[White Elk Stables] Equestrian (Ronan)

[Oluse]

Spring 19 512

Oluse's brown knit firmly together in apprehension as he stares over the fence to Velox. Strong, large, yet still agile and elegant. Oluse wasn't going to lie to himself, it was intimidating. How was he supposed to command a creature that stood what seemed twice his height and was rippling with muscles, all but ignoring the winter's cold? Oluse had to wonder why he even got the horse. They said he was well trained, and tempered. But, what did that even mean?

Oluse pondered all of this as he stared at the tack he had brought with him, puzzling over how it all might fit on the horse. Straps and buckles and heavy saddles, it all seemed impossibly complex. Impossibly heavy. He was suddenly very glad he wasn't the one who would be getting all tied up in the stuff.

Ronan would know, he reassured himself as he finally set the bridle back down on the saddle which was set upon the floor. He had decided to wait for Ronan, as nice as it might have been to get the horse all saddled up, or whatever it was called to get a horse ready to ride, he was afraid he might hurt the horse if he tried. That was a lie, he was actually worried he might lose a finger if he tried. Instead, he nervously twiddled his fingers as he waited for Ronan to arrive as he had promised he would, counting the muscles he had to use to fulfill each step of the movement.

[Ronan]

Ronan came to the stables with a forlorn smile. He couldn't help but feel the downsides of this situation, now in the northern city that had thawed with the storm.

He shook his head. Oluse would be waiting for him, eager to learn. And as a Drykas, Ronan could hardly say no - horses were in his blood, they dominated life in Endrykas, and seemed to be the focal point for everything. Besides, he would see Tairell while he was there, and give her more time and affection. She had carried him well.

He found the Denvali boy watching over the fence at a particular horse. It was a beastly thing, more muscular than Tairell, but perhaps slightly smaller in stature.

"Oluse," Ronan greeted him with a smile, "your teacher arrives."

[Oluse]

Oluse jumped slightly at the sudden voice from behind, but a calm soon followed. He then turned, giving an unconscious one step away from the horse as he did so. He thought Ronan's words odd for some reason, perhaps his accent, perhaps something else. Not a bad or uncomfortable odd, just unfamiliar. He decided there was no harm in replying in stride, or at least attempting so. "And, your student awaits counsel?" He couldn't help but let the question in his voice show, as if it were some test he was uncertain of. Oluse was unaccustomed to formal training, to say the least. His only trade was undertaken before he could remember, and was as much commonsense to him from a lifetime of slow tutoring under his parents, than logical fact. And, it was certainly not a trade that scared him, like horsemanship. In medicine the control is yours. To a mount a horse takes your control away, puts it in another's hands. To teach Oluse to ride would demand a teacher who could cure the young man's fear of the horse. Fear of handing over control. Fear of trust. A job perhaps a Drykas would be best suited for.

He gave a glance to the tack beside him, then back to Ronan with a slight;y uncomfortable look. One that, were they familiar, would show Ronan how abashed he truly was, but instead seemed almost annoyed. "I was going to put the saddle on, but I didn't know how. I think I bought the right stuff. I had the man help me pick things out. So it should all fit. I was hoping it would all be a little more self explanatory." Said the boy who could suture a wound without blinking a single wink of doubt, but couldn't manage a step closer to the beautiful horse he bought. It was clear, in everything Oluse was in this moment, that he was not raised Drykas. He did not understand what a horse was, or what to expect from his.

[Ronan]

Ronan watched the boy carefully. The way he stepped away from the horse, the way his eyes flitted to the track uneasily - they all told Ronan what he needed to know. A fear that had to be cured before they did anything else.

"Put the saddle down for a moment, Oluse," he said with a gentle smile, walking closer to the young Denvali man. "Why is that you're scared of the horse? That's what we need to establish first."

He tried not to sound condescending or rude. Though it was foreign to him - having grown up surrounded by horses - he could partly understand others fears. If one was not used to their presence, their size and strength could be unsettling. Putting a horse in control of your life... now that could scare people.

"Horses sense fear from their riders. It makes them hard to trust humans. You see, those feelings work both ways."

[Oluse]

He'd been caught, found out. Oluse was ashamed of his own fear, more than anything because he was afraid for how Ronan would regard him after realizing he couldn't find the courage to ride some tamed animal. Ronan's words themselves didn't do the job of calming his nerves either. He missed what Ronan had meant, taking the fact that the horse could sense his fear as more a threat than anything. He didn't understand that horses were pack animals, there to help one another, and people. Much how Oluse worked his life at the hospital, dedicating his strengths to helping others. He simply didn't know how to relate to the beasts.

"I-" he began, and then stopped at abruptly. He looked down, thinking a moment, then looked back to Ronan, and responded with the truth. "I don't know. They are just so large, and how do you know they won't dismount you before you're ready... or prepared? I just want a way to travel, but I'm not sure it's safe." It was clear the child wasn't a leader, not like what seemed to be the entire Drykas people. He was timid, and withdrawn, he was a servant, there to help others. There was a strength in him, Ronan had seen it first hand in the hospital. When he cared, he was strong. But not, before his beastly new companion, the horse of course, he was timid.

Just the same, something else seemed to be on his mind. And, there was. He had thought long and hard about what Ronan had said, and even took time to stop by the library to look at a map, and travel journal by a Vantha on River Fall.

[Ronan]

Ronan laughed, putting a hand on Oluse's shoulder supportively.

"You know, because you tell the horse. If you're scared, you tell the horse to react strangely, and uncontrollably. If you're confident, you tell the horse you're in charge, and you will guide it."

He looked over the gate towards the horse he presumed Oluse had purchased. A pale thing, but strong in stature, and surely hardy enough for a long journey.

"Did something happen to you when you were younger? Or are you just afraid of handing over control to the horse?"

The boy looked nervous. Not completely timid, but a boy who liked to have some semblance of control. Handing that over to an animal... well that would be scary to that type of person.

[Oluse]

A look of udder defeated horror crossed his face, and how his mouth came. "But I'm not confident!" A distrusting look slid to the horse, and back to Ronan as Ronan continued to speak.

He thought of when he was young, shifting a tad uncomfortably, but giving up on his little outbursts. One was plenty, and when he had heard how pathetic it held and heard actually coming out his mouth, it had tempered him. He knew his father likely would have cuffed him across the side of the head had he used such a tone about him.

His childhood was simple, full of the bitter smell of herbs, and healing wounds. For sounds, hisses of manly men, and women for that matter, having their gashes seared closed, combined with the children playing in the mud outside. Most wrestling. Oluse thought on this, how he had always chose quite willingly the company of those weaker than him. Before that moment he had always passed it off as wanting to be helpful, but perhaps it was just as much self preservation. This though was hard on his ego, and his eyes rose to Ronan's for judgement on that which Ronan did not know.

Realizing he had been leaving Ronan out of the entire dialogue in his mind, Oluses eyes widened a moment, and he abruptly said. "Sorry. Um, well I think I just am not used to being around things that can kill me. Well," a amended off offhandedly, "accept Jamoura." Missing completely the irony in the statement. How a Jamoura could be ten times as deadly as a horse, but the same respect one had for a horse could easily be shared with a Jamoura.

"Oh, but no we don't really have horses in Denval. They arent good with the rubble around the city, and most the creatures in the woods can eat them. So..." He answered answered the question all wrong. "However, i hear we have quite a few donkeys working on the road." He gave as some mistaken up point, that in truth just showed that the stalk of Denval's horses matched with great equality that of their people.

Oluses mind slipped from that to the cat Alea had. It had always followed her, holding a grand fancy for her. Though, on rare occasion it would wonder off, and Oluse would have a shallow moment as Alea submerged herself in the water or the such. In which Oluse would steal for a quick pet. To say he had a lack of affinity with animals, would be an understatement. A monumental understatement. If he was awkward with humans, than he was an utter social dunce with animals. Four thin red marks left on the back of one hand after an attempt at petting this cat was proof, and he forsook all animals after that. Kelvics were ok, when they weren't rippling with muscles, at least they could be spoken to.

So, again forgetting to support his statement he simply stated, "Animals don't much like me." What he didn't say is sometimes he thought people didn't much like him either, except when he was saving their lives. A brief thought of having Ronan hurt the horse than Oluse healing it dawned on him. But, he realized after a moment that he didn't even know how to heal a horse, it would probably die and he would be out a hefty chunk of change. He had a long ways to go before he knew what it meant to respect animals. His upbringing had, indeed, left him bankrupt in a way. He viewed animals as property, a threat at best.

This, however, did not steal him of a certain appreciation for animals. At a far. Velox reminded him of a snow flurry at night. Cold, and unforgiving, but fast and unstoppable. Some saw a soft cuddly animal, but not Oluse. He picked the horse for this, for how it mimicked a part of nature he had feared uncontrollably, one that along with his own mistakes held him captive for three long weeks in a small freezing cave. In the absence of snow, in the defrosted and disarmed north, it felt right, Velox's existence. As if it were one part of Avanthal which still stood strong, despite how much melted away, including many of his brothers and sisters who melted into streams of blood and stench which joined the rest of the city's flood. A preserved piece which he could take with him, to bask in, to remind him of how much he grew.

Oluse suddenly frowned in his silence. He knew in his heart there was a contradiction. How could he be afraid of a force that signified his accomplishments, his growth? He should have overcome those fears, and a single look around would prove there were much more pressing concerns. Just the same, there was something. He was still afraid of travel, of leaving. The melt had cured him mightily of his phobia, and the dream inspired him. But, still he felt a foreboding outside of the walls. The walls that once stood, that is.

The crease grew more prominent, as he dug deeper into himself. If he was afraid of travel he would have to just get over it, just like he had to get over his fear of Velox. Just as he would have to get over his fear of Ronan's rejection... Ronan! His mind resurfaced from the depths within him as he clearly looked to Ronan again, remembering his existence. An oddity surfaced with it in his eyes, as he spoke quickly out loud. A flash of colour, orange deeper and more vibrant than the skin of an orange, fleeting as quickly as his bouts of introspection.

"I need to ask you something, Ronan. Or, tell you." There was a clearness in his voice, a surety. Though he was still nervous, there was a specific lack of doubt in what he should do. "I read about where you are going, and I read about Riverfall. The Akalak people live there, the mighty indigo warriors. I have a calling to them, and I must answer it. I know that your group is already burdened with people, but my skills are valuable, and I could pay passage. I ask a lot, I know. We have just met, and I have already asked much of you, but this is important to me." His outbursts was met with the fading of vivid orange in his eyes, sliding effortlessly to a pale earthy green, before finally slipping to his natural brown. Squinting a second he, with a perturbed expression, rubbed at his eyes.

His moment of bravery had left, and he was left with nothing but a receptive, and admittedly quite awkward state of receptiveness. Some shame met him, but he ignored it, pending on Ronan's response.

[Ronan]

Ronan watched the young man with a frown. First he had shouted in a childish outburst, now he seemed constricted in the throes of something deep and introspective. A shadow moved across his face: memories and the past taking his countenance.

It was a long moment before the boy spoke again. Ronan's brow creased with worry, and an awkward consternation. He wanted to come with them? Yes, his skills were valuable. A healer was necessary, especially now, when they didn't know what sort of landscape they'd be travelling back through. Storm ravaged. Churned, and rent.

"The mighty indigo warriors," Ronan repeated softly, musing on the words. He spoke the next bit more quietly, though Oluse might hear it, "would sooner pick up a woman and own her, than a sword and an ounce of honour."

He spoke of Kavala, of course. The woman he loved. The woman he couldn't have, shackled by the lecherous Akalak and their foul contracts and cognitions.

"A calling? What is it you speak of?"

He looked into the boy's eyes. Hadn't Ronan been searching for a 'calling' all his life?

"I can speak to Sama'el. Perhaps I could arrange for you two to meet. He's the leader of our group, and so, the decision is his."

[Oluse]

Oluse was gladdened by the offer to arrange a meeting. He wasn't sure, though, if he couldn't convince the man he had worked on with any certainty how he would convince a stranger. The thought itself struck fear into his heart. Walking up to a complete stranger and asking for some, even harder than what he had done with Ronan. He had spent some time out of Denval, but still felt uneasy around those he did not recognize.

When asked what this calling was, his eyes shifted seemly without his control to the horse beside them. It still seemed scary, though suddenly he remember the fear he had felt the night of the storm, that penetrated his dreams. Would Ronan ever understand such a thing? Would he care. How could Oluse tell another how it felt, to be that man. To be a true man. Oluse had never undergone his training in Denval, never become a true man himself. He knew he could live with that, he had made a choice to be different than his people. Weather he knew it or not when he slipped that vile into that man's drink. But still, he was unsure if he could ever forgive himself if he were to ignore this call. Perhaps it was another chance to become a man. A man of his own design, not that of Virates, not one of Denval.

Then there was the whispers of a disdainful tone. Oluse felt the urge to defend these people, he knew after all what they were. What they had to deal with, and fight. But, he could not muster the energy to speak against the man. He was scary, and held on his tongue the only chance Oluse could think of to reach Riverfall in a timely matter. Regardless, he made it a point of staying out of business he knew nothing of. And so, he decided to speak more upon that requested of him.

"I-" And that was all that came out before Oluse realized, without doubt, that he couldn't bring himself to tell Ronan. "I can't say. Not that I don't want to it's just. Something happened when the storm hit, and I know now that I have been lost, and hiding from my own fears..." He began to listen to his own words, as if somebody else were speaking them, sliding from his mouth effortlessly all of a sudden. As if, perhaps, he knew what he was saying. His eyes moved off of Ronan as he spoke, and onto the horse. "I am done being afraid, and I am done running. I have been called to charge into my future for the first time in my life. To take charge of my own path. I can't tell you why though, or how it started exactly. And, I-" he hesitated a moment, afraid of how his words might sound, then continued. "I need you to be ok with that, and ask nothing more of me. I will tell your leader, but... I just can't say right now." He was saddened by the fact he had to say this, and still fearful of what Ronan might say. But, still, it felt right. Almost manly. He liked that.

That is when he realized his eyes were still on the horse, and somehow he hadn't been afraid of it. He had looked upon it, and spoken, and forgotten how intimating it's stature was, how strong it's jaws, and high it's back. And, he remembered why he chose that horse to begin with. Without realizing it the words come forth, quietly, as quiet as Ronan's own introspection. "A mountain does not render satisfaction equal to that of the steps given, if the challenge does not surpass that of the legs climbing it." He was obscure, and foreign to Oluses accents, a quote from some other lips. Oluse understood it, though, regardless of it's origin. He had to do the impossible, to feel alive... Something seemed innately wrong about the conclusion, foolhardy. But something else, within him, churned in a craving delight, pleased by the though.

[Ronan]

That tumultuous, vacancy returned in the young Denvali man. Worry. Confusion. The inability to act.

Ronan saw more than a little of himself in Oluse. It was like a mirror torn across time - he saw himself years ago in that grainy reflection. Perhaps something had made Oluse this way. Something deeper. That was certainly what had shaped Ronan.

Events. Time. Tragedy. Love. Like a blossoming flower, then tramped beneath the great giant's feet of fate. All was inevitable; all shaped the man.

"You don't have to say, that's fine," Ronan said softly, smiling and nodding. There had been a time in his life when he had barely spoken at all. In the Grass, sleeping on the edges of town, he had become something different. An animal perhaps. An unsocial one at that.

The boy was staring at the horse. Something about his expression had changed. It had softened somewhat.

The words spilled out like a dream, lucid, then barely tangible. But Ronan understood them well enough. He smiled, walking closer to the boy so he could see the horse more closely.

"You have to take the first step."