New Friends [Maliken]

81st Spring, 511 AV The Chapel What little light there was did well to illuminate the hallowed ground. Chapels, churches, cathedrals, Rhuryc always found an ethereal grace in their construction. A unique set of architecture somehow set them apart from their surroundings, calm, benign, and always calm. It was for this reason that he sought out such a place. As he passed beneath the doors he was careful to step lightly, though his thick-soled boots begged to differ. The step-thunk of his footfalls echoed about and out into the evening sky. The inner sanctum was all but empty. Perhaps it was better that way. A cool, crisp night, the man was well accompanied by an agreeable temperature that called for no more than his casual attire. That was a nice change from Avanthal. As such he wore his coat, tunic and breeches, carrying little else in accessory except for an exposed emerald necklace and a blade at his side. From what he gathered the citizens here often held weapons. Though for sport more so than protection. How strange. Rhuryc found a seat near the middle of the hall. This was precisely what he was looking for. Comfort, quiet, serenity. His shoulders haunched as the man leaned forward and faced the alter at the head of the chapel, barely daring to breath in an effort to not disturb the peaceful atmosphere. Was there anyone around? A quick glance brought his attention about the other various pews, searching in some estranged habit to ensure that he was, indeed, alone. He had become adept at picking out eavesdroppers. More than likely from all the damn ambushes he'd encountered in his life. After some time of observation he was satisfied in his lonesome and thusly he turned back about. "Well." Rhuryc started, his thick baritone echoing about the empty chamber. "Denval. Never thought I would end up here. I don't think I even knew this place existed." He blinked, pausing once more to glance about. No one? Still good. "I've been away from Syliras for almost a year now. Traveling. I even have a, ah. Kelvic Bondmate. Her name is Atzi." He shifted uncomfortably, though he smiled at the thought of the tiger. "You listening, father? I don't suppose you would be, but. I'm still here. Doing well I think. You would be proud." There. That was done. He supposed he could have said more, but words were always difficult to come up with. Hell, he had been thinking of what to say since he started out in this direction. No, that was enough. Maybe he would just sit there for a while longer. It was quiet, after all.

[Maliken]

It was rare that Maliken visited a place of religious worship. She had believed, her whole life, that the gods would hear you through your works. Izurdin would see your crafts and be pleased or angered. Rak'keli would look kindly on those that tried to fight illness and defend the wounded, but deny those who spread death and disease. Maliken's life had changed so drastically within the past year. She was taken on a mining expedition with her father, but an accident, damn those clumsy humans, crushed her arm. Vayt must have been pleased because infection soon made its home in that shattered and bloodied limb, and her stubborn father refused to get a doctor until Sultros was reached. Haste was used, but it wasn't enough to save the arm. Maliken was forced to accept amputation, and in turn, her father's disapproval. The young woman couldn't comprehend how her father's actions, which certainly were the cause of her blight, could cause him to hate her so much. But it was so. Maliken stepped into the Chapel. The echoes of a lone man just faded as her bare feet hidden by the long robe touched the cool stone. She sighed heavily, partially because she felt despair surrounding her like a thick fog, and partially to let the man know he was not alone any longer. She stepped, once with timidness, again with hesitation, and then on in a mechanical thoughtless manner. She moved down the center isle, empty pews littering either side of her and then she stopped, past that lone man that sat in silence alone, and aligned with the front pews. Again she took a step, thinking that she was now closer to whatever man or woman spoke in the name of philosophy or some god or goddess than any other that would come daily to listen. Then she fell, her knees his the floor with a loud pounding. The Isur skin was thick though, dense, and only hurt a little. Maliken inhaled slowly, a deep painful inhale as she closed her eyes and lowered her head, staring now at her lap as if expecting some divine message to manifest in front of her. But it did not come. "Who do I blame for my misfortune?" It was a whisper, but in that eerie silence, even the walls seemed to repeat her words throughout the room. The darkness, the room unlit by candles or torches or sunlight, felt very heavy and chilled. "Izurdin, I know I am forsaken in your eyes, but if you have a heart, I beg that could see my pain, and know that it was not my doing, not my fault." Maliken stopped, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the other presence in the room. Perhaps he was minding his own business, and perhaps he was leaning his ears closer to hear her, but she felt exposed. Maliken sat on her knees for several long moments as she listened, then she stood up and turned to leave.

[Rhuryc]

Who? Bah. It was rude to look. As the woman entered the chapel Rhuryc remained silent and forward. His reverie was broken, sure, but this was a place of public domain, he had little say over the comings and goings of the locals. A set of lonely step-clicks announced the newcomers path and it was only a matter of moments before she passed by his seat. A woman. Cloaked and concealed, she moved in a quizzical manner to the man. He was accustom to watching movements, to gauging skill on how one carried themselves, and her canter was different. Difficult, even. Did she favor a single side more than the other? The idea of a cripple spoke in his mind, but what business was that of his? Damn, blasted curiosity. He did what he could to avoid eavesdropping, but with the seats so empty and the air so stil, he would have had to cut his own ears off to not hear anything. When the woman fell to her knees Rhuryc shifted. Was she wounded? He half stood and only stopped when he realized what it was. Prayer. Misfortune? Damn his hearing. He set himself down and bowed his head as the stranger continued. Did she know he was listening. When she stood, the man's head raised and his eyes locked onto her form. One who dressed in such a fashion always had something to hide. It was strange then that he opened his mouth to speak. He respected privacy, yet he felt it necessary. Or maybe that was just a pleasant excuse. "They don't talk back much, do they?" Rhuryc grinned and flashed his eyes to meet with her own. He could at least offer her some courtesy. "The gods. Close lipped the lot of them."

[Maliken]

Maliken stood silent for several moments. There was a time when Izurdin would communicate with her, or at least she felt he had. Perhaps it had been an illusion, though even Izurdin marked her at birth, the sign of a true Isur. "No, not when they look at you with disfavor." Maliken looked back at Rhuryc, though saw more of a figure shadowed behind rays of moonlight behind him. His eyes weren't distinguishable. "There was a time when I was in his favor. Life has changed for me since then." Maliken didn't return Rhuryc's grin, there was no smile or sign of a light-heart or childlike carelessness. It was a serious to her. "I assume you overheard me then. No reason to pretend I have nothing to talk about. I believe it's rude to listen when not spoken to though." Maliken slowly began to walk down the aisle, turning into the row of pews Rhuryc was resting in, and she sat next to him. "It's only fair that you talk to me now." Maliken looked down at the left sleeve of her robe. It hung limp, everywhere she moved, limp. There was no arm anymore. Oh how she would have given nearly anything to change that. "Who are you?"

[Rhuryc]

Ah, mistake. Rhuryc allow his countenance to by overtaken by a stern stoicism. Never would he understand people, and so be it. Instead of dwelling, he turned the brunt of his torso toward the woman and offered her a nod, remaining silent until she was done with her piece. It was only then that he caught sight of the missing arm. A cripple then. That gave sense to her words. Who was it she was speaking to, Izurdin? The pieces fell into place. Very much like a crafting puzzle. Once one section was completed, the rest. Well. To be a smith without an arm was certainly a disadvantage. His own problems paled in comparison. "I meant no disrespect. It's difficult to not hear. The chapel is, well. Lacking much of a crowd." There. That counted as an apology, didn't it? What came next was expected. In some fashion. Forward and brash, he offered the woman another amused grin as she sat down nearby. What was it with meeting strange individuals in places of worship? At least she was not a Nuit. "Fair is fair. My name is Rhuryc Naravane, though I have no title worthy of mentioning." Neither was the surname, for that matter. He almost scoffed. "Just passing through on my way south. I had hoped to. Well, let's just say we were both looking for somewhat of the same thing." Establish similarities, right? He would never get a handle on this conversation thing.

[Maliken]

Maliken shook her head slowly. She found no insult or heartache over this human hearing her. Perhaps if he had been deep in thought he wouldn't have noticed her, but that didn't particularly matter. "Disrespect, respect, I don't see value in the word. If one as unfortunate as myself can be disrespected for my flaw then it is a fickle substance, this 'respect'. Be it full or lacking, I want none of it. It would seem that respect creates stronger ties than those of family ties, and disrespect has the power to break the bonds of brotherhood." Maliken had been staring off into the dark corners of the room, her natural vision easily staring through it to make out figures and shapes. Isur, adapted to living in the darkest of caves and mountains. Slowly she turned to face Rhuryc. "Can an outcast truly be bothered by disrespect of overhearing words? I should think not. Not unless I am as fickle as those that label me outcast." Quite a tangent for just addressing some topic of disrespect. "Naravane. For a human, it sounds strong. I wonder, what is in the south that you seek? The city of Illusion? The Isur city of Sultros, impossible for your kind. Lhavit in the sky? Further south still?" Maliken shook her head slowly. "A year ago, I traveled across the Suvan with my father. He loved to mine for mineral ore, and he thought it was time I shared his joy..." Maliken trailed off as her eyes returned to the dark corners of the room, staring at nothing, yet still cutting through the darkness just because she could. Her arm reached up, as if by its own will, and wrapped around her chest, pinning the imaginary arm against her. "Have you ever been to the Sylira lands?"

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc quirked a brow as the woman spoke. On and on. He felt as if he had to struggle just to keep up with her. Should he agree with her? Say she was wrong? In his own mind she took his words too far, but then again he was not missing an arm and cast out of some sort of uptight society. Whatever that may have been. He really had to stop walking into chapels once the sun was down, any more of these conversations and he may just lose his head. "Ah. Across the Suvan. To Syliras, at least that's where my destination is now." He spoke once Maliken stopped, allowing her to finish her thoughts before he weighed in. He had little more to say on previous subjects, at least for now. There was an issue of comfort. He shifted in his seat, eyes flickering away from the woman in favor of a stray noise somewhere in the distance. Old buildings always set him on edge. "I spent most of my life there. Sylira. Traveled it some. It feels a great deal safer than the other parts of the world that I have seen. Well. At least, more ordered. Syliras is like a bastion of civility compared to the lackluster gaze of Avanthal. Or, well. Anywhere else. I suppose with an army of knights that makes a bit of sense." He paused for a moment to offer a grin. He almost wanted to scream at the Isurian to lighten up. "Not exactly the most friendly lot though. You never introduced yourself." He changed the subject, eying Maliken expectantly.

[Maliken]

Maliken shifted around in her seat for a moment before responding to Rhuryc. "I was in Zeltiva very briefly myself, changing ships before taking it to the northern coast of Cyphrus. That was only a season before I had my accident. I lost my arm, well, it wasn't at Cyphrus I lost it. It was crushed, but over several days it became infected and amputation was the only cure. It was nearly to late for me as a whole. Too late for an Isur, but not quite too late to end my life all together. I gamble that you are wondering why I am telling you all this?" Maliken titled her head so that she could look at the tall man sitting next to her. "I wouldn't know the answer myself. Desperation, I suppose that could be the answer. I haven't been accepted by my father since since the amputation. I fled Sultros in my humiliation and eagerness to separate myself from Izurdin's gaze. I know he favors perfection, and half an Isur is not a perfect child. Do you have a certain god or goddess you favor, Rhurette Naravane? I worked so hard to make Izurdin watch me, but now I can't even utter a full sentence to him without feeling a weakness grasp me." Maliken was talking, a lot. This was uncharacteristic of her as an individual, but not so uncommon when you looked at people in general. She had been alone, mostly, for two full seasons, half a year, without word of encouragement or care. She was breaking down, had to tell somebody, even if that person was only seconds away from being a complete stranger to her. She sighed heavily, realizing she was trying to study and understand herself and her sudden shift in personality. "I am Maliken Ironfist, of the... outcast of the Pitrius Clan in Sultros. I was named after my cousin, who was more of a son that my father desired than a daughter could bring him, and when his only child was ruined, he refused to accept the shame of caring for me any longer. So, here I am. A child of thirty-three years old trying find her place in a world of unfamiliar faces."

[Rhuryc]

That. That was a lot of words. Rhuryc dipped his head as he listened. Not in an attempt to block it out, but rather to understand. She seemed desperate. Out of place. Foreign. Lost amongst those that burst with purpose and direction. To that he could relate. Perhaps too well. So when she started on on about her family, her affliction, one thing and the other over self worth he lent a passionate ear. His body shifted. A hand rested on a knee, his chin dipping to allow the much shorter woman a better view of his face. With brows furrowed in concentration he did what he could to process each word. Pitrius Clan? That meant little to him, but if she was from Sultros that meant she was Izurian? Bah. He had no idea. That would explain the strangeness, though. And yes. The loss of arm? He could imagine little more devastating for such a person. Yet it was not his sympathy she sought. "Well met, Maliken." When Rhuryc spoke again his voice was soft and low. Gentle almost. "I suppose we're not so familiar. Two children looking for something they can't find." He flashed the woman a grin and leaned back. Hah! "I was named after a man that my family taught me to believe was some sort of godly servant. Of Tyveth. I imagine I've had enough of that rhetoric shoved down my throat to start my own congregation. Though, now, after years of struggling with some fictional identity," Rhuryc paused for a moment to catch a glimpse of Maliken. Was he just blathering on or was the woman paying attention? "I've come to accept it as a fallacious lie and now I scamper about the world with half a spirit. Maybe, though, our gods are just playing with us, what do you think? We little pawns on their giant stage of a game." He bit off a bitter laugh. Where gods were involved Rhuryc felt little kinship. Strange then that he should be in such a place. "Maybe we can tell our fathers to be damned for a little while. Maybe enjoy the night. This place is rather stuffy, isn't it?" With a nod the man made to stand.

[Maliken]

"Well met?" The Common tongue was not Maliken's primary language, though being around humans often had paid off in the long run. Thus far, she understood most of their words when taken literally, other terms, phrases, innuendos, and so on, were lost to her. She shrugged, unsure of what Rhuryc meant or how to respond, regardless it did not sound like an insult. "Perhaps, in some way, our stories are similar." Maliken meant to say "But you obviously haven't suffered what I have suffered" but felt it would be meaningless or cold. She wasn't feeling particularly cruel either. Maliken blinked, again growing lost in the sea of Common Tongue. She understood most of what he said, trying to be someone else that didn't exist, but Tyveth meant nothing to her, she was ignorant of the name. The young Isur nodded slowly. "I believe that is what we are. Like a child's playthings. Entertainment. Sickens me." Maliken smirked. It was the first sign of some sort of humor or pleasure she had shown since she came here, and even then it was short lived. "Then damn them. I have suffered consequences I do not yet deserve." Maliken watched as Rhuryc stood up, and after a few moments of hesitation staying her body, she also rose, though her head wasn't nearly to an even level with Rhuryc's. Looking up to people is something she had grown very familiar with, not comfortable, but familiar. "Lead the way, I don't know where to go."