A Never Ending Walk [Open]

[Maliken]

Timestamp: 29th of Winter, AV 510

Malanos was here. Her cousins were here. They haven't seen each other in several seasons. Maliken had been away for so long, only returning to Sultros after her injury, then the infection, then the amputation. It had been a rough experience, just surviving these past many days of life. The Isur as a people strove for excellence, no. Not Excellence. Excellence was not adequate. Perfection, and nothing but, was the only thing they accepted. Perfection, some may say, was subjective to the eyes and opinions of the beholder, but that's not how the Isur saw things. Geometric beauty, perfect lines, accurate angles, captivating realism, emotional statues, breathtaking temples, the best of weapons anywhere. Everything they believed was mastered into a very strict science. Symmetry was only one of these beauties that the loved. It was why Maliken was given cruel, judgmental stares once she was made inferior, it was why she was inferior at all, it was why she could not accept her fate for what it was. Maliken had lost her left arm, and though it was not the trademark Isur arm she was blessed with, it was still one strong muscular arm less than she should have. She was off balance, she was different, she was ugly, maimed, mutilated, destroyed, cast from Izurdin's loving gaze, and she could not live like this. No, suicide was not the first thought in her mind, though there were already subconscious preparations for such action should her dedication and tenacity prove to be too little to restore herself back to the way she once was. No, it was something more honorable and self-respectful that she had in mind. It was something that few could understand, but to her, it was necessity. She had found herself in Alvadas, and though the only people she had met was some hooded man that was busy trying to master the art of walking up the side of a building (who managed to squeeze a moment in to point her towards the Sanity Center), and the lone woman in said Sanity Center, she found the place obnoxiously flawed. Nothing made sense here, and when something didn't make sense, her Isur blood screamed mentally towards every flaw. Each inch of imperfection was obviously not Isur created, which meant she was no longer amongst her beloved people. Maliken, after leaving the Sanity Center, went off into town once again to try and make north and south of the place, though the streets themselves proved difficult to read. It must have been an hour that Maliken had been walking down the same path, not a turn either left nor right, not a look back, but not an inch farther towards her destination. The feet she possessed seemed to fail her in actually blessing with movement. No, she moved, but the street itself seemed to pull away from her, as if it was actually some tunnel that only expanded with each step, thus lengthening both the distance she came from, and to which she was moving towards. It was an unnerving feeling, walking without progress, as if digging a hole only put you on top of a mound of dirt, and further attempts on a hill, and further still a mountain. Still she moved, convinced that she could not, logically, walk one path for eternity. At some point, she had to reach something.

[Malanos]

This was a city of wonders to Malanos, he looked at it's symmetry and he saw hidden meaning. Unlike most of his kind who took everything upon it's perfection, Malanos viewed things through the eye of his heart. Seeing the beauty of the city, the masterful designs of the illusion. He loved to watch the streets, trying to discern what was true and what was not. But in the end it mattered little, there was truth in everything. Whether that truth was initially visible is where everything becomes dim. This particular day had been a day of rest, he had finished his duties at the Kitrean Krafts early and had spent the day loafing around the streets. These streets could hardly be described as mundane, his experience was ever changing and always filled with interest. He had seen a dog with a flaming tail, a man with seven fingers, and other such oddities. However the object that really drew his attention was the Isur with a single arm... She was walking as if in a haze, and she was obviously not yet accustomed to the curiosities of Alvadas. As he watched her his heart filling with pity for his kin, he began to wonder how such a grievous wound could have been given to her. It was then that his heart fell into his feet, this was not an ordinary kin. This maimed Isur was his cousin Maliken, daughter of his father's younger brother. He rushed forward clasping her into an embrace, his strong chest pulling her into him. "My cousin, what has happened to you! Why are you in this city? When did you come back to this country, you have been missing for far too long.?" Malanos had always been an affectionate cousin, and Maliken held a special place in his heart. His uncle had been very kind and had treated Malanos as if he were the son which he was unable to bear. Maliken had been like a sister to him, and he had missed her sorely when she had gone on her travels.

[Maliken]

Was a fog of misery it was. Maliken could only sway, the right portion of her body considerably heavier, considerably stronger, weighted. Before the severing of the arm, she had often felt the tug of her stronger, denser, heavier, god-gifted arm, but now that the counterweight, though inferior significantly, was removed. She felt as though she had to focus with her whole body just not to lose balance, to tip overboard in that odd weight. Maliken lifted her arm to her face. Her hand was cool, rough, calloused and perfect, but it had no equal. Nothing to balance her out. No support. When Malanos ran up to her, she didn't budge, not to push him away, not particularly to embrace him. Even though he is the one she had hoped to find here, and thank Izurdin he was here, she felt no immediate relief. She was still mangled, ruined. A disgrace to her people, her family, herself, and her god. He held her there for a moment, a long firm moment. Maliken could feel the heat radiating from his body, the smell of the forge, a scent only a true Isur could identify, clung to him. Of course he had been working, dedicated as always. A true Isur he was. Her cousin, closer than any brother could have beem. "Malanos." Maliken, finally, raising her arm, wrapping it around his side, her hand resting on the muscular powerful back of his. Malanos, Maliken would never forget, was always one of the more beautiful pieces of art she'd seen. Through life in Sultros, he was the one all the girls talked about. They would often speak with her about trying to get him to talk to them. It was childish, and even at that age Maliken had an interesting development in her personality. She was not girly, not even by an Isur standard. Maliken might as well have been a man. Her father wanted her to be one, taught her to speak like one. The only thing he didn't try to force on her was to make her love like one. No, it was 'work hard', 'be strong', 'don't cry', 'no fear', 'no regret'. She was taught to make perfection, and anything less than had to be remade from scratch. "A simple alteration," her father always said, "would not make an imperfect piece a perfect one. A perfect piece must be perfect from scratch." The perfect material must be mined. The perfect forge must make the perfect steel. The perfect hands must use the perfect tools. The perfect art must be perfectly pure, beginning to end, and then, and only then, would Izurdin acknowledge your perfect work. But a perfect Isur has two arms. "It was the late Fall when I returned with my father, and several others. We had visited many promising veins in a particular mountain range." Maliken managed a grin. Mining was something she enjoyed, the constant search for precious metals buried onto the crushing weight of stone. She hadn't touched a pick since. "Yes, three years. We had done well, my father had sent many tons of ore to uncle, your father. You might have used some of it yourself. The best of it he sold to other clans, and often we had to pay a portion of our finding to afford the boats to ship it across the Suvan. The humans are such greedy fools." Maliken nodded. She could literally talk about every expedition into the earth, whether they had found anything of value or came up empty handed. Maliken, once the embrace was well over, took a step back from Malanos. He was even more muscular than she remembered. It was almost startling to compare him to when they were so much younger. He was scrawny at one point. "I came here... I came for you." Maliken knew only very little of her cousin's situation. She knew he fled, but did not know why. She heard he was in trouble, but the reason for it had evaded her. Maliken started walking again. She had no particular destination in mind, not that it would be easily found should she have had one. He beckoned for him to follow. She had a lot to say. "I've done some research, but I could not find what I was looking for in the family Libraries. I even borrowed books, listened to tales from other clans, but I am not pleased with the lack of results. Malanos, look at me. Often I have seen statues of those that lived in our race's great history. Often I have seen the weapons of which Legends are made. But... but I have, looked closely... at everything. Everything I saw, the blades, the statues, the people... They're beautiful. Aren't they? I've never seen a statue that was made with one arm. I have never seen a perfect blade that was not balanced, symmetrical, aligned. Help me fix this Malanos. I cannot face Izurdin like this." Maliken was more calm than she felt. Her breathing was heavy and fierce, almost aggressive and violent. She looked almost like she wanted to destroy something, as if making one more thing imperfect would restore her. If only it were that easy.

[Malanos]

Malanos was filled with a mixture of joy, excitement, and sorrow at the sight of his cousin. When he embraced her it seemed like she stood in a trance for an age, before her arm came up to wrap around his side. As they embraced memories flowed freely through his mind, bringing back flashbacks of his childhood and the years of his young adult life. They were pleasant memories, something that had been escaping his mind of late. Malanos had been meditating on his situation, and not taking the time to remember the people that cared for him, the people whom he loved. Yes, he had fallen out of favor with his father, but not in a way that disgraced the family. He had disobeyed an order from the patriarch, but not in dishonor or disrespect. They had not come to blows, they had not even truly had many arguments. It was fortunate that the Ironfist family was so close knit, for the situation could have turned sinister very quickly. After all the Pitrius aren't known for their love of honesty. The mere presence of Maliken gave him a glimmer of hope, his family was more important than any parting of intellectual paths. His father had not abandoned him, they had merely parted paths for time. He was still a member of the Ironfist family line, he still held the symbol of his family. His father had made a point of gifting it to him before he left. But what was pressing was the condition of his family, Maliken, if sight could be trusted, was in a deep state of trouble. She seemed physically healed, but if her mind followed the same paths as her fathers (which it almost certainly did) she would bear the weight of her imperfection more heavily than most. It was something of a miracle that she had kept her life, her love of exact symetrical perfection is what made her so perfect an Isur, she would judge the loss of her perfection harshly. These were the thoughts that rushed through the mind of Malanos as his cousin began to speak. She began suddenly, as if coming out of a deep sleep into the light. Mining, of course they were mining. Malanos remembered the oar that his uncle had shipped to them. It had been good ore, pure and strong. His uncle was a fabulous miner, and was skilled at finding hidden veins in the endless tunnels of rock. The entire family had relied on his ore for their projects, he was a pragmatist and often condemned the abstract philosophies of the clan in the open courts. His influence had been strong over Malanos, his honest and simple mindset had quickly won over the mind of the young Isur. Malanos had seen the beauty of simplicity and perfection, unfortunatly this had been the cause of many heated discussions with his very traditional father. Finally with a light squeeze Malanos released his cousin, looking her over more carefully as he spoke. "Yes, the ore you sent was well used in the family. It was good ore, your father is a masterful miner." His face filled with surprise as Maliken spoke of her reason for being in Alvadas. He had expected her to try and find some obscure form of new arcana to practice. She had always been one to seek perfection, albeit in a completely different way from Malanos. "For me? What do you want of me? I'm pleased beyond measure to see you, but what could I be of help to you for?" Then she let it out, it was as he had thought. Her mind was weighed down with the imperfection of her body. What could he do but attempt to help her? Maliken was as a sister to him, she was family and for that alone he would have helped her. Nothing meant more to Malanos than his family, they were the driving force of his life. "I will do everything in my power to return you to the sight of Izurdin. I will search until my bones are as the dust of the gorund, and my last breath has been taken. We will find you a cure, this I swear upon the fist of Izurdin."