Solitude in Shatters (Alevadra)

[Marc]

Deletion.

Visiting Patrick again. Of course. Ale shook her head at herself. A mixture of pity and disgusting rolling about in her gut. It had been a long time since Patrick died, but Alevadra would never be able to forget it, or forgive. With a small sigh, the woman walked through the gate to the garden. Stones surrounded the knight, a sad reminder of the number of valiant, proud knights that came before her. How pitiful it seemed. Years of honor and serve, and what happens? You get a stone. The woman shook her head slightly, her left hand resting on the hilt of her sword. Murky brown eyes were focused on a distant wall, two particular stones were what continually drew the woman to that damned garden. The Druva was angry, she was usually angry; but her first day off of night shift usually created a crabby woman, her sleep schedule was skewed from waking up after only a few hours; and now, she was going to visit her mother and Patrick. Had the knight not been as consumed in her own thoughts, it would have been possible she never would have noticed that man sitting on the bench. As luck would have it though, the man let out a sigh, and Ale's eyes sharpened as she quickly looked over her shoulder toward the source of the sound. A man sat on the bench, nothing particularly remarkable about him, but books were always something of an interest to Alevadra. She never had much exposure to the bound things, but she still enjoyed the stories they contained, no matter how outlandish and unrealistic they may have been. The knight stopped, half way to the stones, torn. She could continue on and keep with her usual plan or she could leave the past as the past and move on. At least for today. Brown eyes moved from the stones back to the man and his book. It took Ale a chime or so before she turned away from the stones and stepped over next to the man. Alevadra was not known for being the most eloquent individual, but she would try. “What are you reading?” Ale asked, eyes locked on the man as she gestured with her right hand to the book. Ale turned and sat down to the left of the man, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “Can't be that good if you've stopped reading it.”

[Marc]

Marc glanced over to meet her gaze, his face carrying a gentle and professional smile. His voice matched that facade, with words that softly carried themselves in the air with a calming touch. Eloquence had been a virtue at the University, and a necessity in his own home. He answered her without a pause, blatantly lying about the contents of the book. Marc learned long ago how people tended to feel on the topic of magic, and summoning was the worst of them all. "Just a tome of myths and legends. I've lived here for years and yet I'm still able to find more of these. Some of them strike a bit too... 'close to home' however." He shrugged for a moment as he brushed the topic aside, unwilling to let an opportunity to make a good impression pass him by. "My manners seem to have forsaken me for a moment however. My name is Marcus Audenius Callus, Scholar and Observer. Gods know I've always hated that name though, so please, just call me Marc if you would, my Dame." He gave her a warm smile, and despite the close quarters, made the tight effort of extending a handshake to her. Her sword was a tad bit unsettling, but it is to be expected of the Knights. What really interested Marc was the size of this woman, and how well of a fighter she must be to overcome both her femininity and stature. His thoughts turned to being able to hug her like a mere child, but he quickly swept that one away. Just the thought of holding a woman made his skin tingle. But how adorable this knight is...

"Just a tome of myths and legends. I've lived here for years and yet I'm still able to find more of these. Some of them strike a bit too... 'Close to home' however." Ale blinked, what a peculiar statement to make. What did he mean 'close to home'? Myths and legends had little to do with most peoples home lives. Perhaps it was as she remembered myths and legends, as bedtime stories her mother and father would tell to fill her dreams with outlandish ideals. "My manners seem to have forsaken me for a moment however. My name is Marcus Audenius Callus," Ale took his hand and with surprising strength shook it. "Very well, Marc. And don't worry about the manners, bit, at least you're not one of the drunks I've had to help home." Her words were a mixture of jest and venom, it was clear she didn't care for such dealings. "I'm Sera Alevadra Druva, but, you've caught me off shift, so please, call me Ale or Alevadra. Also..." Ale smiled and leaned back against the bench. "Don't call me dame, I'm far from it." A mischievous grin flashed over her face for a moment before her normal, drab expression returned. "Did you come up here for the quiet? It seems most people come here for that." Brown eyes wandered from the soft clouds that passed by to the hundreds of miniature memorials that surrounded them. "If you came for the quiet, it'd appear I'm making that neigh impossible to enjoy." As she ended her words her eyes wandered back to the book, myths and legends, he had said. Ale found her curiosity peaking, but that was another matter, how strange would it be to ask a perfect stranger to recite some silly tale? Quite strange.

[Marc]

Marc let out a small chuckle as she spoke of herself. People tended to drop their guards after work, and that was when he preferred to have conversations and the like. Years of politicized education and etiquette does not die down easily after all, and it still remain useful. He caught her curious glance towards the tome, and froze for a moment, his mind hastily coming up with a course of action in a worst-case scenario. As he spoke, his mind was coming up with a legend to share, as 'Summoning and Ethereal Theory' would not make for a good fairy-tale. He flashed a small grin towards her as his words came through. "I usually come here for the quiet, but just as much for the people as well. The Knights are an interesting group, and there is nothing more intriguing than to watch a man in a place of sanctity." He quickly dashed the subject aside however, suddenly fearing her reason for visiting the garden. "You don't see many women in the Knights however. It is a refreshing change of pace, if you ask me.." A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he smiled to her, before shifting his gaze hastily towards the scene around him. Another mis-step. And still no one to condemn me. How cruel... Marc let out a small sigh as he gazed back over to her, his precise hands placing the tome back on his lap. Of course she was visiting a relative here. Despite her own words, he knew few enjoyed spending leisure time amidst a memorial to the dead. In a bout of paranoia, Marc felt that this could amend things a bit, and so with a sense of just equality and a pinch of good cheer, Marc prepared himself for spinning a tale. "So, would the Dame care for a story? I take it concealment wasn't a part of your squiring."

The knights were an interesting people, that was for sure. Reliable, yes, interesting, yes, fearsome? Sometimes. Alevadra simply nodded slightly as Marc spoke, he spoke of knights like he knew them, an interesting thing to the Druva. “There are not many women, that is true, but it isn't unheard of. My mother was a knight, as I am.” Ale crossed her legs and let her hands rest on her thighs. The knight's attention shifted back to the book as he moved it to his lap. The man seemed to almost read her mind, an awkward offer when there was no liquor involved. “Didn't I tell you? Ale or Alevadra, I don't much care to be called dame, Marcus.” She jabbed back with her words, her tone was a bit playful, but there was a strong undercurrent of a serious request. “Concealment wasn't something particularly talked about, it was common place for women to wrap their chest, make riding and the like much easier.” Crude, and Ale knew it. Modesty was something for ladies in frilly dresses. “A story? Perhaps. Depends on the tale.” The knights eyes wandered from Marc to the wall with the stones. A small twinge of guilt hit her. She knew they wouldn't hear her, they were gone after all, but it was a ritual she had done for years now, visiting them after her five days of work. And now they sat alone and forgotten, like the eldest of the stones around her. Who came to weep for them? Right, no one. The woman shook the thoughts from her head. Patrick would probably have preferred you honor him with two pints of ale and a few dozen prayers as you spill your guts in the stable. Ale smiled at the memory. That fool. “You said you've been here for years, yes? Where were you before 'here' became 'home'?” Nice. Small talk. Ale mentally shunned herself for the question.

[Marc]

Deletion.

“Ah. Concealment of the body is nothing too difficult these days, but concealment of the mind is a different story. If one knows where to look, it becomes easy to gauge one's feelings and reactions simply off of the face. Being nice to look at always helps as well.” Ale cocked an eyebrow at the man. Such queer words and strange way of speaking, she'd grown up with squires and knights, his words were strange indeed. The compliment was one Alevadra would have easily missed had a subtle smile not passed over Marc's face. The knight was rough around the edges but genuine compliments that didn't involve her fighting ability or some other skill were rare. So, Marc was lucky in that he caught Ale off guard, her sudden shift and rather confused look would read either as offense or surprise, but the knitting of her brows would lean more toward the latter. The knight cleared her throat before speaking. “Ah, are you saying you're reading me like you do that book? I suppose that's not too surprising. That's something you have to pick up, you know, when you're a knight. You learn to read people.” The woman leaned back again, relaxing her befuddled face to squint up at the sky. “I'll give you credit though, Marc, I can't get a read on you.” She stated with a slight shrug of her shoulder. The woman listened in silence as the man gave a synopsis of his childhood. Suddenly, Alevadra understood a lot more about the man's strange behavior. A life of books and philosophy. Well educated and cooped up in a constant state of learning as a child? Ale shuddered to think. “So, I take it you didn't go outside and pretend to be a knight often, eh? Lots of... Pretending to be a scholar in a stuffy room?” A jest, for sure, more a comparison of what Ale assumed another difference in their upbringings would have been. “So, how's the search going then? Find yourself yet?”

[Marc]

Marc actually chuckled. He had actually spent a surprising amount of time outdoors as a child, despite his privileged upbringing. Playing knight however was not a part of his education, so there was a valid argument to be had. Marc tried to summarize his thoughts into a coherent and sophisticated argument, and smirked as he spoke. "No knight games unfortunately. Everything there was a giant game of politics and power trips. It got annoying after a while, needless to say." Marc smiled to his chivalrous companion as she spoke of the present though, and was glad to leave his memories to their somber resting places. "As to finding myself, I guess you could say I have... Although people aren't very enthusiastic about it." He didn't like going into the details of his magic with strangers, and rarely did they. Marc switched sides deftly just in case the knight tried to press further. He scanned her expression for anything to bring up, and spoke politely and carefully. "So how is it like being the chivalric guardian of an entire city? A woman such as yourself doesn't deserve to look so weary." And so the table turned, for another player to etch her story into the air of the Gardens.

Ale smiled, how unfortunate, no knight games! What a shame. But Zeltiva was an entirely different world compared to Syliras, it wasn't too surprising that pretending to be a knight and wielding a stick were not commonplace there. “Politics and power trips? Sounds like a painfully tedious place. At least you've escaped that.” The woman stated plainly, she clearly had little desire for politics, that was her fathers domain. The woman was about to question Marc as to why others were less than fond of his revelation, but suddenly things were turned on her. “So how is it like being a chivalric guardian of an entire city? A woman such as yourself doesn't deserve to look so weary.” Flattery again, twice in one day! This was a treat. The knight shook her head slightly. “Weary or not, it's my duty. Anyways, these bags,” The woman poked at the flesh under her eyes. “Is only from the night watches I've been on for the past five days, I'm sure it'll clear up.” The knight shifted and stood up, she was tired of sitting. “As for my chivalric duties I haven't rescued anyone from a burning building or anything fantastic like that. Mostly just keep people in line, little things like drunks, the occasional fight.” The woman let out a small laugh. “The occasional fool who things summoning some Gods forsaken monster in the city is a good idea.” The woman shook her head, looking out across the garden. “Over all, there are days you love it, and days you hate it. Much like any other duty. I will always be proud of what I am, that is for certain.” Brown eyes turned from the garden back to Marc. She watched him for a moment, silently. “Enough about that, though.” The woman stretched a bit, keeping her left hip point away from Marc, a habit the woman had acquired with time, keep your weapon away from others, for others are strange creatures with odd behaviors. After a moment of stretching she motioned again to the book. “So, what legends and myths fill those pages? I haven't heard a bedtime story in ages.” She dragged out the last word, as if to make the time seem longer than it even really was. The knight sat back down next to Marc, crossing her legs.