice his magic.

Sneaking though was perhaps overstating his skills, as his ability to get out of the castle had more to do with a quick tongue and people not caring if he walked off during the day.

He was heading out on this day to meet with a wilderness instructor recommended by a squire. He'd once more been attempting to weasel his way into said squires good graces, perhaps make him question a few assumptions he held, and had ended up talking about the woods.

A long story short the squire had insisted that if Clyde wanted to learn about living off the wilds, he'd better go see this man. Before Clyde could extract himself from the situation the squire had already promised to tell the man to expect him the following morning. Clyde apparently had done too good a job at convincing the squire he was a friend, and the squire had in turn done the friendly thing of directing him to a lesson.

It was, Clyde admitted, one of the lesser unintended consequences of attempting to woo a person with words and mind.

Now if he didn't want to ruin things with the squire he had to go and learn. Not that it would be a total loss, he could use more training in surviving off the wilds.

Particularly now that he was hiding most of his more useful magics.

And so it was on that spring day that Clyde headed out of the castle, wearing his more common clothes, a pack with a blade and some simple items that might be of use in the wilds, and his blue staff Cha in his hand.

Cha was of course a staff carved from Vian wood, which to a Mura native would be quite familiar as it was from a tree that only grew on that Konti isle. It was more than just a simple staff now though, with the magic infused into it the length of wood was an extension of himself almost.

Heading out to the location that had been agreed upon, Clyde saw the one armed instructor. He also saw a second student, one he'd not been expecting. It didn't take more than a moment to know she was a Konti, the signs familiar to anyone who had spent more than a passing time around the race.

Clyde had visited Mura at one time, and spent a few seasons there, and so had met quite a few Konti.

As he walked up to the two Clyde gave a small smile, and nodded to the man, stopping and planting Cha firmly on the ground.

“Hello, I'm Clyde, Clyde Sullins. And I assume your the instructor?”

Clyde would nod along as the various introductions from various parties buzzed about, only mildly paying attention. He didn't ignore their names or things, but he wasn't fully concentrating on the idle conversations and greetings.

Soon enough though they'd be leaving, heading off into the Bronze woods to learn some lesson or other, led by their one armed instructor.

[Ianthe]

“Speak, and Yahal shall answer,” Intarus said as his second student completed their group. “He’s the other one,” he continued in a stage whisper, leaning in so close to Ianthe that she feared he might stumble. The smell of stale beer and body odour filled her nose, and it took all of her self-discipline and appreciation for civility to keep her expression blank. “I surmised as much,” Ianthe replied in Kontinese, being too overwhelmed by the stench to rephrase in Common. She took a step backwards and shrugged at the newcomer as if to say, good luck to the both of us. “Clyde, is it?” Intarus pressed on, barely registering Ianthe’s language change. “Yes, I’m your instructor. Intarus Molora’s the name.” Intarus gave a sarcastic bow in place of a handshake, but Clyde seemed so nonchalant throughout the whole exchange that Ianthe wasn’t sure he was bothered. “I am Ianthe,” Ianthe said in Common, and nodded her head to Clyde in amicable deference. The gesture ended with her eyes tilted up, as he was a tall man - taller than herself and Intarus, at least. It was possible he seemed even taller because of the state of his limbs: long and gangly, like someone had stretched him out on a washboard before sending him off into the world. The rest of him seemed simple enough - common clothes, mussed brown hair, the casual confidence of a man who seemed indifferent to the state of the world around him. Simple enough, Ianthe agreed, except for that staff… As Intarus gathered up his hiking pack and threw it over his right shoulder, the konti glanced sideways at Clyde’s staff. She had never seen anything quite like it, of course, but the wood it was made of looked all too familiar. She opened her mouth to ask- “You ready?” Intarus cut in. He dragged up the waistband of his pants and jerked his head towards the road. “We’ll be takin’ the North Kabrin Road a few miles out. Should take us about a bell, maybe two if you’re slow. Once we get close to the Bronze Woods, you can tell me what you want to learn.” He began walking towards the road, and finished his instructions with a raised voice. “Lesson starts in the forest. 'Til then, don’t bother me.” Ianthe raised an eyebrow at their ornery instructor, but said nothing as the small party moved out. If Clyde fell in step beside her, she would attempt to engage him in conversation after a few chimes. “That staff… is it from Mura?” Vian wood played an important role in Kontinese culture, so Ianthe was surprised to see it in the possession of a man who was very much not a daughter of Avalis. “Please, if you could. Will you tell me its story?” Do you know of my homeland? was the unspoken question on the homesick konti’s mind. Ianthe gestured to the one-armed man walking several steps ahead, and smiled encouragingly at Clyde. “It seems we will have some time.”

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde in fact wasn't paying complete attention to what either of the two were saying, let alone was he paying enough attention to be bothered by smell or dress of his two compatriots in survival.

A part of his mind was paying attention to what was being said, listening, nodding, noting a few bits here and there, halfway paying attention to names... But another bit of his mind was more heavily focused on plotting. He wondered what the mans story was about the missing arm, and how it was lost. Did he resent the knighthood for it? Could he be made a new arm?

He was vaguely aware of golem style limbs being made on Sahova, but he didn't doubt that such things were exceedingly complex to give and attach to a person if meant to function properly.

So far as he knew Syliras didn't have any sort of gadget making business, though he had a niggling thought Zeltiva did besides Sahova. Though considering the dangerous nature of life, particularly for the knighthood, perhaps a business could be made of making replacement limbs? He wasn't sure what that would be called, but custom made replacement limbs would perhaps be a business.

His mind spun off in that direction for a bit, thinking of possible things he could do in that direction if he was capable or had access to such.

Eventually though his mind turned to the Konti. He'd met various ones, and most if not all had been gnosis marked by a deity, either for healing or as a seer.

He wasn't sure where the divergence with that happened, or if all Konti were marked by one or the other, or if only the ones he'd met. He had lived on their Isle for a time, but he still only knew so much about them.

Clyde wasn't completely sure when they'd headed off, he'd only been half listening and had been following along more by instinct than by a purposeful guiding of his feet. They were still on the open road, which was relatively simple to walk along and so didn't take a great deal of concentration to maneuver on.

He had been broken from his thoughts when he noticed the Konti was asking him something. I... Something. Ith? I-whatever, the Konti was asking him a question. It took him another moment to recall what she'd asked about, and wasn't surprised when it turned out to be Cha.

Clyde let a small smile play across his face, and held up Cha across his open palms for the Konti to see for a moment, though he didn't offer to let her hold it.

“Cha here? She's a beaut, she is. I visited Mura awhile back, seasons, maybe years ago. I lose track... Anyways, it was just after a storm, and I'd heard of the Vian Wood tree, of its uses. I met one of the local Konti, and we made an exchange. I taught her some things, and in payment she taught me some and also helped me find some branches broken off in the storm.”

“I had Cha here carved from one of the branches we found, and I've had her ever since. Cha, it means blue. It seemed fitting.”

Clyde left unsaid in what language Cha meant blue in, as it was one not too well known. He spoke a smattering of ancient tongue, a language which was prominently used by mages. This was particularly true on Sahova, where many of the oldest texts were only found in the Ancient Tongue.

“So what of you? What are you doing in Syliras so far from Mura? I don't see many Konti about. Surely something must have taken your interest and brought you here. A tale for a tale.”

There was of course more to Clyde's tale, more to Cha attaining her current form. For instance the fact that she'd been Izentor crafted by a half isur in Ravok, that she'd subsequently been enchanted with Magecrafting by Clyde on Sahova, and that she was nearly indestructible.

Clyde hadn't lied, but neither had he told the staffs entire tale. Instead he'd focused on how he'd attained the staff, and not its later story. Not that any special-ness would be visible to the naked eye.

[Ianthe]

“Cha,” Ianthe repeated, feeling out the foreign name. Naming a staff and referring to it as female was a bit strange, but perhaps doing so was another one of those curiosities of human nature. Regardless, she listened intently as Clyde continued to speak, eager to learn about his experiences in Mura. Questions burned inside her: how did he come to know of her island home? Why did he visit? How did he like it? Why in Avalis’ name would he leave? (Why did she leave?) A myriad of emotions rolled across Ianthe's face as she fought to contain her curiosity. The pair had only just met, after all, and would be spending goddess knows how many hours together in the woods. If she alienated him now, the day might drag out even longer than she expected. Still, she wished he had told her more - like who the konti was that he’d met, or what the konti had taught him, or - and maybe more interestingly - what he had taught her. A topic for a later time, perhaps. As his story wound down and the conversation turned to her, Ianthe considered Clyde’s proposal. A tale for a tale. It was a fair exchange, and one that Ianthe was quite familiar with. Muran culture had been built on a foundation of stories, beginning with its birth story - the tale of Avalis’ ascent, which most every konti had been told from a young age. “When telling a story, start from the beginning.” That was what Ianthe’s grandmother had always said before sharing Avalis’ tale with Ianthe and her twin. Ianthe, however, had no idea where to start when it came to telling her own story. Why had she left Mura, and what was she doing in Syliras? How could she even begin to explain that everything had been set in motion by a simple pull, a tug, a feeling? That thoughts of visiting Syliras had been so strong that she’d had trouble eating and sleeping until the very day she’d left - but now that she was here, she had yet to understand what she was to do or why she had left in the first place. She could only imagine how irrational this would sound to the man walking next to her. A pebble rolled beneath her feet, and she kicked it away with her heel. How would a human answer this question? Ianthe chewed the corner of her lower lip as she considered her response. A human wouldn’t think so long about their answer, for one. “I heard stories of Syliras, and I wanted to see if they are real,” she said after a stretch of silence nearing impoliteness. It wasn’t entirely untrue. She had heard stories of Kuvali Natra, and had always wanted to see her ancestor’s adopted home in-person. “You might know this, since you have been to Mura. We konti... how do you say, pride? We pride ourselves on our connection to Syliras." Ianthe's eyes grew thoughtful as she continued to speak. "We had a sister a long time ago - Kuvali Natra. She was the first konti advisor to your city’s Knights. Loris Dyres, I think. We - my daughter and I - came to Syliras to learn more about her history.” She stared down at the road and felt her stomach turn as she held back from telling the full truth. “I miss home,” she admitted after a pause, needing to share something wholly honest. “I still have family there. It is very far away, like you said.” The road began to tilt uphill, and Ianthe felt a vague burn in her calves as the terrain shifted. She turned her focus to Clyde and attempted to match his pace. “Do you see your family often? Are they also in Syliras?”

[Clyde Sullins]

It was clear from even a casual glance that the konti was stricken and attempting to fight some mix of emotions. Clyde wasn't sure if this was because his story had brought up memories, or his vague mentioning of things had left her desiring to ask more but feeling she couuldn't, or some other third or fourth thing.

He was leaning towards it being one of the first two, but a other possibility was always within reality, and even someone as skilled in interaction and prizing forth info from partners in words wasn't infallible.

When it was her turn to speak he noticed her hesitancy, her chewing on her lip and pondering things before speaking. That made it seem to Clyde that the woman was not being honest with him. She didn't seem like she was socially awkward of afraid to speak, which was another possibility, so it seemed more likely that she was deciding what to say, or more to the point what not to say.

Honest people, he had found, didn't need to think and consider their words, instead they just spoke. With this in mind he listened to her words with a grain of salt, believing that she was likely either lying outright or not telling him everything.

Then again, she wasn't as skilled at telling partial truths as Clyde, and he knew the tricks to do so without appearing to be lying or meaning to not give the full details.

From the way she spoke it was as if she was telling two disjointed stories, the first bit about why she was here, and the second bit as a more tried and true story.

“Yes, I have some family in Syliras, though I don't see them often. We are... A bit estranged. Disagreements can do that.”

Clyde was curious about the Konti, as he knew many of them were gifted with various abilities. He'd met several who could heal, and several who could do other things. He only knew so much about Konti, though he was fairly certain some of what they could do such as the healing was from a gnosis, a gods mark.

However he didn't want to come straight at asking such questions, but rather wanted to find a way around to it.

He left unsaid what those disagreements were, though he supposed that was less of a leading thing and more normal as it was personal.

“Speaking of family, that seems a bit of an odd reason to leave Mura and ones family, just because you heard stories. Surely there is more to it than that? One doesn't just leave their home and family because they are interested in some story, in my experience.”

[Ianthe]

Clyde’s gaze was disconcerting. Through some combination of his piercing blue eyes and his intent watchfulness, Ianthe felt as though every movement she made and word she shared was being dissected. It was not what she’d expected from the man who, only twenty chimes earlier, had seemed like his companions were the furthest thing from his mind. But she didn’t feel threatened, like how a rabbit might feel near a fox. No, it was more like how a house cat might feel next to a wolfhound: cautious, yet confident in her own abilities. Perhaps too confident; one of the few negatives that came from being raised in a city saturated with messages of safety and security. “I’m sorry,” she said as Clyde spoke about his family. “Still, family is family. They are blood, yes? That is not so easily taken away. I do not know what ‘estranged’ is, but I do think disagreements can be overcome.” She did not ask him to elaborate. Ianthe’s eyes darted to the heavily trodden road as Clyde skillfully segued back to the konti’s half-truths. She could feel the pressure of his questions on her shoulders, against her chest, inside her heart. I know, his words implied. I know you’re being false. “I’m sure there are some people who leave home for a story,” she said, cheeks colouring from more than just the sun. “But-“ “We’ll be gettin’ there by midnight at your pace. Pick it up!” Intarus shouted back at the pair with impeccable timing. If Ianthe or Clyde were listening closely, they might hear a follow-up mutter of, “Petchin’ city folk.” As it was, Ianthe was too focused on Clyde’s line of questioning to pay much more attention to their instructor other than listening to his direct orders. She fell silent and increased her speed in order to gain ground on their guide, who had been walking several meters ahead. If Clyde chose to match her pace, Ianthe would wait another chime before responding to his question. If he chose to keep his own pace, she would wait until they were beside each other once more before speaking. “You’re right,” she said. Her voice was soft, and would get lost amidst the din of passing travelers if her listener did not lean in. “It was only part story that brought me to Syliras. I… I think Avalis wants me here. I think it may have something to do with my purpose. In life, I mean.” Here, she hesitated and raised her gaze to Clyde’s in order to gauge his reaction. Would he think her insane? “She didn’t say that, of course,” Ianthe continued, stumbling over words in her rush to explain. Pastel scales glinted in the sun as she swiped blonde hair off her forehead. “It’s just, konti have a Call. A purpose - bestowed by Avalis Herself. Until last Winter, I did not know what that felt like. “I think… I think I was drawn to Syliras because of my Call.” Here, Ianthe’s eyes darkened from the stress of sharing what she herself didn’t fully understand. “I just don’t know what She wants from me. Or why Syliras. Or if I'm even right! I know I should have faith… but it is so far from home.” Goddess. Twenty, maybe thirty, chimes into their walk and she was already exhausted. She hadn’t admitted to herself how hard it had been knowing only Cleodora and living among strangers. And now here she was, pouring her thoughts out to a man who was just barely an acquaintance. How desperate she must seem. (Her heart felt lighter.) “I’ve gone on too long,” she said. “This is not your problem. We can speak of something else.”

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde puzzled over her comment, unsure if she was joking or messing with him. The thought that it might be a translation issue, and that she literally didn't understand, didn't occur to him.

“Some disagreements yes. Others... Not so much.”

Clyde disagreement funnily enough was his being a mage. His father was ardently against magic, hated it with a burning prejudice. He surely didn't want Clyde working as a mage, and had been angry Clyde didn't want to become a smith like him. It was one of the reasons he had first left Syliras at sixteen and headed to Zeltiva.

They didn't know specifically what he could do, what magic, but his father wasn't stupid and after awhile he had picked up on things and figured out what Clyde was and was doing.

When they pressed on to the bit about her leaving for a story however, Clyde knew he had chanced upon something deeper. He had said what he had more as a probing move, testing, seeing, unsure, as he tried to gather information from her. Interrogating someone for information was ingrained in his speech patterns. Her reaction made it quite clear he had hit on something there, telling him he should press harder there.

The group picked up speed, trying to catch up with their guide and teacher to placate his hurry. After a chime or two a small stitch began to form in his side, burning like a hot stick prodding him, but he fought through it.

Clearly he needed to spend more time exercising, but working through it would surely be good for building up his endurance.

After walking along in silence for a bit, Clyde was about to prod her further along in the conversation. However before he did the konti continued onward with their talking.

Her explanation of why she had come, of Avalis, was a bit confusing. Clyde had likely herd the name before, but couldn't place it right then. He was bad at names at the best of times, let alone when a vague god was mentioned that he had heard years ago.

He was pretty sure it was a god, one of the Konti ones, though he couldn't recall which.

“I'm not overly familiar with Konti. And I've never heard of this call. What is it exactly?”

“And the name sounds familiar, but I can't place Aval.. Avalice. Is she the one with the snake with wings symbol? I recall seeing that one back on Mura quite a few times, and people with that healing power.”

“I don't mind, I enjoy learning of new cultures. I've never been beyond Sylira, but I've visited quite a few cities in the region. Each one tends to be quite different. I admit I am interested. I've met various konti, and many seemed to have various abilities which is perhaps common amongst your people. But I only know so much, and I would not be surprised if some of what I think of your people is wrong. ”