This forcing myself to write a little every day thing has been bearing fruit.
Links to what has gone before: the first two parts are here, with an additional scene from the same night here.
“I don’t know what to do.”
High above the festivities, the Terraces split into individual branches and woody pods to form living and working quarters for those who needed time away from the gatherings below. Simply furnished, the pod Vyssinada now slumped in was plain and almost austere, with only a small hammock, a desk, and two chairs - only one of which was occupied by the wilting cherry-red armoured soldier.
At the side of the gently curving room stood another armoured figure, his head tilted slightly as he listened. He was tall but slight, a young tree growing ramrod straight, but his carved, leafy face was calm, and his black eyes kind. The sparse purple leaves on his stump-like head rustled slightly when he shifted stance in order to clasp his hands and crouch before her.
“What are you wanting to accomplish?” he asked, and the thick red foliage of the seated woman flopped despondently.
“I don’t know anymore.” She sighed. “I want to be their friend, not their commanding officer. I can’t stay apart like you do.” She looked up, her thorns glimmering in the faint red light she gave off. “How do you do that?”
“I…” He shrugged. “I’m a believer, and I remind myself that my Wyld Hunt is to serve and protect, no matter how lonely that might seem at times.”
“That’s another thing I don’t understand. A believer in what? You’re not just talking about Ventari’s teachings, are you?”
He paused, his dark eyes so wide that Vyss fancied for a moment that they were pools in which she could swim.
“I… it’s hard to put into words.” He glanced up, at a point over her shoulder and apparently very far away. “It’s not like the Humans and their Gods, or even the Charr and their faith in their engineering. It’s more like I know we’re supposed to be here, and deserve the best protection we can get. And that’s up to me. I have to do something.”
“Act with wisdom, but act.” she agreed, quoting Ventari’s Tablet cradled high above them in the Pale Tree’s branches. But her face still fell into her hands, fingers only twitching away when they touched her thorns. “I wish I was as committed as you.”
“You know, there’s no one way to command. Just because I prefer to stand apart doesn’t mean you have to do the same. You’re a soldier, like them. And you’re not me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Use your strengths, not mine.”
“But Vertoc, what are my strengths?”
He considered.
“You go out drinking with them. You laugh and joke around, and you’re friendly. I’m…” The bark wrinkled around his nose as he shook his head. “That’s not me.”
“But you’re nice! I don’t see the difference.”
“You don’t?” Slowly he stood, his armour creaking like the wind in the high boughs of the forest. Again he became the tree, straight and tall and slender, standing against any storm. “Then I really don’t know what else to say. Just think about what I’ve said.”
“If I had my preference I wouldn’t be telling them what to do at all.”
From below the echos of the party wafted up to them, laughter and music filling the space between them.
“Telling, or ordering people to do things is not nice. If that isn’t you, then you need to find a way to use that niceness to help them. They want to be Wardens, just like you do.”
“I could try rewarding them, I suppose, when they do something right?” Dubiously she looked up, seeking confirmation as she peered through her fingers.
He nodded.
“Take them out from the Grove and get them used to working together, perhaps.” Then he sighed. “I don’t think I can help you too much more. I’ve never really commanded a squad like that, so it hasn’t come up. Have you talked to Niamh?”
“I didn’t want to bother her.” Lithe and usually graceful, Vyssinada flowed to her feet, the clink of her armour audible under her ornate red leaves. Then she stumbled both in word and stance as she flung out her hands as a certain realisation crept into her admittedly slowed thoughts. “Not that I meant to bother you either…”
He laughed.
“I’m not bothered. In fact I’m flattered you thought of asking me. Thank you.” He bowed, a soft smile softening his features, and just like that, the interview was over.
The soldier wasn’t sure if she should salute or wave, so after finding a feeble gesture somewhere between the two, she only slightly wobbled as she stepped back out into the open air.
Behind her, Vertoc watched her go with dark, wide eyes, raising his hand in a wave of farewell even though he was certain she couldn’t see it. A soft sigh and he turned back towards his desk, sorting through the papers on it as he felt the weight of his Hunt upon him once more.
The memory of a friend. The reminder of those he still looked up to, even now. Vertoc was humbled to be allowed to wield their weapon, and to walk in their footsteps as a Knight of the Thorn.
Yep, Vertoc finally got his Caladbolg. Too tired to say anything more than that right now.
Ah, little Vertoc isn’t so little anymore. He’s the “canon” Commander amongst my lot, though that doesn’t mean he’s done all the Pact stuff and all. He’s just the one I see the story on, and tends to be the most military and leadership minded of them all.
But tonight he got his Ydalir, and I am exhausted. I stayed up way too late looking for that last piece. >.<
Next up I would love to get Gerain his Bo and Sarin her Yggdrasil, seeing as the two crafted items cross over on each of those. Just. Not. Tonight.
Vertoc seems to blend quite well into these surroundings - colour-wise, at least.
Three days of playing, and I have a second level 80 in Sarin, and Vertoc finally finsihed the basic game. What can I say? I’m a total coward and when I used to play it had to be done in a group (or seemed like it - I might be totally wrong). But @deathcupcake braved it, and so I found I could do it without grouping up with anyone.
He was probably boring. It was funny to think of that, really, and Vertoc walked the cool green paths of the Grove thinking on it with a small smile. All about him his fellow Sylvari worked and chattered and played, enjoying their lives both in and out of the Dream whilst he was here on patrol yet again.
There was often some gentle teasing directed at him, encouragements to come and play with them, to dance and sing the days and nights away, and occasionally he did. It was good to remember what it was he protected, after all.
However he mostly kept himself apart. From the moment he’d emerged from his pod he’d known his place, and from a sapling onwards he’d dedicated himself to training. His heart blazed in his belief in Ventari’s teachings, and in love for the Mother and the life she provided them.
It was his honour to protect his people, so that all the others were free to enjoy their lives. It was his burden and privilege to defend their way of life, and he would always be a guardian to them, a Warder in body and soul. He would give them the greatest gift he could - the freedom to live well.
