[Sanctuary] Taking back what was lost [open]

[Akela]

68th day of Winter, 509 AV
Late morning, outside the Sanctuary

Akela glared at the clouds of steam she was puffing out of her mouth. There was no way in the Ukalas that three laps around the Sanctuary would have had the old Akela so out of breath. Even though the physical exhaustion of the first days in Riverfall was a thing of past, and her body was getting over the privations she had suffered, two years of slacking on her training regimen had taken a heavy toll on her. She had been the joy of the Pavilion as a swordswoman, if only as that; but even that one source of pride was lost now.

Standing outside the gates of the Sanctuary, it did not occur to Akela that visitors may mistake her for her sister Kavala; the similarity was almost uncanny, until they saw the katana dangling at her side, anyways. That particular item was as un-Kavala as it could get. Akela did some stretching and began working on her daily pushups and crunches, cursing her body for disappointing her. It was all her fault and she knew it, in truth, but she was an impatient woman. Her sword almost mentioned it to her when Akela had the impression it was talking to her. Too impatient, Akela, you want too much too fast.

In truth, Akela thought she wasn't asking for too much. Not like she'd ever had too much, or too fast. Right now she found herself in Riverfall, a place she did not know at all, with almost no possessions other than what she had stolen from the Zith colony, a shadow of her former self and back to square one with her life. Even among the Akalak she would be known simply as "Kavala's sister" and perhaps they might even try to have her submit to the same brooding mare deal as they had with her sister. Sometimes Akela felt that Kavala had a hard time saying no, which was ironic since Akela also a hard time saying no when her Gnosis was involved. The experience with the Zith had made Akela very selective, though. It also had taught her that Nikali's mark did not dislike her sword at all, and the other way around.

She got back on her feet, wiped the sweat off her hands and gripped the hilt of her katana. "Ha!" she yelled, motivating herself with her voice. She took a half step forward and drew her sword, slashing at an imaginary opponent with the same movement. She sheathed it once more and shook her head. No good. She felt like everything she did was in slow motion. This wasn't the Akela she remembered.

"Ha!" she called out again, going through the form several times. She did not sheathe after the last attempt, instead taking on several fighting stances, with the sword both in front and over her head. She started practicing her slashes starting from the easiest. It wasn't just her body; it was her mind, as well. The past two years had changed her in a way that would also require her swordsmanship to change. What the way of the sword may have been to her back then, was no more. Akela was at a crossroads. She knew that the next few months would decide whether she was destined to truly shine with the blade or she should just hang it to the wall as a memento of brighter years.

[Kavala]

Kavala spent the morning working a young riding mare that was still somewhat rough around the edges. She'd been in the round pen, teaching the mare to circle on the right lead, and then cross over and pick up the other lead as she changed directions. It wasn't hard work, but it involved standing in the middle of the round pen directing the mare for long periods of time as the mare worked up a sweat and got stronger in her hind limbs. Kavala had worked from sun up to sun down day after day since she'd arrived at Sanctuary, digging post holes, hauling wood, carrying buckets, and cleaning up after the horses and other patients. And while her skills had grown, there were other things that had changed as well. Growing up, she'd always been the soft curvy one while her sister had been the willowy hard one. Swordwork came naturally to Akela, while Kavala could barely lift a blade without risking cutting something off.

But that had changed. Kavala's body was sleek and hardened from the work she did. Muscles were toned, defined, and she felt stronger than she ever had. Not, however, that it would change the fact that she'd never pick up a blade. As a healer, she was sworn to do no harm except in the name of healing. That meant fighting wasn't really an option... though she'd briefly considered learning the bow. One had to eat, and the Dyrkas were known for their bow work.

However, watching her sister jog by several times, Kavala simply shook her head. When she turned the mare out into the pasture to play after her workout, Kavala joined Akela where she was working with her blade. Leaning against the railing, the younger sister couldn't help but express her love.

"You got fat doing all that work on your back. Fat and slow. Vanator would be delighted to see you like this. He could finally give you what he thinks you've had coming to you all these years ...." An impish grin crossed the young konti's face as she waited for the wrath that was certain to come.

[Akela]

The sword had been Akela's friend from her early childhood, before she even knew it was meant to kill things. There was joy in handling it, in drawing those intricate arcs, dancing to the rhythm of the half-turns, feeling one's arms weave their spiderweb of concerted motions. Eachann had put a sword in her hand, and he had been the first to mention the way of the sword. One could know all the stances, the forms, the theory of attacks and counters, and be able to execute each flawlessy, but one could not master the sword without living the sword. There was an energy pervading the world, and Akela thought she could feel it through the blade, as the normal Konti sight had always been impeded. It was what had made her more proficient than the stronger Vanator when they were younger. It wasn't strength, or technique - not only that, at least. It was that feeling of standing between the sky and the earth, and the horizon was a cut in the universe.

Akela had always been an impatient girl, always wanting more and wanting it soon. She wondered now, if all her progress before the Zith had been fake, a lesson not truly learned. If so, what else did she have to learn? What was the way of the sword? Somehow, she felt she needed her sister's opinion. Sometimes Kavala saw things that were far from obvious to Akela, but because she was so introspective she did not always share them unless asked to. Kavala was patient. Kavala was the solid earth under the horses' hooves; Akela was more like the whimsical sky, always rolling forward and never fully sure where she'd go next.

And lo and behold, talk about the Velispar. Akela finished practicing a downward slash at an angle, doing a half-turn to attack a second imaginary opponent, and sheathed her katana, pausing to catch her breath. Her cheeks were rose with the effort, and she wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead.

"No sword jokes, sister dear? I am almost relieved," she grinned. Fat she wasn't, not really, not after the half-starving on the way to Riverfall, but slow, she felt - every little inch of her body. "I got to give poor Vanator a little advantage to keep the match from being too one-sided."

She placed one hand on the pommel of the katana and thrust it forward. "You sure you don't want to take my scabbard and join me? Rak'keli lets you cook and this would be by far the more harmless of the two." She tried a combination, parrying a fictitious opponent's strike and sliding her blade along his before going for two cuts.

"But seriously, Kavala, I'm thinking I suck at this now. I can get my old body back in a season or two, but it's like I lost something else and I'm supposed to replace it, but I don't have a clue... and I'm accepting suggestions." She stopped and turned to her sister, curious to hear her reply.

[Kavala]

Kavala knew her sister wasn't fat. More importantly, there was no danger she'd grow fat on Kavala's cooking either. As for jokes bout swords, Kavala had plenty of them. "I'm surprised your not talking to that blade, even now, rather than to me. I talk back while your sword has always been one to take your sass. I actually think it enjoys making you sore and miserable, which your undoubtedly going to be if the way your moving now is any indication. You look like you have a spear shoved up your hind end and twisted sideways." Kavala said, laughing slightly, trying to repay the cooking dig.

"Someday I'll learn to cook. Until then, we'll learn to starve, no? What was it that Vanator always said? 'It doesn't matter what we learn so long as we're busy learning it. I missed Vanator's stew almost as much as I missed watching your bladework. You move beautifully, Akela. Don't let anyone, yourself included, tell you differently." The healer said softly, almost wistfully. There was a tinge of homesickness in her voice. "Even with that spear...." she said, laughing lightly. The laughter was short lived though. "I wonder, sometimes, if I didn't make a mistake not learning the blade when I had a chance too - along with you both." She meant her brother and sister, of course. "It just never seemed to suit me. I can't move like you can, even to defend myself. Not that I could anyhow. With Rak'keli's mark, I am not so good at hurting things nowadays. I...." Kavala paused, looked uncomfortable for a moment, then met her sister's gaze over the konti swinging her blade. "I never realized how much I relied on your ability to protect us, Akela. I don't know how you put up with it. Even now, I'm useless... and your bladework is beautiful. I don't anything is ever going to change either. I've thought about taking up a bow, but I don't know that I could do it. It seems so.... out of place. What do you think about when you practice? How did you know it was going to be a blade?" She asked, curious how her sister's warrior mind worked. "I know when I'm stitching up a wound or healing, my mind might be a million strides away." She said, sighing and leaning against the top rail of the arena where Akela was working.

[Akela]

The topic of Vanator's stew was almost enough to make Akela drool. She loved food, and good food in particular. She had never lost her appetite even when fed the Zith's dubious meat rations - they loved it and so did she by way of gnosis. Kavala's cooking, on the other hand, was the typical example of something that made you stronger by not killing you... hopefully. The older sister grinned at the younger's jabs and then sheathed the blade, listening to her words with interest. Kavala had never wasted a word in all her life. Everything she said was worth listening to.

"This is the viewpoint of one who knows nothing about healing and medicine, so take it with a pouch of salt, but I think healing is a battle in its own right, Kavala," she answered softly, but with a certainty to her voice. "You are fighting against death. You never get to choose your battlefield, or the rules of engagement. And in the end, it's a losing battle." She smiled a little. "I think it takes a lot of courage to fight such an unfair battle. You already have your own weapon in a way, no?"

The girl stretched a little, placing both hands on the railing. "I think it was Father who put a blade in my hand first. He tried several, and I liked the slight curve on the katana, that and the hissing sound it made against the air. I've lost count of how many times I tried to change your mind on weapons, actually." But now there was the trauma of capture and torture. "Father said that before the Valterrian, there were many people who learned the martial arts for spiritual purposes and never used them to hurt another. The times have changed, but you could still do that if you wanted. To use a weapon, or indeed your body in battle, though... you need the killer instinct, the will to kill. You didn't have it back then, Kav, and I can't feel it in you right now either." 'You don't care what happens to you deeply enough,' was the unspoken line.

Akela pulled herself up and sat on the railing, legs dangling freely. "You have to be selfish to survive, that's the philosophy of battle. Back then, I was as selfish as they come. I didn't have much other than the blade, after all. That's my problem now. I can't be selfish anymore, not like I used to be. My sense of self is in tatters... I want what others want. That's why my sword is slow and silly even though I'm still Akela. I need to start over and find an answer to that. I need to find a greater... sense." Akela bit on her lower lip absent-mindedly.

"Booo-ring, huh?" she laughed softly, "I suggest you just get yourself a blowgun and cook... I mean, brew some weird non-lethal drug to use it with."

[Kavala]

Kavala smiled at her sister, leaning a foot up on the first rail of the round pen and letting her chin rest on the top bar. She looked young, innocent, and terribly vulnerable - like she had always been even from an early age. "Yes, but it is not a loosing battle to me. Not at all. It's an exciting challenge. If something's sick, it makes me crazy to figure out why. It is a lot like life is filled with a big mystery, and its my job to solve that mystery. Each time I pick up my healers bag, I learn something important. Maggots can clean out a wound better than a healer can. They eat only the dead flesh. That's an astonishing miracle to me. And there's hundreds more. In my lifetime I will discover thousands I think. There's no feeling like making someone feel better, especially the innocents - the animals." Kavala said, shifting and trading out the foot that was braced on the railing. "No... no killer instinct here, Akela. I'm afraid you inherited all of that from Father. And we've always ate well because of it." Akela was the one that the task of slaughtering herd animals fell too. Kavala could dress and render the carcasses easily enough, but removing the light from their eyes was never easy on her. So they worked together - one slaughtering, one dressing. It was almost as if together they were a better person than the sum of their halves.

"Martial arts? I don't think so. Maybe some tumbling or acrobatics, but I'm not sure.... It would help me regain some strength." Truthfully regaining strength wasn't her issue, and Akela could tell she wasn't going to do it anyhow. There was too much hesitation in her voice. Working herself into an exhaustion daily had caused her muscles to fill out and her body to loose the girlish look it'd always had.

"Akela, that only comes with time. That sense of self. I'm making Sanctuary my place - my core. You'll find something too, something that will blow in on the wind or present itself to you when you least expect it. I know you think I'm hiding... and maybe your right. But I want a sense of belonging somewhere. Here's as good as anywhere else, right? Besides, I have dreams. I want to learn to sail.... crazy isn't it? I've never seen the sea before I went to Mura, and now I love it. I love waking up every morning and smelling it, seeing the Suvan, riding on the beach. It's my sword, I think... this place. I think you knew who you were before. I did too. But now things are different. We are different. We should get to know the new us. I want to be surprised. I think I will be. I know you already astonish me. You make me proud. I've always been proud of you, but not like this. You're... better somehow. I don't know if I can explain it. You'll get used to walking around in your skin. It just takes time." Kavala smiled.

"Starting over. It's a good thing. That's what I'm doing. You're right. I just didn't realize it. And as for a blowgun, that sounds like a great idea. The clinic has a lab for philtering and mixing medicines. I might as well learn, eh? Will you let me use your fat ass for target practice?" Kav said, reaching up abruptly in a very un-Kavala like way and giving her sister a shove from where she was perched. If she managed to fall off the rail (which would very much surprise Kavala) she'd only land in the soft sand. "Breaks over. Get back to work. I'll go get Wind and throw his blanket on him. We have some grass mats I can double up and strap together. I'll ride you down on the ground, and you can practice your sword work against a horseman. Wind will think its fun. He remembers you." The sister said, laughing, as she darted off to get the supplies she needed.

[Akela]

In truth, Akela's life could have continued just fine without the knowledge that maggots could clean a wound better than a healer. "I think getting wounded just became even more unappealing for some reason," she murmured with a small grin. No, she'd have to be very careful not to get the maggot treatment. Akela could not remember exactly the last time she'd received a serious wound, as the scars tended to fade away after a while. She suspected it was her mark's influence, ridding the body of the signs that could possibly dim its appeal.

"You'll be just fine without the killer instinct. No-one's got all the gifts... or curses," Akela mused, legs dangling freely. She closed her eyes and recollected the memory of that time with the Glassbeak. She had foolishly ventured too far away from the Pavilion, even dismounting from Shimmer, when the Glassbeak had ambushed her. The beast had sped towards her like the flash of a razor, and she had been completely alone, a stationary target with her sword still sheathed.

One breath and she had smelled the creature's killing intent, the desire to break her scaly skin and feed upon her flesh. It was such a natural purpose, one could almost agree with it. But on that occasion Akela had first met her own killer instinct; something that was purer still. It was as if she had been watching herself from the outside, her eyes locked onto the approaching form of the beast, her hand on the hilt of the katana. Her will to live was stronger than the Glassbeak's will to destroy her, and for all its intelligence it was still an animal. If it could not see the sword, then the sword didn't exist. Akela had known one blow would settle this one way or another. Savoring the coin toss that decided her fate, she had decapitated the bird upon drawing the blade - ironically, it had been slain by its own momentum. She had never bragged about it. From that moment on, she had regarded Glassbeaks as omens of calamity, as if they were all seeking revenge for the one she'd killed. A childish thought, yet Akela couldn't help herself.

Kavala's words brought her back to reality. "Sail, you say? That's so very Konti," she smiled. Kavala was always the one reminding Akela she was Konti, too. "Now you're making me want to sail with you, and trust me, I abhorred the idea until two minutes ago. This mark is quite something. And so we'll sail the Suvan some day, Kav, and you will be known as Kaptain Kavala of the Konti, the piratess who heals and steals. And I'll be the one who cuts them up so you can heal them." Akela made a mental plan to acquire enough funds to buy a boat... no, a ship for her sister. This was exactly the danger of an active person becoming a Ranuri - they put their active thinking to the service of others, sometimes on an excessive scale. This was Akela's case.

"You're probably right too. We just keep evolving, don't we? 'It's easier to change yourself than to change the world', says the wise man. I'll get my edge back, and you'll find your way as well. You have already built a lot, Kav. I was impressed with the amount of work you put into Sanctuary. Let's just hope Sorian doesn't take it down one wall at a time." She giggled, as only Navis seemed to be able to elicit from her.

She appreciated her sister taking her blowgun suggestion seriously. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed to fit Kavala. Leave it to her to brew all kinds of weird drugs and dish them out to unsuspecting targets. It was like remote medicine. "Why not? Sleeping darts are a good excuse to slack off." She was startled by Kavala's action, but found herself completely blocked, as if unable to resist her push, and landed off the railing. "How embarrassing," she whined, "you made me want to fall."

She laughed with her sister and nodded at her idea. It would make good practice, and Kavala just loved to ride whenever she could. Life was good at Sanctuary, and she hoped her sister could find that spark in her life again, as well.

[Kavala]

Dumping her sister in the sand wasn't nearly so fun as she thought it would be. Not when Akela looked to all the world as if she enjoyed falling on her rear. Kavala laughed lightly, shook her head, and ran off to fetch her horse so her sister could get some semblance of a workout. They both would, actually, for mounted riders were dangerous to foot soldiers and food soldiers were dangerous to riders. And while it was dangerous practice, Kavala trusted Akela to use the flat of her blade rather than the cutting edge, which should be padded nicely from the reed mats either way.

It wasn't long before she was back, even though the way Sanctuary was laid out Akela could see her lure Wind in from the pasture and throw his Yvas on him. Once that was fastened down, Kavala hung reed matting from his chest off the breastplates and then covered the where her legs would hang with mats as well. Once mounted, Kavala rode into the arena where Akela was working and pulled up.

Wind danced his excitement, whickered softly at Akela, noted the sword, and understood immediately that they were going to have some fun. Once he caught on, he would not stand for Kavala and she laughed as he danced first sideways then forwards and back, eager to get started.

"So.. shalll we do sprints up and down the arena? I'll pass by and you can practice either dislodging a rider or bringing both of us down and defend against the stick!" Truthfully it wasn't hard to trip up a charging horse, nor to defend against a rider. It wasn't even exactly hard to dislodge one from their mount. Kavala rode off to the side and picked up a long slender stick. It was about the length of Akela's sword though in truth it was her poker for the burn pile rather than a weapon.

"And Akela? I really really WANT you to try and unhorse me... It will help my riding... and your swordwork. And I don't want you to get hit." Kavala's grin was just a little bit wicked, because she meant every word of it.

Once she had the stick, Kav rode Wind across the arena and set him at an easy lope at her sister. She lifted the stick and swung it not like a sword but more like a pike, as if she were going to run her sister through with it... providing her sister something to dodge. Then she'd do her best to keep her seat.

[Akela]

Akela jumped back on her feet, her rear quarters sending dull lances of complaints at being used as improper cushions. So Rak'keli let her do at least this much. The Konti girl gave a secret smile and patted the dirt off her clothes as Kavala shared her proposal for the next phase of their training. It made sense, for her sister's riding had improved so much during their separation that Akela could hardly believe she was the same person on horseback. Losing Shimmer had grounded Akela, and after taking a good look at all the horses in Sanctuary, she hadn't been able to pick one to bond with just yet.

It was strange in a way, as the ache for the loss of her first Strider had long dulled - what followed kept her occupied to say the least. Kavala kept plenty of splendid horses, and Akela had had an opportunity or two to ride most of them at one time or another, but there'd never been the feeling, the alchemy. She could ride one without a problem, they just didn't blend like they should have.

"Sounds good," she nodded at the idea. Normally, a swordsman would just try to gut the horse and bring the rider to the ground. If they happened to get pinned beneath their horse, it was over. Of course that wasn't going to happen on this day and with Wind as the horse, so Akela would have to get more creative than that. The girl took a deep breath, finding a thread of harmony with the world around. Akela was the kind of warrior who could not beat an opponent in raw strength, and therefore placed everything on clarity and speed, striving to never make any unnecessary movements. She needed to envision the thin line between earth and sky to become one with her sword.

She grinned at her sister's approach on horseback. "Thy will be done, sistress," she replied, and readied herself for the spar with Kavala. It was obvious that Kav would try to get an attack in right away. Occasional fighters tended to do that, impatient to draw first blood. Her reasoning proven right, Akela deflected the stick with the flat of the blade, letting it fly harmlessly past her shoulder. Then, she continued the forward motion with her sword to try and get a simple blow of her own against the padding.

[Kavala]

The strider stallion was game to play, even though he wasn't used to his rider carrying a staff nor attacking someone on the ground. Kavala wasn't really focusing on her weapons work, but instead wanted to work on her riding. Remaining seated and defending against an armed attacker on the ground wasn't easy... even with guards on her legs. The buckskin stallion charged across the arena, half-halted in front of Akela, and the attack was on. Kavala wasn't too worried that her stick was deflected, but instead used the motion of Windsongs forward action to allow Akela to strike the padding while the horse still came at her.

If that was the case, and had Akela been trying to harm Kavala, she probably could have, but the Konti was thinking in a real fight, she could have used the horses body to press close to the swordsman or woman and in this case let fly a boot to the head and see if she could stay mounted.

Akela's sword slashed into the padding, bruising flesh beneath even though it had been connected by the flat, and the rider beneath grunted. She still urged the horse forward to see if Windsong could move her sister. It was not quite a safe move because Akela could unhorse a rider fairly easily if she'd rather do so than free up her blade immediately. So it was that both sisters practiced that day, repeatedly, charging each other. Akela unhorsed Kavala about as much as Kavala knocked Akela down. But it was good practice for both Kavala staying on a horse when attacked by a sword swinging person on the ground - and great practice for Akela for unhorsing mounted threats. The girls fought until they were exhausted, retreated to the bath, then grabbed a little food before bed.

Things were better between them, easier, by the time they got done. Sometimes, rather than talking, actions were far more helpful in dealing with darkness in the past... taking back what was lost was far easier when one took into accounting what one gained. They had each other. They had a place to live. They had their lives. Truthfully there was no more blessing than that.