[ Keep Coyote alive, no matter the cost, and so she'd gone and faced an entire cult by herself. It's a miracle she survived, was only knocked out (while a grizzly bear, nonetheless, there were so many) and found by a demon's minder. ]
Mm. [ It's more to herself than anything, but... ] Think I used to be one of those.
[ She isn't one to fight for the good of everyone; just for her and her people. But it used to be just for her, just to win, and she'd realized what was wrong with that too late. ]
[ Her voice gets louder, trying to break away the moment, trying to force the emotions back in (she'll get them out later, either against a punching bag or in a spar, the way she knows best). ]
[ The change in subject is a relief to him as well, but not entirely. He knows that the answer he gives must deny him of all that he has earned and the paths that he travelled. It denies him the promise that he had made to a man who died in his arms, a man he has failed once before, and that he has fulfilled it.
But he must. He must, for there is no Gondor here. There is no Gondor or Arnor or Middle Earth. A King is no King without his people, and though the White Tree blooms he will not claim himself as the King of Gondor, much less the King of Men.
(He does not think of the weight of the crown that awaits him back home; of the people who depend upon him and how he knows not their states. He does not, for if he does he will claw at the walls of this ship until his fingers break and bleed streaks of blood down his wrists.
He is worth no Kingship here.) ]
I am a Ranger of the North. [ Quietly. ] A wanderer of the forests.
[ Aragorn does not think of his people and Jaye tries and tries and tries not to think of hers. Coyote, with Kane her apprentice; both of them safe together, but not as safe as they could be without her and likely traveling. Dominic, working for Nike and farther away then ever before. And Scott, her brother, missing for years and still not found, his knife aboard the ship but not him.
She misses them, all of them. They were her constants, her rocks, and now she's reaching for something to fill their spaces without even realizing it. ]
We wander, too. Sometimes on the roads, sometimes not.
[ It's a dangerous road, to gain affection for others based on those that he misses like a wound in his chest. In Errol he already sees the face of Boromir. He turns away from thoughts of Eowyn, of her fierceness and pride and their need to fight for those she loves.
He dares not see ghosts on the faces of the living. These people might not be his own, but they deserve much more. ]
There are wanderers in every world. [ It's easier this way. ]
[ If she were self-aware enough to realize she's doing it, she would agree. Jaye doesn't trust easily but there are already those here that she's protective of -- Alayne and her wolf, like a sister she's never had; Hotspur and his talk of gods and faith; Aberdeen and the way she had looked for Scott for her, the way she sounds like him. She doesn't trust them but she would fight for them, for these people she barely knows, and it's dangerous and stupid and she would kick herself if she realized it, but she doesn't.
They all have their problems. ]
I guess so. But not many who stick to the wilds, where I'm from.
[ That's... definitely a new one. She's not a lady, so she'd told Alayne that she could just call her Jaye -- but she can't deny that she's Coyote's. There's just one thing... ]
Just Coyote. No 'the'.
But the wilds... when you can stand there, in a forest or on a mountain or in a valley, and look around, and know that you're alone. That no one else is near, or if they are it's only them. No cities, no farmland, just what the gods crafted.
It's getting harder and harder to find, where I'm from.
There is a forest renowned in Arda, now known as Fangorn. It was once known by many names. There is naught within but trees, stretching up so tall that they seem to touch the skies. Yet- [ breathe out ] yet you will never be alone, for the trees have eyes and ears and lips to speak. They live, and are wiser and older than the Maia themselves.
In Lothlorien, the trees are mallorns are of golden bark and amber leaves, which trembles with life underneath your hand, speaking without words or sound. It is a wood of eternal dawn, and its Elves hide behind the leaves, so silent that you will never once hear them breathe.
[ Pause. He exhales quietly. ]
I know not the wilds you speak of, for 'tis rare that we are truly alone.
[ So says the man who knows exactly how it feels like. A mortal Man who grew up amongst the immortal Elves; a long-lived Dunadain who lived amongst mortal men. Belonging to neither; having the burden to rule the latter. ]
I guess. [ But she doesn't want to talk about loneliness, so-- ] Coyote would probably say that I'm not alone in the wilds, either -- and if I'm an animal, I guess I'm really not. But that's what it feels like.
He's lived a long time, and the world's different than it was. If they didn't sometimes need our help, my job wouldn't exist.
[ Pause. ] ... There was... an incident, a few months before I came here. Gods are fueled by belief, and someone was getting rid of every mention of them. They were weak, and he was ready to die, having lived for so long. I wasn't ready to let him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
voice.
[ There's a slight laugh. ]
Of course, a friend of mine -- he serves the goddess of victory. So his power? Victory. It makes sparring with him a pain in the ass sometimes.
[ She misses him. ]
voice.
What then is the meaning of fighting?
voice.
Plus he tends to not mind when I shapeshift in the middle of a fight, which is good practice for me.
voice.
Aye. It does. [ Softly. ] There are not many who see it.
voice.
[ Keep Coyote alive, no matter the cost, and so she'd gone and faced an entire cult by herself. It's a miracle she survived, was only knocked out (while a grizzly bear, nonetheless, there were so many) and found by a demon's minder. ]
He could probably explain it better than I could.
voice.
Those who think otherwise cannot be convinced by words alone.
voice.
[ She isn't one to fight for the good of everyone; just for her and her people. But it used to be just for her, just to win, and she'd realized what was wrong with that too late. ]
voice.
Rare are those who are born worthy.
voice.
Yeah.
[ Her voice gets louder, trying to break away the moment, trying to force the emotions back in (she'll get them out later, either against a punching bag or in a spar, the way she knows best). ]
So what is it you do, back home?
voice.
But he must. He must, for there is no Gondor here. There is no Gondor or Arnor or Middle Earth. A King is no King without his people, and though the White Tree blooms he will not claim himself as the King of Gondor, much less the King of Men.
(He does not think of the weight of the crown that awaits him back home; of the people who depend upon him and how he knows not their states. He does not, for if he does he will claw at the walls of this ship until his fingers break and bleed streaks of blood down his wrists.
He is worth no Kingship here.) ]
I am a Ranger of the North. [ Quietly. ] A wanderer of the forests.
voice.
She misses them, all of them. They were her constants, her rocks, and now she's reaching for something to fill their spaces without even realizing it. ]
We wander, too. Sometimes on the roads, sometimes not.
voice.
He dares not see ghosts on the faces of the living. These people might not be his own, but they deserve much more. ]
There are wanderers in every world. [ It's easier this way. ]
voice.
They all have their problems. ]
I guess so. But not many who stick to the wilds, where I'm from.
voice.
What do you consider to be 'the wilds', Jaye of the Coyote?
[ Otherwise known as he thinks they have different definitions. The Elves live in the forests, but they are not the wild.
And yes, he just named you. ]
voice.
Just Coyote. No 'the'.
But the wilds... when you can stand there, in a forest or on a mountain or in a valley, and look around, and know that you're alone. That no one else is near, or if they are it's only them. No cities, no farmland, just what the gods crafted.
It's getting harder and harder to find, where I'm from.
voice.
There is a forest renowned in Arda, now known as Fangorn. It was once known by many names. There is naught within but trees, stretching up so tall that they seem to touch the skies. Yet- [ breathe out ] yet you will never be alone, for the trees have eyes and ears and lips to speak. They live, and are wiser and older than the Maia themselves.
In Lothlorien, the trees are mallorns are of golden bark and amber leaves, which trembles with life underneath your hand, speaking without words or sound. It is a wood of eternal dawn, and its Elves hide behind the leaves, so silent that you will never once hear them breathe.
[ Pause. He exhales quietly. ]
I know not the wilds you speak of, for 'tis rare that we are truly alone.
voice.
If things were like that in my world once, they aren't anymore. It's all steel and smog now.
[ There's a bit of a rustle, Jaye's hand moving to tuck some of her hair behind an ear. ]
But you can be alone even when you're surrounded by people.
voice.
[ So says the man who knows exactly how it feels like. A mortal Man who grew up amongst the immortal Elves; a long-lived Dunadain who lived amongst mortal men. Belonging to neither; having the burden to rule the latter. ]
voice.
[ And therefore that's what it is. ]
voice.
voice.
voice.
He is a god. [ Softly. ] Does he not see clearer than mortal eyes?
voice.
[ Pause. ] ... There was... an incident, a few months before I came here. Gods are fueled by belief, and someone was getting rid of every mention of them. They were weak, and he was ready to die, having lived for so long. I wasn't ready to let him.
voice.
On belief?
voice.
voice.
voice.
voice.
voice.