Ryshar and Mathais - The Beginning
Original
Mathais whistled cheerfully as he walked down one of the snow-strewn streets. The air was rather cold and he was shivering underneath his thick coat. The townspeople that went by him didn’t seem to mind the frigid air much. Mathais figured either they were use to the weather or they were much better prepared for the outside elements than he was. Come to think of it, a lot of people seemed to be adorned in some pretty expensive fur coats.
Mathais on the other hand, wasn’t rich—in fact, he was rather poor. He spent a majority of his life traveling city to city, stealing when he could and coning people out of their money. Due to his lifestyle staying in one city for too long often raised some ‘concerns’ with the locals. After several years of traveling far away from his victims he would often return and start all over, praying that the local guards and townspeople didn’t recognize him.
Lucky for him, the elf hadn’t ever been to Stardome. In fact, he never come this far north before. The crimson-haired elf rather enjoyed the hot sun and humidity in the east where he had grown up, over the snowy cobblestone streets of the north. However, he was an adventurous lad and didn’t mind a detour or two…especially if it involved a good heist. He was currently scoping out for a new victim.
He blew into his hands to try to warm up the numb fingers and as he did something caught his attention in the corner of his eye. He turned, walking still and blowing warmth insistently into his cupped hands, but found himself coming to a stop. There was a man, barely clothed in what appeared to be a dirty and tattered thin shirt and pants—looking rather dead. Mathais frowned at the man. He was lying face down, one arm outstretched, and the mans’ hands, Mathais could see, were stained with blood from his fingernails about being torn away. It seemed as if he had been crawling, perhaps trying to find somewhere warm to curl up. He hadn’t made it very far.
Seeing a homeless person—a street rat— on the verge of death struck home for Mathais. He had grown up on the streets himself. Yet, he had lived the dishonest life of a thief and managed to keep food in his belly… but he knew that not everyone was as fortunate as him. It triggered a deep sadness in his heart seeing the street rat.
Mathais tilted his head, noticing the man shifting slightly. His hair was white—long, shockingly similar in color to the snow around him. When the battered man lifted his head slightly their eyes met. Mathais was startled from the intensity in that stare. It was the stare of a man who had fought a long battle, and who wasn’t ready to give up. Those golden eyes were fierce.
Mathais walked to the others side and crouched down beside him. “Hey…?” Mathais reached out gently and touched the mans’ hand—it was freezing, stiff, almost waxy. The white-haired man attempted to look at him, almost like he wanted to sock the redhead right in the face for touching him, but couldn’t quite muster the strength to do so. Frowning, Mathais reached up to pull off his own coat and laid it over the others shoulders; the man had at some point stopped shivering and Mathais knew that was never a good sign. “Come on, now. Let’s go,” it was the first real sentence he had spoken and it was obvious that the young elf carried a heavy accent.
The golden-eyed man resisted for a moment, but his limbs were so stiff and numb that he simply jerked clumsily and then went limp. Mathais pulled the others arm over his shoulder. Mathais struggled for a moment; he wasn’t that short but this man seemed freakishly tall. Though tall, he was shockingly thin. Mathais managed to maneuver his body underneath the curiously golden-eye fellow relatively easily and letting the man lean heavily on him the two began to walk. The mans’ head hung limply and his white hair concealed whatever expression he was giving off.
Mathais didn’t know what to say so he simply lead the man down the street and back towards his room at the local inn. Mathais could feel the waned body beside him moving stiffly, trembling ever so slightly as his body once again shook with the effort to bring warmth to the frozen limbs. His body seemed to be giving up, but mentally the white-haired man was taking each step through sheer determination. Mathais noticed, to his horror, that the man was barefoot. His toes and fingers were beginning to turn an awful shade of purple. It seemed unlikely that this man would survive the night. At the very least, Mathais would give him a nice warm place to die. That would at least, clear Mathais’ conscience.
Mathais led the other into the inn and the two struggled up the stairs, receiving a few long blank looks by the locals. No one attempted to help the two but rather decided that muttering disapprovingly under their breaths was much more productive.
Mathais jiggled the keys out of his pocket, opened the door and then shuffled the man inside with him. He brought the other the bed and gently eased him down into it.
The man never spoke once, but his gold eyes never left the redhead. He watched Mathais examine his hands and feet, and that gentle smile before had turned into a worried frown. Mathais tenderly placed the others hands back down and then reached over to pull blankets over the white-haired man, “Well… I’m not a doctor or anything, but I think that with a lot of warmth you might actually be pretty well off.” Mathais sat at the edge of bed beside his new-found friend and watched the white-haired man shiver. His teeth were chattering but the intensity—that guarded glare, never ceased. “What’s your name?” Mathais asked curiously, tilting his head.
The man did not answer, so shrugging to himself, Mathais cheerfully introduced himself instead, “I’m Mathais Stone! I’m originally from Kaoidji… so you know, I’m really use to all that hot humidity… but man, Stardome is
cold! But… you probably know that. What were you doing out there anyways? And with such little clothing on… Are you lost?”
More silence. Mathais smiled uneasily and then stood, “Are you warm enough? Dumb question…your shivering.” Mathais walked to the closet and began to pull out the extra blankets stacked inside, probably for vacationers like him that weren’t at all use to that powdery white that the locals so proudly called snow. “If you get too hot just tell me…or… glare a little more angrily and I’ll remove some of them.” When he turned around, the man was smirking at him—maybe a little amused by his attempt at humor. Mathais grinned back, but the man suddenly flushed and looked away, doing his best to seem disinterested.
Mathais tried to hide his grin, but he failed miserably. The redhead draped a few more blankets over the man, smoothing them out and very matter-of-fact
ly said, “I suppose since you can’t talk I’ll just have to name you myself. You’re so cute and kind of cuddly looking... so why not Cootchie? Maybe that’ll make you a little more—“
“—Ryshar—”
“—friendly looking,” Mathais almost didn’t notice that the other man had talked and he did a double-take. “What? What did you say?”
The man sunk down into the bed, giving the redhead a sullen glower. “My name is Ryshar.”
Mathais smiled, “Ryshar, huh? That’s a unique name. It’s kind of cute. Where are you from?”
Ryshar looked away, taking in a deep breath. His face had contorted into something that could only be described as disgust and anger.
Mathais’ frown faltered for a moment but he stood quickly, arms akimbo. “Well, Ryshar, my new friend, I’ll get you a nice warm bath ready and then you can change into some real clothes. It’s way too cold for you to be out wandering this city in that.” He gave Ryshar a warming smile before he began to busy himself with getting the bath ready.
Ryshar found it rather amusing how the elf found it impossible to stay silent and proceeded to hum or whistle throughout his short preparation. Almost like he had been starved for a decent conversation. Ryshar wouldn’t like to admit it himself, but he was in the same boat as the talkative man. He craved interaction… interaction with an equal. But unlike Mathais, Ryshar wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to expose himself.
The redhead returned to Ryshar’s side and sat at the edge of the bed again. Ryshar wasn’t so sure how he felt about that. “You seem to have had some rough times, Ry-Ry…”
“Ryshar.” Ryshar corrected, scowling.
“Right, sorry. Ryshar… But I’m not going to pry. I’m going to help you get back on your feet since I think you’re just a good guy who’s having hard time…” Mathais waited for a moment, but the other didn’t seem interested in saying anything. “Need some help walking over to the washroom?”
Ryshar pulled the blankets from himself and then began to struggle out of the bed. Mathais reached out to help him and the white-haired man glared at him sharply, but only resisted for a moment before he gave in and allowed the other to escort him across the room. Ryshar couldn’t believe how badly his feet hurt. They were aching. Like someone had taken a hammer and beat his feet savagely.
With an encouraging smile, Mathais released Ryshar at the door and the white haired man hobbled inside, glanced over his shoulder at that smiling face and promptly slammed the door. That redhead was… just so…
Ryshar moved over to the stool beside the wash bin and sat down, staring down at his hands. He felt… so strange. A week ago he would still be serving under his Master, Solios… Forced to be the mans plaything; doing anything he asked without question… At least, that’s what had been expected. Ryshar had built up an amazing resistance over the years and as a result he had endured beatings that had left him senseless and incapacitated for days.
And then during one of Solios’ trips to his vacation home, a four or five day carriage ride away, Ryshar had lashed out.
Ryshar couldn’t really remember exactly what happened, but at some point that thin, loathsome and disgusting man had reached to stroke Ryshar’s cheek as always, as if he owned him, and the white-haired man had shoved the other way. Solios had fallen back, wide-eyed and surprised, right into the corner of one of his luxurious dressers. The sickening sound his head made when he hit caused Ryshars stomach to lurch. However, Ryshar hadn’t stuck around to find out if his Master had realized what had happened or even survived. He leaped right out of the back of the moving carriage. He had barely missed the astounded guards jumping after him and had actually felt one of them catch a lock of his long flowing hair. He had jerked himself free at the cost of some lost strands of hair—but that didn’t matter. He ran as fast as he could away off the trail. Even through the snow was knee deep he somehow seemed to be flying across it as if it had been of no inconvenience. Shoeless, barely clothed and penniless, the slave had run. Ran for the freedom he had dreamt about all his life.
He had wandered for the entire night until he reached Stardome where exhaustion overtook him and he had collapsed in the alley. He had lay there for two days… He had watched the citizens come and go, many of them sneering down at him and shaking their heads in disgust… Not one of them had offered him anything… Except for that redhaired smiling buffoon…
Ryshar reached up to pull the thin and dirty shirt from his back and threw it on the floor, scowling at it. These clothes had been expensive at one time. Pure silk, beautiful, but completely useless against the elements. It also belonged to Master Solios… No. Just Solios. He was no ones slave anymore.
Ryshar reached up gently over one shoulder, his face twitching into the first real emotion he had felt in a long time. Relief… Pure relief. His fingers ran over the scars on his back from the series of beatings he had received. Had he reached a little further between his shoulder blades, he would have been able to trace the raised scarred skin where he had been branded. As if he had been someone’s property.
With a laugh that was shallow, not amused and slightly psychotic Ryshar reminded himself that was no longer the case. Nor would it ever be again…
…Mathais paced in the room back and forth, one arm cupping his other elbow as his hand nervously ran over his chin and mouth. What was he going to do with that man—no, with Ryshar—the man had a name after all. It wouldn’t be right to just take him along and make him live the life of a thief just like himself… but what choice did he have? The poor guy probably didn’t have anywhere to go. It wasn’t every day that you found someone nearly frozen to death out in the streets.
Mathais sighed and opened up one of his backpacks where he kept his clothing—most of it bought through stolen money and goods. He felt a pang of guilt knowing that he was about to offer the other man essentially stolen goods… Mathais sighed again… Oh well, it was all he had. Not like the other would know anyways.
He grabbed a deep maroon tunic and brown leggings and went to the washroom door, knocking tentatively, “Ah, Ryshar, I have you some clothes and—“ the door opened and standing rather naked and stoically was the white-haired man, dripping wet from his recent washroom endeavor. Mathais stuttered for a moment for words before thrusting the clothes into the others hands, turning on his heel and walking briskly away. Seemed this Ryshar didn’t have a whole lot of modesty…
It was a good ten minutes before Ryshar finally emerged from the washroom, buttoning up his borrowed tunic as he came. Mathais had been right—the other man was taller, probably nearing six feet, maybe more. Mathais just barely reached five foot five and so the tunic the man was wearing only just reached to the top of the band on his pants, which only fit seemingly because the golden-eyed man was rather malnourished. If Ryshar was uncomfortable with his clothing, he didn’t act so.
Mathais watched the white-haired man walk across the room, sit at one of the chairs and then cross his arms and legs. Promptly thereafter a rather awkward and very silent staring contest seemed to ensue. Mathais’s gaze shifted slightly away after a few long minutes of enduring the others intense stare.
“Well…” Mathais said slowly, clearing his throat and hoping to fish for some sort of conversation starter.
“First thing I’ve understood that you’ve said.” Ryshar stated. Mathais gave him a funny look and Ryshar shrugged, “Your accent. I can hardly understand the words coming out of your mouth.”
Mathais slowly looked away again, hands folded neatly in his lap. “Well… I can’t really help that.”
“Talk slowly and accentuate your words,” Ryshar snapped, eyes narrowing. “It’s how intellectual people speak.” The white-haired man spoke sharply, crisply, as if each word were practiced over and over with the utmost conviction.
Mathais looked at the other, “…I kind of liked you better when you weren’t talking,” he admitted, frowning. “I don’t know where that attitude of yours come from, but you better lose it if you plan on coming with me.”
Ryshar lifted his chin slightly, eyes narrowed and his lips formed a thin line. His right eyebrow, which was arched ever so slightly, indicated that he was intrigued. “Going with you? Is that a proposition?”
“What else are you going to do?” Mathais snorted, “You obviously don’t have anywhere to go if you need some stranger like me to come along and save you from dying out there on the streets.” Mathais crossed his arms, and his blue orbs narrowed for the first time in what appeared to be genuine annoyance, “You’re not a very grateful guy, you know that? Most people thank those who go out of their way to lend a helping hand.”
“You talk too much,” was Ryshar’s curt reply. “And I don’t owe you anything. I never asked you to bring me here.”
There was a trigger of irritation that Mathais couldn’t describe, but at the same time he found this man intensely interesting. All he knew about him was his name; Ryshar. That really wasn’t very helpful when it came down to getting to know a person. Why had he been in that alley near death? Where had he come from? Where was he planning to go? And why in the hells was he such an ungrateful rude ass?”
Ryshar glanced around the room a moment longer before looking back to Mathais, “Where are we?”
“Stardome. I thought I mentioned that,” Mathais said plainly.
Ryshar frowned further. In all reality it was a name. He had no idea where that was. Had someone told him there was more than one country, a series monarchies out there, a thing called a sea, mountains that weren’t covered in snow or just places that never had snow at all, he wouldn’t have believed them. Ryshar had never seen a map, let alone anything outside of the small region he had been enslaved in. He only heard of rumors, and as far as he was concerned they were simply only that.
Ryshar was completely uneducated. He didn’t even know how to read or write. And yet, he had a sense of intellect that was hard to miss. He had been trained to look and sound pretty, but never to be well educated enough to surpass his Masters. He had just been a trophy… A creature with gold-eyes and white hair—just like the legends said. He looked like the Children of the Sky, the angels.
“Hello?” Mathais said, leaning forward, eyebrows raised. “Are you listening?”
“…” Ryshar looked back at the redhead. He began to appreciate how young and vibrant the other was. Ryshar was use to being around people who had had their will sucked right out of them, simply walking drones with vacant eyes following orders. This boy, however, had a certain spunk to him that Ryshar found appeasing. “I’ll take your offer.”
“Huh? What offer?”
“To travel with you.”
“I’m not so sure if I want to do that.” Mathais said, frowning and looking worried. “You seem hard to get along with.” Ryshar smiled a haunting smile and his eyes glittered with a look that pained Mathais’ kind heart. The redhead swallowed thickly, “Well…fine,” he said, licking his lips, “Under one condition.”
“And what would that be?”
“You answer any question I want.”
“Fine.”
“Truthfully.”
Ryshar tilted his face away, but his eyes narrowed on the redhead. A glimmer of a smile touched his lips, “Why can you not just be satisfied with being blissfully ignorant?”
“You were the one that was going on about intellectual people ar-tic-u-lating their words.” Mathais said sarcastically.
Ryshar laughed, “Fine. I will answer truthfully, but for every question you ask, you have to give me something I want.”
Mathais eyed the other, “I’m not rich, you know.”
“My requests will be simple and for the most part, relatively cheap.” Ryshar found it irrelevant to tell the young elf that he had no concept of money.
“Fine.” Mathais sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee and tapping the ankle curiously, “Let’s start off with the fun stuff. Where are you from?”
“Originally, I don’t remember.”
Mathais shifted, annoyed, “That doesn’t answer my question, you can’t just—“
“—You asked where I came from and I answered truthfully,” without missing a beat Ryshar pointed at the redhead, “I want a world map. My own. A really detailed one.”
Mathais stared for a moment, perhaps debating whether or not oblige to the others demand but with an annoyed noise, reached into one of his packs grumbling. He pulled out a well worn tattered–at-the-edges map and threw it across the room at the white-haired man.
“What’s this?” Ryshar asked, snorting and with one hand jerked it opened. “It looks like its been through hell and back.”
“It’s a detailed map. I’ve had it for years. They don’t come cheap. You never said anything about a new crisp map. You got what you asked for.” Mathais leaned back, smiling smugly. Two could play this game.
Ryshar couldn’t help but grin—he was rather enjoying this. The elf may just be interesting enough to stick around with. Maybe Ryshar could even call him a friend one day.
Ryshar shifted his attention to the map. It was… amazing. Black ink scribbled away over the paper, cities dotted its worn wrinkly surface, oceans… Oceans that he had only heard about through other slaves were actually real. And they were massive…
“All right. Another question.” Mathais piped, “What were you doing in Stardome and why were you in that alley?”
“That’s two questions.” Ryshar snapped.
“Answer the first then.” Mathais snapped back.
“It was the first city I happened to come across.” Ryshar replied, shrugging.
“What? What kind of answer is that?” Mathais yelled indecorously. “This isn’t fair! You can’t be so elusive about this. I don’t know any more about you than I did when we started this!”
“That’s not my problem. Word your questions more eloquently, dingbat.” Mathais began to wither with rage and coolly Ryshar pointed at a city, far to the south on the tip of the continent, a port city called Aagor, “I want to go there.”
Mathais couldn’t hide his surprise as he slid off the bed, looked at the city Ryshar pointed at, then up at the white-haired man, astounded. “That’s over three thousand miles away. I won’t be able to ask a question for months.”
Ryshar grinned, “We better get started then, now, shouldn’t we?”
For some reason, Mathais couldn’t help but grin. Even though he had just met this strange, rude and pompous man he found himself oddly excited for their long and rather unexpected trek south. He had a feeling that he and Ryshar would become close friends.
He would have never imagined that they would become more than that.
[Ramirez]
A/N:I wanted to name this, "Mathais and Ryshar - The Beginning" but Devy is an ass. Also debated calling it "Friends Forever", but I resisted. And a friend on MSN just said it should be "Their First Time" which made me laugh obnoxiously...
So... Anyways... Ryshar came into slavery at the age of 10, he's around probably 500 at this time (his mixed race lives approximately for 2,000 years because of complications with having an immortal (angel) parent and a mortal parent). So that's a pretty good hunk of his life. The rumors of having gold-eyes and white hair are unique to, as mentioned, the Children of the Sky, or the angels. His father was an angel and his mother was a human. She abandoned him when he was four and he was raised by an elderly woman until she died when he was ten and some slave traders came through his very secluded cabin/home and took him and sold him. Mathais is is real first friend and so they sort of...stick together.
Mathais on the other hand lived in a city called Kaoidji. His father was taken away when Mathais was around 7-8 because he couldn't pay taxes and publicly hanged for his 'crimes'. Mathais mother died of pneumonia a few years after that and instead of going to the orphanage and risking separation from his older brother and little sister, the siblings took the streets and started living the lives of street rats. It didn't last very long, Mathais was around 26 when his sister was captured and publicly executed via guillotine for her crimes against the city. Zikuhl, Mathais' brother largely blamed Mathais for his death and attempted to kill his brother. Mathais lived and no longer feeling like he could associate himself with his hometown he left and began to wander. He lived his life as a con-artist and thief up until he met Ryshar. Soon after the two began liberating slave camps and attacking slave traders.
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