In the Shadow of the Watchtower (Evarette, Closed)

[Vanator]

At Evarette's question, Vanator swiveled his head to glance at her, then turned his gaze to the sky as well. He found himself more at ease in Evarette's presence, finding common ground that he could not share with anyone else. Perhaps it was this place, so far from the duties and familiar faces of the Pavilion, faces that loved him, but judged him too. The Watchtower had always been a place of honest, heartfelt words, void of cares.

The Drykas paused, lifting his head so that all he could see was the sky. It was a game he played since childhood. He would imagine himself in the sky, surrounded by the endless blue and billowing clouds. The sensation made him feel disconnected and very small. It gave him a funny thrill in his stomach still.

"I would search for them, If I knew where to look, and thought they wanted to be found." He had heard nothing from either of his sisters in over two years, and it stung a bit. "They did not leave together. One headed for the North, one for the South. Maybe they have found some place where they can be happy." Of course Vanator desired happiness for his sisters, but the prospect that they would not come back saddened him. A sigh escaped his lips. "They had their reasons to go. I guess I cannot blame them." . Vanator understood why Kavala and Akela left, each with their won purpose. That is why he had hid his disappointment from them, his fear that they would never return. He missed them greatly. But his destiny lay in the circuitous migration of the clan, laid out for him from birth. "I try, still, to create webs to find them, hoping maybe they are back in the grasslands, but I know it is futile. My skill is small and our lands so big."

At the sound of his own words, a dull ache had encompassed Vanator's heart, a pain he was not ready to entertain at the moment. He pushed himself away from the stonewall, moving several paces to a small entryway further around the tower, almost opposite from the arcane gateway attached to the structure. He rested a hand against the wall near the opening. "Have you ever been to the top of a Watchtower, Evarette?"

[Evarette Karmine]

She pondered his words, feeling the acuity behind them reverberate off her own situation. He cared a great deal for his sisters, this was evident in the tender fluctuation of his voice, combined with his desire for their happiness, despite how he missed them so...Such a selfless proclamation impressed Evarette greatly. She narrowed her eyes at the scarcity of clouds above, sucking in a deep breath...and releasing it slowly. She watched the pale shadow of air as it clouded past her lips...wondering if perhaps her efforts at locating Dorian would prove to be selfish in the end. She hoped not.

The next question stunned her out of her reverie. Auburn brows shot up as Evarette pivoted to face him, her head canted to one side as she considered his query. Her indigo eyes traveled up the length of the tower, and Eva was once again pursued by a sense of insignificance. She felt dwarfed, by not only the sheer size of the structure, but the very history and age bound to it. A thoughtful frown pursed her lips, swiftly followed by a small shake of her head. "No, I don't believe I ever have." She traded her observation of the tower's height for Vanator, the fire of curiosity ignited within her azure gaze. This was a welcome distraction, indeed.

Eva pushed away from the wall, covering the distance between them in a few strides. Her fingertips stretched out, seemingly of their own accord, to trace the tower's ruggedly fashioned surface in her passing. How many times had she spotted these vast structures, and never thought to investigate them further? The thought humored her...for the very idea of it was something that would have undoubtedly been irresistible to her, had it ever occurred to her in the first place.

She hesitated at the entrance, pausing alongside him long enough to dart another appraising glance upwards, the words tumbling out of her in an expression of wonder and fascination..."Do you know who built them?" Her trusting gaze was transferred to him expectantly, the hint of a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

[Vanator]

Vanator flashed a grin at Evarette before ducking through the entryway. He had not been up the spiraling stone staircase in quite a while, so he decided caution was better than courtesy and took the lead in their ascent. As he began the climb up the aged stone steps, he turned his head slightly to answer her question. "The people before the Valterrian built the towers, whoever they were. The old ones say their main purpose was not to indicate the seasons, but to travel. You know the stone gateway on the other side, the one that looks like it goes nowhere? Well, it is said that you could walk through them and end up in another part of Mizahar, magically."

The interior of the tower was dark and quite a bit colder, the only light coming from meager rays of sunlight squeezed through small vertical slits cut sporadically along the walls. "But they say after the Valterrrian the gates were damaged, or the magic became unstable. Now, no one knows what would happen if someone went through them." The stories of the gateways made the Watchtower even more intruiging to the Drykas youth, no less Vanator and his sisters, who use to teasingly dare each other to go through the ominous gate.

Finally , the bluish light from the roof could be seen splashed against the wall as they rounded the last curve in the stairway and stepped through the opening to the tower's summit. The two Drykas found themselves standing beneath the giant glowing Watchstone, the area surrounding it awash in a sapphire tint. Vanator glanced up only briefly at the bright stone, the intensity such that he had to look away. His gaze fell upon the petite woman, her skin vibrant with an azure sheen, giving her the appearance of some mythical being of old. A boyish, toothy smile spread across his face. "Touch it!" He taunted.

As if to demonstrate the harmlessness of his dare, Vanator stretched out his hand, reaching up to lay his palm against a facet of the huge gem. It was smoother than the ice that covered the ponds in deep winter. "Can you imagine the power of the magic that must have been used to create such a thing?" Hhe pondered, his voice slightly hushed in amazement.

[Evarette Karmine]

Evarette listened as Vanator related the history of the Watchtowers, intrigued by the potential they once harbored so long ago. The ability to transport yourself a great distance, just by walking through a door? ...The concept amazed her, as did the existence of the tattered magic left behind. "I never imagined them to be so old," she pondered aloud. Stepping carefully after him, a supportive hand trailing along the wall should she stumble, Evarette ascended into the frigid darkness. A glimpse ahead revealed a faint, azure glow...

It wasn't long before the brilliance of the Watchstone suffused the air, and Evarette hovered a few steps behind as she stared up in open amazement. She held up one hand to observe the cast of blue light, and grinned. Vanator's entreaty reached her ears, and her sapphire eyes shifted to watch him place his hand upon the smooth face of the stone. Unable to pass up such a proposed venture, Eva stepped up alongside him, stretching her arm out to slide her fingertips tentatively across the glass-like surface near his own. She gasped softly, flattening her palm against it and absorbing it's remarkable texture. As the Drykas man's voice reached her, bound in awe, Eva canted her head to peer up at him with a widening of her smile, the blue luminescence redoubled in her indigo depths..."No more than I can imagine a door to carry me to the far reaches of the world."

It was then a new perspective caught Evarette's eye. Her hand fell from the stone, and she crept closer to the rim of the wall surrounding the Watchstone. The grasslands fell away from the base of the tower, stretching in all directions. From up here, she could watch the wind's tide play in ripples through the grass, making it appear as though they were adrift in the midst of a vast ocean. Eva folded her arms against the bite of the winter chill as the wind climbed up the tower's face. She could not help but part with a chime of delighted laughter, leaning out over the drop slightly so that she could barely taste the illusion of flight...her eyes alight with child-like joy. The wind tousled her mop of dark curls, and she tilted her head from the worst of it, tossing a glance back at Vanator in the process..."This must be what birds feel like!"

[Vanator]

Vanator lowered his hand from the brilliant blue crystal and followed Evarette to the tower's edge. As he approached the rim, a familiar thrill, tinged with a healthy fear, permeated his nerves. For a people who dwelt in the flatlands of the Sea of Grass, such a precipice was awe-inspiring. If standing at the great monolith's base was impressive, standing on its summit was just short of being a god.

Vanator surveyed the distant horizon, his gaze trailing back across the plains toward the tower, observing undiscernible dark clumps and colorful patches in the undulating grass. The wind bit harder atop the structure, he thought, as it brushed his face with an icy tingle. The primal fear did not allow him to lean out as far over the wall as the Drykas girl, but he understood the sensation she felt, as if you commanded the air. He turned to meet her gaze and laughed, suddenly reminded of a similar look of amazement, one that had been lost in the mist of passing time.

Caught in the thrill of the moment and the unexpected ease he felt in Evarette's company, words tumbled unchecked from Vantor's cold-blued lips. "Tamar and I would lean out here too and talk about what kind of bird we would be." Hearing his own voice, he startled himself. It was not his intention to disclose his thoughts, not to this stranger. But here, those memories and subjects that were usually surpressed safely away were given gentle, caring release, if only in the arena of his consciousness.

Vanator's hand unconsciously reached up to touch the smooth skin on his neck, just below his left ear. Sometimes he still expected to feel the soft ridges of the Chevas mark there, a mark in the shape of a flowering vine wrapped around the haft of a battle ax and draped over its broad head. That mark had disappeared almost five years ago, replaced by a smaller mark on his chest in the shape of the same flowering vine and a woody vine, woven into a circle...the Lachan mark of a lost love. Hands lowered to rest on the low wall, Vanator's smile became subdued and as he returned his gaze to the expanse of Cyphrus that stretched out before them, though his gold-flecked dark eyes peered into a far greater distance.

[Evarette Karmine]

His subdued attitude and the silence that hovered between them after his last statement caused Evarette to ponder over the words. It was a lapse, that much was evident by the sudden change in his demeanor...A sidelong glance in his direction confirmed her suspicions, watching his eyes traverse over the plains without focus...as though he was somewhere else entirely. Who had this Tamar been? Had they hurt him in some way? Evarette watched the way his fingers idly traced the skin beneath his ear as though something belonged there...So many mysteries were tied up within this man, who's eyes were laughing on moment and extinguished by the shadow of grief the next...

She could not help but be intrigued. In truth, he reminded her of Dorian...but her brother was a much darker character overall. In contrast, Vanator seemed to possess a golden effervescence that came in small waves of buoyant smiles and laughter that had thus far proved easier to encourage than that which came from her brother. His kindness towards her, combined with the tidbits of history he had fed her curious mind, had opened her up to befriending the man. She could not spoil such potential with the question she was dying to ask...Who is Tamar?

Instead, change of subject would no doubt do him a better turn, Eva thought decidedly, stepping back from the wall. She tightened her arms about her middle, rubbing her cheek against the soft lining of her cloak as she turned to face him..."Have you ever traveled beyond the reaches of Cyphrus, Vanator? Or, have you always lived in the Grasslands?" ...Perhaps he would prove to be more well-traveled than she'd originally dealt him credit for. There was even a chance she could glean some knowledge from his experiences that could aid her own travels. At any rate, it was an inquiry sure to welcome his mind in another direction than the one that toyed with the faraway glint of sadness in his eyes.

[Vanator]

Vanator's conscious wandered, and for an instant, Tamar was standing next to him again, laughing and teasing him because he would not lean out over the wall. But the sweet vision was dispelled as he caught Evarette's movement in the corner of his eye, finally acknowledging the hushed pause that had followed his statement. He turned to her as she stepped away from the edge. She was looking at him, and he saw the unanswered question in her cobalt eyes.

But Evarette was perceptive, Vanator surmised, and she had not missed the melancholic distraction his confession had wrought. She had returned to her casual poise, deftly steering the conversation to safer waters. The sincere smile he gave her, reflected in his dark eyes, were both an unspoken apology and an expression of gratitude. He accepted her subject change, and tugging his own cloak tighter around himself, moved a few paces in her direction.

His eyes drifted off again, past Evarette to the endless savannah beyond the tower. "I have never left the Sea of Grass. My father is the Ankal of our Pavilion. We are the Denusk Pavilion of the Sapphire Clan." He declared his last statement with a subtle but unmistakable strain of pride. "As his oldest son and his heir, I have many duties, and have much to learn about governing a Pavilion, so I have not had the opportunity to travel beyond our borders." Vanator spoke with a soberness that sounded almost like an excuse. The truth was, he would love to journey to other places, to meet other peoples. His sisters did. Maybe some of the angst he felt at their absence was rooted in a bit of envy.

His eyes locked again on the Drykas woman's, this time trying to plumb her nature through their glistening gaze. She could see his own eyes narrow, the Watchstone's cerulean glow adding strange hues in the gold flecks of his brown irises. Vanator's father had a knack for reading a person by studying their eyes. It was something Vanator did not pick up as easily. But he believed he saw sincerity in Evarette, and trustworthiness. He found no reason to remain cryptic in their conversation, so he embraced the freedom to speak of things most no longer wanted to hear.

" Tamar was my wife."

He knew there were more questions that his new friend would politely not ask. At the risk of getting too personal and frightening her off, Vanator adopted an expression that assured her of his comfort with breaching the subject.

"She was killed five years ago by the Zith." He was able to maintain an air of composure, holding Evarette's gaze for an instant before his eyes darted away. His left had flinched again then returned to his side, this time resisting the urge to reach for the missing Chevis mark, a habit he could not seem to break.

[Evarette Karmine]

As Vanator related his familial obligations, Evarette read the wanderlust in his eyes as they combed the horizon, and she could not help but feel a sympathetic twinge of pity. To be bound by so many responsibilities...small wonder he had not been free to seek out his cherished siblings. A spontaneous part of her wished she could drag him from the monotonous persistence of responsibility and force him to experience the world outside of Cyphrus. Her visit to Riverfall alone had been something out of a dream...so many people, so many races, all wrapped up in a flood of new customs that had sated the appetite of her curious mind for days on end. And the ocean! It's crashing waves and foamy surf, infusing the air with the sultry taste of salt...for a moment she lost herself to the recollection, permitting her imagination to build it all up again, right down to the texture of the sand. Eva would no doubt find herself burdened with the urge to see it all again, one day...

Vanator moved, and Eva snapped out of her reverie. She met his calculating gaze with an expression of expectant curiosity. There were words hovering behind his eyes, she could sense it...whether or not they would surface was another matter. Patience had never been one of her strongest character traits, but Eva bit her tongue resolutely....waiting.

" Tamar was my wife."

Eva blinked. She hadn't expected that. It wasn't so much as what he shared, but how he shared it, that startled her. They'd barely met...and this was undoubtedly a confession not shared lightly between strangers. It was a sign of trust, one that Evarette did not take lightly. Suddenly, a cold stir of dread twitched in her belly, noting the way in which he had said was...

"She was killed five years ago by the Zith."

Auburn brows were pulled together in an expression of sympathetic anguish, a soft frown swallowing up her previous smile. Killed? ...Suddenly, it all made sense. His remark about the birds...the tower...what he was doing here in the first place. He'd come to pay his respects. She felt miserable for having intruded upon his solace, and she was forced to wonder if her unexpected presence had crippled the nature of his visit with the Watchtower. Eva's azure depths studied the weathered stones beneath her feet, and she sucked in a deep breath, searching for the words. "I'm so sorry," she offered softly, shedding a tentative glance in his direction, not quite able to meet his eyes.

[Vanator]

Vanator could see the fragile familiarity forming between Evarette and himself shaken like a reed in a windstorm. He feared he had spoken too much, the weight of his somber revelation too personal for Evarette's comfort. The woman's countenance had fallen, her bright smile swept away. Vanator could see she harbored an empathetic spirit... casts of pity, sympathy and what he could only describe as regret washed across her face. He had laid a burden on her, and the delicate lines of her face and the softness of her cerulean eyes told of the compassionate chord that resonated within the Drykas girl's heart. He prayed that he had not offended her with his honesty, his premature candor.

Vanator had just become caught up in the moment. Evarette was not shy, a willing listener and something of a kindred spirit. It had been a long time since he had the pleasure of a sympathetic ear. After Kavala left, there was really no one to confide in, to indulge his bouts of melancholy. Akela would simply tell him to man up and smack his backside with the flat of her katana. He knew that she cared, and in her own way was urging him to move on. Then she left too.

The Drykas desired to salvage the afternoon, perhaps to convince Evarette to tarry with him for a while. He had had no human company on his visits to the Watchtower since the last time Tamar accompanied him. After that, his sisters knew that he would have to made the trips alone. It was a solitude he had come to cherish. But the consternation he experience at Evarette's arrivL had quickly given way to subdued delight in the vibrant presence of the young Drykas.

Attempting to catch Evarette's averted gaze, Vanator's contagious smile returned, the dark eyes bright and disarming again. His voice had returned from its distant hollowness, now tinged with warmth and optimism. "Thank you, Evarette. Its getting cold up here, are you hungry? You're lucky, today's menu includes my famous stew!" If Evarette was so inclined, he would lead the way back down the dark tower stairs.

[Evarette Karmine]

The offer of food was welcomed with a softening of Evarette's reservations. His swift conversion was infectious, and Eva could not help but find herself echoing his heartfelt smile, turning to follow him down from the pinnacle of the Watchtower. "Yes, I could definitely eat, and stew would be a very welcome break from pack rations." She laughed, then...in part for relief, and in part to dispel her earlier apprehensions. Vanator was kind, he did not hold anything against her for interrupting his sacred pilgrimage to this distant memoir...and Evarette admired him further, for it.

...She reached the top of the stairs, and hesitated. The glow from the Watchstone pooled around her feet, throwing her shadow on the arc of the wall descending before her. Tossing a glance over one shoulder, Eva drank in the magnificent gem one last time through eager eyes. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen, possibly far greater than anything she ever would see. As Eva finally tore her eyes away from its glassy, sapphire surface, she assured herself that she would return here again one day. Years from now, she would sit beneath this lustrous stone once again, converted by everything that had occurred to her since, and recollect the history of her travels...Watching the stone's light grow dim upon the walls as she descended after Vanator's retreating form, Evarette smiled secretly to herself.

Once they broke into the sunlight again, Evarette pursed her lips, emitting a trill-like whistle that pierced the air like birdsong. Ivar, who had managed to graze himself around one side of the Tower in pursuit of the Strider mare's lofty attentions, responded with a low, rumbling wicker. Heavy footfalls announced his arrival, and he trotted up to Eva, welcoming her with a thrust of his nose to her shoulder. She chuckled to herself, muttering something scornful under her breath as the stallion made as though to tug the scarf from around her shoulders once again. Shaking her head reproachfully, and unable to prevent a smile from reaching her lips, she pushed his broad head aside. Moving to the satchels strapped to his yvas, Eva called over one shoulder..."Is there anything I may help you with?"