Solo Some Much-Needed Advice.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

64th of Summer, 514.

There were just those days, sometimes. Days when the Pycon craved the wind in his face and the trees beneath him. He was a squirrel in spirit, even if he was clay in body. No matter where he went, and no matter what he did, nothing could ever take that part of his life away from him. There were days when he hardly felt any pull at all from the trees and the forests that he'd grown up in. Other days, like today, the pull was strong enough to push all other thoughts from his head until it was more like the craving of an addict. He needed it, more than anything else in the world, and had forced himself away from Ser Iros for the day by sneaking out of the Dorm before the hulking Akalak could come knocking. He knew that he'd get in trouble for it afterwards, but afterwards could wait. Everything else that wasn't the forest, could wait for now.

Heads blurred beneath him, as the squirrel leaped between them as though they were little more than stepping stones. When the crowds thinned away from the corridors cutting off the districts, he switched to the floor and instead slipped nimbly between the various legs that stepped in his way. One of them was knocked straight over as the squirrel unfortunately wasn't able to slip around them in time, and the loud shouts could be heard in the background, but became nothing but white noise to his mind as the sounds and the smells of fresh summer pine filled his nostrils and threatened to send him into a fit of sensory overload with its clarity and purity.

Everything else became fractured; something else took over, and his nonexistent muscles were working so hard that his limbs all felt numb and yet continued to function, as though he'd lost control of them completely. His mouth gasped with the effort, and a deep burn resonated all the way through his body - something between the muscle burn that humans often got from running too long, and the burn in the lungs from a lack of oxygen, and a burn right down in the bones that ached for hours on end from the shock of being forced to use nearly everything possible to his advantage - from human heads, to running walls just to be able to slip around the passing people. He was watching himself from a distance, as if everything was just one big hallucination. A dream, where he was forever running down dark corridors, stretching for that one glimpse of light that moved away at the same time as he drew close. Forever out of reach.

Then it all cleared. The guards that stood watch at the gates of the castle eyed him with raised eyebrows as he sprinted out at full speed, across the stretches of grass, and straight for the trees. He was finally home. Truly home - this was where he'd lived for the first seasons of his childhood. Here, and nowhere else. The place he'd slept, eaten, that was only a house. The Bronze Woods were his, and once he was under their shade and comfort, he was invincible. Until, at least, a heavily armoured foot stepped right into his path and the squirrel could do nothing but crash straight into it. The metal crumpled around the joints at the ankle, and in an instant the Sergeant Knight was crashing to the floor, with the rest of his wing immediately surrounding the small squirrel with their weapons drawn and expressions neither confused nor angry, but somewhere between the two. .... Oh.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

The squirrel was by no means clumsy. However, not even he could avoid such an unexpected foot passing so close to his face that another inch and it likely would have crushed his little nexus and snuffed him straight out of existence. Perhaps it was the excitement and adrenaline that had blinded him for a moment, but it didn't really matter now. What mattered were the many sword-points aimed squarely at his head. Four, to be precise. The fifth knight was busy helping the temporarily-crippled sergeant from the ground, as well as remove the parts of his armour that had been unfortunately dented by the squirrels face. A lot of the knights looked pretty uneasy when faced with a squirrel made out of clay, but they held their ground until their sergeant finally commanded them otherwise and requested for them to lower their weapons again.

The squirrel just sat on his back, arms spread and slightly dazed from the shake. His nexus felt like it was spinning around his tiny head and he just couldn't stop it. "... Ow." Then, the strangest thing happened - something he'd never really expected from a knight, never mind a sergeant. He parted the knights that had pressed to make a wall separating the small squirrel and their sergeant, reached down with a single hand, and lifted the squirrel from the ground so that he could get a proper look at him.

"I must say, you're the smallest aggressor I've ever met." The man looked more thoughtful than actually angry, and for that the squirrel could at least relax a little. If anything, it looked like he was struggling to control a little smile peeking at the corners of his lips, but the squirrel wasn't really focused on that.

"I'm not an aggressor! It's your fault for appearing out of nowhere.. I didn't mean to knock you over, or damage your armour.. Ser." A bit of a flimsy excuse, but it really was all he had to run off. The knights face gained a few more creases as he looked over the squirrel a second and a third time, scrutinizing everything about him. The fact that he held no weapons, and that he'd just left Syliras in a full sprint, and he wasn't really carrying anything at all. Surely the knight couldn't think that the squirrel was a thief or worse, trying to escape the city for whatever reason?

If he had any other opinion, he was very acute at hiding it. "Of course it is. Come along now. Let's get you back in the city and find out just what you were in such a rush for." How could this happen? He'd just managed to escape the city, and he was being dragged straight back inside its walls. Back into the choking embrace of a thousand sweaty bodies struggling for air and space inside the cramped corridors, and back to his ever-impatient patron knight who always wanted him to work on his strength.. as though it would ever do anything to actually make his body stronger. The man knew nothing of the Pycon anatomy!

"Please, no, ser..." The sergeant knight looked even more intrigued as he began to walk back towards the open gates - the other knights easily falling into their ranks around him, weapons resheathed but with hands resting lightly on the hilts. Well, they already knew that the squirrel could effectively break through their platemail, whether or not he actually ever intended for it. "I've only just managed to get out from the training session with my patron, and..."

"Hold on." The man nearly stopped straight in his tracks, and even the other knights circling him stumbled for a few moments as they looked down towards the squirrel. The rather small, brown-and-grey squirrel that could easily fit into the palm of the mans hand, who was also a squire training to become a knight of the Order. "A squire, eh? Can you tell me the name of your patron, then?" They'd stopped again, just as far from the gates as before, and the squirrel could feel it. Was this an interrogation or something?

"He's Ser Iros, ser. Akalak knight.. tall, uses a spear and a shield.." He hoped that it was enough, but the mans lips only pursed tighter still as he looked over the squire a.. was it a third time, a fourth? He didn't even know any more, he'd lost count. All he knew is that he really didn't like the look that he had. There was always a bit of thought in it, as though he really was deciding the squirrels fate. He could have been thrown into the Tank by now, sent off for what was essentially life toiling away in the fields for basic scraps.

[Archailist]

My Words | Your Words | My Thoughts

"I suppose I can let your.. mistake.. slide under the rug for now." Was there ever a moment the man did not think his words so carefully that the Pycon was genuinely unsure whether the man was deemed a little 'slow' or whether he was just lost so deep in his own thought that even communicating was like wading through vast, ethereal oceans? "However. I think it's time I took you back to your patron, don't you?" Just as soon as the squirrels hopes had been raised that he was off the hook and left to frolic in the free time he had, they'd been dashed back against the icy walls of Stormhold Castle. He'd be taken back to his patron, and he'd likely end up spending the rest of the day with some damnably monotonous and meaningless task to do over and over again. It was the sergeants way of punishing.

"I suppose... I mean, yes, Ser." He almost forgot his manners, but when he corrected himself, at least some form of recognition appeared in the sergeants eye as the human lifted the squirrel high enough to be able to drop him down onto his own armor-plated shoulder. The other knights slowly filed in behind their commander, fists resting near the handles of their swords just in case the squirrel tried anything. Unbelievable. He never knew how paranoid some knights could be, about fellow members of their Order no less. Perhaps there was some unspoken rule among the higher orders, and some hidden bias against those that were deemed below them. The squirrel couldn't vouch for it, but the longer he sat there, the more the idea swirled around his little clay nexus, and the more sure he became that it was true.

"Now, since we'll likely be stuck together until I found your patron, why don't you tell me why you were in such a rush to get out of the city. Trying to run away from your duties?" The squirrel glanced over with a hard glare, but the sergeant wasn't even looking back at the squirrel - his eyes were fixed ahead, sliding over the few civilians that were forced to push aside and make room for the column of armored knights making their way through.

"I wasn't running from my duties! Why do you have to take everything I say and make it sound like I was doing something bad?" It was simply impossible to have a normal conversation with someone that took everything he said, everything he did, and made him look and sound like a damn criminal trying to wriggle out of everything. The knights making up the wing behind were surely snickering away under the visors of their helmets, not that he heard a peep from them barring one who took a larger step forward than the rest so that he was very visible to the small squirrel.

"Hey, didn't your patron teach you to talk with any respect to your superiors? You should be addressing him as 'Ser'!" Normally the rebuke would send the squirrel back into his shell, but not today. He rounded himself quickly to try and strike down the knight before he continued with whatever rant he was about to spring into next, when he was silenced - not by a shout, but a quiet whisper from the Sergeant who'd only now apparently turned back to pay attention to his surroundings instead of staring off endlessly. "Ahh, I don't think we can blame him for his behaviour," the sergeant spoke with a soft smile, "since his patron shares the same problems and I don't think any of us would like to try and say it to his face, now would we?" Suddenly they were all silenced again - cowed.

Arch didn't know why, but it made him quite proud to know that his patrons reputation could pretty much silence the other knights at the prospect of trying to argue with the behemoth of a muscled Akalak. That, too, was smashed to pieces in no more than a few sentences. "Shame though. I'd have hoped for better." The squirrels head dropped in shame - the words were about as condescending as they came, and worst of all, it hit a deep spot somewhere in his nexus. He'd never wanted to become similar to the man that had hated him from the moment they'd met, but spending so much time with him, day in and day out, had an effect that he couldn't control.

"Not my fault..." he mumbled under his breath, not even addressing the sergeant, and yet he still heard.

"Ahh, I think we both know that's a lie if there ever was one.." He couldn't even be angry any more.. which was good, because otherwise he likely would have given the sergeant knight a broken cheekbone by now, whether or not there was a damn sheet of metal to block his path. He couldn't even throw a glare off in the man's general direction.. just sit there feeling ashamed and sorry for himself that he'd done so much in so little time to disgrace his name and patron.