The Tale of Warin [[RP Story Post]]
There once was a very timid man, from a very timid family, all of whom never, ever left the house. Their food was delivered, their clothes were delivered, even their news! They paid a different family, who lived next door, to do all these things, and one year the charge of delivering these things fell to a young girl named Tara. She befriended the youngest boy in the family, a small soft-spoken thing named Warin.
Now Tara was always trying to convince Warin to leave, to see the beauty of the world, but Warin never could bring himself to do so. Every time he tried, his father would find him out and give him a lecture about the things that happened outside. Disease! Horror! Wolves and monsters alike! And so Warin was always scared of the outside world, no matter what. Tara, for her part, would still play with him inside, though she longed to take him out into her beautiful bright world.
They passed their years together, thick as thieves, though this one shortcoming held them apart. Then, one week, she didn’t come. No excuses, no notes, her younger brother just came in her place. Warin, worried, begged her brother for news. Nothing. Day after day, the brother just said ‘She left on her journey.’ Left? Without telling him? Would Tara do that? His Tara? Maybe she really was sick and tired of him never leaving his home.
He ranted and raved for days, pacing and cursing everything in sight. His family believed he’d lost it, and tried all they could to bring him back to his senses. Then, one day, he went quiet. He didn’t speak a word. He just began to pack bags, sending the brother back and forth for every supply imaginable. Anti-venom, socks, a large winter coat. He bundled himself up as much as was possible, even though it was only fall. His family tried to ask him what he was doing, but he didn’t answer.
Then, finally, he left. Gone. In the middle of the night. Nothing save for a note for his overly cautious family. ‘I have gone to find Tara. I will return.’ His family was at a loss, but could do nothing. Angry, his father left him for dead. ‘He chose to leave! He’s dead to us now, you hear? Dead! If anyone speaks a word of him again, they can consider the same fate!’ He shouted, so his family mourned in silence.
So Warin had left, in hopes of following Tara to the crystal city, where the traveling kind like her earned their right of passage. No one outside those who had already made passage knew where this place was, save that it was in the treacherous northern ice lands, which was known for its mirages and bitter cold. Had Warin left looking for an adventure, he’d surely gotten one.
Warin had an idea of what could happen to him. He was scared, and he hoped fate would have mercy on him. Even though he was scared, though, he trekked on, because he had to find Tara. If she was going to be lost to the wild, dangerous world, then he was to. The journey north was not that bad at first - far from it. The weather could even have been called pleasant. He would stop by inns and ask after her, but always to no avail.
So he journeyed on, until he reached the great peaks, which separated the safe northern country from the treacherous ice lands. He stayed, indecisive, at the base of the mountains. No matter what he thought, he couldn’t bring himself to climb them, to face his fear. He had hoped to have found her by now. What if she was dead already? Then his journey was pointless. What if she was in danger, or captured, or worse? Wasn’t it his job to rescue her?
After a day and night of indecision, he decided to go up the mountains. He climbed the peaks, higher and higher, until there was no more air, no more clouds, no more anything. And from up above, he saw the world as it was - dangerous and beautiful and wonderful and terrifying and oh so alive. From atop the mountain, the earth breathed and lived. From atop the mountaintop he could even see the dancing lights. He yearned to stay, to watch them, but continued on.
As he made it down the mountain, he could see why these were called the ice lands. It was slick and snow filled, blizzards blinding all the could be seen below. Many times he almost got turned around, but he kept on, until he made it to the base. He barreled on into the blizzard filled wasteland, continuing farther and farther north. Then, one day, the storms stopped. There was nothing. A desert. There was nothing in any direction as far as the eyes could see.
Now you may wonder why, even though he was following Tara, he didn’t see her or heard word of her. There was a simple reason for this - she had gone to a southern town first to get supplies, and was actually a week behind Warin, even with the 3 days he spent mourning and packing. Not expecting anyone to follow her, she went on her merry way. But soon innkeepers began to ask her if she knew a ‘Warin’ fellow, who seemed to be looking for a girl remarkably like her.
At first she wanted to believe it was a coincidence; however, as she headed north she knew it was true. Warin had left. Stable Warin. Timid old Warin. ‘The fool!’ she moaned. ‘He’ll get eaten in a day!’ she worried for him, now following him north. ‘Please let him have survived. Please let him be alive.’ She begged the heavens. Not seeing him at the border she lost hope. He’d have died already in the ice lands. She sobbed at the base of the peaks. Warin was lost for good.
So Tara resolved to go to the ice lands to bring his body back. If he had left searching for her, then she had to bring him home. Even if it broke her heart. So she went through the pass in the mountain too, only she didn’t stop to look down at the earth. She had no time. She trekked forward ever faster, hoping to find him. Somehow she still clung to the belief that maybe, maybe he was alive. Maybe, she hadn’t lost him yet. So she continued into the frozen desert.
But, if you remember, the desert is full of tricks, and nothing could truly be as it seems. Compasses and maps were useless once you entered. One could only know oneself after traveling through the desert, because no one could know you like the desert. The first trail was a trail of grounding. The desert chased both the teens with castles of gold and oasis’ laden with food, breaking the teens down.
The second was the test of feelings. Beautiful beings accosted them, attempting to distract them from their way. They twisted in and out of their minds, telling them of secret precious things. These thoughts distracted them, setting them farther into the desert. The third did not seem to be a trick. It was a companion who guided them through the desert, taking their secrets as treasures. Meanwhile he guided them to nothingness, to despair. And then, when things were at their worse, they left.
The fourth was a test of heart. The two found what they believed to be the other lying in the desert. Finding their hearts still beating, they carried the unconscious bodies ever farther north, or so they thought. The true burden was their loss made physical, and they could not leave their load, or they were done. Bravely they carried their friend across the desert. After 4 days and 4 nights the clone woke up, again asking for their secrets.
But the travelers were wary now. ‘How can I trust you?’ they would ask, and the clones would answer, ‘because I am true.’ They would test the clones, which would pass, because they were born of their own minds. They yearned to speak with them, to tell them how they felt, now that they knew themselves, but they could not. Their minds were free, but their hearts were not, and so their tongues were bound. On the fifth night, the clones attacked, digging out their eyes. Oh, woe! They were now blind.
The last was the test of self. Alone in the desert, they mourned, no longer wishing to go on. They stumbled blindly through until the came across a large boulder at the center of the desert. They rested against the boulder, no longer in need of food or rest. They had nothing to do except talk to themselves, the only ones left. So they did. They talked of their hopes, their dreams, their fears, and their shortcomings. Until there was nothing left. Until, finally, they were free from themselves.
The desert told the nomads of the crystal city of their journey, and what they’d done. They cured their blindness, which was completely within them. 7 days later the two woke up side by side in the care of the wise old nomads. ‘You’re alive’ they both asked incredulously, moved to tears. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’ They embraced, knowing that this time, it was real. Though Warin wasn’t of the same tribe as Tara, they were both granted their birthright, their token as adults.
Tara earned the token of loyalty, because she refused to leave her friend in his time of truest need. Warin earned the token of bravery, for going against what he believed in for his friend. With these they both traveled home. From then on they journeyed together as friends for the rest of their days.
