Closed Consecration

[Ronan]

"You are right in that," Ronan said carefully, eyes narrowing. "Nothing can bring them back now. And I fear they did not even return to the Web. Not now. Not when our magick lies in ruin."

His words were shaky, for Leo's tone had taken on a seriousness. A gravity. It scared Ronan, because he wasn't even sure he wanted to hear those next words. This man. This stranger. And yet here he stood bearing so much.

"The Gods... Ivak," he knew little of the fire God, other than stories and whispers. But Leo did not apportion blame. But could anyone blame Gods. It was their games, overarching plots, that effected the world. They were just collateral after all.

The next words came like a wraith. Ronan was unsure he had even heard them. His eyes grew stark, pupils constricting. He had... he had done this? And he would do it regardless? Regardless? Regardless of his people's deaths?

"You would do it again regardless..." Ronan's words repeated softly. His mind stirred. A hand came to his side, fingers rolling and flexing, balling and shaking.

All those Drykas. Dead. The Web damaged for eternity. Horses and people torn asunder, fire and disease.

"Then you have chosen your God wrongly," he suddenly said fiercely, and without thinking his fist flew forward, aimed squarely for Leo's nose. If he made contact or not, he would stop almost immediately. He was not a fighter, not in that sense.

His arm slung back to his side, dangling miserably. He found himself expelling djed, grains of sand tumbling from one of his hands. It was almost nonchalant. He looked back up at Leo and merely shook his head. He wanted to understand. He wanted to accept this for what it was.

[Leo Varniak]

Leo noticed Ronan's fist getting restless much before the man aimed his strike, but did absolutely nothing about it. He simply stood there like a stationary target, arms parallel to the body as if inviting vengeance upon himself. He felt Ronan's emotional turmoil through his gnosis and knew what was coming his way. Still, he made no attempt to dodge or block. His was not the way of fighters, either. Ronan's punch connected with his nose and sent him reeling, but he didn't fall. The Azenth staggered and regained his balance, blood gushing from one nostril and staining the beach in small droplets. It was in no way pleasant, but he had endured worse things and the Sanctuary, a place of healing, was next door if he needed it. He'd be hard-pressed to find anyone there who couldn't restore such a wound. He gave Ronan a long, blank stare. He didn't know what annoyed him more, being hit or being hit in such a weak-willed fashion. Certainly the Drykas had more in him than this? "Not even broken," he said in a flat, nasal tone once he'd tentatively checked himself with his hand. He was still bleeding from the nose but seemed to ignore it as best he could. "One can wish for revenge, or one can wish for understanding, but not both." He wiped the blood off his face. His nose was swelling and reddening, though he had more important things to consider. "This was nowhere hard enough to please those who died, Ronan. I may not be Drykas but I know how these things work. If your allegiance is with the dead, then there's no way out and we may as well settle this here and now. If it's with the living, you will help them understand. I won't judge you either way, but what I told you is the truth. I did what I had to. I'm expecting you to do the same." He simply stood there, eyes blazing as blood pumped in his veins, but he remained motionless. Ronan had started it, and it would be up to him to finish it. It was the Drykas' right to demand satisfaction, and Leo would oblige him in that case. He certainly wasn't going to back down and pretend nothing had happened. It may have been deserved, but Ronan had still shed the blood of gods and kings, and it didn't come cheaply.

[Ronan]

Leo was not surprised by the strike, but blood splattered to the sand. Ronan did not feel any better. A punch, a kick, even killing Leo. It would make no difference and nothing would it achieve. Dira's grasp could not be fought. Not when they were taken. Not truly.

"Your honour... or whatever trait you now display. I do not understand Leo. If you wish for understanding, you will not get it. Kavala can speak for herself, but I will not understand this. A vow... a vow is something. But you are no God. You do not choose who lives or dies. Intentional or unintentional, you are unrepentant. You would do it all again, and now I know what kind of a man you are."

He eyed the man carefully, confidence returning, burning from green earthen eyes.

"That was not a punch of salvation. My people would not be pleased by that. I will tell them. I will tell them of the words you shared with me, but know I will not understand. I will not try to understand. Why should I help them understand your treachery? Why should I try and excuse the blood on your hands?"

Ronan's breath grew raggedy, spent. God or Goddess, his anger was warranted. For just a moment he had felt a little of Semele's power. Those unseen depths, those stones and crystalline thoughts, stoic, unmoving, refusing to understanding, standing still.

"And yet. Your loyalty to Ivak is admirable." Those words were bitter, but they were true. He turned, disgusted. His thoughts were vile, but he could barely sort through them. One man... one pawn to a God, and so much death. But did the consequences even matter to the Gods? Did they care? Did Semele know what it was that had happened? Had she been a player in this game?

No, he thought. She had warned him of storms. She had warned him of the dark times that would come, greater than the Djed Storm. Greater than human comprehension. And so she marked her chosen, warriors of the earth, carrier of her secrets.

Ronan began to walk away, up the beach. His day had turned abruptly. How many others knew? How many others knew the truth? Without facing Leo again, he spoke, loud enough for the man to hear.

"There is a saying among the Drykas. Those who play with fire, will be burnt in the end."

[Leo Varniak]

Leo did not move. A part of him was angry at the way Ronan hesitated and wasted time. In front of him was the object of his revenge, or the source who could explain everything if only he would ask - and yet the Drykas' was letting his angst get the better of him. The Azenth understood the pain of his loss, and was ready to pay a price that wasn't even entirely his debt, but this indecisiveness tormented him. Ronan would not seek revenge, nor would he seek understanding. What did he plan on doing then? Wallow in self-pity and wait for the curtain to fall? He allowed the man to conclude his rant without interrupting. He could do this much, even though he was tempted to lash at what passed as a saying among the Drykas. So very profound! But it wouldn't do to add insult to injury, he knew, and he held his tongue. Ronan was one man, but one man could make a difference and he didn't want to waste even a remote chance that things might be settled. He was a spokesman for Ivak here, and he had no wish to further ruin the god's reputation if he could help it. "I never asked for forgiveness," Leo said, the softness in his voice carrying an exasperated undertone as he spoke to the horseman who was not facing him. "Such a thing is probably beyond your ability to give. Your great-grandchildren, maybe. I only ask that you know why it was done. As I said, I plan on taking my knowledge to the horseclans. I will tell them as I have told you. I'm a man of my god, yes, but I didn't act blindly. Without Ivak, this world is doomed. It's just a matter of time." He spoke in short, packed sentences. He squinted, trying to ignore the dull, throbbing pain coming from his face. "Fire will burn you, even a child knows that much. Without fire, though, we are but shadows in the night, chasing after other shadows. You can renounce it and crawl back into the caves from whence we came, long ago. Or you can accept it as a force that can kill and save. My mission is to show Ivak's other face to the world… no matter if the world wants to see it or not." His stance did not change, as Ronan still hadn't made it clear what his intentions were.

[Ronan]

This world... is doomed. Ronan remained still and contemplative. That struck a chord. He recalled Semele's words. The Djed Storm of the first of the Spring will not be the end of the danger to my body and indeed to the world.
More dangers. More storms. What did the Gods know that they didn't? Were Mizahar's days numbered? He stifled a shiver.

"Semele said something similar," he said, and gradually twisted back around to face the man. Anger died, storms cooling, though an inner rage still seethed. "What do you know of our doom? You speak as if you know what will be. How can you know that?"

The sound of surf cast itself upon his ear, shifting and sidling up the shoreline. No beginning, and no end. All possibility, and yet hopeless, inexorable futility all the same. A deep longing filled him, one Ronan could barely comprehend or understand.

"It is not Ivak that angers me. What place do I hold to disagree with the High Ones? What angers me is your total neutrality. Your words speak as if they care, and yet your face belies it all. For one who follows the flame, your heart beats coldly."

He didn't want to admit that some of Leo's words had made sense. Fire was just a force of light. Another necessity. Semele's womb, the great earth, was not the only element in play.

[Leo Varniak]

"I do not know," Leo shook his head, sincere in his admission. His body relaxed ever so slightly as Ronan's stance lost part of its aggressiveness, and he felt relatively confident this would not steer from a purely verbal confrontation. "As you said, I am no god. I am an ant, just like you. The only difference between you and I is that I know ants can lift one hundred times their weight, and I'm trying to do it." He massaged his face, reveling in the feeling of heat it emanated where it had been hit. "As for the specific danger, I only know of Rhysol, my main enemy and the one who poisoned Ivak's feelings five hundred years ago. If you know more, I would gladly pool our knowledge. It was what I offered to do from the start." At least this was going somewhere now. Progress, any form of progress, was preferable to the blind refusal to see things. If there was one thing truly annoying him, however, it was being called cold as if the man had any knowledge of him. It may be possible for someone to draw that conclusion, he supposed. If one were dropped into the world in a cold dawn, without any knowledge of its rules, one very well might feel the cold, see the rising sun and conclude that the sun was the origin of the cold. Laughable, but still a different point of view. "You can think what you will," Leo breathed out, "but hasn't it occurred to you that if I didn't care, it would have been in my best interest to keep what I know to myself? I have made an enemy of the entire world, Ronan. I am a killer of thousands. By all reason I should keep to the shadows and never step into the sunlight again." He narrowed his dark eyes as he spoke. "But no. I tell people openly, as I have told you. I give them the truth and take their hate from eyes like yours. I will stand before the horseclans and their Ankals too, the Council of Ten in Riverfall, the Pressor in Ahnatep, Lord Dyres in Syliras and the guilds in Zeltiva. They can all get a piece of me, so long as they get a piece of what I have to say. You are a servant of the gods, too... Maybe you'll understand one day." But in truth, he hoped Ronan would never have to. The Drykas seemed like a man of simpler passions, upfront in his likes and dislikes. He should count himself lucky if he managed to stay that way.

[Ronan]

Ronan acknowledged Leo's words slowly. There was some truth to him... he had gall to stand here and reveal his knowledge of the storm. Ronan met his eyes once again, calming even further. The punch had not made him feel any better. Not even in the slightest.

And he really intended to do all that? Speak to every vestige of sovereignity in this land? Ronan rubbed a hand against his temple, a virulent headache threatening to pound away his sanity.

"Then you have a long road ahead of you, Leo," he said slowly. He felt disillusioned. How much sway did the Gods have? Did they hold dominion over every little aspect of their lives? Semele did not communicate with him often. But did he speak to her from his end? "Perhaps we will meet again soon."

Somehow, he felt the truth in the man's words. Whatever the motivation and meaning, Leo spoke with sincerity.

"I will not tell the Ankals. I can see it is you that must do that. Let me warn you of one thing. The horseclans will not understand in the way you expect them too. We are not like the rest of the humans that populate the citys. The Drykas are different. Hardy. Keenly aware of the cycle of life, and the danger its people face. I do not think they will take kindly to your words."

[Leo Varniak]

A crack at last. Leo had always known it would be there, on some level. That Ronan was not a superficial soul - merely one who kept looking for answers in the wrong direction. It had been worth it to take the punch. "Long roads are the only ones worth following," he retorted slowly, even though he knew the truth in the man's words. More than just long, it was a treacherous, uphill climb. Every step could easily be the last; then again, such an ordeal had a name and it was called life. Both his body and his face relaxed significantly. And as he listened to Ronan's words about the Ankals, it slowly dawned on him why it was so imperative that he speak to them and reveal the truth. The Drykas were petrified, frozen in their eternal cycle. Much like the path of their traveling city, their hearts also ran in a constant loop of values and tradition. It had served them well for a long time, and they had come to rely on it for everything. It was their law, their creed and their dogma; and it still couldn't save them from their current crisis. Change could never spring forth from the inside with them. They needed an external agent to show the way. Leo cracked a smile. "Then I'll just have faith." A concept he'd always struggled with, but it was old wisdom indeed that you learn as you teach. "I don't deal in kindness, but your words tell me I am needed among your people. Ivak may have shown you one aspect of fire, the taking aspect. There's one more that he can show you through my hands; the giving. Fire cleans wounds, brings change, transforms what is no longer useful into something rich and fertile." Admiration and pride streamed from his words. Leo had grown to truly love Ivak in the way a mortal could love a god who was also his ancestor. "All I ask is that you suspend your judgment a little longer, Ronan." Leo's tone had lost all the defensiveness. It had reverted back to how it had been upon first meeting the man. "You serve a goddess who nurtures through solidity, but there are other ways as well and they all have a place in this world. They fill theirs brutally at times, and yet they are needed. I will help the Drykas as much as I have hurt them, if I can. This I promise." Leo's promises were more absolute than a written law, an edict. Whenever he'd made one in his life, he'd always followed through. This time would be no exception.

[Ronan]

Long roads... oh, how he had walked enough of those. He softened even further, melting before Leo's flame. He had judged early, but the man was wise. His words had intelligence. He was no madman.

When he went to speak again, he found the words cloying in his throat. He couldn't turn back on his actions now, not completely. But this Leo had a measure of integrity all the same.

"Then good luck. I will not stand in the way of aid for my people."

The Drykas could do with all the help they could get. Even if the man that went to cure them of their ills, bore the burden of their struggles.

"I am not... conceited enough to think I know and understand everything. I am but one man." And naive, as I have so often been reminded.

[Leo Varniak]

There was meaningful silence then. Leo had nothing to add to what he'd already said. He had planted a small seed in Ronan's mind, and had received a precious confirmation in return - that no matter how hard and painful a truth may be, you could always find men and women whose hearts would grow large enough to accommodate it. It left him feeling slightly more hopeful for the future. Finally, the Azenth gave a nod and bent to collect the spurious glass-like rock from the sand. It may have been a partial failure, but it occurred to him that if you looked at it from a different angle, it had been a partial success. It had taught him something. "Next time we meet, I'll have learned how to truly make sand into glass. You will see." Only the most superficial of men could possibly think he'd only meant the statement in a literal way. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," Leo said by way of a parting note. "We'll meet again." He turned away from Ronan with careful slowness and, unless stopped, he would withdraw into the Sanctuary. There was no real need to have his injury treated by Rak'keli's power, except he would have to, if only to dodge lengthy explanations - especially with Kavala. OOCShall we wrap this up?