[Outside Endrykas] Love me not (Open)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Spring 7, 511 AV It felt strange to walk amongst the grass. He was just past the line of tents, far enough to see them as white, beckoning triangles, but close enough to run should he find himself threatened. In days past, it hadn't felt like this. But it had been strange to lift his bag over his arm, gather up a blanket, and walk out through the waist-high grasses of Endrykas. But there wasn't a lot of choice in the matter. He didn't have a Strider, and he hardly had enough money to get by. He needed some sort of employment, some way to bring money into the Pavilion, so that he wouldn't be a beggar on Sama'el's good will. He hoped to find newly sprung up herbs. The winter had faded away at long last, and Denen Brokensong of the Opal Clan had hopes of perhaps selling some herbs in order to bring in money. It wasn't a high hope, as there were many who did such a thing, but if he couldn't sell them, then he could use them. The situation was beneficial in either light. Perhaps it wasn't a wise idea for a deaf boy to go wandering on his own, but he didn't want to inconvenience anyone by asking them to join him. The day was warm and clear, and he didn't want to be shut up in the tent with his thoughts. Maybe the clear air would do him some good. As it was, he thought, at the very least, he would be out of the way. Along his walk, he came upon a little patch of daisies. Delighted, he bent down and picked a few of them, Thus, once he was at this designated place, he spread out the blanket he had brought, smoothed it out over the high, waving grass, and pressed it down until the blanket itself was even enough for him to sit down upon. He did so, and spread the daisies out before him. Very carefully, he began to make slits in the stems of each daisy, weaving them together until they formed a chain, which he then slipped over his head. His older sister had made daisy chains for him when he was a child. But there was one left over, and he began to pluck the petals from this, mentally reciting a rhyme his sisters had chattered together before they were married. One petal for his friendship, One petal for his love. One petal for a marriage, One petal for a son. One petal for a heartbreak, One petal for my tears. One petal for a husband To guide me through the years. He repeated this poem until all of the petals were plucked away. He wasn't pleased with the results and frowned faintly. A soft sigh left his lips, and he drew his knees close to his chest, resting his chin upon them. His blue eyes turned up toward the clear, afternoon sky. Beneath that wide, open sky, Denen felt remarkably alone.

[Edalene]

Eda could not describe the joy she felt everytime she mounted Ayira. Her little Strider, her beautiful mare, was a blessing from the Gods. She would sometimes stare at the spotted horse, eyes wide and jaw agape, still confused as to why a horse as beautiful as she would pick someone like Eda. Eda was nothing special. In fact, she couldn't seem to do anything right. But the Strider wanted her, and she was not going to argue. The day was quiet, a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill. She could not decide if it was chilly or not, so she brought along her cloak just in case. She had woken up that morning with a craving for pure open lands - something she would enjoy immensley now that she had Ayira to explore them with. The little mare was fast, Eda had found. The speed at which she ran, the cool wind whipping against her face, gave Eda a rush she had never felt. And she wanted that now. Slinging onto Ayira, leaning down and hugging her neck for a few minutes, simply breathing with the horse, she rode through Endrykas at a safe trot. Once she had broken free of the last barriers of the tents, she leaned against Ayira's neck and squeezed her flanks with her thighs. "Ride, Ayira. Show me the meaning of haste," she whispered, giggling. Ayira took off in a gallop, not going any which way, Eda not steering but merely holding on, laughing all the way. As Eda galloped, she raced past a man sitting on the ground. She sped past, too quick to see who it was and what they were doing. "Ayira!" she cried, pulling on the yvas and squeezing her flanks, checking the horse around. She rode back towards the person, cantering though not speeding as fast as she had been. The closer she got, the more and more she recognised him. Skinny, lanky, with material around his ears, Denen Brokensong sat, knees pulled up to his chest and a daisy chain around his neck. She checked Ayira, and after stroking her long neck in thanks, she slid off the horse and slowly walked towards Denen. Approaching him from the front, so that he was not surprised by her sudden presence, she smiled at him, and sank to her knees in front of him. "Hello dear friend. How are you?" She reached out a hand for him to grab and hold, sensing that now was a time for gentle companionship rather than her usual manic activities.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen felt hollow, like half a man. He'd lost his Strider, and felt, too, that he had lost his best friend due to his own stupidity. What was more, he had ostracized himself from his family, thinking, hoping, that things might actually be better elsewhere. Now, though, he wasn't so sure. What was to become of him when Sam and Dymphna married? How was he to watch as they created and raised a family, as Sama'el took other wives, but never...Denen? He bit down on his lower lip, his body curling in slightly. Like Edalene, he didn't feel that he had anything special about himself, no way of distinguishing himself from the midst of hundreds of other healers in Endrykas. If anything, he felt his skills lacked any true talent, and his deafness meant he had to work thrice as hard to communicate. He sighed and brought the butt of his hand up to wipe away oncoming tear. Gods, he hated himself. He hated what he was, and those things he could not help. He wanted to just be normal. People might be better able to stand him if only he didn't ruin everything. His jaw tightened, and his lip quivered. He'd have given anything to turn back time and stop himself from telling Sama'el how he felt. He wouldn't have been made a fool then. He might have stood a chance of being able to pretend then. Perhaps if he married. Maybe then people would forget. His father might forgive him for what he had done on his birthday, and then everything would be all right. He wouldn't have to intrude on Sam's hospitality any more, and then...Well, he didn't know what would happen then. He knew he couldn't be happy pretending to be something that he wasn't, but if he was trying to be normal, maybe it would actually happen. He looked down at his thin, pale hands. They were like a woman's hands. What sort of husband would he make? He had nothing to offer! He felt the vibrations in the earth as Edalene rode by, but her speed made it difficult to recognize her. He didn't expect the rider to turn around, and as such, he made no effort to hail them. He whispered the poem to himself again, rocking slightly. It was when he saw Edalene approaching that he fell silent, pulling the chain of flowers from around his neck and letting it drop onto his lap. She took his hand, and asked him how he was, and for a moment, all he could do was look up into her kind eyes. Edalene was so very kind. He swallowed hard and forced a smile. "I'm...I'm all r-r-right. Th-Thank you f-f-for...for asking." He adjusted his scarf and looked down. "I h-h-hope...y-you're w-well?"

[Edalene]

Eda watched carefully as he pulled down the daisy chain. There was something utterly heartbreaking in the way he disposed of it. It was as if he was getting rid of all signs of innocence, of frivolity, of joy as soon as someone else approached. As if he felt he did not deserve to be happy in other people's presence. Hesitantly, she took away one of her hands from his, still looking and watching Denen carefully - she wanted him to know she was taking it away only momentarily. Slowly, she reached into his lap, and picked up the daisy chain. She observed it for a moment, and could not help but smile at the sight of the happy little flowers. "These are my favourites," she murmured. Slowly, she eased out one of the daisies from the chain, not wanting to destroy Denen's work completely. Reaching up, she brushed her hair behind her ear and fitted her flower inbetween ear and hair. There. She smiled, putting her hand quickly back into his. It was only as he swallowed and looked down, after looking into her eyes for a number of moments, that she noticed the gleam of the tear tracks. He stuttered a response, but Eda barely heard it. She did not know Denen all that well. She knew he was kind, loving and a gentle man. She knew he was someone that could easily be loved. She knew she wanted to be (and perhaps, she was already, a little bit) his friend. Denen looked like he needed a friend right now. She opened her mouth, prepared to say something, to reassure him that she too was well, and move the conversation on to happier pastures. But what would that do for him? Nothing. She knew, as much as the next, that wallowing was never something that healed, that rejuvenated. Carefully, yet again, she eased a hand from his grip, as he adjusted his scarf around his ears. She never stopped smiling her gentle smile, as she reached out a hand toward his cheek. Slowly, she cupped it, feeling the moisture underneath her hand. Denen did not deserve to be sad. Nobody did. "Don't cry," she murmured, before she realised the futility of that statement. If he wanted to cry, he would cry. There was nothing anyone else could do about it. "You are loved, Denen. You are special." She had heard a father say that to his little girl, once, on her wanderings through Endrykas. She had had no idea who they were, but a big burly man was cradling a little girl, sniffling on her father's knee. He had said that to her and Eda had overheard. It had stuck in her memory. She said it now, hoping it would help, hoping it didn't seem trite - hoping Denen would believe her.

[Denen Sunsinger]

What chance was there for joy in the life of a boy like Denen Brokensong? He wasn't one of the strong, handsome types, the sort to whom women flocked and men admired. He was the youngest child of a last wife. He watched Edalene's hands on the daisy chain, and his thin frame bent slightly, allowing for his dark, soft hair to fall into his face. His blue eyes lingered on the flowers, tinged with a weary sadness. He had ruined everything. Sam wasn't around, and Denen was off on his own, doing whatever he could to make ends meet. He nodded as he watched her lips form the remark that daisies were her favorite. He liked them, too. They had such happy faces, and he had hoped that making a chain of them would help him to feel better. Jada had made him such chains when he was very little, and he had always loved them until they fell to pieces or his father took them away, claiming she was making his son as flowery as the daisies. Denen hadn't understood what it meant, then, but the words had hurt, still the same. There was a moment when he looked down at her hand in his, and he wondered what she was doing bothering herself over him. He was one of many. His absence, he was sure, hadn't gone marked or noticed much by his own family. If he slipped through the cracks, who would notice? “D-Daisies are sweet,” he added softly. He brushed a gentle finger over a single, white petal. “D-Did you...Did you know...their j-juices help...to...to relieve pain?” Another reason to like the flowers, though Denen didn't imagine that she cared about that tidbit. He was glad to have daisies growing now, so that he might use them when it came to work. They were more than sweet flowers, after all. He was about to speak again, an attempt to refocus his aching heart, when she touched his cheek. His eyes widened slightly, and he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Edalene's smile was a kind one, and Denen found some comfort in it. He drew his lower lip in as much as he could, but he could not hide the brilliance of his eyes when they took on new tears. Denen offered a sad, resigned smile, and shook his head. “N-No,” he said quietly. “I'm...I'm not special. Healer's l-like me...P-People like me are...are...a copper miza a dozen. I'm...n-nothing special.” He sighed and shrugged. “But...B-But thank you.” The boy was quite certain that he would never know the special kind of love that he so yearned for. It was the intense love that he had witnessed between his siblings and their spouses, and the enduring love of Pebble and his father. He was the friend. Not the lover, and he imagined that such would be his lot in life until he died. “Y-Your...Strider is b-b-bea...b-beautiful.” He missed his own, and the image of the death he had been compelled to enact flashed in his memory, causing a momentary grimace to flash across his features.

[Edalene]

Eda smiled gently at him, waiting for a reaction. Her eyes were locked with his. Though the contact would have made her uncomfortable with anyone else, with Denen it made her feel protective. She felt so bad for him. She knew he was hurting, and though she did not know why, the pain that was there was heartbreaking to see in his tear-filled eyes and drawn in lip. She barely knew the man, barely knew what happened in his life - all she really knew was that he was a healer - but she liked him, genuinely, and whoever she liked should be happy. It was a simple notion, but Eda was a simple girl. She took her hand away from his cheek as he shook his head, beginning to stutter his way through an explanation. She didn't burst out with loud arguments, afraid of startling the fragile boy. Instead, she interlaced her fingers with his, feeling his gentle soft skin, and listened to what was hurting him. She took a second to think, for she didn't want to hurt Denen accidentally by saying something she hadn't thought out. Her voice quiet, but pronouncing the vowels and consonants clearly so he could see, she began a response. "You're right," she began, nodding, tightening her grip on his hands. "Healers are a copper miza a dozen." A small smile graced her face, and she looked at Denen with kind, understanding eyes. "But people like you are. No one is like you, and that is both a blessing and a curse. Maybe people don't like us at first, but when we find a friend who loves us for who we are ... then everything is bliss." She, of course, was not speaking from experience. Though it seemed like a nice thing to say. A pretty blush made its way across her cheeks as she looked down. "I could be that friend, if you wanted." Her voice was even quieter than before, though that would not affect his understanding of her. She nodded as he tried to change the subject. "Thank you," she murmured simply, but did not offer anything else. Denen could not escape what was plaguing him, and she wasn't going to let him.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen didn't want to think or to move or to be. There were too many things to think of, and he didn't even know where to begin. Where did one start when the problem wasn't another person, but rather himself? He couldn't expect Edalene to understand, nor did he have the capacity to unload everything onto her shoulders. He had enough issues of his own. He was sure she had her own, and it wasn't in his way to lay another burden, especially one of his own, on her shoulders. Perhaps a new direction was in order. The last thing he wanted to do was reveal to her the knowledge of over whom he was pining. He dearly appreciated her patience with him. Denen knew how trying the misery of others could be, and he hated to see someone as sweet and kind as Edalene dragged down by his own self-pity. He glanced down to their hands, and felt in the way that she held them that he was silenced. His mouth spoke, but his fingers held the truth. In that, he might be able to keep some of his dignity. Edalene was gentle and trustworthy, he was sure, but he did not wish to lessen himself in her eyes. She was silent for some times, her lips motionless, but Denen slowly lifted his gaze as she began to form words. She took care, and he watched as her answer was spoken. He wondered, fleetingly, what her voice sounded like. He remembered only a few, namely that of his father, and Stone's voice wasn't a gentle one. A touched, albeit fleeting smile touched the soft lips of the healer, and he closed his eyes for but a moment. He released a long, weary breath. “Ed-dalene,” he began, and already he was lost for words. He did need a friend. The truth was that he felt so distant, so torn from everything he'd known and wanted, that he had no clue of where to begin even speaking. There was, too, the issue that his mouth could and would not say what his heart felt. Words from his pretty lips were clumsy and sometimes painful. He could have told her everything if she only spoke through hands. The thought struck him then, and he gave a quiet smile, before he raised his hand with hers. “Friend,” he signed, saying the word aloud. “Y-You try...”

[Edalene]

Edalene watched him, carefully. It was clear to her that his emotions played out on his face as openly as the sun rose in the morning. He was clearly an emotional being, as she was. The thing is, she didn't really know how to deal with it. She had gone her entire life with Damie and Yartree, who were so close with eachother, but cold and tightlipped around Eda. She had been alone but surrounded most of her life, and suddenly, when she needed to reach out to Denen, she did not know how - because no one had ever reached out to her. She sighed at the mention of her name, knowing he couldn't hear the breathy noise as he stuttered through her name. It was almost heartbreaking, to watch him flounder until he found something he could communicate in such a meagre way. She looked down at his hands as he spoke, for she did not need to rely on sight such as he did. Those gentle, healers hands that she gripped within her smaller ones. They were smooth skinned, and felt calming against hers, the heat emanating through to her. It felt good to hold someone's hand. It was something she should like to feel everyday ... but Kayiri had left her. A bitter smile rose to her lips as she gazed and savoured the sensation that she would, likely, never have again. She looked up at him, slightly confused, as he moved his hands up into the air between them as Eda knelt before him. She moved her hands away from his, watching curiously - hands feeling chilly at the loss of warmth - as he moved his hands elegantly, smoothly. Friend, he said, and signed, and she smiled, glad that he was accepting her offer. Her smile was bright and pretty, and it was clear she was joyful at the prospect. She had never really had a friend before. She opened her mouth to proclaim this joy, until he spoke again, this time with his mouth only - his smooth hands stayed still. "But... I cannot-- Denen--" she tried to protest, until she sighed. If Denen was to be her friend, they should be equals, no? Denen was putting in so much work to watch her lips every time she spoke, and she made no effort to do for him what he did for her. With a sigh, she nodded slowly, looking at him from under heavy lashes. "Alright," she muttered, somewhat grudgingly. "But don't laugh!" Quickly, she moved her hands in an inelegant approximation of the word, bastardising the beautiful dance his hands had done merely seconds before. It looked somewhat like what Denen had done, but it was jerky and had mistakes. She was almost sure it was indecipherable. "Yes, I know I'm awful," she grumbled, but there was good humour in her self deprecation. "My cousin, Yartree, was the one who was supposed to teach me grassland sign... so, naturally, he never turned up to my lessons." Eda laughed then, a light, beautiful noise. Her face lit up when she did.

[Lariat]

Edalene

Experience:
Riding (Horse): 1xp

Lores:
Comforting another
Denen (Friend)

Denen Brokensong

Experience:
Herbalism: 1

Lores:
Edalene (Friend)
Finding Comfort

Thoughts: Good read, Gave what xp and lore I saw, if you have any questions just send me a pm.