All this time, Ryheric was certain he was terrible at words. Crude, unable.
An imbalance of trying to figure out what to share, how much.
Should he try to explain something properly, or keep it to his preference; short simple terms where spirit and intentions were doing most of the work?
It had been a significant puzzle for him. Since meeting Silver, he had learned that explaining more was something that people wanted. At a glance, this is a good thing. A means to sharing goals and communicating one's thoughts. The foundation and glue of friendship and love.
As time went on, it became apparent that words are sometimes only collected. Collected and turned over to weigh their value like gems. This habit becomes an obsessive one, especially among civilised folk with the luxury of not *needing* to understand on simple terms. Plotters, schemers, or more innocent (or sometimes insecure) overthinkers.
Sometimes they are sharpened and thrown back as weapons. Other times they are kept like a hoard. Stored and monitored by those wasting away in the down sides of civilisation, where people forgot how and why to be alive.
But between learning he needed words to understand beyond life and death, the following affected his view of his ability to communicate with others profoundly:
- Meeting the huge hearted Eirik who spoke the same sentiments Ryheric, in newfound temperance, was no longer always able to
- Time with the determined Emmie who gave him compassion and freedom with words - an open forum with her where they could each speak their thoughts and ask whatever they wanted,
- Moments with the fae-like, superstitious Breelander, Dandy who herself used words *a lot* and was avidly keen to use them for what they were meant for - understanding
- Tate and his contagious passion
- Cwennie and her keen, no-nonsense observations
- Bryn and his sensitivity
- Sicarra and her elegant grit
- Atharann and his unshakable loyalty to his friends
- Winnie and her rough as guts, firm, easy bluntness and of course..
- Tarsorel, the soldier rehabilitating between pearls of wisdom and now a new penance and oddly honest delight in serving everyone around him (especially the ladies).
- Brynleigh, who above all else, was hidden. Like a secret. A tragic, true, solitary widow of Rohan. Her words measured, locked away like ice awaiting long winters for the thaw. When that thaw came, pale and half-delivered, held back... While her heart is open as the starry night sky or massive and crushing as a breaking glacier.
Ryheric understood and made his peace. There was balance, and he could finally see it.
He uses words for understanding. He is *good* at seeking it, and he is *good* at sharing it, after all.
He has come a long way in two years, and that last remnant of seeing himself as "lesser" is finally seen for what it is.
Lessons misguidedly learned from those who were troubled, themselves.
He accepts it, and lets it go. Words are good to use, wisely. And alongside actions, they are the key to friendship, love and connection.
But they can still be nothing, too. Just like passing raindrops in a season can flicker and go, or they can build a floodway and feed the sea.
The Stream was the same. The concept could work for good or ill.
Tarsorel's advice about order and even punishment had seemed fancy. Orderly. Wise. But Ryheric had very violent, terrible recollections of what punishment meant for some men.
It didn't feel right at all. He had never punished anyone in his company. He would not start now. He refused to be those men. He refused to be like Gazakh, he refused to be like Tarsorel.
Then Tarsorel's starkly unfitting behaviour, and Brynleigh's to follow it, the entire group catching on to the dourness between those two, was taken as a sign. It led to his decision solidified. That advice from Tarsorel would not be taken.
Another lesson all of his own is learned instead. Friendship and leadership cannot be carelessly blended. Nor can they be carelessly separated.
.....
"Come alone. Or they will all die."
He could not resist. Nor could he take anyone with him.
... But Atharann and Winnie would follow him anyway, for actions spoke loudest, and they could not leave him to his suffering alone.
