Completed [Squire’s Dormitories] Birds of a feather

[Fallon]

Picking up the tulwar she caught the glint of it in the light before sliding it away into its sheath. Fallon pressed her back against the opposite cave wall, before she finally let herself sit within its nooks. Her left arm moved stiffly, tendons aching at every tremble. Fingers gave a twitch the dulled tips slowly creeping into life.

“Well, your examination certainly did its job at snapping me out of it,” she looked out to the growing darkness and then exhaled, “How’s your throat? Did my testing hurt you? I’ll be sure to be much gentler next time.” There was a distinct teasing tone there, a subtle curl of the lip as she shifted her weight. Shoulders rolled as she hunched into herself in an attempt to push back the autumn chill. Calm ruled now, or at least for the moment it did. The dulled hues of the light kept it that way.

“Ask and ye will receive,” she rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Don’t ask, then you don’t get. Simple really. But… you must be specific. I have a bad habit of glazing over information about myself.”

The girl cleared her throat, “Well… as you may have guessed I am a mage. Though nowhere near your level of mastery. You may have guessed that I was not always a squire. Before that I was a traveller, or vagabond if you prefer. Never really settled down anywhere, the concept was rather… alien,” a gloved hand brushed the hairs out of her eyes, “Sometimes whilst travelling I was a student, other times a passerby, or a scribe, or an adventurer seeking lost knowledge and treasure… not that I ever found any,” there was a low snort, the weight shifting as she forced her left arm up and out, “And before that, well I was a child captivated by stories and tall tales just like any other, but for the most part alone and branded with a false name. Witch. Wildling. A child who belonged among beasts,” There was a chuckle, teeth flashing only then to be followed by a devilish smile, “If you believe such name calling of course.”

There was a long pause, the brow knitting slightly, “You spoke of an island of the dead. You speak of Sahova, no? Awfully grey and miserable place…” she could not help but grimace at the thought of it. Shoulder blades turned, the scaring upon her flesh suddenly becoming a lot more apparent in her mind, “Yes… I remember there well… Little too well.”

[Wrenmae]

Chuckling, he waved a hand at her, laying his head back against the cave wall. "No need, your Projection was quite sufficient...it isn't the first time I've run into your branch of magic before, not something I can do myself though." He paused, digesting all the information she had given him before formulating his response. Idly he began picking at the drying dirt on his clothes, a busied habit to occupy his movements while his mind was unbound.

"I wonder, then, why you would have settled as a squire of all things." Looking back over the tops of trees to the looming Syliras, he shook his head, "Not a place I would have ever considered settling for the long term."


Standing, he scooted to the circle of flame the lantern cast, his eyes losing their golden gleam and settling back into the brown of his ordinary gaze. He took a seat opposite of her, reaching out for a moment as though he were containing the fire with his hands alone.

"I was born in Syliras, but my...our father traveled a lot. I spent summers in Zeltiva. When I was almost forty seasons old, my father took us out of his usual route. We would travel up through Taldera and the Kalea mountains to Alvadas. Even now I wish he had simply taken the ship, but our father was Inarta...I gathered that meant he had a certain knowledge of the Kalean dangers...even so..."

Sighing, he sat back, the fire catching the curves of his cheeks and the hollows of his eyes, leaping like insidious life. "We were caught in a blizzard. Father left us with the wagon and the blankets while he tried to trek ahead and find us a passage to Alvadas. He always insisted we were close...and I suppose we were, but only I made it to the city. Father never came back, and I was the only of his progeny to collapse at the gate."

He held up his hands against the lantern glow, rubbing them together. The cold of that memory...it could never leave him.

"I grew up as a rogue and a storyteller, plying my trade around Alvadas till I finally left. I've rarely stayed in a city longer than a season since. Nowhere is my home...ruin tends to fall to places I stay in too long." He shrugged, it was something he was getting used to.

"I became a mage by way of my father, who first taught me maladiction. I learned morphing from a swamp woman and..." he paused, considered, then shrugged, "Some of my other arts I picked up on my own."

Sighing, he rubbed a hand along his hairline, noting it should be cut soon and almost immediately the hair retracted toward the length he wanted.

"Sahova is a hard place for the living," Wren nodded solemnly, even if you're a groundskeeper or Warden...but I have seen what lives in the heart of its mountain and for all the horrors of that grim place, it houses wonders beyond comprehension."

He fell silent again for a moment before asking a question, "Why a squire? What holds you here to this city, these people? I do not mean offense when I say you are not the Knightly type."

[Fallon]

Fallon listened, a solemn nod to the mentioning of his past and their father. There was little she could say on the matter, both parents were absent during her life and so she was left now with only the words of the man opposite her. The talking storyteller of the past. She drifted, her sight turning to that of the stone coffin of Syliras. The flame twisted and turned, snaking wisps as it flickered. Their faces were snatched in and out of shadow, strange beings and shapes crawling up the wall as the pair exchanged their words.

“Well, nothing can hurt them now,” she pinched the bridge of her nose as she said that, her eyes averting down into her palm. She did not say much more after that, and instead listened, learning what she could about the man before her. There was a wary glare at the mention of malediction, a flickering memory existing there. She knew of that art, and she knew of it well. Her skin gave a prickle, her jaw tensing slightly. No, now was not the time to think such thoughts.

Eyes narrowed and ears twitched, the fingers beating a dull tune upon her knee. A steady rhythm of noise almost in keeping with his words. But when his question came she stopped, leaving it unfinished and hanging, “Why a squire?”

Her head cocked slightly, the lids of her eyes pinching. It was an expected question, yet one she did not have an immediate answer for. She leaned back, hands clasping together, her gaze turning hazy with her own thought. Although he claimed no offence she could not help but feel there was a nagging disapproval in his words. The Knights after all were not approved by everyone.

“Then what type do you see me as then?” she questioned him, chin lifting almost in challenge for him to answer. And there she held it for a good few chimes, and then withdrew it, “Syliras is the closest thing that I can call home. It was where I spent the years I remember, and where I met my mentor for the first time. After travelling so much, I always end up back here, lacing my way in and out of the lives of the inhabitants. But always coming back to a welcome… though…” there was a sigh, “I guess I figured I should at least be allowed a shot at trying to protect it from harm. Would have probably done the same in any other city if it was the same situation. You know, Zeltiva and the Waveguard for example.”

There was nothing else to it than that, just plain and simple. Her lips pursed into a line, “Guess this is the bit where you say my reason is stupid and you mock me for it?”

[Wrenmae]

"The Waveguard," a small smile tugged at his lips, "If it weren't for me, they'd still be inexperienced volunteers waging a war on crime with smiles and good intentions...weak."

He looked up at her across the guttering flame, "But not anymore."

He left it at that, noting the disdain in her face at the mention of Maladiction, Wren only shrugged, maintaining her level stare. Magic could be used for good or ill, and whatever had happened to her within the art of maladiction was no more descriptive of the art than a cobbled bone of wolf that improved ones sense of smell.

"If you think I'm here to mock you, Fallon, you've mistaken me entirely." Crossing his arms over his legs, he directed himself to the fire, the way it leaped and burned.

"If there is any city in the world that needs no protection, it is Syliras. They send their own soldiers out to protect others, that doesn't sound to me like a city in need of protecting." His finger protruded out from his hand, and he began to trace lines in the dirt. At first, they meant nothing, but then it became clear he was drawing a rough sketch of the distant Syliras in the dirt.

"They claim to be so strong, so sure, so impervious. Let them ensconce themselves in their stone fortress, but to push that presumed superiority on others...is it that Syliras believes itself to be the seat of new Alahea, or Suvan?" he shook his head, "If so, I will not recognize them till I've tested them thoroughly...but as for you, your commitment to them is a symptom of your wandering, searching for belonging..." he raised the finger to tap lightly against his chest, "For family."

Smiling, he dashed the depiction of Syliras from the dirt and sat back on his hands. "What is it you value most then? You are a poor sword fighter, but a rather competent projectionist. Why not apply to be a Mage Warrior...or, better yet, cast the city aside and return to your travels?"

He couldn't ask her with him. He wouldn't. The Blight would end her before long.

"Syliras is for those who only know how to fight or for those who are too afraid of the world to adventure. You are neither of those things, Fallon. I do not believe you belong among their ranks..." he shrugged, "But that is just my opinion."

[Fallon]

There was a sigh and the sag of shoulders.

He was right; Syliras did have a big force to contend with, no, huge. They went out and quested whilst others were patrolling the region. Eyes looked upon the drawing in the dirt, lips pursing as she withdrew slightly. There was a wince, distinct and definite as she ponder over his words. It rekindled her previous thoughts; it snagged and caused her to stop.

“I don’t know what I value the most,” she shook her head, a flicker almost of defeat. Or her own self doubts, “I… well. I don’t want to travel anymore. And I know I’m not skilled enough to be a mage knight – or more I don’t want that put upon me. That much I do know. That and I want to learn how to fight, I know I’m not that good, but in time I’ll get better. I’ll no longer be a novice.”

It was with great speed that the girl begun to look troubled. More than often of late she went a long in a general direction, following a set routine presented before her in which she was instructed to follow. It was that routine that guided her forward through her time as a squire. She rarely thought about it, accepting it a as something to fill the void that family and belonging existed in. But now, here he was, wrestling with the very foundations that she had built.

Fallon continued to frown, fingers beating out in a rhythm. She felt almost at a loss, or more over stumped at what exactly to do. The easy option would to simply continue on being a squire, to allow herself to be ordered about and be little more than a tool to the system. If, she could even be called that. Her brother had suggested leaving once more to travel, but to where? Where could she go? She knew she had no other ties to anywhere else, and to simply start again after all she had achieved would be pointless. Not only to herself but everyone else – and that left a heavy weight in her heart.

But that was the life of a traveller. A state with no true home and nowhere to belong. Cheeks puffed, the brow finally easing off. Gods she was hopeless.

“I don’t know what I want or what I should be,” she surrendered and clapped her hands together, “Other than myself; which even I don’t know what that consists of at present. No point beating about the bush on that one. Gods above I won’t lie, but I do sometimes wish someone would just pick me up and throw me in the deep end. Really see if I can swim or not,” she gave an open gesture followed by a quiver of the lip, “But that is just me sprouting wishes and nonsense.”

And then she grimaced, “Never thought I’d ever sound so… whiny.”

[Wrenmae]

Wren shrugged, finally putting out a comforting hand to Fallon's shoulder. Pat, pat, and then withdrew it. He came away with the drying dirt he'd pushed her into when on top of her and brushed it away on the seat of his pants.

"You won't be a mage knight, but you're a squire to be a regular Knight. Where did you think your journey here would end, Fallon? Would you be a squire forever? Eventually the Knights will seek to recruit you as a mage or a fighter, and then what? You take orders at the will of those above you until you yourself give the orders...and even they take orders from a tr-" He paused, caught himself, waved it away.

"Learn to fight the way most of us do, by fending for our lives and seeing the world. You're ill suited for the Knighthood. You ask too many questions, you have self doubt, you don't eat out of the gilded dream they preach back in the city...I wonder if you ever felt this was really who you were."

He stood up, suddenly ill at ease to sit so defenselessly on the ground. Stretching, pushing his arms up, he yawned and offered another shrug.

"Look, Fallon...no one is going to know your limits better than you. If you feel ill at ease sitting here, collecting dust, then throw yourself into the fire and burn the impurities out. The Knights are only going to condition you to be their tool, a tool for their mission, for their purpose, for their city. If that's all you want to be, than I wish you happiness. But I don't think that's who you really are, and I don't think this is what you want."

He opened his arms out to the wilderness facing away from Syliras, as if presenting the world.

"There are wonders beyond counting out there, beyond these walls...wonders you will never see for yourself if you stay here. The people of Syliras are terrified, they enclose themselves behind stone and steel and wave swords at the darkness. For them, it will always be black and white, never grey, never perceptive...Knights let their creed do the thinking for them, and that's why I can never accept them as real defenders of the realm. There's just too much they refuse to know."

A nightingale sang somewhere beyond them, the stars had come out at last, poking through the overcast darkness above.

"Ask yourself if a Knight is really what you want to be...if you're truly done learning and exploring. If you are, I won't bother you about it again."

[Fallon]

She gave a flinch to the touch out of reflex, recoiling slightly before calming down. There was a quick glance of the dirt, followed by a quick flick of the hand as she remembered the roll in the dirt. Hands flustered at the dried substance and worked at reaching round and wiping it off.

“I know, I know…” she shook her head, fingers still trying to reach round and brush what she could from her back – a difficult task for someone who could not contort themselves easily. Her face screwed up slightly as she tried to work at it, a look of frustration with her own turning thoughts, “It’s my nature to ask questions, I like knowing things. Information is just as powerful as blades after all.”

But then he continued, talking and spouting, or guiding perhaps. Though how she was not exactly sure. It felt like the same words going round, repeated, offering and luring. Almost as if trying to force her hand into something else, or take her away from what she had convicted herself to. Hands clasped, jaw growing tense even as he stood and gestured to the world beyond.

“Oh for the love of the Gods! Eyris knows what I want to be! What I’m destined to be! Myself? Not a clue,” she withdrew taking in a sharp intake of breath, “I don’t know what I really want to be, all I know is…” there was a pause before she tentatively pulled off her left glove. A leather digit stroked the back of her hand, tracing the mark that was there. She could already feel herself getting foiled by each passing tick. She gave the gnosis a stroke, “Well… nothing I guess. I live, I breathe, I survive, I research and I learn. Guess that’s a start though.”

Eyes turned to the stars, her brow creasing slightly before she gave a smirk, “The journey never ends. Life always calls forth, it leads us on through our days, pushing and pulling in one form. Other times it leaves us stagnant and waiting, questioning and doubting, before once more we are ripped off our seats and sent spiralling onwards.” Resting her forehead in her palm, the squire focused on calming her turbulent mind, “Guess I’ll just continue on until events dictate otherwise. It’s a focus and a goal after all, nothing wrong with that – even if I don’t get there in the end it’s still something to work towards. Even you’ve got to understand that one, right?”

Fallon ended there, almost dissatisfied with herself and her own excuse answers. So, the squire shifted the conversation onto an inevitable question, “So what about yourself then? What you going to do now? I waited, you came, now what?”

[Wrenmae]

"The way you describe it," Wren answered dryly, "Life makes all our choices for us and we are simply sheep being lead through all challenges and reprieves. By that logic, we should do nothing but sit and wait for someone or something to tell us what to do, then do it." Clasping his hands, he wrung them together and then brought them apart, as if cleansing himself of the thought alone.

He recognized the mark on her hand. Hadrian had the same one. It read histories didn't it? Something of the sort anyways...but definitely a gnosis mark. His own seemed to buzz in appreciation of the other divinity and he absently scratched the side of his collarbone where Rhysol's mark pulsed angrily.

"You didn't wait," he told her shortly, "You're a squire, you weren't going anywhere anyways." The conversation was almost at an end. The resolute desire to stay in Syliras was understandable. The world was dangerous, she'd seen much of it, and in turn been broken by what could happen. Becoming a Knight was easy, it required following orders and training...a cause that asked for nothing more than your identity and spirit.

Most sold it gladly.

"I came here to find my sister. I found her." He shrugged, as if that fact was somehow dismissive, "Now I will test the city and then go on my way. I've grown weary of how static everything is, how many people wait for change and lend themselves to causes more concerned with preservation than advancement." his eyes rested on Fallon, but he was thinking of Sahova.

"Once upon a time, there were massive empires, sprawling cities, and innovation unlike anything we have seen. We barely touch the edges of what our kind is capable of. I thought, perhaps, I would ask you to join me...but my cause requires purpose and conviction. We wait for no winds or gods to nod their heads in approval, we simply move."

He stalked around her almost, pausing when he realized he was falling into the remembered motions of a storyteller. "For more than five hundred years, Mizahar has barely put itself together. Most never travel and there are many that do not learn to read, much less contribute in meaningful ways. We will always be like this if something isn't done, isn't changed...and for that we need an organization that will seep into every city and coax the governing bodies there, shift ideals and nudge towards the path of a future. We aren't rebuilding Alahea that was. We're building Alahea that will be...a future based on the strong and the passionate, the driven and the visionaries."

He let his hands drop, "But do as you wish. Stay a squire in Syliras if it suits you. Learn to combat so you can be ordered to kill. I invite you to my cause with the hopes before I leave, you will once again remember what it feels like to make your choices by no other will than your own."

His shoulders bobbed again and he spoke, though not unkindly "You're living a stagnant life now, Fallon. Remember to move or you will rot where you lay."

[Fallon]

She listened, to a degree. Eyes narrowed as he both judged her and presented a story, his aim his dream. And all the while she watched and looked, searching almost for hidden meanings in his words.

“So that’s that then?” she gave a sigh, “Nothing more?”

Fallon pinched the bridge of her nose, hard. There was a lot going on at once, thoughts, emotions, ideals and feelings. All which were very good at spinning her round and leaving her all so slightly confused. Arms folded, a look of careful contemplation filling her features. He was most definitely not impressed, and his approval was scattered. Easing herself up to stand the squire looked upon his back, pulling at the glove quickly after. It was almost as if he had discarded her in an instant, or was trying to shirk her off his very being.

Eyes burned, the temper rising as she gave a stare. So that was that? She was nothing, just something to be brushed up. The brow pinched, a scowl forming on her face.

How infuriating. Making so many presumptions on words. Of course, she had spoken them, but that did not mean she was willing to change and become something better. She was just waiting. Was that suddenly a crime in his eyes?

Knuckles grew white, the tendons tightening. Her back straightened, the shoulders rolling back.

“You want me to make a choice, fine. I’ll make a choice. Clench your teeth,” she gave a growl. And then little Fallon made a choice. The fist came back then forward, swinging up and aiming straight for the chin in her flash of frustration. She knew she had lost her temper, but that was not about to stop her at present.

“Right! Happy now? I made a choice, go me!” she raised her hands to the sky almost as if challenging the heavens themselves, “You want me to make choices, you want me to not idly drift on in a stagnant pond, and you want me not to rot and die? Then fine I can do that,” she gave a definite point at him, scowling almost, “But you’re going to have to show me. Understand me, Mister I-like-to-pretend-I-know-what-I-am-doing?”

“Yes, I dislike that stone coffin. Yes, I find the knights just issue orders and keep things black and white. No, I don’t want to sell my soul to the same routine. Yet, why don't I do anything about it? Not a clue, I'll have to go find out. But if you’re going to come and preach, you should at least practice and teach,” the fist unclenched and she gave the hand a shake, a loud puff as she tried to curb her fire into something a lot more controllable. Fingers flexed and she shook her head, “You’re a petching asshole. Bah! Men!”

[Wrenmae]

The blow knocked Wren off his feet and across the dead leaves and mud. For a moment, he only lay where he fell, still as death, before reaching up to rub his chin where her blow had connected.

He only frowned for a moment, feeling the forming bruise. But when he looked back up at her, it was with a confident smile. "Gods, but you hit hard," He said, shaking his head and standing, dusting the leaves off his clothes and cracking his neck. "Not a bad way to make a point."

He stretched both arms behind his back then swung them to his side. "The world keeps moving, Fallon. Stand still or run, but the world waits for no one." Chuckling, he passed Fallon, patting her on her shoulder on his way to where his horse was tied to a low hanging tree branch.

"We humans live for such short times, mere flashes of existence really. It's all we can do to shoulder the weight of the past and build something better. I've seen what Alahea used to be like, and I know what we're all capable of. Come find me when you're ready to begin, Fallon, and I'll teach you whatever you want to know."

He adjusted the saddle before untying the reigns.

"But you have to be ready to walk away from this. Syliras is a safe place, that's understandable, but you have too much fire in you to be comfortable in a fireplace. Run wild awhile...there's a lot to be done and I'll see that Mizahar slowly turns back to the forward motion of the once-upon-a-time empires and age of enlightenment."

Putting a foot in the stirrup, he pushed himself up into the saddle, running a hand through his hair and smiling, "You'll come, I think...how could you not? It's time to pick up and go adventuring again, Fallon. Time to claim the world. Find me when you're ready...I'll be waiting in Syliras, but don't take too long."

He looked up to the sky, wheeling his horse back toward the road.

"I'll be departing before too many of the first snows fall. I made a promise I need to keep this Winter."