The Sky is Far, the Gods Farther

[Spud]

    "I ran / the skin / to kiss / the ground," chanted a lonely figure in long, slow, sonorous tones. Candelarias marched along an old dirt road, skinned of stone and mortar save the occasional rock or two, half-buried and worn by countless footfalls. The sky rolled with light clouds; nary a spot of its pleasant blue face could be spied. The weather would not even permit him to bear witness to the sunset, or so he suspected. There was only a few hours of daylight to burn, after which he would have to make camp til he can greet the next sunrise with a prayer, a breakfast of buttermilk on grain cookie and wine, and fresh footfalls. He though he would greet the same road tomorrow, seeing its length stretch unto vanishing. The road he was on ran by a woodland, fenced by trees on the man's right, harboring a cacophony of birdsong. Brief, frequent, and high-pitched, they were uncaring for the Waywarden's own. Well, their place is theirs, and they ought what they are wont to do, mused Candelarias. To his left, sparse trees break a grassy opening. The tall grass sway in deference to a breeze; they sing the hymn of the sky's breath. Nature is its own temple, respect its order and truth. Yes señor, I know, he answered the memory.

    "Their fa / -ces I / bear in / my heart," His long journey began in the courtyard of the church-keep, where a younger brother of the pacifist order handed him his quest. He was tasked to deliver and revive their village's candle at the temple of Ignis Reach. It was his turn, following Soledad, who followed Suleiman, who followed Roldan, and so on and so forth. Every Waywarden has done it and so shall he. It is imperative that he should clear this task straight away, there are others still who wait their turn. It was curious how they learned of Soledad's success that they should send him so soon after. She had not been seen at home yet, nor by the other wardens. Perhaps he will meet a familiar face there; Soledad's a possibility but unlikely. Of familiars, his family were the last to see him off; his elder siblings, who succeeded their parents, packed his camping supplies and his youngers, who had all grown up and were either practicing or learning their trades, packed whatever trail food they could in the cracks of his pack. How far they have carried him along! He will miss them dearly.

    "I turn / my soul / to hea / -ven above," It will be his first time in Avalon, that dreamed city, who gives her name to every fork in the road. So far, it is true what they say: 'all roads lead to Avalon'. It must be impressive, from what he's heard from his master. He asked some of his fellow Waywardens who saw him along: Roldan could not shut up about its myriad fineries and exotic mysteries, though he could not shut up about anything that got him talking so that was hardly a compelling judge; Suleiman, on the other hand, was his opposite who spoke rarely but with substance.  On the subject of Avalon and the temple of their lord Suleiman only said "good," but his yellow eyes, left bare by his turban and veil, twinkled with knowing glee. Candelarias had to see this city. Keeping up his pace, he started the next line of his chant. One might be well-advised to keep their voice down in public, but who shall stop him? Here, of all places? Come what may.

    "The sky / is far, / the gods / farther."

[Mania De Witt]

Distant faces would pass Candelarias, groups of soldiers or simple caravans of traveling merchants. One or two adventurers here and there, often straying from the main roads off to the wilds or in search of bandit keeps, making a name and getting some coin. Startled faunus would usually be heard more than seen, breaking brush with a sudden dart and leaving behind the sound of crashing leaves. The roads were both a haven and a danger. The safest route, yet the most easily pinpointed for attacks and ambushes.

As the sun set, the sky dimmed itself into a dulled blue, hiding even the light of the stars and the moon itself in a dense fog above. From what little could be seen, firelight gave a soft orange glow, with small flickers here and there while the flames danced in the wind. The sky grew to a familiar blackness of night, and for a while there was a silence broken by cricket song and the crackle of burning wood. Nothing really appeared to happen for a few hours.

A soft rustling of leaves sounded from the forest. An animal or a person? Perhaps people? The presence made itself known soon enough. Antlers poked from behind the foliage, raising slightly more to reveal a blank whiteness with a doubled amber gleam staring at Candelarias. It wasn’t a creature. Those eyes knew more than primal fight or flight. It didn’t seem to move yet, only watch and determine if Candelarias was friend or foe.. But the presence there didn’t hold an air of hostility.

[Spud]

Candelarias had shed most of his armor and stowed them in his tent, a canvas on sticks fixed so low to the ground as to only shelter a prone, sleeping body. He wore only the lightest undergarments and a rope belt, the clothes of an ascetic. He sat on an old, dessicated stump in the company of a healthy fire while dinner boiled in a fist-sized pot nestled in warm straw. With his head knelt, he dwelt on the quiet vibrance of nature.

The intrusion in that tranquil headspace was unmistakable. He felt the heat of a watchful eye bare on his person. He sat unmoving, but his eyes flitted where he faced, taking stock of his place. Fire. Boiling water. Earthenware pot. Straw. Feet. Fist. Belt. Knife. He waited a moment more, then he lifted his head slightly to catch antlers out of the brush. His eyes snapped to the sight of his campfire reflected twice. He maintained eye contact for a heartbeat, which seemed like seconds of time, before he relaxed his stone-stiff brow. Satisfied with what he had learned, he called out:

"Come out, stranger, and let light be with you."

[Mania De Witt]

A final disturbance in the brush as a dark skinned individual stepped out. Hair stiff and coarse like an animal’s burst from the skull and decorated with a handful of raven feathers. Their skin seemed to match the ton of charcoal, marked with a crimson line dripping from the jaw and down the throat. The rest of them appeared to be cloaked in a similarly blackened cloth, slightly tattered at the lower edges.

The skull mimicked a tilt to the side as they stepped out cautiously. “Friend?”, she asked. Though, even with Candelarias’ vulnerable state, there was no move to attack. ‘Friend.’, she thought to herself as she settled a bit closer to the fire.

She seemed to hold something, and brought it from her shoulder. A slain animal of the wilds, with no visible wounds on the surface. It seemed to be a bit large for a single night’s meal. The creature itself had a mix of feathers and fur, tusks jutted out of its slackened maw, its scaled feet ending in short, but thick claws. Mania dragged the freshly killed carcass around in front of her and then looked at Candelarias. She wasn’t one to socialise much, and even doing so was a struggle based on her poor speaking skilled. Mania only knew the bare minimum, but could only hope that was enough.

The mage took a moment to figure out how to articulate language, gesturing to herself. Introductions. [smear:#46465C]“Me, Mania.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1] She gestured to Candelarius in turn to question what his name was.

[Spud]

Candelarias watched the stranger unfold with growing curiosity and a tinge of concern. A voice gnawing at the back of his head warned of demons and dark-born abhorrences as more and more firelight revealed the stranger's bizarre and uncanny features, but he resolved to maintain a warm and friendly composure as he had always done. He was a little startled to see the figure dressed in wilderness and death, but he pressed a wide smile regardless.

"Friend, yes." His smile came on slightly more natural now. She sounded female, and her approach and choice of words lent to an immature, young nature but he could not get a hang of her age based on her voice. He wondered if she had family or a community, and if she has had much social interaction with them. Her accepting his invitation at least suggests some courage and experience with strangers on her part.

He watched the carcass rest close to the fire. The night was carrying on and she hadn't so much as skinned it yet, though in fairness it looked like a fresh slay. If she plans on eating that tonight... well, he is no stranger to spoils, or the smells, of a hunt. He may just lend a hand later if she accepts.

He watched her gestures and her broken speech. It tugged at his heart to see her innocent effort. He pondered a half-moment how he might structure his interactions and quickly settled on keeping it clear and simple.

"Candelarias," he said, answering her gesture.

[Mania De Witt]

[smear:#46465C]“Kan..del..”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she murmured to herself. It seemed that his name was a bit too complicated for her at this time. She would try to keep his full name in mind and make an earnest effort to say the full thing. Maybe she would eventually get it.

Mania brought out a dagger fashioned of ivory, and began to carve into the creature. She worked the hide off first, careful to not tear it so it was a single large hide. The knife she used had swirls beveled into its blade and its hilt appeared to be the jaw of some creature with its teeth still intact. The girl wasted no time to section cuts of meats, gutting the thing then and there.

[smear:#46465C]“Kandel follow Lightbringer?”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she asked, doing her best to make sense of what little words she knew. The scent of blood stained the air around them, but it was better than the stench of decay. Mania was still careful with how the creature was being handled, keeping an ear out for any predatory creatures lurking about for an easy meal. If any were smart, they would stay away from a fire and the scent of smoke.

[Spud]

He could see the contemplation and confusion in her eyes when she attempted his name. Ah, too much? "You can call me Cande, or Candel too. Have gotten both before," he suggested. He'd been called those names by close friends, family, just about everyone really. He took to offering to be called by his nickname since he learned that a name likening him to a stick of wax made him slightly less imposing. He wondered if she held any apprehension about him due to his size, because he could not detect any from her himself.

Scooping up his dinner pot and a little straw in his hands, he reach for his wooden spoon on his side and started his meal. He closed his eyes to savor the meager smell and taste of barley, green peas and dried beef, days-old but now freshly boiled. The food blended into a homogenous paste in his mouth but it made a decently filling fare, satisfying a purely physical need more than anything. There was at least a bag of polvoron cookies to look forward to.

The fresh smell of blood and guts pierced his nostrils, totally washing out the weak scent of dinner. He snapped attention to his company digging into her slay with a knife. By the time he put down his meal, she had skinned a decent portion of the creature's hide. Notably experienced hands, he thought, but that can be expected. She killed and dragged the damn thing here, after all. He drew his own knife, a simpler affair of steel and wood than hers of ivory.

"Ah follow light and its master, yes. You want some help with that?" He gestured with his knife. "Don't know that creature, but ah can cut where you show me."

[Mania De Witt]

Mania gave a nod. Candel would work for her, it was simple enough. She kept working her blade through the creature, seemingly unphased by the foul scents it had. The girl also seemed oblivious to one’s preference to the scent of a cooked meal rather than that of a fresh kill. Perhaps they were one and the same for her. There was a momentary pause and she finished her carve before looking at the man. [smear:#46465C]“Kandel help?”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1] She pondered the thought and then looked at the creature. It was too big for her to hulk around everywhere, so if he were to help she saw it was more than fair to give him a share of the creature too.[smear:#46465C] “Kandel help.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she nodded to herself.

Mania shifted and turned her blade upside down so she didn’t make an incision on the meat itself. [smear:#46465C]“Cut make like cow.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she said. Hopefully Candelarias knew the cuts of a cow. If not, she made sure to gesture a cut at a time. [smear:#46465C]“Share with Kandel.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she said, indicating that she was going to let him have some share of the meats on this creature as a thanks for helping. Mania didn’t seem too finicky with what cuts he wanted.

She went to work on another incision herself, turning the creature more on its back so that she could gut it. She’d gather its guts, and while Mania would be able to turn them into other items, that wouldn’t combat the smell that scavengers sought at the camp currently. So instead, she would give them their feast somewhere else. Her work was quick as the stomach turned into a cavity with nothing but stray blobs of blood nestled into muscle and bone. She gathered the guts and said a quick [smear:#46465C]“Mania back soon.” [/smear:#FEFFD6:1]Before vanishing off into the bushes for several minutes. She would come back though her hands seemed wet with water, likely dumping those entrails off into a river not too far from here.

[Spud]

His eyes flicked from the beast getting increasingly vacated of its innards to the girl's face. "Ah, are you sure? Ah don't mind helping, but, ah... well, your generosity humbles," he said, moving onto one knee to get into a position to cut. A wild child with more manners than words! The thought amused him.

His mind settled on the task before him, of meat awaiting sections. It's been a long time since he worked a cow for its beef, as the only cattle he's so far encountered were back at Dosdio, yet the experience of open flesh and the wafting stench cannot be lost, only dulled. Examining the meat and tissue, he sunk the knife, leaning on Mania's wordless direction. Eventually, memories sunk into his own muscles and bone made more confident strides with the blade. He made some moderate success making clean cuts of monster meat and stacking them beside. Eyeing the smaller pieces, he resolved to leave Mania her lion's share when she briefly dismissed herself and left.

The repetition of cutting and tearing done to the ambient choir of forest, night, and campfire would clear a man's mind, if it were not for the unusual circumstances that led to this. Mania was certainly strange amongst people to encounter in the wooded road, and the only clues about her so far suggested a greater mystery. He was interested, to say the least, to know what implications there are in meeting her then and there. He was still cutting when she arrived, the bloody work almost done. Watching her form approach, he tilted his head slightly in her direction. "Mania. Where are you from? Got family around here?"

[Mania De Witt]

[smear:#46465C]“Mania from small nomad tribe. Mania split from tribe. Want become more than tribe member.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she said. Given her broken speech, it’s likely the tribe had another form of communication or language. [smear:#46465C]“Mania not sure where tribe is. Mania not seen in many moons.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1] She settled next to the stack of meats and nodded at the cuts, seemingly approving of how clean they were. The girl’s attention seemed to shift at any small noise around, but only to keep watch. [smear:#46465C]“Tribe simple wanderer, gatherers. Mania want do more.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1], she further explained. [smear:#46465C]“Where Kandel from?”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1]

[Spud]

"That must be lonely, but you seem to have managed, hm," Candelarias rubbed his chin. He watched her face for any reaction. It seemed that kindred spirits met here, audience to camplight and moonlight. "We are more alike than we knew." He turned to fetch the bag of polvoron cookies from his pack. Unwrapping the waxed paper, he showed the cookies to Mania. "Enjoy yourself." Without waiting for her response, he plucked one into his mouth. He took a few moments relishing its powdery goodness before he began with a refreshed memory of home:

"My 'tribe' is called Dosdio. Ah hail from a land of forest and mountain, where our Igneous Lord blest a stretch of wood with tongues of fire, so pure and divine they burn ceaseless. My people have venerated that site for generations, and they have received countless pilgrims and penitents from across al-Valana." He blinked. "Ah-valon. Yes, and uh, ah'm on the way there." Smiling, he had himself another cookie. "Ah'm Waywarden. Ah protect my 'tribe', the way to the holy sites, and all the feet that wear thin on the long march. It keeps me busy and far away, but ah can always find Dosdio." He had half a mind to bring up doing more, but he dismissed it. He glanced at her face.

"Do you miss your tribe? Anyone like family?"

[Mania De Witt]

Mania looked at the cookies curiously. It was safe to say she never had these before. The girl picked up a single cookie and looked it over, hearing a soft crunch from Candelerias. Mania took a nibble of the cookie while listening to the man’s own story. The cookie itself had a kind of sweetness to it, the powder on the cookie leaving her fingertips white along with her lips. They weren’t overly sweet and it was a switch from what she usually ate, which she found somewhat enjoyable.

While listening to him, she figured he was a kind of escort to his god, similar to how Mania would be a soul’s escort to death. [smear:#46465C]“Mania sometimes miss kin. But Mania remember all kin meet in afterlife. Mania find them then if Mania not see when travel.”[/smear:#FEFFD6:1] It’s not like she knew where they wandered too heavily. The path was always random. Seeing them once in a while during her lifetime would allow them to catch up. But if she didn’t see them, she wouldn’t have too many hard feelings over it.

[Spud]

Candelarias looked up to watch her face as she explained, his chewing slowing down. He seemed to forget about the delectable morsel in his mouth, instead pausing to consider her words. This girl… her regard for death is uncannily casual and fearless. But of course, she came here dressed in its skin. The concept must be well known to such wild folk as her, so the opportunity for family reunion beyond the Veil must be a welcome prospect.

He swallowed. “Very wise. Death is but a passage to true judgment. Though ah wish, for your sake, that you get many chances to see your family in this life.” He glanced at his low tent. The night was wearing on, and the campfire was waning. “Do you know anyone outside your family? Friends? Ah can’t be the first you’ve met out here,” he wondered aloud.