Practice, Interrupted

Between the library and the Temple itself, amid the smaller buildings of the Temple, there lies a courtyard. Some practice here, some sit and enjoy the sunlight, and still others undertake studies or spellwork at times. Today, there are a few around, although the chill and the gusty wind keep it from being too many. Winter is coming, and the whistle between the buildings speaks forlornly of it.

Seldan has improved in the last few days, with help from the healers, and is moving without trouble. He has begun to work with the Maester again, although carefully, but now he stands in the middle of the courtyard, cloak laid aside among the stones. Most arresting, though, are the pair of raven-black angel wings that sprout from his back, large enough to carry a grown man in flight, but half-furled, his attention on the man before him as he faces into the gusty wind.

Elena manages to find her way out to the courtyard, a heavy wool cloak on this time, lined with fur. She keeps her distance for the moment, moving to one of the benches -- but is clearly watching the exchange, eyes on those wings as the paladin and the weaponsmaster work, bringing the man little by little back to where he was before his injuries.

If she's looking to bring him back inside, there's no sign of it. There's no worry in her features, and she doesn't so much as say a word or try and get in his field of vision.

The two work back and forth, on what appear to be basic drills at half-speed, although with live steel. Why Seldan is using the wings might be unclear, for those who do not wield weapons, but Parmon does not appear to question it, and doesn't seem interested in pushing him or speeding him up. The two pay attention to small details of balance, with an occasional correction of this or that minor piece. "Might need to strengthen you a bit more to correct that balance, that leaning forward is hurting your power," Parmon says, once the two finish a drill and lower the blades. "I cannot say that I have ever taught someone with wings, but it changes something, that much is sure."

Elena seems content to watch for the moment, the steady exchange between the pair slow enough that she can follow the movements, even as a relative novice to the martial arts. "I think that it likely would have changed quite a bit, when I was undergoing training," she agrees, smile bright. "Strange new weights in the front and the back? I think I probably would have fallen over more than I would care to admit in public." Though she does glance over to Parmon, adding, "Not that I didn't fall over plenty on my own. I remember."

Both men laugh, Parmon equally brightly. He's an older human man, with a wizened face and hair that is more salt than pepper, but still tanned and strong. More importantly, he is wily, and quick to punish infractions of footwork and technique alike, though never with more than bruises. The two are not striking today, though, and are using blades much heavier than Elena would be accustomed to. "You and most others of your kind, my girl, especially those for whom weapons are wholly new. The good news is that this one," he nods at Seldan, "does more fighting than you are ever likely to have to see. Have you been cleared for Guild work yet?"

Seldan laughs as well, but maintains his stance, frowning in concentration, as the two talk. After a minute, though, the wings melt away into nothingness, and Seldan starts, then rebalances himself, standing normally. "Thank you, Maester," he says, "but I can summon them no more today. I would have a few minutes of your time tomorrow, if you can spare it."

There's a sound like the crack of lightning and the ground shudders like an earthquake.

Elena stands when the others start walking her way, pulling her hood down to more easily meet their eyes. "Fortunately for me, I had a very stubborn, demanding teacher who wouldn't accept anything less than excellence." She reaches out, putting an affectionate hand on the older man's arm. "His lessons have saved my skin plenty of times, now."

As the wings melt away, she turns to watch a few feathers fall, looking liek she's planning to answer the question about guildwork -- when that sound comes out of nowhere and the ground starts to shake, causing her to take a defensive stance as she reaches for a weapon by her side, eyes scanning for danger.

As quick as lightning, both men assume similar defensive stances, steadying themselves as the ground shakes and looking around warily. They both raise blades as well, although their stances and styles are noticeably different. "What in-?" Parmon starts.

Elena holds expectantly, but as nothing comes, she takes a few steps toward the temple interior. "Are -- we thinking that it was natural thunder, then?" she asks, though there's very little room in her tone to suggest she believes anything of the sort. But as no further commotions appear to be readily forthcoming, she takes a step to the door, listening for anything out of the usual.

"Not for a moment," Seldan says firmly. Once the ground steadies, he sheathes his blade and turns to grab his cloak from the rocks nearby. "Maester, if you will forgive me. That was no ordinary thunder. I fear for the Redridge." Parmon nods immediately. "Go do as you must, and be careful. I will see to the building itself." He turns, sheathing his own blade, and takes off at a run towards the temple quarters.

Seldan slings his own cloak around his shoulders. "Seer, are you cleared for Guild work?" He asks the question much more seriously. "I will need to change clothing and gather my gear, but they may need help."

Elena turns, giving him a serious look. "I have no idea," she answers. "But cleared or no, if people need my help, I'm certainly not staying here." She's already in the process of gathering her hair back into that serious bun, the better to keep it from becoming someone's handhold, a look of raw determination on her face. "I'll find you shortly."

"Meet me at the main doors in half a mark," Seldan instructs seriously, then gives her a name. "She will know if you have been cleared, and be able to aid you in finding attire for travel. That cloak," he nods to the white and silver attire typical of Seers by the pool, "will not suffice you. Dress warmly, prepare for any weather, and take a healer's kit, if one can be spared. Rope as well, you may find yourself venturing into the mountains."

Elena nods her understanding, but only just barely stops moving. And by the time Seldan gets to the meeting point, Elena is already there -- a silvery set of light mail visible under the hem of a padded tunic with a hood. There's a rope attached to her belt, and that same determined look on her face -- and she's here much too quickly to not have had most of that already on hand.

Seldan is a bit slower than that, but when he does, there are some definite differences in his attire this time. He appears to have opted for older and warmer attire, with the exception of the cloak and the robe, and his belt has more different items on it. The cloak is double-pinned over his prominent holy symbol, with the heavy steel brooch she knows, and with a much simpler cloak pin just beneath it. Boots are heavy and sturdy, and he wears black leather gloves against the chill, his sleeves lashed down with leather bracers to keep them out of his way.

When he sees Elena, he studies what she has, nodding after a moment in clear satisfaction. "Good. We go the long way, the market district will have travel food for sale that is not made from rats, and I know not what we will find. The food keeps, so even if we do not travel, it is worth the having, and I am low."

Elena slings her bag over a shoulder, crossing the strap across her chest to leave her hands free. She steps forward, looking confident, until Seldan mentions that the food likely -won't- be made from rats. That makes her falter a bit, eyes widening. "Is -- is that /common/ here?" she asks him, one hand clutching at the base of her neck a bit reflexively. Perhaps she hasn't been paying close enough attention to where she procures lunch, in the past. But she still follows along dutifully, almost looking eager to be out of the Temple, though there's no small amount of reservation as well. Clearly, she's still new to this.

"The most direct path to the Guild crosses the southern Highbridge, and leads through a part of town that is less than savory," Seldan explains, with an added smile that is meant to be reassuring. "It is not of concern normally, but if one seeks rations, that is not the best place to find them." His own pack is already settled across his back, and he turns to hold the door open for her.

As he opens the door, a messenger is dashing across the plaza, shouting, "Something crashed into the orphanage! We need healers!"

Elena takes that all in stride, steeling herself a bit for the journey -- until that door opens, and a man is saying that something crashed into the orphanage, and that healers are needed. That seems to be just about all the woman needs. She moves past Seldan, running out into the plaza and heading in the direction of the orphanage at full tilt, legs carrying her as fast as she can go. Given her height, that's not terribly fast, but she still manages an impressive clip, already digging through her bag and looking for the kinds of tools she'll need once she gets there, ducking around others in the crowd as best she can.

Elena manages to lose Seldan in the crowd, the panicking people making it difficult for the paladin to follow as people flock to the Temple, looking for safety. She's gone awhile -- but eventually she comes back, covered in dust. Her face is grim, and her steps are slow but determined as she moves inside the Temple once more, shrugging the bag off from her shoulder as she surveys those still inside, looking for the Paladin once more.

Seldan is waiting by the doors, having divested himself of his pack, but still in full travel attire and clearly ready to move if needed. When Elena returns, he steps forward, looking her over soberly, and carefully. "What happened?" he asks without preamble, then chants a simple spell. It is one she's heard him use before, more than once - a spell to clean the dust from her.

Elena closes her eyes, letting the magic flow as the dust starts to disappear, evaporating into wherever the magic takes it. She tosses her own bag down on the ground, taking a deep breath as she tries to find her center once more. "There was no need for a healer," she says with just as much lack of preamble -- her previous disheveled state making it clear enough what that means, without necessarily alerting the lay members that anything is amiss.

From the way Seldan's eyes lower, he knows exactly what that means. He finishes the job of dust removal, including her footprints into the Temple, in silence, then makes an arcane gesture of dismissal. When he finishes that, he reaches for the bag she discarded, nodding. "Let us leave this elsewhere. I would hear all you can tell me, Seer." He gestures her to precede him out of the main sanctuary and back towards the courtyard. The intent is clear enough - not here.

Elena follows along, looking a bit tired but otherwise keeping a perfectly neutral face. It's only after she gets out in the courtyard, back out into the cool air and away from prying eyes, that she allows some of the tension she's carrying to melt away. "The reports say the same thing tht the messenger said. Something crashed into the orphanage. Thankfully, the children were out, but there were still casualties." She moves over to one of the benches, rubbing her shoulder. "Some say it was a dragon. But then they think many things are dragons. And I've never heard of a dragon that crashes in an explosion of mist that leaves its victims dessicated and falling into piles of sand on the streets." She gestures back to the temple entrace, where Seldan cleaned her off -- not building rubble, then.

Seldan follows in silence, listening as Elena speaks, his frown deepening at the description. "Were there any witnesses? I have not heard of such a thing ... but perhaps the Arcanists' library might hold some wisdom." He sets Elena's pack at her feet, clearly saddened by the description.

Elena nods. "Most of them claim it was a dragon. They say that it ran off to the --" She searches for the words. "The -- tower of the flying messengers. Gryphon Postal Service?" It's clearly not something that she's spent much time thinking about. "Many of the witnesses are now dust on the ground, though, so I'm not sure how reliable the secondhand testimony is." Though she nods her agreement at the arcanist's library. "Perhaps I should go and see what can be found."

Clearly the term _Gryphon Postal Service_ means something to Seldan, because he simply nods at the mention. "It did not attack the gryphons, did it? Certainly it is worth the look. There were truly no living witnesses?" Disappointment is clear. "A worthy endeavor to seek the library, at any rate. Would you have me accompany you?"

Elena searches her memory for information, but is apparently coming up short. "Forgive me, paladin," she tells him, "but I was distracted trying to find those who were injured. I don't recall whether they said, either way, on either count." She stands, straightening the tunic and pulling back stray bits of hair that managed to escape their confinement in the confusion earlier. "And your presence would be most welcome. Surely the two of us can find answers faster than either alone."

"Very well. You should take your pack to your quarters, I will await you. Some research will not go amiss." Seldan gestures that he will await here .