And the Rain Crashed Down on the Roof...

And the Rain Crashed Down on the Roof...

SUMMARY: Yelrona and Sorscha have a very emotional conversation in the pouring rain. Rona falls down, and gets back up again.

It's Variday, Aestry 04 18:17:33 1018. The full moon is up. The tide is low and rising. Heavy rain pours from dark grey clouds, propelled by a furious east wind.

==

Yelrona is taking advantage of a covered porch in front of the Fernwood to do some exercise out of the rain. Right now she is practicing gymnastics moves, flipping from standing on her feet to standing on her hands and back with a minimum of wasted effort, shifting her pack around from time to time to make things more difficult. Though she isn't perfect, she's really very good at this.

Sorscha walks her way down the road to see yelrona doing flips. "You know there are some monks that would help you with that, right?" She says to Yelrona.

Yelrona laughs, vaulting over the porch railing to land next to her friend. "In principle, yes. In practice I don't know any personally, and if I just show up at a monestary I'll probably get preached at about..." she smirks "lifestyle choices. Besides, there's no substitute for practice." She looks up into the rain, which now pelts her unhindered. "Do you think Daeus could be talked into bringing the sun out for us?"

Sorscha says, "Some monks aren't preachy, but practical. You never know. Daeus has an order himself, but others are willing to teach, despite their own life choices. Some are really agile for their size.""

Yelrona nods. "I saw a couple of monks exhibition-fighting, once. They moved faster than I do! Which for humans is a very rare thing. I was impressed." She thinks about it. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to try them out. Anywhere in particular you'd recommend?"

Sorscha says, "they're all over the place. usually, you'll find them working out, but you'll catch them randomly."

Yelrona nods tentatively. "Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. In the meantime," she adds, doing another handstand and walking on her hands alongside Sorscha, "I suppose I'll just keep practicing on my own."

As she says this, her left hand slips on a rain-slick rock and she falls, rolling back to her feet quickly, but significantly damper and slightly embarrassed.

Sorscha grabs onto Yelrona and holds her for a second, before letting her down. "be more careful, Yelrona."

Yelrona laughs. "'Careful' is very relative. I'm not going to hurt myself here... not seriously, anyway. But if I only practice in dry places with no wind, what do I do when i find myself out there, needing to break my fall during a storm?"

Sorscha says, "I don't want you breaking your face, Yelrona."

Yelrona rolls her eyes. "You sound like my mother. Look, when you were learning _your_ skills, did you shy away from practicing with live blades just because you might take a cut or two?"

Sorscha says, "Practice is one thing, Yelrona. Actual application is another. If you hurt yourself, you cannot practice until you are well. And hurting yourself in practice is more detrimental to your progress than actual application. I did not practice with live blades until my instructor thought I had my form down. In essence, I had to earn my place to fight with live blades. Even at 865 years old, I STILL had to earn it." She then smirks. "Plus, if there is a way to keep you, and others, from getting hurt and I am that way...I will do it. Whether you want it or not.""

"I _know_ application is different," Rona replies, her tone irritated in a way any parent of an adolescent would recognize. "And I may not have nine centuries of experience under my belt, but I've faced live blades. And teeth, and claws. Alongside you, as I recall, and that shiny armor of yours didn't protect you any more than my speed protected me. But even so, I have to work to maintain that speed, just like you have to maintain your armor, and yes, sometimes that means I break my face, or take a cut, or get mauled by a lion, just like you do. And I have to heal, just like you do. And if you even _try_ to tie me down under the excuse that you're 'keeping me safe'..." The rest of that sentence is lost in red-faced sputtering, the young elf more upset than you've ever seen her. "Well, just don't, is what I'm saying."

Sorscha says, "I'm not going to tie you down. That sort of defeats the purpose of practice." Then 'rona goes off on her and Sorscha just.....stands there, crosses her arms and lets her expend it all. At the end, Sorscha raises an eyebrow. "You done?""

Yelrona looks vaguely sheepish once her tantrum winds down. "Yes," she grumbles. "For now."

Sorscha says, "So what brought that on?""

Yelrona looks at the Sunblade warily, sharply attuned to any whiff of condescension for a long time, as the rain pours down on them and the fierce winds blow. "I-I don't know," she says evasively after a moment, no longer meeting Sorscha's eyes. "It doesn't matter. Hey, look at the time," she adds hastily, despite the complete absence of any nearby timepiece and the dark clouds covering the sky. "I should get going. Nice seeing you again, Sorscha."

Sorscha thumps a hand on Yelrona's shoulder to stop her from going anywhere. "How about you take this chip off your shoulder and tell me what that outburst was about. There's obviously something bugging you. And it's not just me protecting you from harm."

Yelrona spins and twists to get out from under Sorscha's hand, her face twisted beneath the driving rain, her hand moving towards her blade instinctively, though she stops short before drawing it. "It's _nothing_," she almost shouts. "I just don't like to be -- to be held back, is all!" It's fairly clear she was about to say something else.

Sorscha says, "And?"

"And, what? And, I don't like it. And, I can take care of myself! _And_, you don't have the right! And..." She pauses briefly, and it's possible the moisture on her face is not entirely rain. "And nobody gets to tell me where I can and can't... gets to imprison --" She cuts off, looking surprised at the words coming out of her own mouth. "Well, just that," she continues hesitantly. "Just... that," she repeats, seeming confused.

Sorscha says, "there's more than that, Yelrona. And you WANT to say it, but you keep cutting yourself off." She then walks around to yelrona's front. "So tell me what it is.""

Yelrona opens her mouth, then closes it again. Then opens it again, raising a finger angrily in the air, but no sound comes out. Then closes it again, lowering the finger. "You're right," she says finally, in a more normal tone of voice. "Except I don't really know what it is either. I just really don't like being..." There's a long silence, and it begins to seem that the sentence is simply going to trail off into it, when she spits out "...trapped. I suppose that's why I worked so hard on learning to pick locks and wriggle out of ropes and such," she continues with a somewhat revelatory tone to her voice, as though she'd never quite known that before. "So they couldn't... I mean, so I could escape, if... if anyone ever tried it."

Sorscha says, "So who couldn't trap you?""

Yelrona looks up suddenly, not so much at Sorscha but at a point a foot or so above her shoulder, her expression that of a frightened child. Then, slowly, she seems to recover some of her equanimity. She seems about to make a joke, then stops, then all at once sits down on the wet cobblestones, heedless of the puddles she splashes in.

"Slavers," she finally says.

Sorscha tilts her head, walks over in front of her and crosses her arms. "What slavers?"

Yelrona sighs once, then again, then her breathing grows more rapid and shallower. She scowls, and her breathing evens out again. Eventually, she says "The ones who..." and stops, though this seems different than the last few times, more like she's trying to figure out how to proceed. "I may have told you about becoming a Talienite in my eighties," <sildanyari, here and hereafter> she continues. "Well, part of why I did... so, my best friend back then was Kalniss, an older boy from my settlement. We explored the ruins in Mythwood together, he taught me some things. Nowhere dangerous, though we liked to pretend we were exploring dungeons together, just... empty. Well, usually. Once, we found a temporary slaver's camp set up in one of them. A few bandits, six... six people in cages." "So what were we supposed to do? If we went back to call for help, by the time anyone got there they might already be gone? So we... tricked them. I'd already started to develop my magic by then," she explains, her hands moving quickly in arcane gestures as music starts to play in the background, an ominous minor-key tune, "and Kalniss knew some tricks, and I knew some, and... well, we managed to open three of the cages before we were caught."

Sorscha tilts her head. "What happened?"

Yelrona is obviously crying now, though her manner seems calm enough. Perhaps too calm. "Well, we... I mean, they decided we would take the place of the slaves we'd freed. They didn't hurt us or anything," she added reassuringly. "Not much, anyway. I mean, they _wanted_ to, or some of them did, but the man in charge -- a human, blond, missing one ear -- he said we'd bring a better price unharmed. So they took our gear and caged us. And waited. We were _stupid_," she bursts out suddenly, "we'd had _plenty_ of time to get help!!! But we didn't know," she continues, calm again. "So we'd charged in like... like a couple of paladins," she adds with a broad grin.

Sorscha says, "I think you're thinking of barbarians, Yelrona, but some paladins are zealous enough to fit that bill too.""

Yelrona actually laughs at that, her first genuine laugh in some time. "Perhaps. I haven't ever met a barbarian. Then again, you're my first paladin. Anyway. It all ended well enough... Kalniss' parents rescued us, with some friends of theirs. Liberators. They..." she pauses, confused. "You know, in thirty years I never thought to ask whether they were tracking down the bandits and surprised to find us in their cages, or whether they'd tracked us somehow?" She laughs again, incredulously. "Either way, though. They killed the bandits, freed us. His father was a cleric... I'd never known. None of had. They kept their affiliations secret, they asked me to do the same. And I did... I've never talked to anyone outside their family about any of that before. I'm not sure why I'm telling you now, honestly," she continues, her voice and manner returning to normal. "I mean, yes, it was a terrifying experience, especially for a girl of eighty, but it was a long time ago, and it was no reason to be yelling at you. I apologize for that, it was... childish."

Sorscha takes a deep breath. "because if they were to be found out, they could be hunted down. I don't like slavers either, but...I want you to realize something. "yes, I have nearly 9 generations behind me. I have grandchildren. My role....is protector. I'm not going to keep you from getting hurt all the time, but...if I can prevent it, I will. You're going to get hurt, I already know this. I'M going to get hurt, and if preventing you from getting hurt means that I have to get hurt....so be it. My role is protector. It always will be."

Yelrona nods slowly. "I accept that," she says after a long silence. "And for what it's worth, I'm all in favor of my not getting hurt," she adds with a grin. "Also, staring up at you is giving me a crick in my neck," she adds as she rises smoothly to her feet, "and I suspect we could throw a dart at random and hit a more sensible place to be having this conversation than sitting out here in the pouring rain." She gestures to the Inn's front door. "I picked up some tea and steeping herbs in the market this morning," she continues. "Can I offer you a cup?"