Lakeside Chat

The days in the wake of the temporary fall of the tower have been a grind for many, but especially so for Seldan, who in addition to seeing to the injured and the broken who made it out of the tower alive and their distraught friends and loved ones, wrangles also the cruel reality of the situation - that the real hunt has only just begun, and the weight of his own burdens and troubles as well, of which only two living men know the full truth. One has his own troubles as well to deal with, and so the other - Seldan - finds himself quietly setting out from the city, alone.

The day back after a quiet trip to a remote lake is a rough one indeed, full of people needing help, having questions, soliciting the news, demanding his time, and more. By the time he escapes, in the late afternoon, he's had just about all he can take of keeping his face, of being the public figure, of being the pillar for everyone. He's been walking for some hours now, deep into the heart of the wilderness outside of Alexandria, and it's just about moonrise when he comes to a small, shaded creek, burbling quietly through a wooded set of banks that part just enough to show Eluna's silver-white face in a star-studded sky above.

Somewhere in this journey, somewhere after Wilderness Point, he's fairly ripped his usual hat of disguise from his head and stuffed it unceremoniously into his pack, and the matte ebony of his skin is only now beginning to fade away into patchy gray/black/alabaster tones as he settles down on the bank, eyes on the golden-silver face just now peeking through the trees.

Wandering the wilderness near his campsite for food, and for occupation, it's not that difficult for Menel to find Seldan's tracks. At first he's not certain that they /are/ Seldan's tracks. So he's cautious, moving through the wilderness with a growing ease and quiet steps so as to not disturb the forest around him or alert the person that he's tracking that they're being followed. Then, spotting the paladin he relaxes. Not someone who he doesn't know who might stumble upon his campsite or his secret, but a friend.

The swordsman eases out from behind the tree that is his cover and moves with more deliberation towards the other man. Menel makes sure to make at least some noise so as to not surprise Seldan. It wouldn't do after all to surprise someone who might attack out of pure instinct. Menel smiles softly at the thought and the sight of the other man. "Hey." His voice doesn't quite break the silence so much as it slides through it. "Want some company?"

Seldan looks up, out of pure instinct, at the rustle in the bushes, hand on his sword - a hand that relaxes when he sees what, or rather who, it is. "Menel." His smile is halfhearted at best. "So long as you do not come to ask me questions, chide me, threaten me, threaten my mother, threaten my intended, cry, or beg 'just a moment' - then yes, be welcome." He turns back to his gaze up at the rising moon, from where he sits on the bank of the creek. A large rock serves as a convenient perch, and he moves over to make room for the swordsman. "I believe that I owe you an apology as well."

Menel arches one pale eyebrow upwards at Seldan's words, but there's a soft smile of amusement on his lips. "No... I can't say I had any of those in mind." He joins Seldan slowly, cautiously as if expecting that the paladin might withdraw his offer of companionship even with its many conditions. The pale haired man settles down beside his friend and tilts his head back to look at the moon that holds Seldan's attention. "You don't owe me anything Seldan. From the sounds of it you've got a lot going on, so even if you do - consider it forgiven." He flashes a warm smile at the other man.

Seldan looks over, in more than a little surprise, but then turns his gaze back to the moon rising above. "Thank you," he says finally, without looking over. "I know that I departed abruptly, and you were quite right - I did have a duty to see to, and I was indulging myself in coming out when my duties were not yet done. I was weak in that."

A flash of embarrassment flickers across Menel's face and the swordsman shakes his head minutely. "No, it was wrong of me to assume what you wanted. There's no weakness in seeking out your friends when you need them Seldan. Or even your own peaceful company when you want it." He falls silent in the wake of his own words, admiring the moon in her splendor.

"Few in truth do I have that I may call friend, Menel." Seldan finally pulls his eyes away and looks over at his companion. "I serve many, and lead no few, but friends? Those in whom I may place my trust, to whom I may show the truth and know that it will not trouble them? I count but a few, and one of them will bite me, does she not like that which she sees." His small laughs is nonetheless affectionate. "Of the others - one grieves and panics and hides in her room, and chides -me- for not moving swiftly enough. One is well-meaning but is a martyred fool. One is broken, and will take some time to put right. I will not further burden him with my troubles. The last ... how shall I trust someone who closely imitates the very one I would fight, who is her eyes and ears, and who twice now has lost herself and lashed at me with tooth and claw? One who holds a grudge against my intended such that she would sooner see him gone and her own mate suffer than that she would see her mate aided."

Menel's blue eyes find Seldan's, and he tries to - gently- take stock of the paladin's state of being. "That's a lot to bear. To have all your friends hurting and consumed by their own selves so. And to have your own burdens atop theirs." His voice is gentle. "But you must tend to your own fires before you can tend to another's Seldan, and if you would count me friend enough - I have no burdens for you to worry about, and am strong enough to hear what you might say, should you wish to say it."

The paladin is - troubled. Open - but troubled. Overwhelmed, nearly. But - holding, because he must. "I did not wish for others to know. It ... seemed petty and whiny to seek to explain it. I would not have myself thought weak, and even do I seek to explain it, the words become lost, amid the torrent of pain from others, so much so that they cannot bring themselves to act, unless prodded. It was useless to try to explain, and so I permitted them to chide me. But, the truth of the matter is that Salina's torments are not confined to those she held captive."

"Aye." Menel says softly. "Would you tell me what she has done?" Though he says little, it's clear that the swordsman is interested in what Seldan himself has to say. It's more than simple curiosity, but actual concern for the paladin whom has clearly borne so much throughout all of this.

The shadows are heavy now over the burbling creek, and it is into them that Seldan stares now, the look on his face haunted. "My mother is now as Kol was. Infected with a plague that makes her impossibly strong, fast ... and she is commanded to kill me," he says in a very small voice. "Does she wish me to kill my own mother, an innocent woman? For I shall not. Does she wish for my mother to kill me, and so increase her torment yet further? To turn her to evil? She will not, I think, for with the help of Eluna's grace, she fights with all that she is, as much as she may. Enough ... that when Salina last sent her to me, intending to pull her back ... Mal and the Mourner and I ... prevented her from doing so. Wrested her from Salina's grasp. She is now in the wizard's prison, beyond Salina's reach, and yet ... I know not what to do. Am I too late in an answer? Shall I be forced to slay my own mother, to give her rest? Shall I watch as she walks into the light of the Draco Solis, to end her own torment?" His voice wavers.

The swordsman doesn't know what to say. There aren't comforting words for this sort of horrible situation. Instead he leans across and clasps Seldan on the shoulder. "I can not speak for Her. What Her reasons or plans are. But I'm sorry that your mother got pulled into this Seldan." He can't smile, but he can be here, a presence for Seldan to speak to; to voice his concerns to. Yet he can't bring himself to utter placating words that might be a lie. "You said she fights this, does that not give you some hope?"

"There is hope, but ... the longer it lies within her, the less her ability to fight. I can but hope that the nethercite within the jail stills it, stops the process. Until I can find answers for it." Seldan looks up at the clasp on the shoulder, half-smiling, then back down, but he allows it to remain where it is. "What was done to her, I can but guess at ... but for days upon days, it haunted my dreams. Nightmares, really. Of her ... losing herself, killing me again and again. Of Father ... chasing me with a bullwhip." His head sinks into his hands. "Father thinks I am nothing. I am worthless to him. I was his second choice, since Emerind left. He was determined to whip me into shape though, that I be suitable to serve as he does. He yet admonishes me of my duty and my service to the family, in his letters. Perhaps he is right. I will never be the swordsman he is, and I serve another." He looks up, utterly haunted, staring blankly at the moon's cool face. "I strive as I may, to do the family proud ..." He falls into silence.

For a second, Menel's hand clasps Seldan's shoulder, the expression that lies on Menel's face taking a slightly hard turn. "I can't speak as to parents very much, but I can't say I think very highly of anyone that would find /you/ worthless Seldan. You do /good/. I have never known a man who took his duty more seriously than do you. As to your service to your family, you love them and do your utmost to protect them... what greater service is there than that?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "A man who would raise a hand much less a weapon to one weaker than himself, - to a child - has by my mind no right to judge his son."

Menel shakes his head. "And if you ever have any question of it Seldan, you only need turn your eyes skyward and ask the Lady you serve if your service has been enough for /her/. And if she grants you still her boons, then who is he or you to say a word against that?"

"I am not of the Draco Solis, and therefore I will not ever be enough, not in his eyes." Seldan's eyes remain on the sky above. "That Her face yet remains turned to me is a blessing untold, and one for which I am grateful each night I see her rise into the heavens. Even the Sunguards in Bryn Myridorn think my father a stubborn fool, and said as much to me, and yet ...."

The sword at Seldan's side pipes up, a kindly old woman's voice, slightly nasal. "He is a stubborn fool. Why do you think we did not wake for him? If we had, he probably would have ignored us."

Seldan snorts softly at the sword, but shakes his head. "He cares not, I think. I am not what he wanted, and therefore am I nothing. I had not dreamt like that since I was a small child ... and yet now can I not forget, though they have passed. The Seers say that I was being sent magical nightmares, and I have no reason to disbelieve. She would, and few others would have the power or sufficient reason to do so."

Menel makes his own small amused noise at the swords words, then shakes his head. "I can understand Seldan, a son's desire to be what his parent wants for him to be." His voice is soft again, thoughtful. "But... it is not always what you /should/ be. A Goddess called to you. Chose you. There are few who can say such a thing. Fewer still who can rise to that challenge. I have to ask you Seldan..."

For a moment Menel trails off and then he is looking at his friend. "Do you even /want/ to be what he wants for you to be? Will you spend your life trying to be someone you are not for his approval? And if the answers to those questions are no - then why do you let him haunt you?"

Surprised, Seldan looks up, confusion in the ice-blue eyes. "Mal asks the same of me. To him, and to you, I say this: Placing my wants above my duty is selfish and childish. I know better than that. One does so achieve that which makes one remembered. Worthy to stand among one's ancestors." He pauses a moment to reflect, looking off to one side and the creek's chatter below. "It is a strange thing, Menel. Until I came to Alexandria, and met Malik ... I ... do not think I was ever asked what I wanted. It was, and is, simply of no consequence, and yet do Alexandrians seem to place great importance upon it."

Menel can't help but smile a little, almost laughing but not quite. "You're wrong Seldan. Duty... however important is not what makes the future generations remember us. My mother... Do you think that it is her duty to me that I remember her for? For she did her duty in bearing me into the world, but it is her /love/ of me that I remember always. Not that she cared for me when I was sick, but that she did so with gentleness. That she rocked me to sleep and held me in dark hours. Love and horror bear us into the future Seldan. We are remembered for the parts of us we /choose/ to give to the world." Menel swallows and ducks his head slightly, scrubs a hand over his head.

The swordsman doesn't fancy himself good with words, but he means what he says, and says what he means to say. Menel licks his lips and glances at the night sky. "There are a thousand stories in this world, carried down through the generations. And there is duty in them yes, but if you look carefully you'll notice that even that duty is born out of love. It doesn't work the other way around. You can't love something out of duty."

Something in Seldan's demeanor snaps shut like a bear trap at something in Menel's words, and he draws a deep breath. "One might see it differently if one had a five hundred year old sword talking to them daily," he offers, his gaze going back up to the moon, questioningly, drawing and releasing another deep breath as he does so. "Eluna's duty permits me the pursuit of that which I love as well, and yet are the two separate." He shakes himself. "Forgive me. I prattle too much of myself."

Menel flushes, then ducks his head. "Perhaps that's as it may. And you don't really. Besides, it's nice getting to know more about you." He sighs, smart enough to know he's said something wrong, but not enough to know what it is. Perhaps it's everything, or just disagreeing with the paladin. "I wish I were better with words. I guess... I don't understand duty well enough maybe. I didn't have the sort of upbringing that you did."

He smiles on reflex, not at Seldan, but just a movement of his lips as he watches the sky. "What's your duty Seldan? If I understand it then maybe..." Maybe he'd feel a little less stupid than he does right now.

"You are not wrong, Menel, in that duty and love may mingle as one, and when love is present, duty is easier to bear." Seldan sits a little straighter, and the haunted and vulnerable man appears to be gone, once again replaced by the calm and even-keeled paladin. "I am blessed that Eluna permits me both. In her do I always find enough. Perhaps it was Her wisdom that sent you to me this even."

The swordsman lets out a small amused noise. "Perhaps. I..." Menel stares at the moon. "I wish I had answers, or really anything else to offer, but if that's enough for you, I won't ask for anything else only..." Menel tears his eyes from the moon and looks down at the man. "There is one last thing I would say: Do not let anyone do to you, what you would not let them do to someone you cherish. You're a good man Seldan, don't let anyone treat you differently."

Menel looks away at the end of those words, not wanting Seldan to see the expression on his face.

"There is no need to have answers, for those who hurt, Menel." Seldan stands from the bank and looks down, brushing dirt from himself as an automatic gesture. His tone is gentle, and yet closed off. "One must find one's own answers, but sometimes ... an ear and a shoulder is all that is needed." He smiles, ever so faintly, a false thing, then turns and makes to stride off into the forest.

He pauses at the edge, though, and turns back. "Menel? Thank you."

Menel doesn't follow the paladin, he stays on the rock and tries to school his expression back into place. It's not something he's very good at. By the time that Seldan reaches the edge of the clearing though, he can turn toward the man. Has enough of himself to smile and shake his head. "Thank you Seldan." He watches until Seldan is gone, until the flash of cloth and pale skin has vanished into the night. Then he turns his eyes to the moon and stars in the sky and whispers, to them and the man who has left into the dark, "Stars watch you my friend."

-End