Far From Home (Ryad)

[Iona Cordale]

The sun crested the lining of a grey puff of cloud; casting dulled beams of light to illuminate the capital of Trihali for all the glory it possessed. It was centered northward; a day’s journey by foot from the tiny cottage Iona had once deemed home. Despite the relatively close range she had never ventured within the city and curiosity burrowed deep into the cracks of her mind like an infectious worm. Anxiety bubbled beneath her breast bone. How many dwelled within its borders? She took no liking to the company of others as her wick was easily ignited by a mere pitch of the voice. Often her venomous tongue landed Iona in a pit of trouble, whereas once she had suffered a blow to the chin leaving a semi-visible, white scar. It was in the best interest of all that she tiptoe along the outskirts of humanity.

But Trihali was an experience unlike any other. Iona found herself lurking between the buildings lit by shadow with the hood of her crimson cloak drawn up; the tip of a pointed nose jutted out. How could such an abundance of life be crammed into a single location? A razor-blade smile singed her lips. It was a giant and nerve-grating enigma. One she was not sure she ever wanted to understand. Choruses of children’s cries and random shouts split her skull in two. But there was no mistaking the beauty that was etched beneath the surface. Her leathered boots padded softly along the cobbled alleyway and she poked her head from around a corner, staring off into the depths of a sea of bodies flowing towards the city’s center. She was nearly sucked into the current when her foot slipped beneath a pebble. The fragment of rock popped into dust under her weight.

A curse slipped out from between her parted mouth. Clicking her tongue in distaste she stepped back like a startled animal. It was so very different from the little village of her childhood. Despite the fresh change in scenery Iona still yearned for the scent of the ocean; sea salt nibbled teasingly at the flesh of her nose. Calloused fingers itched for the sensation of thickened rope. Once introduced to the waters you could never turn back; the tides held a force unlike any magic she possessed. The waves imprinted upon your heart like a branding. Perhaps the greatest gift of piracy was the overwhelming sense of freedom that burned through veins like molten fire. Iona had no ruling authority, none at least that she followed. She was the captain of her own ship; granted the woman lacked a crew but it mattered little as long her independence reigned constant.

Sea-foam orbs flickered up towards the overcast heavens. A circular path glowed dimly in the atmosphere; the sun was presumably climbing towards the other half of the continent. She guessed the time to be just past noon. She slinked farther back figuring it as good a time as any to begin her journey back to the briny waters of the coast. The visit to her father had been pleasurable like always, the quick sight of Trihali dizzying, but now time raced against her. It would be wise if Iona made it to an inn a good ways off before darkness grazed the lands; though her sword hummed with a thirst of blood she had no desire to quench it. It was for defense when neither words nor reason could ease illogic. But Iona’s still walked backwards, inattentive, mesmerized by what she had secluded herself from. The weight of another’s presence pressed against her spine but went unnoticed until her heel planted into something softer than cobble. Her back brushed against something unfamiliarly rigid.

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[Ryad of Illiria]

Ryad's nose was buried in a book, as per usual. The midday sunlight reflected off of the intricate silver embroidery on his long fitted royal blue tunic, his trousers, black and slim were tucked into the soft leather boots that he so enjoyed wearing. Blindly he navigated mind absently counting steps and seconds before he reached the familiar twists and turns that would lead him back to the senate. He was a home in this city and believed he could easily navigate his way from one side to the other without looking up, and it was not as if his eyes did not have better thing to do. It was a normal day for Ryad buried beneath paperwork and books; spending most of his day locked away in his office. His workload never seemed to ease much, and whenever he did take the for himself all the work he had done prior seemed to be wiped away by those who did not wish to see his vision for Illiria achieved. He did however find it necessary to get out and about from time to time to preserve his sanity. Though taking a walk through Trihali did not mean taking a break from his work.

Under his free arm he held other miscellaneous books and documents that he had just spent the better part of an hour digging through his home study search of. Most of it was no more than past legislation, financial documents, tax information; real page turning stuff. Ryad sighed as he struggled to turn the page of the book he was reading while keeping a grip on the rest of his load, without slowing his pace. He sometimes missed the simple life he once lead, spending time away in the countryside away from all of this, sadly though if it weren’t for him it was like that this would not be around much longer and so he need to endure; at least that is what he told himself. He would have gone on like that for a while juggling multiple thoughts and tasks for ever had it not been interrupted by a heavy thud and a sudden pain in his foot. The impact jarred him free from the quiet world he had bubble he had mentally built around himself, sending him spiraling back down to the reality of the present.

The senator lurched forward due to the impact and his books and papers spilled from his hands skidding across the cobble stoned street. Ryad's eyes fell on the obstruction that had impeded him; it was a young woman in a red cloak… a pretty young woman a red cloak. Ryad reached out his hand as his body thudded into hers. He briefly held her by the waist as much to keep her from being knocked down from the impact as to steady himself (though he would never admit the latter). Ryad felt his cheeks warm and redden as he realized his carelessness; then his eyes fell to the arm load of books and papers he had just dropped and he acted quickly.

Releasing the woman he stepped around her and crouched down to snatch up as many of the documents as he could before the wind could take them. As he worked to collect his things he looked up at the woman smiling friendly. "Pardon me my lady." He said in his natural sianehese as he collected a sheet of loose paper. "I really should have be looking where I was going. I am Ryad” He said with a quick bow of his head. He looked and his emerald eyes met her own sea-foam hues and once again he smiled. “I do not think I recognize you My Lady. might you be a traveler? I hope my inattentiveness does not sour your impression of the people of Trihali, most are not as careless as I.” Ryad realized that he was babbling and bite down on his lower lip to quiet himself. Once again he could feel the color rising in his cheeks and e looked away scrambling to retrieve another lost book.

[Iona Cordale]

White parchment fluttered into the air like fat snow-flakes. The sudden impact caused Iona to stumble flailing her arms in a vain search of balance. Just as she managed to stay upon her two feet a pair of hands clasped about her waist like a belt causing her to sway with the sudden pressure. Automatically she made to swing about with the back of her hand raised in an impending threat. It was not often strangers made to touch her and Iona was thoroughly frightened; though she would never once admit it. A silver sword was housed in its sheath but in her sudden burst of panic Iona had forgotten it and took to primitive means of survival. But once the red haze cleared from her vision Iona took in the form of a young man who appeared just as perturbed as she. The fleshy pads of his cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson resembling an overly ripened tomato. Her parted lips hastened into a taunt, bloodless line.

Of course the accident was entirely her fault. She had paid little heed to neither the placement of her steps nor her backdrop. But this was not what Iona would claim; her pride was obstinate and did not compromise with the actuality of events. Narrowing her sea-foam eyes into slits she glared coldly towards the man. She did not bother to reach for her blade, not that if crossed her mind. The man before her meant little, if any, harm and looked as though he had swallowed his own tongue. Iona folded her arms across her chest as though shielding herself from him; the tips of her nails drumming in irritation. As sense came to grapple her thoughts Iona’s gaze honed in on his attire; he was no common peasant. Of some high birth she assumed that this stranger worked for the government and dealt in politics. Her nose scrunched in disgust.

“Pardon me my lady. I really should have be looking where I was going. I am Ryad.”

He inclined his head in polite greeting. Curling a lip Iona let out a muted grunt. Tilting back her thick skull she lifted her eyes to meet his. “You should mind your hands,” snapped Iona icily. Her frost-bitten words cut through the vague fog that settled in between the alleyways. Her stare shifted and focused on the books and papers littering the ground beside his feet; the hinges of her mouth split and she stared in fascination. Quickly without any additional comment on herself or Ryad’s introduction the pirate dropped to her knees and grasped at the informative manuscripts. Her fingers curled about a meaty scroll and without asking for permission pried the manuscript apart drinking in the inked wording. She cared little if was lackluster. Reading itself was what Iona enjoyed. Despite the love she harnessed for the salty waves of the ocean books were a rarity when abroad.

“I do not think I recognize you My Lady. might you be a traveler? I hope my inattentiveness does not sour your impression of the people of Trihali, most are not as careless as I.”

Not looking up to meet his gaze she said blankly, “I am something of the sort.” Her voice trailed off in disinterest of the subject matter and she refocused on the paper within her grasp. Iona allowed the pad of her finger to brush lightly along the inscription and she breathed out the information silently between parted lips. It appeared to be a financial record, but of what precisely she knew not. Each number burrowed into her mind. “What is this?” Iona quipped, abruptly shoving the document into the air with a shake of her arm. She waved it below his chin from where she kneeled on the ground. Blinking, Iona let out a sigh and stood on her feet. To increase the chance of a proper answer it was in her best interest to introduce herself. “I am Iona. Careless as you are I hold similar thoughts to all cities. But what exactly do you carry? She ushered to the books.

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[Ryad of Illiria]

He was a bit disheartened by the woman's icy behavior but he supposed he could not expect much more seeing as he had nearly flattened her moments earlier. But her mood seemed to turn once she had taken notice of the books and scrolls he had dropped. Ryad looked up to see that the woman had dropped to the cobbled ground and was prying open one of the writings he had dropped. He took a moment to size though woman up, she would not give him a straight answer when asked if she had been a traveler, and from her appearance alone he could gather that if she had claimed to be one it would have been a falsity. Everything from the way she carried herself to the way carried herself indicated that she was in fact something more but what he could not say.

Suddenly the woman’s demeanor seemed to have shifted gears and the withdrawn person he had first met was now introducing herself to him, Iona was her name; though he had a suspicion that it was only to get an answer as to what information was contained on the scroll she had just read.

Ryad chuckled at the woman’s interest in the documents as they were not at all full of exciting information. Though maybe he took the books for granted. For him they were a part of his everyday life bit for others intact books could be quite rare. the woman’s interest in his work piqued his own. it was always nice to meet another inquiring mind. Although This put him in an odd position, he was not sure he should have been sharing these intimate details of his own work with this stranger, but she did not seem terribly untrustworthy, and he supposed he owed her since he had caused their little accident.

Iona continued to wave the scroll she was reading and waved at him looking for answers at to what it was sighing to himself Ryad to scroll and opened it his eyes quickly flitted about the page. “Well as regrettable as the instance of our meeting may have been it is a pleasure to meet you Iona. As for this…” he said gesturing toward the scroll it is simply tax information from the past year.” he said pointing out the different sets of numbers out to the woman. “The rest is, well, census information, and historical legislation, including a particularly strange passage about the legality of bear fighting.” Ryad shrugged and smiled as he looked up from the tomes in his arms. “Nothing terribly exciting. I find that I have little time for pleasure reading anymore. Though it is strange to see anyone so interested in this kind of business, honestly most of the senators would not know what half of this was without someone explaining it. Do I sense a bit of a politician in you?” Ryad smiled taking a break to speak with someone was a pleasant change from his usual daily activities.

[Iona Cordale]

“Well as regrettable as the instance of our meeting may have been it is a pleasure to meet you Iona. As for this…The rest is, well, census information, and historical legislation, including a particularly strange passage about the legality of bear fighting. Nothing terribly exciting. I find that I have little time for pleasure reading anymore. Though it is strange to see anyone so interested in this kind of business, honestly most of the senators would not know what half of this was without someone explaining it. Do I sense a bit of a politician in you?”

Iona heard him chuckle at her curiosity and felt a frown form steadily across her mouth. She had always been fond of reading though it had not always been easily accessible. Anything with print caught her fancy no matter the content. Her eyes fixated hungrily upon the documents wording, drinking in the information and processing it over and over within her mind. She cared little if the text was marred by various numbers and symbols, the meaning of which eluded her logic. But it had been quite some time since she had last feasted upon such a knowledgeable delicacy. Iona traced the edge of a parchment with her forefinger, gazing longingly upon it. Her lips were pressed tight unable to comprehend what Ryad found so funny in her perked interest. “Legality of bear fighting? Is there truly such a thing?” Despite the venous undertones within her voice, genuine inquisitiveness bled out from the syllables.

Her head snapped up at his last inquiry. The movement was quick and sharp but Iona did not feel the pain. Ebony tendrils flew back as her narrowed gaze honed in on his figure. Her lips thinned into a bladed grimace. “I would rather die upon the scaffold than be what is now deemed a politician. The Senate is a pitiful waste of life.” The scroll locked with her grip shriveled beneath her wrathful force. The issue of politics was one rarely discussed. It was impermissible. Iona hated those within power who bathed in their arrogance, preying on those weakened by poverty. She had long since given up any hope for a new and benevolent reign. Iona held little hope for any one. People were gluttonous devils who were of little trust. A thirst for power is what drove Iona to the seas, where the Senate and other ravenous leaders could not sink their fangs into her back’s flesh.

Red boiled beneath her gaunt cheeks. With a curt sniff she tore her livid glare from Ryad and started snatching up various papers, forgetting any delight in reading the artifacts. Bundling them within her the cradle of her arm she picked them up like one would firewood. Iona could feel the heat rushing to her face. It was folly to discuss politics with the pirate unless one enjoyed fire-sparked cynicism. Collecting the manuscripts she suddenly stood, popping up from her kneeled position. With little care of warning she shoved them towards Ryad. Irritation etched its way across her features. “Here! Take them. I would hate to see such cargo delayed to our precious senators.” She waved him on with a flick of her wrist. A few dark curls fell over her brow and dangled in front of her icy orbs. The strands tickled her lashes. Iona swiped them back with her hand, tilting her chin up towards Ryad.

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[Ryad of Illiria]

Ryad was shocked as the woman’s demeanor flipped once again and she became very hostile. Shoving the papers she collected into his arms as she spoke of the senate with such a callous malicious tone. Ryad stared at the woman his mouth hanging agape as he watched the blood rush to her cheeks. Ryad stood there dumbfounded at what just happened for a brief moment before catching himself, snapping his mouth shut and returning to his usual poise.

“I will admit that you are not wrong, most of the individual that sit on the senate are vile, arrogant, and they do not care for the people; they only ruin what we have built.” Ryad clenched his jaw just the thought of what waited for him in that building made bile rise from his stomach. “But I think you brush me off too easily.” Ryad locked in on her eyes with his own his own genuine feeling of concern seeping out through his gaze. “I pose a question to you Iona. How can we achieve a perfect union, a reality where everyone is taken care of, where everyone is safe and fed? How can we build that future if those who believe that a change is needed do nothing to achieve it?”

Ryad shrugged and smiled. “That is the question I ask myself whenever I want to give up; when I realize that all the efforts that I put in to better the senate bare no fruit, that I am doing nothing but digging myself an early grave. My people need me to carry on, to do what is right.” Ryad realized that he was getting to emotional and broke off abruptly, shifting the books and papers in his arms looking over his shoulder at the flow of people that seemed to be never ending. He did not want Iron to see the struggle that was going on behind his eyes; to the people he was to be an unshakable leader, not a man who dumped his troubles on a poor woman in alley.

“It is a pity...” He said changing the subject. “The senate could use someone like you, strong of will, opinionated, and from what I gather intelligent; it would be quite a nice change of pace to work with someone competent for once.” He chuckled and reached his free hand around to rub the back of his neck. He could feel the warmth of the blood that was flushing his skin. “You are an interesting one Iona; you seem to have all the tools for leadership, for power yet you seem to want nothing to do with it. It is just strange to me, and yet in a way endearing. Though it does make me wonder who exactly you are.” He shifted his things in his arms again and smiled, but his eyes never left hers. There was nothing threatening nor menacing in his gaze just genuine curiosity.

[Iona Cordale]

“I will admit that you are not wrong, most of the individual that sit on the senate are vile, arrogant, and they do not care for the people; they only ruin what we have built.”

Artic eyes flashed like lightning. Iona glared, studying the layout of his features digging for sincerity within his words. She watched the muscles of his jaw grow taut as he clenched, briefly displaying resentment. Perhaps he was genuine. It was possible but Ryad was a great enigma. Here he stood fighting within the Senate for humanity with a smile spread across his lips. She did not understand. Eyeing him critically Iona arched a brow. All she had was his word, but would it be enough?

“But I think you brush me off too easily.”

Iona glowered. She cocked her head to the side watching him. “I have little to judge you on as you’ve only just rammed into me,” snapped, Iona. Her arms folded before her chest. But the sentiment locked within his eyes was startling and caught her off balance; there was a sincere meaning bleeding out from his gaze. Iona gaped, baffled. It made little sense at all. A member of the Senate who, quite possibly, was not off to gain all imaginable power stashed within the cracks. It seemed a little unreal. Drawing her mouth back into a thinned grimace she held her tongue, sucking on the inside flesh of her cheek.

“I pose a question to you Iona. How can we achieve a perfect union, a reality where everyone is taken care of, where everyone is safe and fed? How can we build that future if those who believe that a change is needed do nothing to achieve it?”

Dark lids fluttered. “You cannot while the Senate lives; as a united force,” she added carefully, looking him up and down. “You cannot build a future on a foundation crumbled by greed, rotted with blood,” Iona said as though it were obvious. Creases formed upon her eyes corners. Her brow furrowed, wrinkles lining the skin.

“That is the question I ask myself whenever I want to give up; when I realize that all the efforts that I put in to better the senate bare no fruit, that I am doing nothing but digging myself an early grave. My people need me to carry on, to do what is right.”

Her lips pursed. “And how is that? How do you do them right? The Senate still lusts for what they already possess, the hearts of the people. What more can they steal? Yet innocents die with each rising sun as our way of living swiftly dwindles; what have you done senator?” she shot venomously. “You stand here with a smile on your face assuring me that you mean well, that your fellow Senate sickens you. You claim to be fighting. Fighting for our rights.” Iona stepped forward, prodding her finger in Ryad’s chest. “But I see nothing. Your actions have failed yet you continue. Don’t you understand?! Morality is long forsaken! You cannot win with goodness.” Her voice rose above the noises of the street. Iona exhaled breathily, ebony curls falling into her face. She jerked them away with a sharp turn of her neck.

“It is a pity…The senate could use someone like you, strong of will, opinionated, and from what I gather intelligent; it would be quite a nice change of pace to work with someone competent for once. You are an interesting one Iona; you seem to have all the tools for leadership, for power yet you seem to want nothing to do with it. It is just strange to me, and yet in a way endearing. Though it does make me wonder who exactly you are.”

“It is as I said,” she sighed, lowering her pitch. “I hate politics.” She gradually drew back her hand, flushing lightly in embarrassment at her outburst and let it fall to her side. She looked back towards the lit rectangle of light opening out into the road. “I am no one of vital importance; a lone nobody who sought refuge in the sea, away from greed and far from influence. What interests have I in power? I want nothing of the sort. It seeks only to corrupt. Many great cities have fallen to it.” Iona swiveled to face him once more, feeling her mouth part at the intensity of his stare. He was right. She had misjudged him.

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