[The Stone Garden] A Time of Peace (open)

[Eris]

41st Day, Spring of 510 A.V.

Eris settled down on the ground, back leaning against the foliage-covered stone wall. A cool breeze seemed to breathe life into the rows of stones spread out in front of her. Here, Eris felt more at peace than she had in years. For once, she didn’t feel the urge to check the dagger at her belt or scan her surroundings for potential threats. She reached into an inside fold of her jacket, retrieving a small leather-bound sketchbook and pencil. She had meant to return to her long-abandoned interest for some time now, but life had always seemed to get in the way.

She squinted slightly, singling out a cluster of rocks and a tall, sprawling tree as the subjects of her composition. Putting pencil to paper, she outlined the basic proportions of the trunk and stones. Next came the interweaving lines of the branches, all varying in size and thickness. The pencil was darting across the paper one second and slowing down to add a detail the next. She didn’t bother to trace each leaf and each crack in the stone. The idea was to get the feeling of the scene across – the wind playing in the crown of leaves, the strength of the solemn, immovable stones. Eris lost herself in her drawing, feeling happier in these few moments than she had in a long time.

Suddenly, her head snapped up at the sound of rustling bushes. Her eyes darted around the park, seeking out the source of the noise. But finding nothing out of place, she returned to her sketch, refusing to be interrupted.

[Weyliss]

The sound of footsteps suddenly filled the small area. Boot touching stone mixed with the rustle of cloth as a figure stepped into view. The man was cloaked, with his hood covering any distinctive features. The head was bowed, and he obviously walked with a reverence about him. Something jutteed out from underneath the cloak near his leg. Pausing, the short man clutched the broach of the cloak as he made his way towards a small tree, and the stone bench underneath. The object was revealed to be a longsword, the old worn hilt was placed on the bench.Taking a seat next to the weapon the man leaned back, letting his head rest under the high branches. Slowly a hand dragged the hood back, revealing shocks of black hair, and pale blue eyes. The mouth hung open as he lazily closed his eyes. The other hand emerged from the cloak, holding a bottle.

Opening his eyes, Weyliss took a long pull from the bottle. Swallowing, he cast his gaze downward, looking at the cobblestones in front of him. Each one represented a life, a soul. The honored of the dead. Yet, it was the unrepresented men that tore at the young man's heart. Those who hadn't been found worthy of a stone or name in the park.

Another drink, this one to wash away the grim thoughts. A small sigh, and the Weyliss reached into a pouch underneath the cloak, withdrawing a small leaf. Placing it under the bench, he gave a wain smile. It was then that he noticed another in the park.

He really meant to say something. Perhaps make an unwitting joke, or introduce himself. Instead he sat in silence, peering through the beginnings of a drunken haze at the woman as she focused on her drawing. Deciding it wasn't polite to interrupt such artistic content, he simply gave a silent toast to her turned head, and gave another long pull. Leaning back against the tree, he turned to study the subject of the woman's creativity.

[Eris]

Eris carefully placed the pencil-strokes on the paper, creating a dark shadow that fell beneath the heavy canopy of the tree. Her strokes became broader and quicker as she tried to encompass the overwhelming size of the tree. All awareness of the outside world was lost to her, her only focus being the pencil in her hand. And isn’t that a tad dangerous? The reasonable parts of her mind prodded at her, brining her out of the pleasant daze. She cursed under her breath, trying to cling to the carelessness and ease which had already fled from her mind. Annoyed with herself, she looked up, noticing someone in her peripheral vision.

Her first instinct was to grab her dagger and confront the figure, but what would be the sense in that? She took a calming breath, reminding herself that not every unknown person was always a danger to her. Besides, surely everyone had a right to be in this public park. She turned her head fully, accessing the man sitting on the bench. Eris wrinkled her nose at the bottle in his hand. She wasn’t a fan of drink, preferring to keep her senses alert at all times. She found through experience – Joel’s experience, really – that alcohol dulled the senses a little too much for comfort.

There was no way she could enter that creative trance again with someone else so close by. Joel had always taught her to confront a stranger outright, instead of waiting to receive a blade between her shoulder blades. She didn’t think that was necessary in this case, but the man had angered her by his simple presence. It’s been so long since she’s felt such ease and who knows when she could reclaim it again? Besides, her curiosity rose slightly at the sight of the sword laying next to the man. Pitching her voice to carry the small distance between her and the man, she asked dryly, “Great weather for a drink, isn’t it?”

[Weyliss]

The young man had just settled back, intent on the tree, and was very much planning on taking the smallest of naps. He found it was the best way to get rid of dark thoughts. Go to sleep, wake up. Bright new day. The voice quickly pulled him out of such an idea, and with a sharp intake of breath he blinked.

Sure, it was directed at her, but he hoped it conveyed his dismay. The only other way to get rid of dark thoughts was to ... well.. drink! Deciding that this was indeed, a fantastic idea, the man took another pull while he maintained eye contact. Wincing, he swallowed the last of the alcohol and smiled at the woman.

"Ah' do believe that yes, in fact, it is absolutely superb weather for drinking!"

She was irritated. Here he was, all up in her business. She had just been sitting down, doing ... art. In her defense, he had that effect on women. He still wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

Another drink, and the man rose to his feet, a bit shakily at first, but he quickly found his footing. Even enough for a sort of bow.

"Aye, name is Weyliss. I come here for the history."

The accent was hard to place, but it was far from exotic. More like a refined slur.

The smile turned to a more wispy expression as he studied the cobblestones about them.

[Eris]

Eris’s mind battled between being disgusted and being intrigued, finally settling for a mixture of the two. She had hoped that her remark would bring about some sense of embarrassment in the man, but his response was anything but embarrassed. She cocked an eyebrow at his bow – a gentleman, but a drunken one at that. Deciding to let the drinking go for now, she replied with a slight nod of the head, “Eris. I would say that it’s a pleasure to meet you, but frankly, I don’t believe that it is.”

She followed his gaze to the cobblestones of the dead. She couldn’t bring herself to feel any sort of strong emotion at the thought of the many dead souls residing here. Thinking about the dead buried here would only bring about thoughts of the dead that were buried elsewhere. And she had no intention to reminisce about long-gone family and fallen companions. “The history is indeed extensive in this place. Though I would think that appreciating history might be better done when sober,” she said, unable to stop herself feeling irked at the sight of the bottle in his hand.

[Weyliss]

As the woman gave her name he gave her a genuine smile. If he heard the second part of the introduction he gave no outward indication. He listened to her speak, but sort of shifted on one foot, as if trying to maintain a balance.

Clearly irritated. Either she didn't approve of him, or of his bottle. He was a rather unpleasant looking fellow no doubt, short, stout, and covered in motley and torn clothing that spoke of a traveller. Yet, he was almost certain it was the bottle. Perhaps a husband or father had been a heavy drinker?

Weyliss simply paused. Still looking at the trees.

The next sentence was barely audible, more of a breath then an actual formation of words.

"Some history can onlea' be faced behind the warm shield of ineb'riation."

Letting his head sink for a moment he suddenly grinned, and held the bottle to the sky.

"For those loved and lost, and for those who loved so much they lost."

With these simple words, he dumped the rest of the alcohol out onto the stones below.

"May you be honored in your sacrifice."

This only proved to show how little was left in the bottle in the first place, but Weyliss didn't seem to mind.

"Now, I 'dun rarely enter the city unless on business, and this being my only stop, I'd rather not leave anytime soon."

The statement wasn't so much defensive as a fact. Sitting down rather heavily on the bench he rested both hands on his lap, and leaned back studying Eris. She was more then pretty enough, red hair, green eyes. Beautiful face, defined frame. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. Socializing wasn't his best aspect. People generally reacted well to courtesy and being nice. Being a modest judge of character he found himself trying to figure out if she just wanted to be alone, or if she just didn't like him. Hardly worried, he studied the sky for a moment.

"So Miss Eris, what brings you here? Lotsa' places in the city to inspire. Even more to find quiet. Why here?"

[Eris]

Eris watched with fascination as he dumped the alcohol onto the stones – an overly dramatic performance. Mayhap not a performance after all, but simply a way of spilling emotion just as he had spilled the drink. His comment on facing history from behind a warm shield resonated well with her. She knew what it was like to hide from the past. If the man had chosen to face his history – even from behind a bottle – she commended him for that.

Eris was not accustomed to sharing her motivations with strangers, but there was something oddly disarming about this man. She reasoned that she would lose nothing by telling him the truth. And yet, she wasn’t even sure how to articulate her own thoughts. “The city relates too closely to my work for me to find any peace there. There are people who would want to speak with me and certain…jobs that would be too tempting to refuse. But this place… It seems to stay unmoving in time and the company of dead souls does not push me forward into the future. Going into the city would mean I’d have to carry on with life, but here I can have a few hours to lose myself.”

Finishing her explanation, Eris grimaced a little. She did not like to express herself in these poetic, philosophical ways. But speaking of this stone garden, it seemed impossible not to. Besides, she felt that Weyliss’s dramatic solemnity had been contagious. “And what about you? How is it that you have nowhere to be but here?” she asked, genuinely interested in the man’s reason for coming here. He seemed too vague in his explanations and Eris had trouble believing that the man’s only stop for the day could be this quiet garden. He looked to be a warrior and in Eris’s experience, warriors were always rushing off somewhere, never having the time to sit back and laze around in a park.

[Weyliss]

Leaning back, Weyliss gave a small grunt. He could understand some time to yourself, the demands of a busy job, the aspirations of constantly moving forward. The ideal to just stop and take some alone time, without the mental pressures of seeing those around you move, and thus spurring you to action. It was ironic, he was an almost direct contrast to this. He wasn't sure exactly what he did. It was like Sir Marrius had said. He needed definition. Funny how the old man was right after all these years...

Scratching at the goatee adorning the chin, his face scrunched up in thought. He suddenly leaned forward giving her a bright grin.

"I dunnae' often come to the city. Little work for someone like me. I knew a few knights. This day I chose to return to the city and honor several of the fallen. A side-trip if you will. I often operate among the forests and wilderness surrounding Syliras, in the Bronze woods more then anything else."

Resting his hand on his sword, he seemed to take comfort in the old battered hilt. He smiled at nobody in particular as he studied the small area.

"I like Syliras. The knights have sculpted something, that is so much more then the average person would have put their efforts into. Not only a white city filled with opportunity and expansion, but an idea, another small vestige of civility in these times. I hope one day, that I will be out of work, and that everyone could enjoy the splendors of such a place. A freedom to live, as opposed to surviving."

He seemed to lay back again. Lost in his ideas of granduer. Maybe one day he would be free. Maybe one day people like him wouldn't be needed on the farthest reaches of civilization. That a man could start a family, and have a child free of the constant, and harsh realities that the world provided.

A small sigh. Dreams are fun to think about, but only insofar as they are attainable.

[Eris]

Eris had never looked at Syliras in such a romantic way, preferring to think of it only as a temporary place of residence and employment rather than something so grand and pure. But he was right in a way. Syliras has been the first civil place she’s been to in months – a contrast to the lawless roadside villages and unkempt wilderness.

“It is a noble sentiment to wish good for others even if it means being out of a job yourself,” Eris said, unsure if she approved of that idea or not. While she sometimes wished that evil would be gone from the world and there would be no one left to employ her, in retrospect, she realized human flaws like greed and hunger for power would always exist. And while those flaws existed, she could earn her keep. “I presume you work with the knights, upholding order in the wilderness and things of that nature?” she said, forming her statement into a question, realizing only after she’d spoken that questioning his occupation might lead to questions about her own.

She briefly wondered if she was surviving rather than living. On the surface it seemed an easy question to answer. Perhaps a year ago she would have been quick to say that, of course, she was living and living an exciting life at that. But lately, she had grown tired and weary of her way of life and ideals that were previously set in stone were now unclear and shapeless.

[Weyliss]

Weyliss grinned laying the sheath across his lap as he felt the trunk of the tree digging in between his shoulder blades.

What to say? How could one sum up their life? Unlike most people, his job was his life. He never went to a home, never hugged a woman, never kissed a child goodnight. He looked down at his sword, and then back to Eris.

" U'hmhmm. Close. I ah, work alone however. I do anything from collecting firewood for the sick, to hunting for those who can't. Other times I act as an aegis, shielding the smallest of villages from the dangers thriving out in the wilderness. You will find that despite their numbers, and ambition, the knights are spread quite thin, and often times will be reluctant to say... go beyond their borders in search of someone. It may all sound noble, but really its the only way for me to earn a living. I'm afraid I don't have the ...ah' stomach for standard mercenary work."

Complicated. That's what his life was. There was a great deal more to be said on the subject, but to be frank, Weyliss didn't feel like discussing every aspect of it. Sometimes, things got rough, dirty. Every day his morals where tested. Nothing was like out of the stories. You kill a man, you kill a part of a family after all. Shifting uncomftorably, the short fellow scratched at his neck.

"That all sounds, terribly dreadful, I know. What about yourself? Resident of this fine city, how does a beautiful woman like you earn a living among the white walls?"