Quest Will this Never End? (Ronan, Solicah)

[Jackalope]

30th of Winter, 512 AV Time: Late Morning Death Count: 3000 This plague, this pox, it was unstoppable, seemingly. People would be healed, people would be reinfected. The Drykas just couldn't seem to build an immunity to whatever was ravaging their population. At this rate, another season or two, and the numbers would be too small to recover. The Drykas would be gone, returned to the web, but this time for good. It had to change, there had to be a reason, something which could be done, something which could be fixed that would bring back health, bring back sanity, and bring back hope. Without hope, all was lost. But hope, it was a rare thing these days. Another had succumbed to the deadly disease. A girl, 13 years old. Her name was unimportant. She wasn't destined for greatness. She wouldn't have grown up to be a beautiful Drykas woman. No, she'd have been plain in every way. Eyes slightly asymmetric, a nose just a little too big, and she never would have learned to chew with her mouth closed. A blip in the history of the Drykas, one which, if not for the pox, wouldn't have mattered. But this child was important for one reason. She made it three thousand. Three thousand deaths. Her parents would mourn, or would have, if her father hadn't died from it, too. A mother, left to cry alone. Her husband and lover, as well as her daughter, her everything, gone. She had begged for anyone to help her, to find a cure, to find anything, but it fell on deaf ears. Everyone was struggling. Would anyone take up the call? Perhaps two Drykas men would be the ones to finally figure things out? Or maybe they would be remembered as numbers. Three thousand and one.... Three thousand and two... oocAlright you two. Scene is set. You guys go on ahead and introduce yourselves. I'll react. Hope you enjoy it.

[Solicah]

*
Solicah let a slow and steady exhale flow from his filled lungs into the light instrument at his lips. The sound filled the stretches of hide and fur around him with a clear crisp sensation that should have carried happiness but instead hung thickly in the air of the small tent.

The note faded into the death around him, and slowly he inhale again and shifted his crossed legs beneath him to get closer to the ground. The next exhale came with another note, more of a sigh than music, and his fingers clumsily unraveled another set of two notes a far shy from melody.

Solicah could hear the beauty in them, but what came from the flute was not true music, and though he tried to lay the notes out faster for cheer it felt false and so he lay it aside with indignation and closed his eyes for balance.

"Tears can stain, my child." Sophia's aged cracking voice came with a soothing undertone of deep static as she pushed the frail flap of the tent's entrance aside, allowing Syna's rays to shine inward toward the young Drykas man along with a wash of frosted air.

Solicah's upper body twisted and he squinted against Syna's grace. "Sophia? Why are you out of bed?" The words were not as accusational as Solicah meant them to be in conception, instead he felt a calm wash through the tent before his concern for the elderly women could grow to approach its peak.

"Oh, Boy." She said softly again with what might have been a smile, beyond Syna's halo concealing her expression from Solicah. Her disregard stated, simply she continued with why she had come. "You seem stained, my boy. If you take on more tears you will float away with the next rains."

The words were not nearly as vague as they seemed, and they filled Solicah with dread. The young priest of the heavens above knew exactly the weight of these words shared with him and a look of dread crossed his face. "No." He protested half heartedly.

"Yes." The answer came softly without room for argument. She had come to inform Solicah that the burden of his duties had weighed too heavily on his spirit. And surely, Solicah knew, this was truth saying. He had danced without reprieve for moons. Children, mothers, all brothers and sisters of the grasslands, taken by the unrelenting blight, and he had spread solace as he could, but still felt what the elder Sophia spoke of, like searing hot stains within him his brother's and sister's tears stained something horrible to endure into his spirit, and this had begun to show even as he stepped through the nothingness onto the Web. Once a place where care could not be had, he saw darkness, blind spots, and an inexplicable shadow following him.

Solicah would not think to argue with his Elder, but he still felt the sensation of failure surround him and he questioned wordless to himself what this might accomplish. He could agree that the relentless tears and sobs had torn at his resolve, but he could not understand the reason in forebaying himself from helping further, when there was so many to pass on.

As if his internal concerns came as coherently as words, she responded. "You are a unique child, Solicah." And he could not be upset that she disregarded his station as a rightful man, for he knew the words the widow spoke in her heart, and there was nothing but love. "You will not spend what remains of your life at death's passage." This did not sooth Solicah to hear. "Your place is here, with the living." And Solicah felt a certain dread as he realized the women wove a selfless dirge for herself as she worked her words onward.

"Sophia..." He said in recognition, and she nodded in unabashed affirmation.

"The soars came today and by three day's time my voice will cease. Then, my young boy, I will die."

Solicah's brow creased at the waves of grief in his heart, and earnestly spoke, "I will miss you greatly, Sophia. I feel as if I will be lost without you."

And to that she gave forth a fearless smile. "You know that you will never be without me, Solicah." And to this he returned a smile, genuinely comforted by the truthsayer. "However, I will not have time to teach you as I had hoped, and so I will leave guidance within our communing strands, but you must not take this guidance, nor set out on your journey until our family is safe."

She seemed so old all of a sudden, as she spoke in the sunlight, her movements jerky and restricted, as shaky as her fading voice, and Solicah nodded to her, having faith that the knowledge he needed would come when the time arrived for such things. He had no reason to push the wise women for anything, each word was one of her last, and a gift. It would be wrong of him to seek more.

Solicah rose and without a spoken word offered to bring her back to her bed, and to this she shook her head, asking to be brought to their Anakal, and Solicah did without question. He then kissed this women upon the crown of her head and with pavi sign laid a heartfelt motion of appreciation upon her back before slinking back to the tent of instruments and settling into the heavy fur he had placed down before.

Tears seeped from his eyes with honesty, and he had no shame to prompt himself to wipe them from his face, but he did not sob and instead pulled a stringed instrument out before him on the cold ground and plucked at a single string at a time, letting the tones sing out around him to help embody the emotions within his cold body.

Just beyond the soft hide encircling him, and a number of paces away one of his Pavilion pointed a dear friend toward where the Moondirge solemnly plucked his slow tune as if queued to stage by the elder women's grand design. He had questions, and now, Solicah could give answers without reservation.
*

[Ronan]

Ronan left Tairell safely with the other striders of this pavilion, and padded softly toward the tent he knew as Solicah's. A few faces smiled and greeted him. He had visited for many years, of course. He and Solicah... it had been one of the only bonds that had stood the test of time.

Another Drykas who he didn't recognise allowed him into the inner confines of the tent that Solicah was in, and Ronan walked in slowly, glancing around until his ears perked up at the soft thrum of a single note. It was full of melancholy, held right there, suspended in time. He followed the sound and found the golden haired Drykas shrouded in furs and plucking at an instrument.

Ronan smiled wanly. He looked sad. Forlorn almost. He hadn't seen Solicah for weeks - and he could only fear the worst. Had the plague touched his pavilion too? He had... heard whispers. And it had been whispers that had carried him here.

"You know," he finally said, breaking the silence, "when I left Riverfall, Kavala gave me some healing scrolls."

Ronan crouched down to the furs, gazing down at Solicah.

"if only there were one for sickness. Broken bones. Bleeding wounds. But nothing to get us out of this damned mess."

He shook his head, cursing.

"I... I came because I had heard that sickness had come to your pavilion too. I feared I might find you bedridden. Please say you are wrapped in those furs out of comfort, not sickness."

Please. I cannot lose another loved one.

[Solicah]

*
Solicah could never place the particular sway Ronan had always held over his heart since their first night together. Whatever power he possessed it was pure, and its effects as clear during this meeting as any. Solicah started at first as Ronan spoke, but once turned and setting eyes on his dearest friend a smile battled its way to Solicah's lips and his eyes brightened.

He could not truthfully say he had gone unafflicted, for he had felt the pulls of sickness at his throat and dryness of delirium tempting his sleeping hours. Instead he rose, leaving a fur draped about his shoulders to fall in thick folds upon the cool ground as he moved enthused before Ronan and wrapped arms around him.

"Oh, Windsong," he would never be anything different to Solicah, "One can not count the ways my heart is warmed by your sight. How glad my ears are to hear your voice unmarred by illness, and skin glad to feel yours still burning despite the cold that hangs above Endrykas." He squeezed with Drykas strength for some time before releasing and bringing a firm grasp upon Ronan's shoulder as he stared into his striking eyes, reminiscent of the grasslands themselves.

Solicah then shook his head at Ronan's words. "Do not let your first words of reunion be those of anger and fear. I for one will not. I am gladdened that you have come for I had just been sat in contemplation of my life, my very purpose to our people and I thought of you and the watch." He then laughed, "Though then I knew that that was not my path. I am no traveling watchmen, and Aureunna would have none of that. So much she would miss our family. But..." His words trailed off as his eyes caught on Ronan and saw what he had been trained to see, the hurt in his eyes, and he knew none personal to him had fallen during this illness and a determination was set into his eyes to retain that fact. Was he fighting an unbeatable battle?

"This is more than a social call, right Windsong?" His smile faded somewhat before he continued to say, "I've felt it, yes. A shadow has stretched over me, and though I remain healthy and full of energy there is illness within me which may indeed claim me in time, as it could us all." His words were not hoarse, instead projecting out with unsurprising Moondirge clarity and fearlessness.

"As for the news you heard, it's correct. We have passed onward a women of a young promising child, still pregnant with her next. She and her unborn could not both withstand the illness, and so they both died. We fear the same fate for another of our children, Embrynn. You've met him briefly. He was the quiet one that refused to part from Kelaugh. I am afraid she has taken the possibility of his death harder than any of us could have expected. She won't part from his bedside. And, Sophia, our eldest just came to me moments ago and announced in earnest that she too will soon die... That is why I was in so deep in thought when you arrived. But, now I see there was in fact a purpose to her arrival. Her wisdom was for me to set out on a journey, which I will need help with. I know that our friendship allows for such a request, and it will come, but I can not ask for this until my Pavilion is saved." He paused a moment then reiterated, "Until all of Endrykas is saved."

He smiled with an odd revelation in his eyes, "Is this possible, Ronan? Can our people be saved?" He hadn't really contemplated combating the illness before then, or slowing the deaths. No, he had faith in the order of Dira under the watchful eye of Leth above, and so he had plotted on with his duties with questionless dedication. But, those were not his duties, not anymore. All things in nature were balanced, and balance took struggle and constant pressure from all sides to maintain. This was a truth Sophia herself had taught Solicah, and she knew more than anyone else in the Pavilion that even the gods must be questioned at times, that even the superior being struggled to maintain balance.

"I know that no scroll or touch of Rak'keli could heal a nation. But, is there something stronger? Under the Skies of Syna and Leth could there be a cure? Or, do you think the illness is fate, as Dira would have it?" Solicah could not allow himself to believe there was a cure, but something to stop the curse upon them? There was a glimmer of hope like a bright gem in his eyes as his body moved in fluent Pavi.
*

[Ronan]

Ronan took the embrace, a soft smile meeting his lips. He was gladdened to see Solicah uplifted by his arrival. As he spoke, Ronan listened with solemnity. So it was true. The Moondirge knew sickness and strife.

"I am sorry," was all he could muster. For now. There was a lot to consider, he thought, as Solicah vested his deepest dreams upon his friend.

Was it beyond their comprehension to wish for such a thing? Or was there a solution? Who knew? Who truly knew? He had heard of sickness in other places. in Zeltiva. Riverfall readied itself. Was it all connected?

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he began, catching his friend's eyes, "But I am sure as heck prepared to try. For you Solicah. And for our people. I... I spoke to Kavala's brother in Riverfall, and in that conversation we realised much. The integrity of the Drykas is at stake. So many have died already, and I fear losing our name entirely."

He shook his head.

"This is nought to do with Dira. If any God is to blame, we could speak of Vayt's name, but perhaps it is something else."

He smiled again, finally. His own hand went to Solicah's shoulder, returning the squeeze.

"Perhaps... our people can be saved."

OOCTime to hop in, Jackalope

[Solicah]

*
Solicah offered a simple smile to Ronan's heartfelt apology. It was not necessary, though Solicah understood the death hurt them all, and perhaps he understood that a pure man like Ronan needed, like Solicah himself, to attempt condolence, even if he had not the training to do so.

His heart trembled intensely at Ronan's effortless speech and even fought a blush as Ronan professed that he had to try and save the golden locked Drykas specifically as well as the rest of their people. Despite Solicah's spice of pride, both for himself and the young Ronan who he still viewed as an Ankal who knew not his station, in rushing blood to skin he understood Ronan's sentiment. He too wished the misery to end, and feared that his people may be lost after an awesome legacy. Above all he, like each Drykas, could not shake the thoughts connecting the recent Djed storm to the plague. The two tragedies could not be a coincidence. They seemed indubitably linked in some way.

As much as Solicah struggled to not be angered by occurrences outside his rightful control he had seen the devastation of the storm, and felt it first hand through his pitiful mother. Now he sat with open eyes as Drykas passed in droves past the nothingness between their world and the web, perhaps never to return.

Solicah simply nodded in agreement to the speech and said proudly. "If we must invoke Vayt to gather insight on this plague I have no reservations. I will risk any price." He then smiled at Ronan's eyes, which summoned some companionship and glee in the young and proud Drykas. "If our people can be saved then it is now our duty to discover the means, and pay the prices."

His resolve was suddenly unshakable and he let his eyes close for a moment of clarity to reach his racing mind, beating with excited thought and hurried pulses of infected blood. They had to hurry, his body would give out to the illness eventually, and the Endrykas nation weakened by the bell. Thoughts came pouring into his mind, like flashes of inspiration one after another, and he felt Aureunna drawing closer to the tent from outside, she sensed his excitement and inspiration, and grew curious of his state.

His eyes opened once more ticks later and through smirking lips announced, "I have an idea." He reached his hand out and grabbed at Ronan's pulling him to the center of the small tent where the furs had been piled. "Lay with me and accompany me to the Web, I will need assistance with this for my vision has become weak on the other side." His smile did not fade at mention of this setback and instead sat himself suddenly, then laid back on the warm furs, pushing his exposed fingertips into the finely textured folds in order to maintain warmth as he closed his eyes once more, this time to slip away.

He felt the soft furs tickle at the nape of his neck as the ground beneath him seemed to tilt, and his awareness lost touch with gravity, then smell, and touch, and all the senses save sound which faded from him last. He sunk from his body down into the lay lines beneath him, and cast eyes around his family. His mother lay sleeping near by and Aureunna had moved to just the other side of the tent, something had worried her and Solicah touched her nose to offer comfort. She could feel him, even on the other side, and she tossed her head in warning at Solicah. He nodded at her and in soundless words promised, "I will be careful, my love. But, this must be done, and we are the ones that must do it." The message did little to calm her as Solicah drifted to Ronan's side once more.

Their bond had faded and snapped from their previous journeys and so he offered forth another strand to Ronan, thick and pulsing with electrical white light. The thin strand would not only hold them closer to one another but also help them share thoughts, feeding them directly into one another's mind without the common risk of losing the thoughts to the web itself, or having them altered by the lines themselves as they passed through. They would need clarity of communication if they wished to succeed in Solicah's plan.
*

oocJackalope wont really need to cut in till we actually try something, right?

Lets give is another round of posts then ask for him.

[Ronan]

Ronan nodded resolutely. It was a gamble worth taking. Ronan, too, was prepared to pay even a high price to save his people. He had learnt much. From Semele. From his dreams. He had to craft the future himself, and stop waiting on other people. He had to take charge.

"The Web..." Ronan mused questioningly, before following Solicah's hand to the fur and settling down to the floor of the tent. Did Solicah hope to find some clue in the astral realm? "Alright," he finally said, slowly, "anything is worth a try, right?"

Ronan noticed the horses gathering outside the tent. First Solicah's strider, and then he saw a flash of Tairell through the folds of the tent too. Striders had an uncanny knack for moving in when they thought their riders might be at most risk.

He laid back, resting his head into the furs. It was comfortable, at least. Then he closed his eyes, beginning the process of parting his body and spirit. It came naturally enough while laid down in the confines of Solicah's abode. He felt a jump, and his vision stirred. Now they sat up, their fleshy bodies behind them.

Ronan accepted the new strand of light gratefully, tethering it to his own body. Now they could share thoughts and keep a track on where the other now stood. The Web was a dangerous place.

More dangerous than perhaps even the Drykas knew.

[Jackalope]

The web was beautiful. It was life and it was death. It was vision. It was knowledge. It was truth. But the web was even more than that. For what truth was to be found without questions, and of questions, there were many. Where is this person? Is there danger? Who encroaches on our city? And with all the questions which the web allowed one to ask, there were sure to be answers somewhere, for while the woven strands were not what they once were, their power was there and undeniable. There was one question that everyone had, however, and it was one that they had to see if the web held. None had thought to dive into the sea of information in this way, or if they had, nothing had been found. There had to be answer, though. Why were they all so sick? Had they angered Vayt? Was it simply their time? Would the Drykas survive the Valterrian just to die generations later from a plague? The pleasure washed over both Solicah and Ronan as they slowly moved from their bodies. One of the dangers of the web was how wonderful it felt to be in it. It was seductive, sometimes even more enticing than the physical world itself. Yet there was something off in recent times. Things seemed darker. Things seemed..sick.. It was as though the webbing itself was infected. Was it a reflection of the current situation, or had it indeed spread to the all important laylines which lay throughout the entire region of Cyphrus. Webbers had investigated this deeply, some disappearing for days at a time searching for answers about that, with some never returning to their physical bodies. The city was growing desperate, beyond desperate, so perhaps having a different light shone on it could yield some results. The two Drykas were tethered together by a tendril of light. Hopefully that would be enough to hold them together.

[Solicah]

*
Solicah's heart sank as he realized the dark splotched still swimming about his perceptions, concealing parts of the webbing from him, like the foreboding shrouds they were. Had his heart not been the origin of this bleakness, but instead the infection of his body? Of his people's body?

He had always been taught that the Web was beyond the ailments of the physical world, a bastion from the pain, and trial. But, as an experienced Webber, Solicah realized the significance of these marks. The darkness would not only demoralize Ronan and Solicah, but would make the road they both had to chase nothing short of perilous. Solicah suddenly understood how so many of his people had lost their way. Any encroachment upon awareness across the laylines could spell irrevocable danger for Webbers, both experienced and novice.

These thoughts and worries flowed from Solicah's mind and heart, effortlessly along the tether between he and Ronan, and with each pulse of information Solicah attempted to weave the strands even stronger in on themselves, crystallizing the information passed between them within their connection, strengthening it. He had seen a Sapphire elder who had perform the trick before, and Solicah who had been lucky enough to recognize the careful weave during their fleeting encounter. Still, Solicah's weaving was far from expert, and his knots at such an intricate scale were clumsy at best. Much of the information never imposed onto the strands, and in the interest of not encroaching upon communication Solicah exercised caution, afraid that a weave too tight would not only adopt the imprint of the thoughts shared, but instead capture them, keeping them from freely flowing.

Solicah ceased his focus on the weave, deciding to allow it its own merit, and not push himself before the true task began. With his thoughts he reached to Ronan and caressed his, drinking his intellect in. He had always been so brave, and Solicah knew now that this was no front, no posture to lend false strength to his people, but true, undiluted righteousness.

"I am so glad that you are by my side in this, Ronan." His smile bloomed around him in spectacular unrefined light, unwoven, before he turned toward his body below, bathed in golden light, and pulled he and Ronan closer to it.

"It is true that I am ill, but this can be a boon to us." He reached his probing astral fingers outward toward his own face, and touched his fingertips to it. It felt not physical, but the sensation of the unwoven Djed pooled like fine golden sand across his mind, pouring from him to Ronan so that he knew which of many paths Solicah traveled into his own still body. "If we can find the sickness within me, then perhaps we can weave it in a way that can show us more." The sand was thick and warm under his touch and it all seemed the same, overwhelming and brightly glimmering. So much Solicah felt for his own body, and so much he shared. It was all together possible that he would never find the unwoven piece of information for himself, not in his own body.

And so, he turned to Ronan. "Windsong, I can't find it. I need you to weave something, a strand that will reach out to the sickness, and only within my body, nowhere else. It needs to be very precise, and it mustn't only run along laylines, it needs to reach outward to the unwoven." He did not ask if Ronan could perform this task, because Solicah had faith that he could. The weave was difficult, but Ronan showed clear on the Web in Solicah's eyes, and to Solicah this meant a gifted. A man who would surpass him one day, likely one day soon. He had a charisma that appealed to the laylines, and fingers that could dance nimbly along light. Yes, he would do fine, and so Ronan heard that faith for himself, flowing pure and true along their tether.

"Do it." Solicah said softly, and withdrew, allowing Ronan to concentrate, trying to meditate upon Ronan, and the mission, then eventually allowing his mind to clear and his thought to dwindle away, siphoning inward to the pure light where no thought was needed. Again, Ronan was solitary within his mind, with very little interruption from Solicah, for Solicah stood fixed in place with undedicated thought, and bright blissful silence.
*

[Ronan]

"As I am glad that you are at my side," he replied with a bright smile.

Beneath the cheerful countenance, so much played in Ronan's mind, even as Solicah's thoughts crystallised amidst the weave. Should he repeat Leo's words? Was the disease even connected to the storm? So many questions, and no answers. For now, he remained silent, listening only to his friend, and feeling the bond that rose and strengthened between them.

He nodded resolutely, but still said nothing. Solicah was a child of Syna, if ever there was one. A ball of happiness and optimism. And yet an intelligence sat beneath that. It left Ronan awed every time. His idea was relatively simple, but made so much sense. An inverted weave of sorts, following from victim to source. He sent admiration flowing through the bond.

Now Solicah left his feelings behind, a meditative paragon, leaving Ronan alone with his own thoughts. He was still a novice within the Web, truth be told, but he could do nothing but try. Still, he feared the unwoven depths of this world. He closed his eyes, silent too, and began to form a new strand. The light was dim from this strand, as if it lurked deep beneath the surface. He willed all of his friendship into it. Memories of Solicah, when they had met at the funeral. So much light.

Gods. Golden light.

Finally, he began to program his intentions. The sickness, and its source. The whys, the hows, the wheres. The questions that they both wanted answered. And he moved the strand, extending it until it joined Solicah too, and he pressed further still, leaving the safety of woven space and delving into Drykas mysteries.

There he probed and searched. Like a fisherman, he hoped to find a catch. But it was difficult work, and already he tired from the creation of this new, exploratory strand.