Closed maps of ambition.

[Caelum]

I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map I knew that somehow I could find my way back - f + m – Timestamp: 27 Summer 514 AV The afternoon was wasting in the heat. All of the sane people had completed what duties and chores required them to be out in the sun in the earliest hours of the day when morning held the world more gently. They now labored over responsibilities that allowed them to remain below, in the cool, cavernous Within that sprawled underground the very earth upon which Caelum stood. The ethaefal reveled in the heat, unconcerned with the rising temperature as he placed a seashell on the corner of a large sheet of paper. A battered wooden table sat at the far edge of the Sanctuary's herb garden. There was also a chair, peg legged and high backed, but it was disdained in favor of standing. Caelum had convinced Aweston to help him drag the old piece of furniture up from one of the empty bedchambers before it got too hot. It sat now in the thick grass and was stacked with what seemed a conjurers assortment of materials. Large sheets of paper sprawled over the center and were weighed down at their corners by polished rocks and sea shells collected by Lillian and Tasival in their endless journeys of make-believe to and from the beach. A wooden cup held charcoal sticks sharpened to varying degrees of fineness and no less than three fourtain pens were scattered around an equal number of ink tins -- black, blue, and carnelian bright. At the edge of the desk was a sweating pewter pitcher and a ledger book with row after row of painstakingly neat handwriting dictating a list of plants and recipes, values and remarks. Summer white horns gleamed like pearls as he bent over, a sheaf of hair washed in gold this season spilling mostly into his eyes. One of the pens was held up and his eyes were narrowed with concentration as he looked from the sprawl of his precious herb garden to blank sheet of paper before him. A few completed maps were already rolled up, tied to stay with a bit of twine, and set to the side. They held diagrams of what plants were in their growth stages and location now and where he needed to rearrange a few of his more finicky, rare plants next. His eccentricity had not allowed him to linger on that single task. Instead he tugged on the worn hem of his second hand tunic, short sleeved for the heat, and began to sketch the first sweeping lines of a rune in the middle of the paper. Glyphing was a magic that he was not incredibly well versed in. Of course, the type of magic Caelum understood best was that of the divine. Glyphing, however, he had learned first in the water light of Ravok and the muted roar of the waves as the tide swept in at the bottom of the sea cliff was almost familiar. The magic had been necessary for the nonetheless impossible task his master had set before him, and he had neglected it much since departing Delucia's service. The wind kicked, bringing the scent of his honeysuckle along the far back trellis. He inhaled and held the smell of it in his mouth, in his lungs, and felt his focus cause the whole of the world to still on this sweltering afternoon. It was the simplest trick of meditation, an equally as hard won necessity, but it aided him in the sketching of the third straight line radiating through the sickle moon curve that began his rune. Fortunately, most residents of the Sanctuary were accustomed to the odd behavior of Kavala's often elusive friend. He lived in an apartment above the healing clinic and was a chief healer for Kavala despite the fact that he owned his own business in town. He had a reputation that was beginning to bloom in Riverfall, but it was still small and enigmatic. A konti toddler named Lillian lived here as well and followed him around, calling him daddy and a dark-eyed former slave could constantly be found in his shadow or in the company of Larik. They and Kavala seemed to know him well, but few others. Straightening, he squinted down at the rune he had drawn. It had an elegant flow, but he was not quite satisfied. He tapped excess ink off the steel nib of his pen and considered starting over.

[Roland Eir]

The sound of Roland's trudging footsteps would carry across the compound long before he came in sight. It had been a long morning toiling in stifling heat, and the now-bear chested man yanked off his gloves and clapped some of the dirt and dust off them. He tucked them into his back pocket, opposite his shirt which hung lazily out of the belt where it was secured. Which would come first he wondered, lunch or a bath? Sweat ran in rivulets down his chest, and he probably stank worse than his horse, but the ravenous pit in his stomach demanded to be filled. It had not surprised him that he hadn't seen much of the other staff yet; it seemed they had wisely decided to finish their work earlier than he. It wasn't really his fault, he reasoned, running a hand through his unruly hair, he was still recovering from his long trek across country to get here. The man had always been skinny, and many seasons of travel had not helped. A few weeks at The Sanctuary had helped, but working for his pay meant that while he was beginning to lose his emaciated look there was not a bit of fat on him. Passing the herb gardens, Roland noticed something out of place. A few things to be exact. Stopping short, the man stared at the strange sight of a table and chair set up in the gardens. To his eyes however, stranger still was the man that accompanied them. Roland had seen him around, and had gone so far as to ask Cadra what exactly he was. Now Roland racked his mind and wished he'd been paying closer attention, for while he recalled that the man was an "ethaefal" he could not remember his name. Stranger even than the konti this race seemed to him, with its prominent horns. This one unsettled Roland. With golden hair and gleaming horns that were altogether alien and strangely alluring. Glancing wistfully at the kitchens in the distance, Roland crossed the gap between them and called out "You must be half-daft to be out in weather like this!" Though, now that he mentioned it, the ethaefal looked perfectly at home in the blistering heat. The table before him was laden with carefully aligned scrolls and inkwells, neatly placed around an open sheaf of paper. Roland looked down on the rune that was inscribed there but could make head nor tail of it. Was it magic, he wondered? Everyone in this place seemed to use some form of it, leaving Roland in a perpetual state of wonderment and envy. This to him looked like simple artwork--pretty, but useless.

[Caelum]

Caelum felt him before he saw him. The fountain pen listed in his hand as an unfamiliar current of need and desire altered its course to wind toward him like a river might spill into a sea. Only this ocean had a name – quite a few names, in fact – and a personhood attached to it. A vision of sleek limbed Nikali clapping her hands in the waters of him, causing them froth and boil, grew in his mind’s eyes like a weed: more downward than up. He squinted at the unfinished glyph while hunger settled over him. It was not the sort of hunger the ethaefal, standing in the full light of his goddess who sustained him, was very familiar with; but hunger, like so many other things used to express the needs of a people, was often complicated by the hands and mouths that shaped it. He didn’t linger long over pointless philosophy. This was a simple hunger for sustenance. Further marks from his darkest goddess would have yielded him specifics even at this distance as being open meant being unprotected. It mattered little today. He stood on Sanctuary ground and while he could only barely boil an egg, he could very easily provide nourishing food for whoever it was coming toward him. “You’re not the first person to call me foolish,” he muttered absently, still studying the glyph. Hunger. That was the missing element. The fingers of his right hand flexed in unconscious readying, the winged snakes of Rak’keli’s gnosis mark glimmering a pale gold from knuckles to wrist. He made the final mark to the rune with little flourish. Finally, he looked up. “Hey,” he paused, taking in the man for a few ticks. Curiosity piqued in the languid curl of a smile. “You must be Roland. I’m Caelum. Why aren’t you down eating lunch with everyone?”

[Roland Eir]

Roland cocked his head to get a better look at what the man was drawing, keeping a respectable distance. He knew Kavala trusted the Ethaefal, had let him live there with her family. Or perhaps as part of her family. Roland didn't really understand the Denusk clan yet, or who really counted as a member, but it seemed race didn't matter. Regardless, Roland wasn't one to trust unconditionally. He trusted Kavala and her opinion of others, but he'd lived too long in a city where trusting anyone could earn you a knife between the ribs. The rune was extravagant, and it seemed the man had just finished it. With a final twirl of his pen the last mark was set into place. Roland couldn't help but be impressed. He didn't hold art in very high esteem, but an artist had to work hard like anyone else to master it. And this was no normal artist. Suspecting magic based on principle was one thing, but as he got closer Roland had noticed the shimmering mark on the back of the Ethaefal's hand. It was similar to the mark Kavala bore, and Roland had witnessed its power firsthand. "Aye, I'm Roland," he said, slightly annoyed that he hadn't been able to remember Caelum's name. Shifting his weight and rolling his shoulders in a half-shrug, he answered the man's question honestly. "I was out digging support holes for one of Kavala's projects. It's simple work, but until I'm ready for the trained positions around here all I can handle is basic labor." There was no trace of bitterness in his voice; Roland didn't mind the work. It wasn't easy, especially on a day where the sun beat down on him so mercilessly and his body still recovering. But it was different from anything he'd ever done before, and far from being taxing he found it exhilarating to do work that helped others instead of harming them. "What about you?" he asked, gesturing at the table before them. "What keeps you out in the sun and sweat?" It continued to rise above them, swimming high in the clear sky and shining brilliantly. If Roland shaded his eyes and looked out across the compound he could see the air fidgeting above the rooftops. A mirage, a trick of the heat.

[Caelum]

Caelum peered at Roland interestedly. He continued to study him even while he slumped, all of the long and noble limbs of him sagging as he absently set down the fountain pen. It rolled to chime against the base of a glass jar of cerulean colored paint. As Roland was shirtless, it was relatively easy for Caelum to take in observations regarding the wiry strength of muscles and the distilled state of his form and connect them with other bits of information in a series of theoretical conclusions. The first was that Roland like so many others had come to them hungry, and not just hungry in body but hungry in spirit and likely too in heart. Surrounding Kavala and he was a small congregation of such creatures, growing with every passing day. The hungry. The driven. The searching. The wanting. They pulled toward them like the iron of meteorites, compelled. Caelum bobbed his head in a nod to Roland's talk of basic labor. An internal curtain was batted almost absently aside, left to flicker and reveal before slipping shut again. It was to let out the ranuri, Nikali's divine magic, giving it a breeze through his desperately maintained shields to brush across Roland and perhaps gain a deeper reading than the accidental one he had received when the man approached. The magic did not require touch for him because he was not yet bonded, which was much as blessing and curse as was the gnosis mark itself. Touch would sharpen it, clarify and compel. Caelum avoided that for now. This was simple curiosity, if a very well fed and honed one. "What sort of position would you like to be trained in?" He asked, golden eyes intent. He often forgot to look away, overly accustomed to having suss out secrets in order to sooth not just other people but also himself. Problems had to be solved, and a lot of them had to be before he could rest. "There's a lot of different paths to follow here. Maybe there's something I can help you with? I'm a physician and healer." He paused, one shoulder tilting in a shrug, and dropped his eyes thoughtfully to the paper and the glyph. Roland was a stranger, but he was a stranger of the Sanctuary. Further, the fact that Caelum was blessed with a gnosis mark from Rak'keli was actually the only gnosis mark of his that was not kept a secret from the majority of the world. Typically, he would be more reserved regarding magic, but glyphing was also of the most common place of practices and it was right in front of their faces. "That's what I'm doing out here in the sun and sweat, actually." His smile was self deprecating and he held up his right hand, the one marked by Avalis' dark sister, in display. "I am about to impart the power of Rak'keli's gnosis mark into the rune I've drawn here. It's a school of magic called glyphing. Really, I'm just practicing, but this scroll can be handy all the same. I'll give them to someone who might need use of it while traveling. Maybe Xira or his employee. They're couriers and aren't always close enough to home." The ethaefal gestured to the sprawl of the healthy and vibrant herb garden surrounding them. "I was updating my garden maps originally," he admitted. "But I got bored." A grin flashed, sparking and magnetic.

[Roland Eir]

The way Caelum looked at him reminded Roland of when he'd first met Kavala. Measuring him, searching him for what? He didn't know, but he'd begun to wonder if maybe that was the point. Those at The Sanctuary shared a wisdom he had yet to obtain. They looked beyond the here and now, speaking of fate and purpose. Roland didn't like to search for meaning in the coincidences of his life; the idea of the gods watching, or worse, caring about what he did was not pleasant. The physical world still held too many mysteries for him without taking such intangible things into account. With every day that passed it became harder to keep that viewpoint. He was almost guilty of his opinions, since his life had been saved by the same mark Caelum bore on his wrist. Even as he thought this, Roland was being affected by one of Caelum's other gnosis. As the ranuri brushed the man's desires, Caelum would detect something buried deep beyond the basic needs of rest and sustenance. The hint and shadow of a greater want that perhaps Roland himself did not yet know or understand. Nagging at the back of his consciousness there lay in wait the growing need for power. Not power of others lives, or even over his own, but power over the forces he could not hope to naturally control. There was magic on his mind. It was small yet, a single counter-flowing eddy in the stream of apathy and acceptance, but it was there. It took a minute for Roland to answer Caelum's question. What would he like to be trained in? Choice was not something Roland had been used to when he came to The Sanctuary. His father had dictated most of his life, as a father and as the boss. What Roland wanted had never come into the equation, and so he'd not given it much thought here. What ambition did he have in this place? He didn't see himself as a healer, holding someone's life in his hands. Nor did he feel enough of a connection to animals to learn how to take care of them. Roland glanced around the garden, at the plants and the surrounding buildings. Gardening certainly didn't catch his fancy. But he didn't want to dig holes and shovel manure for the rest of his life either. He'd help with any of these if he was asked, of course--he owed his life to this place, to Kavala. "I don't know," he finally answered, almost disappointed in himself. "I've never really had the option to choose, I've always just... obeyed. So maybe that's it. I'll do whatever is asked of me and learn as I go. I owe Kavala more than that, but I'll do what I can for now. She saved my life, you know." Why was Roland telling him all that? It wasn't like him to expound his past and vulnerabilities. But something about Caelum set him at ease, and he couldn't help but like the ethaefal. That bothered him some, went against his experience and upbringing to so readily trust a stranger, but he couldn't help it. It doesn't matter, he told himself. You should trust him, he's a friend of Kavala's. He tried to ignore his doubts, focusing instead on the glyphing. "You're saying that when you've finished, anyone will be able to use that magic? Without training, or a mark from Rak'keli?" Roland looked at the runed paper. It was beautiful and elegant but it was just ink, wasn't it? He leaned in, looking for some secret, some sign of magic, not noticing that he'd gotten so much closer to the ethaefal. "You could do this with any magic?" He thought back to that first night, witnessing Kavala form a stone knife out of thin air. Could he do the same through glyphing? A true grin grew on Roland's face. "I can understand why you'd get bored of gardening when you have this at your fingertips."

[Caelum]

As Roland's desires swirled around him, Caelum deftly plucked the neatest of them free of the current and dropped down to a crouch to rummage a wooden cup out of the near-empty crate at his feet. Straightening, he set the cup down on the table and filled it with still cool water from the pitcher. Roland spoke and Caelum wordlessly slid the cup toward him, nudging aside an ink tin as he did so. He settled back on his heels and bobbed in his head in a nod to the man's remark regarding how Kavala had saved Roland's life. He seemed remarkably unsurprised. Not unimpressed, no, just not in the least bit taken off guard by the idea that Kavala Denusk had once again been key in the saving of a life. After all, she and Caelum were remarkably alike in at least one regard -- they were healers, fixers, savers, and doers. Saving people was usually their aim, or at least some part of it. Rummaging around in his pocket, he pulled loose a small package. Unfolding the edges of the clean handkerchief, he revealed a small stack of sweet tea biscuits that were only a little bit crumbled on their edges. They were a particular favorite of his daughter's and, as such, he had a habit of carrying a few around with him. He placed the dessert, fresh from Cadra's cooking that morning, next to the cup of water for Roland and was finally satisfied. For now. The invitation for Roland partake was unnecessary to express, implied as it was even in his casual offering. "Kavala's good at that," he said absently, smile picking back up. "Saving people, I mean. It's good that you want to want to help out around here. There are always things needed done." He returned his to the drawn rune between them and stuck his tongue into his cheek. After a few ticks, he nodded. "Yes, when this is complete you could take it with you and a week from now, a year from now, when you caught a cold or cut yourself, it would still work. You could just open it up, touch the rune, and the diving magic of my gnosis mark from the goddess Rak'keli would flow out of it and into you. It's a practice called glyphing. You can use it to store, channel, release, and deflect virtually any magic that you yourself already have access to. Using is to store healing power is obviously one of its more safe applications." He lifted his hand, beckoning. "Here, I'll show you. Now that I've drawn the rune exactly how I want it, and how it wants to be drawn, I can do this --" And he lightly clasped Roland's shoulder, his touch warm and the gnosis mark flaring in the light. Rak'keli's grace spilled into Roland like cool water, gently balancing out his body temperature and directed to ease the ache of sore muscles growing accustomed again to hard labor. As Caelum did this, his other hand rested lightly atop the now dry rune. It too flared, pale gold, and then faded as the healer took back his hand. "And it's complete." He gestured with a minor flourish, quietly pleased.