Jeranil was a cynical woman. She was often chastised by her blood family and clan members for being as such. Of course, being a cynic on Kavir was different from a cynic in the Outer, because on Kavir, everyone believed. The proof was undeniable, and reared its head incessantly and constantly. The Storm was a god, or as close to a god as something could get. Tales from the Outer were scarce and only penetrated the Storm every couple of decades in the form of daring traders and spice runners, but she was sure that if there was another singular being of great enough power to control an entire planet like the back of their hand, something would have been heard by the Kavirans.
In fact, if you measured one’s zealousness by how much they worshipped their deity, Jeranil would be hailed as extremely devout even among her own people. She was considered a cynic by both herself and her comrades, because she didn’t believe in fate or the Storm’s control over it. She could admit that the Storm had immense, perhaps even complete control over Kavir and all of its denizens. She could believe it was the strongest being in the galaxy. What she could never have admitted was the existence of fate.
Such a thing perplexed Jeranil because of its concept. All of your actions were predetermined or set towards a predetermined consequence? A load of bullshit if you asked her. Yes, the Storm held immense power over her and her people, but it couldn’t affect their thoughts and actions. Oh sure, it could physically pick them up, or even tear them limb from limb, but their actions were still their own. The deaths of Hardil and Trelane were simply things that had happened and had no preordained meaning. The Storm had caused them no doubt, but that was hardly fate working its hand. It was more similar to if she pushed someone off of a cliff and they died from it; that wasn’t fate, that was just logic.
Now though? Jeranil decided that maybe her cynicism could be put aside for a while. Because while it would take multiple more instances, Jeranil recognised this as undeniable proof. A Garalonat. It was something that everyone was both familiar, and unfamiliar with. Rarely did someone lose so much to such an extent to become one. Rarer even for them to return to Kavir. She pitied Vancil, as did her comrades.
The clue which hinted at the existence of fate, was the fact that he had brought someone with him. A companion who he had called Kandria, however the name ultimately meant nothing to Jeranil. Vancil had not claimed her to be anything like his partner or sister, so that was out of the question. The most he had given was that she was ‘with him’, however in what capacity Jeranil had little clue.
Observing their mannerisms while she helped to escort them to the Storm Petal orchard shone some light on the matter. They were close. Closer then either of them probably realised. Her suspicions were further confirmed when Vancil had saved Kandria. Jeranil had kept an eye on the Garalonat, and he had sure fought like a Kaviran against the badgers, brutal and violent in every action. When his companion, Kandria, was in danger though, something changed. With neither Jeranil or Preldane close enough to stop the badger from killing Kandria, there was near to no hope for the young woman.
She had seen the exact moment his eyes burned bright, turning from brutal glee to baleful fury. His metal gauntlet, which had been punching the badger below him to seemingly no effect caved into its skull as though it were a block of warmed butter. His free hand moved at the exact same speed and with the exact same power, moving in the badger’s direction so violently it was as though the air reeled back from it. From there, he had used what her people called the Power (however she knew it to be called ‘the Force’ in the Outer) to seize the badger mid-air.
Only, she wasn’t his partner, relative, or even most likely bonded, all of which would have been reasonable evidence as to why he had reacted so strongly. She was from the Outer, and knew naught of their ways. That little lack of knowledge also just so happened to help to prove the existence of fate. She had given a Storm Petal as blue as the woman’s eyes, that was splattered with the quite literal blood red of Vancil’s, to the Garalonat. It was…impossible. She had no reason to pick that flower, and had even gone out of her way to get it.
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However, despite her bewilderment and disbelief at this sequence of events, her heart couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with joy. Because Vancil had accepted it. And he knew exactly what that flower meant. Jeranil grinned like a madwoman as she watched Kandria follow along beside Vancil, seemingly trying to help him pick out the Storm Petals, another testament to her lack of knowledge.
Maybe some things were actually fate.
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Preldane was an internally focused man. In every action he took, if you boiled it down to its bones you would find that it was all for his own benefit or development. That wasn’t to say he was a cold and heartless man, quite the opposite in fact. Because, in his eyes, the protection and safeguarding of those close to him was to his own benefit.
In a way, that helped Preldane to relate to Vancil. He did not know much about the young Garalonat, but he liked what he had seen so far. The man had reacted fast, faster than even Preldane could have hoped for on his best. Preldane glanced over to the woman who had caused the lightning speed reactions.
Preldane’s initial grin had long since fallen away, and he now frowned disapprovingly in between observing the surroundings, as Kandria hovered over Vancil, pointing at Storm Petals without understanding exactly what the man was doing. If Preldane could, he would drag her off and set her down in some corner until the Garalonat was finished. His gaze flicked over to the only thing that stopped him from doing so.
Vancil did not share Preldane’s displeasure at Kandria’s nagging, at least not truly. The man seemed to be constantly nagging Kandria back, even saying several times for her to ‘stop asking questions’. There was no actual force behind those words however, and every now and again a small smile came onto Vancil’s face. Out of sight of Kandria of course.
There were three key reasons why Vancil was the reason for Preldane’s restraint. Firstly, the man was a Garalonat, and so he and whatever he had left were to be protected, even at the cost of one’s life. His two comrades were examples of this devotion that was expected of them. It just so happened that one of the things Vancil seemed to have left was Kandria, and so he would die to defend her.
Secondly, even if the first reason wasn’t a factor, Vancil likely would have torn him a new one and kicked his ass so hard he’d be tasting leather even in death. If the man’s actions when Kandria had been close to death were any indication, he was very protective of her, and since he could use the Power, Preldane stood next to no chance if they came to blows.
Finally, deep inside him, Preldane was rooting for Kandria. Even if she failed to fully understand the meaning of the flower she had given, she had still given it. And when Vancil accepted it, both he and Jeranil had grinned their hearts out. Because him accepting it meant that there was something there for him, something for the Garalonat who had likely lost so much to find something new, something that could return him.
”You should stop glaring.” Came the hushed whisper of Jeranil who had walked up beside him while she nursed her injured arm tenderly.
Preldane kept his gaze on the pair as he whispered back, whispered so as to not break Vancil’s command of the Kaviran tongue being spoken in Kandria’s listening range, “She is meddling in things she doesn’t understand. It is…infuriating.”
A light kick in his shins broke his stare which flicked around to stare at Jeranil indignantly, “And? She’s clearly trying to understand our – his ways.”
The taller warrior shook his head, as he sighed in resignation, “I know. It doesn’t change the fact that she is an Outer.”
“An Outer whose offer was accepted by a Garalonat.” Jeranil pointed out.
Preldane crossed his arms to stop the giddy smile from making its way onto his face, “…Yes. That is true. Perhaps she’ll bring him out of his sorrows. It’ll be a first, a Garalonat being brought out of bleakness.”
Jeranil didn’t bother to hide the grin that burst onto her face in response, clearly displaying his comrade’s bubbly personality when she wasn’t in combat, “Who do you think is going to make the first move? I bet three draegils it’s going to be Vancil.”
Preldane couldn’t fight back the next grin that came up as he took her up on the challenge, “Dumping me with the least likely option huh? Well, you’re on anyways.”
The two glared at each other in friendly challenge, however to Kandria, who had glanced back to the two, they damn near well seemed like they were going to kill each other.