Again, Wingard found himself listening to the solemn warrior with an unfound feeling of respect for the obvious humility that this man possessed. In many ways, the Kelvic was stunned at this unseen side of Turrin; an intelligence and ethical perspective that was completely unexpected in a place where ignorance reigned like a vindictive queen. His capacity to look at the ruthlessness below him and see the silver lining in its actions was a characteristic that the eagle could only attribute to his Myrian upbringing. Violence, as Turrin mentioned, was part of his religion, and thus, his familiarity with the brutality could provide him with a stoic demeanour that transcended the horror that arose in Wingard’s own chest. And yet, as the warrior depicted an appreciation for the uprising and a prophetic reading of the future if Wind Reach continued forward without discourse, the Avora could not help but feel that although his companion was insightful, he, like Ainyi, was filled with an idealistic view of the world.
It was not in him to disagree with the Endal because Wingard also wished for the abolishment of their caste system, but he was not naïve enough to believe that something like this would bring about such a change. Wind Reach was a city that was stuck in their ways and the fact that the upper class would be able to easily eliminate the Dek and Chiet would do nothing but feed their narcissism, exponentially increasing their superiority complex until the eagle did not wish to contemplate what the Endal and Avora would do to reinstall fear in the lower castes. This was a slaughter, after all, and maybe if the less valued society members were capable of putting up a better fight, the Valintar would contemplate a new system, but considering that they weren’t actually threatened, Wingard really didn’t think they would lose sleep over this issue. He predicted that within the next few days the Endal and Avora would crush the Dek and Chiet forces without sustaining many losses and for those that were actually killed – he did not want to contemplate what the repercussions would be for those murderers.
Turning his gaze back to the Unforgiving, the Kelvic idly studied the shadowy silhouettes that Leth created. The blackened shapes that were highlighted by the waning moon seemed to almost sparkle, their shapes flickering occasionally with each gust of wind that disturbed them. In the midst of winter where their barren branches lay naked for all to see, Wingard felt a sense of forbonding as he stared at the darkened forest. The land that was so dangerous looked even more intimidating under the cover of the night and he could only imagine what the bloodied walls of the Warrens appeared as; the splattered remains of many decorating the walls and creating demonic shadows upon the stone as the torches flickered. The stench he imagined was even more suffocating than the unhygienic three days where the springs were closed as sweat was preferred to the smells of decay and rot.
Grimacing at the dark images that settled into his mind, the eagle let out a quiet sigh as he calmed the roiling emotions within his chest. Meditation was hardly his forte and after each breath and release he gave, he had to fight to keep his mind on topic, lest he dissolve into hopelessness before this man. Schooling his figures into his noted indifference, Wingard finally responded to Turrin’s initial inquiry, his eyes lost on the eerie beauty below, “I understand where you’re coming from Turrin, and I would go as far as to agree with your assessment, but I find my mind does not hypothesize the same end as yours does. The Endal and Avora are going to come out of this foray relatively unruffled so why would they be willing to change when they remain without a reason to do so? Our people,” he stated, a quirk upon his lips, “Regardless of how I wish to disassociate with them sometimes, need something bigger in order to initiate change. Our ranks need to face a challenge they cannot conquer in order to be willing to alter their ways; otherwise, they will perish – just like the chiet and dek.”
Cracking his neck, he continued speaking, his focus now on the bond mate that the Myrian spoke so fondly of. At this point, Wingard had settled a hand back into the packed snow, propping his body up in a relaxed pose as he channeled the indifference he commonly associated with, “Aponivi sounds like an intelligent eagle, Turrin. I will have to take the time to take to the skies the next time I hear of his name in order to introduce myself to someone you speak so highly of. Your eagle, however, is an enigma among us. We are thought to be reincarnated Inarta, after all, so it would be silly to assume that we are so different from our people. Do you ever wonder why or how we chose our riders, Turrin? It is an interesting concept to think that although we have been charged with looking after and protecting the Inarta that we inadvertently send many to their societal positions. I do not know how many potential yasi come searching for a bond to only be turned down when they are not deemed fit to the privilege of connecting with the skies.”
Watching as Turrin stood, the eagle remained in his position on the floor; staring upwards at the Myrian that now towered upon him imperiously. Wingard was hardly intimidated but a smile twisted at his lips inadvertently as he noted the changed name that the Endal now associated with him. He appreciated the difference as it was a sign of mutual respect and he let out a dark chuckle as his companion apologized for their philosophical meanderings. It was not often that anyone wished to speak to him on such a hypothetical and obscure level; well, not many people wanted to speak to him in general due to his volatility, but the avian appreciated such discussion. Inadvertently, Turrin had forced him out of the suffocating hands of shock and self-pity in order to awaken his mind from the sledges of fog that had captured it so joyously. Inclining his head in order to indicate his appreciation of their talk, the eagle found himself grinning mischievously as the warrior inquired after his cryptic statements.
“We have not associated prior to the stalls, Myrian, because I am not an Inarta. My spirit flows with my innate side as it erupts from this human vessel and dances upon the winds of Zulrav. I fly with the Wind Eagles, Turrin, unridden, because I am a Kelvic unbound.” Looking him directly in the eyes, the eagle continued, “But I am also trapped, you see. My convocation resides here and I cannot leave them, no matter how my brain yearns for travel. Thus, I am a disgrace to my race which craves bonds and connections, while also failing my species which finds infinitesimal joy in connecting a rider with their ultimate aspiration.”
Getting to his feet, Wingard stretched his hands over his shoulders and cracked the stiffened joints without preamble. As they stood nearly even in height, the rather talkative avian found himself grinning regardless of the topic they were discussing. His distress over his lack of contribution to his race was a feeling of inferiority that he had long ago discarded as its self-pitying was detrimental to his own personal growth, as well as exhausting. It was a unique experience to once again feel such insecurity as his soul had fallen down such a pit of despair, so he reveled in it; finding dark humour in the fact that he had not actually dealt with his problems, but had frankly run from them. If these feelings of loss and disgust with his own actions could bring to light a topic that was distantly connected, then he was not as at peace with his existence than he initially thought. What a novel experience
Placing his hands once again in the pockets of his bryda he started speaking again, “I appreciate our conversation, Turrin. Freedom is subjective in this world and we must seize those moments of opportunity without looking back.”
Looking at the intimidating landscape before him, Wingard murmured, “I believe I will not contribute to the slaughtering any longer and use this opportunity to initiate a holiday in the Unforgiving.”
Scratching at the dried blood that had apparently been highlighting his cheekbones this entire time, the Avora idly reminded himself to bathe when he returned to Ainyi. Reaching down to pick up his previously discarded Talon sword, he strapped the scabbard back onto his bryda and looked back at Turrin once again. The man had proven to be rather insightful and surprisingly, Wingard found himself rather liking the Myrian. Listlessly, he contemplated a friendship with this man and the idea did not immediately repulse him, “Turrin,” he stated, “When you are finished with your obligations, you are welcomed to join me.”
It was not in him to disagree with the Endal because Wingard also wished for the abolishment of their caste system, but he was not naïve enough to believe that something like this would bring about such a change. Wind Reach was a city that was stuck in their ways and the fact that the upper class would be able to easily eliminate the Dek and Chiet would do nothing but feed their narcissism, exponentially increasing their superiority complex until the eagle did not wish to contemplate what the Endal and Avora would do to reinstall fear in the lower castes. This was a slaughter, after all, and maybe if the less valued society members were capable of putting up a better fight, the Valintar would contemplate a new system, but considering that they weren’t actually threatened, Wingard really didn’t think they would lose sleep over this issue. He predicted that within the next few days the Endal and Avora would crush the Dek and Chiet forces without sustaining many losses and for those that were actually killed – he did not want to contemplate what the repercussions would be for those murderers.
Turning his gaze back to the Unforgiving, the Kelvic idly studied the shadowy silhouettes that Leth created. The blackened shapes that were highlighted by the waning moon seemed to almost sparkle, their shapes flickering occasionally with each gust of wind that disturbed them. In the midst of winter where their barren branches lay naked for all to see, Wingard felt a sense of forbonding as he stared at the darkened forest. The land that was so dangerous looked even more intimidating under the cover of the night and he could only imagine what the bloodied walls of the Warrens appeared as; the splattered remains of many decorating the walls and creating demonic shadows upon the stone as the torches flickered. The stench he imagined was even more suffocating than the unhygienic three days where the springs were closed as sweat was preferred to the smells of decay and rot.
Grimacing at the dark images that settled into his mind, the eagle let out a quiet sigh as he calmed the roiling emotions within his chest. Meditation was hardly his forte and after each breath and release he gave, he had to fight to keep his mind on topic, lest he dissolve into hopelessness before this man. Schooling his figures into his noted indifference, Wingard finally responded to Turrin’s initial inquiry, his eyes lost on the eerie beauty below, “I understand where you’re coming from Turrin, and I would go as far as to agree with your assessment, but I find my mind does not hypothesize the same end as yours does. The Endal and Avora are going to come out of this foray relatively unruffled so why would they be willing to change when they remain without a reason to do so? Our people,” he stated, a quirk upon his lips, “Regardless of how I wish to disassociate with them sometimes, need something bigger in order to initiate change. Our ranks need to face a challenge they cannot conquer in order to be willing to alter their ways; otherwise, they will perish – just like the chiet and dek.”
Cracking his neck, he continued speaking, his focus now on the bond mate that the Myrian spoke so fondly of. At this point, Wingard had settled a hand back into the packed snow, propping his body up in a relaxed pose as he channeled the indifference he commonly associated with, “Aponivi sounds like an intelligent eagle, Turrin. I will have to take the time to take to the skies the next time I hear of his name in order to introduce myself to someone you speak so highly of. Your eagle, however, is an enigma among us. We are thought to be reincarnated Inarta, after all, so it would be silly to assume that we are so different from our people. Do you ever wonder why or how we chose our riders, Turrin? It is an interesting concept to think that although we have been charged with looking after and protecting the Inarta that we inadvertently send many to their societal positions. I do not know how many potential yasi come searching for a bond to only be turned down when they are not deemed fit to the privilege of connecting with the skies.”
Watching as Turrin stood, the eagle remained in his position on the floor; staring upwards at the Myrian that now towered upon him imperiously. Wingard was hardly intimidated but a smile twisted at his lips inadvertently as he noted the changed name that the Endal now associated with him. He appreciated the difference as it was a sign of mutual respect and he let out a dark chuckle as his companion apologized for their philosophical meanderings. It was not often that anyone wished to speak to him on such a hypothetical and obscure level; well, not many people wanted to speak to him in general due to his volatility, but the avian appreciated such discussion. Inadvertently, Turrin had forced him out of the suffocating hands of shock and self-pity in order to awaken his mind from the sledges of fog that had captured it so joyously. Inclining his head in order to indicate his appreciation of their talk, the eagle found himself grinning mischievously as the warrior inquired after his cryptic statements.
“We have not associated prior to the stalls, Myrian, because I am not an Inarta. My spirit flows with my innate side as it erupts from this human vessel and dances upon the winds of Zulrav. I fly with the Wind Eagles, Turrin, unridden, because I am a Kelvic unbound.” Looking him directly in the eyes, the eagle continued, “But I am also trapped, you see. My convocation resides here and I cannot leave them, no matter how my brain yearns for travel. Thus, I am a disgrace to my race which craves bonds and connections, while also failing my species which finds infinitesimal joy in connecting a rider with their ultimate aspiration.”
Getting to his feet, Wingard stretched his hands over his shoulders and cracked the stiffened joints without preamble. As they stood nearly even in height, the rather talkative avian found himself grinning regardless of the topic they were discussing. His distress over his lack of contribution to his race was a feeling of inferiority that he had long ago discarded as its self-pitying was detrimental to his own personal growth, as well as exhausting. It was a unique experience to once again feel such insecurity as his soul had fallen down such a pit of despair, so he reveled in it; finding dark humour in the fact that he had not actually dealt with his problems, but had frankly run from them. If these feelings of loss and disgust with his own actions could bring to light a topic that was distantly connected, then he was not as at peace with his existence than he initially thought. What a novel experience
Placing his hands once again in the pockets of his bryda he started speaking again, “I appreciate our conversation, Turrin. Freedom is subjective in this world and we must seize those moments of opportunity without looking back.”
Looking at the intimidating landscape before him, Wingard murmured, “I believe I will not contribute to the slaughtering any longer and use this opportunity to initiate a holiday in the Unforgiving.”
Scratching at the dried blood that had apparently been highlighting his cheekbones this entire time, the Avora idly reminded himself to bathe when he returned to Ainyi. Reaching down to pick up his previously discarded Talon sword, he strapped the scabbard back onto his bryda and looked back at Turrin once again. The man had proven to be rather insightful and surprisingly, Wingard found himself rather liking the Myrian. Listlessly, he contemplated a friendship with this man and the idea did not immediately repulse him, “Turrin,” he stated, “When you are finished with your obligations, you are welcomed to join me.”
