Life Upside Down [Ronan]

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

89th Summer, 511 A.V. Sama'el didn't have a pavilion, but he had a camp. There was his tent, Denen's tent, Kasb'el's tent, though he planned to push on soon, Jyn's tent where the servant and his small daughter slept. A cook fire, horses, stuff. It was not a pavilion, but it was a home. But today everyone was busy. Jyn was making purchases with his daughter and Ugly Pony to carry things. Denen was off looking for herbs or something, and while the sun's light was out, Kasb'el was Caelum, and Sama'el didn't press him too closely for his itinerary. He was just glad to have his ancestor come home. It gave him hope that this home would one day be more splendid, and filled with activity and wives and children and everything for which a man might wish. He was feeling better after his illness. Smiling at the sun, he gave thanks to Syna that he was still alive. He felt blessed. And so he set aside the glove he was fixing, the waxed twine thread coiled carefully with the large needle necessary to punch through the leather. Sooner or later he would have to ride circuit again, but for now he could rest. Only he was tired of resting, so he found a spot where the turf was soft and loamy, stretched a little, paused to check his balance, and then made a bit of a diving hop into a hand stand. It had been a while since he had practiced these things, mostly with a will to do impressive horse tricks, which would always awe a Drykas audience. After a few moments, when his equilibrium proved stable, he began trying to walk on his hands again. Dohaina, his golden mare, watched him with a vaguely critical air as if he were the silliest man alive. Horse just ate his grass, silver tail swishing at flies.

[Ronan]

Ronan Windsong had found this summer a season of transition. So much had happened; so much had changed. He had almost become a different person. He had friends, acquaintances, people he could wave to and greet as he walked through Endrykas. That would have been a wistful dream not so long ago. And it was all down to acceptance. He had chastised himself for everything, and he had gripped the past with fierce claws. Yes, he still remembered. Yes, he still looked back with dewy eyed sadness, and the remnant of regret. But he wasn't paralysed any more - he wasn't afraid to move forward. On this particular morning he was strolling through the moving city, and the sun was bright in its zenith. Midges and flies seemed to swarm in effortless numbers about the air, and he found himself swatting them away from his face. I might never have a Pavilion again, and I won't be able to replace it, but I can have a circle of friends. A circle of people who can maybe even begin to understand me...

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el had given Ronan an open invitation to visit him, though some people found it difficult to find his little camp, not a proper pavilion at all. But when they did find it, they were treated with all the hospitality his poor camp could muster. The food was cooked well enough not to poison, and occasionally taste good too. The company was sincere, and that was quite important, too. When the troubled wanderer passed the midges to a place near the stream where certain plants repelled the little devils, he drew close enough to see the camp, and for Sama'el to see, well, an upside down version of a familiar person. His fever dreams had made him question what was real a few times, but he put two and two together finally. "Ronan!" he called, still stutter-stepping in a handstand, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of the scene as well.

[Ronan]

As he heard his name called, Ronan saw the Webber - upside down of all the things he could have witnessed! "Sama'el," he said warmly, unable to prevent himself smiling. He looked around at this dusty corner of the city - a rag tag camp like a make believe pavilion. He had always wondered what Sama'el's home would look like. The man was agile, ridiculously walking on his hands, a great big grin on his face like a beam of sunshine. Yet there was still a troubled shadow lurking beneath that visage. A distant past, seething quietly. Ronan watched his antics, and began to laugh. And then he clapped, he clapped long and hard, falling about. It had been a long time since he had laughed, and it felt good. "How much practise did that take then?" he asked of the young man, reigning in his laughter. As random as it had seemed, it was a skilled feat nonetheless.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Oh..." He carefully let one leg fall forward, the other following apace, to ease himself back onto his feet. Keeping his feet spread a bit wider than normal, he allowed himself to regain his equilibrium, slapping his hands on the back of his pants to get the dirt off of them, then stepping up to clasp wrists with the wanderer. "It's nothing. Takes some practice, I suppose. I've just been sick so I'm recovering my strength and trying to remind my body of what it knows how to do. When I get back to myself, I'll do what I really want to do, which is tricks on horseback. Flashy stuff, and I'm sure some people will laugh at me, but it makes for good distractions, too. And it's fun. "What have you been up to? I feel like everything that happened before I got sick this summer was forever ago..."

[Ronan]

"What have I been up to...?" Ronan said, trailing off. "In amongst saving children from slavers, uncovering a group of assassins, and being attacked by another man in Endrykas, pretty quiet really..." He watched for Sama'el's reaction - the man would probably think that an elaborate joke. If only he knew the truth... "You were sick?" he asked, watching Sama'el twist and land back on his feet. The man was slim and lithe, and seemed as active as before, yet all this practise - it was to get him back on his feet? "What happened to you?" Ronan was curious, as he glanced around at this rag-tag camp of in a quiet corner of Endrykas.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el gave him a funny smile, not knowing Ronan well enough to be sure if he was joking. He wondered if he would tell him one way or another; certainly he could pull rank and demand answers. If Sama'el thought Ronan's secrets were dangerous for Endrykas, the rest of the Watch would back him, but he had no reason to believe that Ronan wasn't kidding, or hadn't reported any bad activity to the Watch. Sam had been recuperating, and out of the loop where some things were concerned. But soon he would be back in fighting trim. "Slavers, assassins, and attacks, eh?" he asked, smiling dubiously now. "Sounds like you should be my brother on the Watch." He clapped Ronan on the shoulder and let go of his wrist. "I was sick," he agreed. "I came back from circuit and just... fell off my horse." This was embarrassing for a Drykas, and blood rushed to his suntanned face. "I had some kind of fever, but Denen and my... my friend Caelum healed me. It's good to know healers sometimes. I've just been a while getting my strength back is all. Come sit?"

[Ronan]

Ronan followed Sama'el and sat down beside him, glancing around at the camp. The place he had labelled 'rag-tag' was actually quite settling. It had a warm atmosphere, crude yet comforting. Was this the Webber's pavilion...? There was so much he didn't know about the man, yet he felt compelled to find out more. "It's always good to have a healer," he said, "I know a little herblore, used it to save a man I found in the Grasses only a few weeks ago. I used to know more... When I was younger, I knew all the herbal properties." He trailed off, staring forlornly into the distance. He had a lot to reclaim from his tattered past. "Well I'm glad you're feeling better - you seem full of energy. It's never good to be out of action for a long while. Time seeps away doesn't it...? And you can never get that back."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el didn't yet have one of the great, multi-roomed tents that the Drykas called pavilions, merely a collection of smaller tents in which he and his friends slept. They sat and Sama'el was glad. People often died young on the Cyphrus plains, and so friendships were dear things. "I seem to collect healers," he quipped, but smiled away thoughts of Dymphna, the red-head he had loved and lost to a more suitable marriage. "And I recognize enough herbs to collect some when I see them. So I suppose I'm doing a good turn for the healers around me. Don't have much of the knack for applying them, though. Except with horses. I can take care of horses." He nodded at Ronan's philosophizing. "Certainly, it never comes back. I wonder if Tanroa can turn time on its head, though, and march people back into the past. I suppose there's a good reason to keep it marching ahead, though. If I look back I am lost."

[Ronan]

Ronan smiled at Sama'el - thinking the man wise beyond his years. "I realised that too recently... I used to look back all the time - well, it was more like stepping back. I think you can glance, as long as you keep moving forwards. That's the important bit." The tent was airy, much cooler than the parched Cyphrus air outside. He got a real sense of belonging here. Though it wasn't much, Sama'el was visibly proud of what he did have. And isn't it better to have something than just being alone? I need to settle down... Before the Autumn comes, I know that I have to lay down some roots. "I like your view on things... it makes a lot of sense."