New Beginnings on a Cold Road (GRADED)

[Zanril]

15 Summer, 511 AV Zanril shivered and pulled down his hood. It was summer, but the season offered him little solace in this chilly land. South, he thought. South. I must press on Southward to escape Morwen's grasp. Zanril cursed his own foolishness. In his anger, he had blasphemed the one being he had held above all others since his youth. The beautiful, kind Morwen had seen fit to take the life of Zanril's little brother. The events played over and over in Zanril's mind for days now. It had been 7 days since his journey began, but his pain was still as fresh as ever. Zanril offered a tear to his goddess and brushed it away before it became too cold against his face. I must focus on the task at hand. He was getting hungry. Zanril found a nearby tree, brushed enough snow away from the dirt to sit, and sat down. He heaved his heavy packs from his back and dug out his rations. These...should last, he thought. He nearly didn't care. Every bit of his being was wracked with guilt, shame... and regret. He knew he could fend for himself against many of the smaller wild beasts, but if he was to stumble upon anything large, he would die in the bitter cold. Perhaps Morwen would send another storm to take him as well. He chuckled at this thought. Fitting... I cursed her, and now I'm at her mercy. He munched on a ration pack with his thoughts. Zanril began to make a larger clearing. He began his daily forage. Kindling, rocks, larger logs. It took him the better part of two hours to accumulate enough materials for a decent fire. Flint and steel at the ready. He tried to find dry wood, but dry is a luxury this far North. It cost another hour of light to dry the wood and start the fire. Dusk now. The lights... Zanril hung his head and sobbed. He refused to look. The shame. The sight that brought him countless joys before was only a reminder of what he no longer was. Zanril produced the iron pot from his pack, dropped in two handfuls of snow and the rest of the ration pack and prodded the fire absently while holding the pot aloft. It wasn't long before the snow yielded to the flame and his rations became soft in the hot water. Zanril stirred the soupy water with his knife. It wasn't bad. He decided to get some early rest. The fire was easily doused with snow and earth. After putting away his pot, he cleared a small stretch of dirt, unrolled his bedroll and wrapped himself within his winter blanket. The sky looked clear. Keep me safe, Morwen. If... if you will. And... I'm sorry. Zanril clutched his bow as he wept himself into the only thing that could save him from the pain.

[Velaa]

Velaa had wandered. She had come far from the land she was used to in her wanderlust. Here it was cold, and snow flurried around any mortal form. Why the Ethaefal had come was a mystery even to her. She supposed she was just tired of the heartache in Denval. She'd lived in that city for so long, and she was growing weary of looking off the cliffs towards the ocean and feeling the deep loneliness she had suffered for so long. She was seeking out something new now, another life, and had brought herself to Taldera.

The female wrapped her cloak tightly around herself, a shiver running up the length of her spine. The sun had descended and the bitter cold of the northern region had taken over the faint warmth Syna provided. Long white hair flipped and waved in the wind, hindering the vision of cobalt eyes. Black horns gracefully curled out of her temples, a sign that she was anything but a human. She could have been Konti if it weren't for her horns. In fact, at Syna's rising she was a Konti.

Being long-lived in either form she possessed was the true curse of her race. She did not feel beauty as a curse, nor being forced to dwell among mortal races. It was when you lived long enough to watch all your friends die that you knew you were cursed. She herself had existed for nearly a century, and she had watched many people wither away like flowers in frost. Her existence was a lonely one, and deep down inside, she hated the world for allowing her to persist in this way.

Velaa sighed softly, continuing to walk, feeling the cold settle in. She wasn't carrying much, just her clothes, her bow and sword, her arrows, and any real supplies needed for a traveler to survive in the wild. She would be dead by this point if she had not armed herself. She was sure many creatures considered her as food, or as a slave, when she passed them. But being who and what she was, most retreated out of fear. Velaa inwardly detested their cowardice. She did not fear death. She sometimes wished she could just drop dead. She'd forget this life and this pain.

A small flicker of flame caught her attention. She hadn't thought someone was nearby in this land, and out of curiosity she decided to wander to it. Fire meant a companion, someone to speak to and chase away the loneliness of many decades.

Eventually, she came to the small little camp and gazed down at a man swaddled in sleeping gear. She sighed softly. Of course he'd be asleep. Everyone slept at night. She slowly lowered herself to sit down nearby and looked up at the sky and the dancing lights there. She had no desire to walk further this night, and she wouldn't. Even a sleeping person was better company than no person.

[Zanril]

Sleep came like a warm blanket, smothering away his pain. Zanril's slumber was disturbed first by a soft rustle, then a sound like a sweet breeze. Being a hunter, he had trained himself to wake at the slightest noise that didn't sound like the cold, soft wind that had lulled him to sleep. Zanril opened his eyes. He knew that if it was small game and he stirred too much, he would lose the chance to bag it as his next meal. If it was large game, then it would not have sounded like a small rustle. Zanril peered through his sleep-clouded eyes and saw a small pair of slender legs. He lifted his gaze and saw... a woman? Zanril wasn't sure. Avanthal had gorgeous women, but she... she was impossibly beautiful. Her dark eyes were gazing at the sky, and an ennui, somewhat sad expression covered her flawless face. Also, Zanril was sure he saw... something adorning her head. Something black that sat upon her lovely white hair. This person was obviously not here to harm him, since killing him would have been quite simple in his helpless state, and she seemed content to just rest. She must be weary from her journey, Zanril thought. It would be rude to ignore her. Mmmhm... greetings, Zanril spoke groggily in his native Vani, what brings you here, traveler? Zanril rolled on his back and pulled his heavy blanket up to his neck.

[Velaa]

Darkling eyes glimmered from a pale face at the sound of speech. The language was familiar, immensely so, but hard to understand. She couldn't catch what the man said, and deep inside it frustrated her. She knew a bit of Vani to catch a greeting, but not enough to communicate. It was sad, really. She doubted this man could speak Kontinese, though.

Her brows slightly furrowing, Velaa thought up the mere words she'd caught during her trqveling. Her black eyes grew even darker in thought and her head tilted just a bit. Almost without thought, Velaa flowed djed into her mind and eyes to activate her auristic vision, desiring to know what this Vantha human was feeling as he looked at her. The colours were, for a few moments, disorienting in the white land around them. They settled and Velaa descried pale, muted colours. There was the pink colour of surprise, probably at seeing someone in his camp, and the soft, sky blue colour of wonder at her appearance. At least it wasn't vivid. Vivid colours were not good ones.

"Speak Common?" She asked in her quite voice, watching for any changes to his aura. She smiled faintly, her eyes cool and filled with distant curiousity. "Can't speak Vani much." Even to her she sounded terrible, her fair voice garbling the language without the intent to do so. Once again, she sighed and looked into the man's soft aura. If he was offended by her, she wanted to know.

[Zanril]

Zanril smiled. It had been a while since he had had to speak Common. He grunted slightly with effort and sat up. Mm... Sorry, friend. I am Zanril. I am a hunter... and an outcast. I do not wish to speak of that. He looked down with a bit of shame in his voice. He found it difficult, however, to break his gaze with this entrancing creature. I am going South. My kind don't mind the cold, mostly, but Queen Morwen has never seen fit to grace me with her mark. Perhaps I am being tested... Zanril met her dark eyes with his again. Well, enough of that. You are...if I may say, a curious person. I have never seen one like you. What are you doing in this place? If you are cold, I can relinquish my bed to you. I know how unforgiving this place can be. Zanril would have been kind to her regardless of her appearance, but letting her freeze felt like a sin. She didn't seem to belong here. A creature of her beauty should have servants in a grand mansion somewhere. He felt unworthy of even speaking to her, especially in light of recent events. A thought had flashed across Zanril's mind--was she some kind of benevolent spirit? A messenger of Morwen, perhaps? Perhaps the gods wanted to speak to him, though Zanril couldn't think of why. Regardless of why, Zanril felt it was his duty to help this mesmerizing being, even if it killed him. He wouldn't even care if it did. Zanril found himself lost in her eyes. There was no doubt she was from some ethereal, heavenly place. Zanril began to unwrap his thick fur blanket from his body and gazed in her eyes expectantly. He would gladly give up his bed for a lady, and if Morwen wanted to freeze him to death, well, she had every right.

[Velaa]

Velaa smiled slightly again as he turned Vani into Common, something she could understand. She listened to him speak, watching the little flickers of muted colours across his aura. He could have been a fallen part of the dancing lights in the sky for what his aura appeared.

"Thank you, Zanril." Velaa rolled the word past her lips. "I am Velaa... I am an outcast as well, one would say." A small flicker of anger at that flashed behind her black eyes. She did not look up at Leth for fear she'd do something brash and uncouth. His aura blazed with a sharper green. It was sadness? Velaa wasn't sure. Self-pity and sadness maybe. What had he done to be removed from Morwen why he is outcast? His next words brought another faint smile. "I am just wandering... I don't know where to go anymore, and I ended up here."

She settled into the snow, her fur-lined cloak keeping her body warm now that she wasn't walking. "Like all good mothers, Morwen is allowing you to survive on your own," she said softly. Her eyes turned distant, pensive. "I am Ethaefal. There are others like me, but ones from where I come from rarely are seen as I am. Most people are at home when we come out." She smiled again, without any real emotion, but shook her head to decline his offer. Despite how cool she was to the passing of time and the mortality of others, she would not allow herself to be the cause of another's pain.

"I am fine as I am for now, Zanril. I have more clothes if I should grow colder before Syna rises, but I haven't frozen yet." She offered him another smile and reached over to try and cover him back up again before he gave himself a cold. "I won't get sick anyway. I never have."

Her dark eyes then met his again and she wondered what thoughts were joining his emotions. She wished that the ability to read minds was a useful magic, for she would use it to understand. Leth had the power to mindspeak, she knew, but his voice did not resonate here, on this torn land. Even near that tear in his realm there was no voice whispering soft, soothing words. It was lonely without the constant reassurance of someone always by your side, and seeing that someone high and out of reach only increased the feeling. Leth was taunting his Ethaefal as surely as Syna was taunting her own. It was a heartbreaking existence and one without comfort.

Sitting back again, Velaa removed her pack and set it next to her. It felt good to have that weight removed.

[Zanril]

Her slender hand pulled his blanket back around him. "I won't get sick anyway. I never have." She had mentioned her kind, the Ethaefal. There were many like her? Zanril found that difficult to believe. Finding this woman, Zanril thought, was like finding a rare flower amongst the common shrub. She had kindly rejected his offer, but he was sure to pay attention to her body language for any sign of discomfort. Zanril would have to insist if she seemed noticably cold. He wasn't going to let this flower wilt. Are you hungry? Zanril picked up his pack, opened the flap, and started searching. Thirsty, maybe? My waterskin has plenty of drink. Zanril pulled his rations from his bodypack, then his waterskin from his backpack. I have these strong rations--hearty eating--but if you want a light meal, these trail rations are very good. He set the food and drink on his bedroll. When Zanril pulled his packs to the side, a knife tumbled out from his bodypack. Like a fist clenching his heart, great sadness gripped Zanril upon seeing the knife. Slowly, he picked it up, turned it once in his hands, and ran his fingers along the length of the tool. Hands trembling, he placed it back in his pack before his eyes betrayed his pain. I must mourn my brother at another time. Zanril had to show this traveler his strength. She had to know she was safe with him. Was she, though? He had failed another, someone dear to him. How was he any stronger now than he was then? Zanril suppressed his tears and wore his sadness in secret. At least he could hide his pain, though escaping it altogether seemed impossible.

[Velaa]

Something like sadness came into her at his kindness in offering her sustenance after she denied the use of his blanket. He was a lot like that other one. She came nearer to sit right before him and watch the play of colours over his features. He seemed so sad. The appearance of the knife made the green even more vivid. It was a palpable pain.

"Please.. You do not need to offer me your food and water. The light of Leth sustains me during the evening. And I have rations to offer you when Syna returns." She smiled faintly despite her resentment of Leth. She was glad to be able to find sustenance in that light, or else she'd be a ravenous Ethaefal. She watched the knife be hidden away and looked at him again, into his aura.

"You are very sad... Will you tell me why?" She asked quietly, watching him hide hIs sadness behind the pale lavender of forced calm. "I'll tell you something as well...." She had to think of what to tell him. Her fall? Deriik's death? What it was like in Queen Myri's city?

She'd come up with something, she knew it. She should explain her race anyway, just so when he woke next to a Konti he wouldn't freak out.

[Zanril]

Zanril felt a sharp sting of sorrow as his thoughts rested on his brother. Talk about what happened? I don't suppose it could hurt. He took a deep breath. My brother Doril. He came of age this season, and I was to take him on his first hunt. Zanril exhaled, his breath trembling with emotion. Tears appeared in his eyes and he could not stop them. Zanril clutched his face and turned away from the girl. It wasn't... Zanril began sobbing loudly. He took a few breaths and composed himself. It wasn't supposed to storm that day. The blizzard came in fast, and I lost Doril. When I found him... Zanril exhaled slowly. He was gone. I blamed Morwen for Doril's death. No. I was wrong. It was my fault. He swept the hair from his tear-soaked face and turned to her again. The things I said about Morwen... shocked even me. Zanril looked down. I couldn't take back what I said, and I know I can never be forgiven. Not fully forgiven. My Hold stripped me of my status and I left in shame. Perhaps I can atone for what I did, both to Doril and Morwen. That is the road I seek. That, or death. Zanril's eyes met the woman's. She seemed concerned and touched, and seeing her face calmed Zanril and brought some fresh tears. Zanril sighed. I feel as if a weight has been lifted from me. Thank you, my friend. Thank you so much. His wet face glistened in the moonlight as he gazed upon her face.

[Velaa]

As he spoke, she moved forward to run her fingertips over the sterling tears streaking his cheeks before they froze. She didn't mind the closeness, and warmth was something she hadn't found in Taldera. Her dark eyes remained on his as she cleaned away the tears that flowed, patiently wiping them away while he spoke.

"The soul of your brother was brought into life somewhere else, Zanril. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't Morwen's fault. And no matter what I say next, it wasn't Doril's fault. His soul was done with his body the day he died. If Morwen was testing you, she was testing your faith in her." Her voice was soft, a mere whisper on her lips after he spoke. She truly felt sad for once, compassion rising within her at his abject sadness.

"I belong to a race called Ethaefal. We do not belong on Mizahar, for Leth and Syna drew our souls into their realms. Mine was guided to Leth's realm and there I dwelled for many years until the day I was pulled through the tear left from the Valterrian and dropped into the ocean near Blackrock in the south. I have been alive for ninety years, Zanril, watching everyone I love and know wither away like little flowers. I hate Leth for this..." Her dark eyes lowered and she drew away from him to sit where she first had. "In the morning I will be different. I only look this way because this is the closest we can get to our true forms. I shall be Konti tomorrow."

Her dark eyes rose to his again and something in then was hidden away again. All through this she had watched Zanril's aura. The sadness there had grown so intense, as had the resentment and pain. His aura was so piercing that it was actually affecting her. He was making her emote. She hadn't emoted in years.

"It is always comforting to speak to another. Splitting pain is better than bearing it alone."