Reassessing (Open)

[Dhalvasha]

29 Winter, 511 AV

Midday

Life had a way of displacing intent. Purpose was the subjective views of a creature held only in forward motion. Once, Dhalvasha had been in Kalinor and happy to fritter away his life as a humble doctor rebelling against his father. But of course, the seeds of sedition had been planted deeply within the Symenestra and one tiny rebellion led to another. Regrettably he found himself horizontal on a wall...with a god, and distinctly considering a flight from the home he had known. One thing led to another, everything had come round circle in a complex gibbering mess, and now he sat in some bar in Alvadas...reassessing his life. So far he'd been kidnapped, tortured, trussed up, and delivered back to Kalea, a place he had not considered himself ready to return to.

But here he was.

The sky above him had shifted since he'd arrived, glistening yellows and oranges of dawn seeping into the cool blue of mid morning. It was better not to think about it, Alvadas and all its nonsense. Ionu, he'd heard, played merry with the streets and buildings here. Nothing was as it should be...and apparently people were alright with that. Not that Dhalvasha could begrudge them, but the lack of permanency bothered him. The city seemed to shuffle off effort. Who knew who built what when a buidling could be here one day and gone the next? Landmarks and maps were pointless, and to that point...no one could call themselves Alvadean, not really. Who knew? Perhaps their house would end up in Deneval or Wind Reach and Syliras the next.

It was ludicrous, of course, his mind fought the logic he'd been forced to accept entering the city. Antar was with his belov-no, with his former web mate. He corrected himself physically, clenching pale hands and black claws so hard they drew blood around the corners of his skin. Pinpricks of motion. Blood and pain.

Always blood with his kind.

Dhalvasha released his hand, sighing his frustration into the air. It was no use dwelling, the act itself denoted a distinct lack of medical tact. If he could not move on, he could not learn from his mistakes. Idly he touched the Chaktawe necklace around his neck, letting the notion drop. It was his lot to dwell, ever reliving past mistakes in some ludicrous dirge to what was and would never be.

He considered drinking, at least briefly, and then waved away the concept. He had no one to share it with, and after years of being on his own, somehow he almost wished he'd had the notion to carry a companion with him. Ihnar would have been nice, little creature took up no room and didn't eat...as far as Dhalvasha knew...the clay child wasted his time with Eridanus, ensuring a short life with the insane fighter...but who was Dhalvasha to lecture him on life choices.

He'd sure done a wonderful job on his. Back in Kalea after years of research and nothing to show for it but a broken family and a head fully of theories.

Somewhere, somehow, Viritas must be mocking him.

Laying his head down on the table, Dhalvasha paid very close attention to the grains of the wood. Perhaps there would be an answer there, some hidden illusion in the simplicity of a table construction.

No?

no.

There was nothing.

Dhalvasha stifled a groan of a disappointment. Where was there to go from here?

[Shyda Ormoph]

Shyda stumbled into the bar, her breathing hard and fast. Nervously, she pushed her hair back from her face with one hand and glanced around the bar. She could hide here for a time.

As Shyda took a step forward, she winced and raised her hand to where she felt pain pinching at her side. Right. She'd forgotten the stab she had received from the Akalak men. Shyda Ormoph, a Myrian by blood, had been traveling to Alvadas when she had been attacked by a band of Akalak men. Of course, a usual traveler wouldn't have bothered them, but these Akalak men where three that had been in Riverfall when Shyda had been attacked by a single Akalak men. It ended with her killing him in self-defense, the Akalak council didn't see it that way, and Shyda had been banished from the city. The three men had recognized Shyda and decided to attack.

Now, usually, Shyda wouldn't have minded a bit of a fight, especially against the hated Akalak men, but today, she hadn't been in the mood and sleep was now getting hard to come by. Her bones and muscles were growing weak and all she wanted to do was get to Alvadas to rest. Apparently, the gods did not see that as happened.

Only a couple weeks ago, she had been in Endrykas when a meeting had been held between the horse folk. After passing through the city of tents, Shyda quickly decided there would be no companion there that would suit her personality and travels. She had left, without a second glance back, and began travel to Alvadas. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind to find a companion, but it was a start. Maybe, just maybe, something might surprise her in her travels.

Pressing her hand against the open wound, Shyda stumbled to the nearby table, which was thankfully located in a corner, and dropped into the chair. Sik, her marten, climbed from her pack and onto the table, looking at her quizzically as she reached into her back to grab three piece of ripped cloth she used for bandages. With skill, and quick fingers, Shyda wrapped them around her torso and tightened them. She grabbed her long leather jacket and pulled it around her protectively.

Running her fingers through her hair and pulling it into a loose braid behind her head, Shyda looked up and almost gasp out in shock. To her surprise, a Symnestra sat at a table. His head was down, appearing to study the grains of wood on the table in front of him. Shyda also surprised herself by smiling.

For years she had searched for a companion, someone who could travel with her and deal with the harshness of the wilderness. Unfortunately, she had found no one in her eight years of searching. This Symenstra was actually quite handsome.

Smiling to herself once more, Shyda lowered her head and stared at her scared fingers. A decision to talk to him after darkness had come, more so than the cloudy sky outside, but she didn't get her hopes up that a Symenstra would want to travel with her, much less anyone. Eight years of searching for someone hadn't exactly been kind to her.