The noise and hustle of the last port city faded off into the background as Shar'si continued on along the shoreline. She had gone in search of the perfect weapon to suit her needs, yet so far none had been found. That said, she knew it was time to find a nice quiet place and refine her unarmed technique, as her hands and her body were the only two things she had to rely upon. The city had proven to be far too distracting for her likes, as it was a port city with ships of all sorts coming and going and their crews running about looking for entertainment until it was time to sail once more. Cities held little interest for Shar'si as it was anyways, save for Lómëdor, as it was the home of the Syndicate.

Shar'si walked the fine line between the sand and the water as she made her footsteps in the sand, her eyes watching each time as the water washed in, then faded off into the sand again. A deep breath was drawn in, then slowly released as she sought to enjoy the smell of the air and ocean as they combined to produce the salty breeze. The tension she had felt from walking the streets of the port city began to fade away, her muscles loosening and her strides coming much more easily, and before she gave it much thought the port had faded completely away.

This place seemed as good as any to sit and contemplate the past weeks, and to look ahead for knowledge and guidance. Aside from her time at the Syndicate's hall, even Lómëdor had begun to close in on her, or so it felt. Out here, she could see for what seemed to be miles in each direction, and the only sounds were those of the birds, water and breezes. Thoughts of Lómëdor and the Syndicate and those sorts of things began to slip away, leaving Shar'si with a clear mind and renewed energy.

This place out in the middle of nowhere became that spot where she would practice, that much had been decided. She pushed herself up from the sand, then set her sandals aside, along with her pack of materials and such. She began by working her way through a few simple exercises to stretch out and prepare herself for the routine ahead. Each breath taken gave her further energy, as it was infused with the power of the ocean and the grace of the wind. Her eyes searched the ocean ahead as she worked her body through the motions, then to the land about as she began to work on her footwork.

It wasn't until she saw a form off in the distance come into sight that she came to a stillness once again, waiting to see just who else might be roaming this stretch of land. There wasn't even a road that lead out to the beach, so whomever it was must have gone searching for something random like her. She placed a hand just above her eyes as an attempt to block out the glare of the sun so that she could see more of the figure ahead, but had no luck. Time to wait and see, she thought.

Arael AshFeather's long hair bellowed behind him, almost silvery gray strands galloping in the air as the saliferous Eastern breeze graced them with her soft touch. Around him, thin patches of long grass suffered the same fate. They seemed parched, hopeless, weak. The Fallen Angel scowled over the dunes with a look of grim disdain on his ageless face. These plants fell to even the weakest of oceanic gales, and the surface he walked upon was no match for the endless violence of the sea. Waves of slate blue crashed upon the innumerable grains of sand, swept them away, only to drop them off someplace miles away. His ashen wings flexibly rested behind his back. He was truly glad that he was a being of air, and not born in servitude of land, like humans or dwarves. Weak. He spit on the ground in disgust.

As he raised his head, he noticed a shadow in the distance. Humanoid contours, greatly bedwarfed by the endless expanse of water in the background, but clearly visible. Even from here, Arael noticed that he'd been spotted. Not strange, considering that he was over seven feet tall, not to mention his wingspan. Still, he felt slightly bewildered. He was walking around in an area whereto no path led, where nature strived to destroy itself through its eternal processes, without the innecessary aid of its populace. And yet, he thought as he walked closer, he... no - she is here. Straight in my way.

Too many things had happened in the past, and Arael did not use the word "coincidence" unless it was his last resort. Still, he felt rather indigned, angry even. He'd come here to contemplate. In busy cities, his chaotic core would often take over, leading him into murderous rampages without any sense of thought or moral. But here, in the quietude and tranquillity of the Eastern Coast, he could actually think. Think about what he'd done, why he did not regret those things, and what he would do in the future. And now, this brown-haired woman disturbed it. But was she really to blame? The Fallen grimaced. There was a bad side to his mind-stimulating ambulating. His conscience tended to take over at the strangest of moments. Such restraint had brought him in danger several times in the past, and yet he could do nothing to block it. In fact, it seemed to grow stronger with every single event.

Trudging closer, he realized that this woman was at least not human. It somewhat relieved him. Her face was too soft, her ears to pointy, her movements too light. For a moment he stood in front of her, several yards away, his dim red glance eyeing her strangely. Chaotic energies seeped away, swirling around him. His black garments were soiled with sand, but the thin crimson armor that covered his torso reflected the sun fiercely. A greatsword of similar colour hung from his right hand, leaving deep crevices in the sand wherever it went. He steadied his grip as he locked eyes with her. Those orbs told him she was neither afraid nor intimidated by his appearance. A feat rarely found amongst groundwalkers, even those of Elvenkind.

A dangerous glance emanated from his eyes as he spoke. "Good day, Elf." His tone was jeering, somewhat insulting. Arael couldn't really help it. He'd spoken like that for years now. "I see that you're here to view your weak land being devoured by wind and sea. How do you like the idea of the surface you were born and taught upon being powerless to stop the elements?"

He intently stretched his wings somewhat while he spit the last words out at the small woman. Racism was common between Angels and other entities. Mostly against those beings who would never have the pleasure of flying. The Fallen grinned evilly. The sole fact that Angels had wings would prove them superior to all other races - at least, that was common opinion in the Sanctuary. And he truly loved pointing out just how weak these groundwalkers were.

It quickly became obvious that the form was male, and very tall, though the details beyond that remained shrouded in the distance. The sun reflected off in every which way, telling her that he was most likely clad in full armor, making him perhaps a knight or warrior of some sort. Shar'si tilted her head ever so slightly, an edge of curiosity coming to her mind as she wondered just why he was traveling straight in her direction. The man's features slowly became clear, first showing her that he was a winged being, and next that he had a certain dark presence about him. The slightest of nervous feelings came over her as she prepared herself for the impending meeting, as she saw no change in his path. It was not enough to make her back down from the solid stance she had taken to watch his approach, merely enough to make her a bit more wary.

Yes, there was most definitely something dark about this one, and that became painfully obvious as he came so very close to her. Darkness snuffed out the light, and light pushed away darkness, it was all a part of the delicate balance of the world around them. Unless he was truly evil, she would hold no fear of this one, and if he were, she would face her fears and learn of him before making her move. Once he was standing straight before her, she realized she now had to look up to meet his gaze, which did not set well for her, though she did so with a confident look in her eyes. His greeting proved to be a bit on the condescending side, and once again she found herself labeled as an 'elf', which had become commonplace, as she had seen the elves and her looks did resemble them.

What came after the greeting caused her to look to him with a slightly more curious look. His question to her was quite the odd one, as he played as if he knew of her birth and raising, when even she did not have that information at her disposal. What he had guessed, however, was quite off. She had not grown up amongst the races of Arda, or on the land that was Arda, rather she had been sent here as a protector. Unlike him, she was not an Angel though, that much being quite obvious by her lack of celestial features. These were all things she had still not answered, though she would continue to seek such answers until they were either found or the thoughts on her past faded away into nothingness.

"And to you as well, the pleasure is mine." She refused to respond in the same tone as he had addressed her. Having never met this man, she could not see being so condecending. "Is that what you see when you look upon the sand and the water? Odd, perhaps that is simply a window to the inner person that makes you who you are." She turned away from him, though her senses remained quite alert to his presence behind her, those eyes of hers going to the water and then back to the line of wet sand. "I am not of these lands, nor am I even an elf. To be quite honest, I can't even claim to know much of my own past. I do know, however, that what I am seeing before me is magnificent. I don't seek to stop the elements, but rather to know them, and to understand them so that they might answer to my needs." In truth, she had already felt the calling of the wind, and was now able to bring it to life all about her, just like the soft breeze which still rustled about, even though the wind itself was still at a distance away from her.

She turned back to him, having soaked in the images of the ocean and sand, her eyes returning to his without a flinch or hint of nervousness. The peaceful feeling she had experienced prior to his arrival remained, shielding her from whatever darkness she might have felt by his approach. That presence remained quite obvious, though she refused to allow it to reach her. "I am Shar'si. I'm simply a wanderer of sorts, I suppose, as I call no one place my home and hold no title. Might I have the honor of your name?"

The woman's sympathetic reply was rather unfitting to the way she was addressed, and Arael was taken aback for a second, confounded by her somewhat polite words. Where he breathed discord, this Elf-like female emitted a sense of harmony. With all the strength he possessed, he had to struggle against the drifts of wind that came from seaside. Though the woman did not seem nearly as powerful, the salty gales seemed to pass straight through her, causing no trouble at all. Arael could not understand why. He listened to her story as she turned her back on him. A grin flashed over his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. Courageous, for such a small thing. Or foolish. Or both.

"You seek to understand?" he replied to her back when she'd finished talking. "You seek to comprehend what will destroy you without notice if given the slightest of chance? You believe that the rupturing waves that could crush a full-grown bear with ease are signs of the sea's magnificence? Can you not see the tyranny in its motions?" He paused for a moment. Of course, throughout his travels, he'd seen people manipulating the elements through magic power. They all sought to understand, like this woman. And they all died in the process. She turned around to face him again. Arael suppressed a smirk when she told him her name. Zhar t'Dzjih in old Angelic literally translated into: 'you are bound by nature', if he remembered correctly. It was fitting, indeed.

"My name? I am called Arael by those who know me," he answered, hesitatingly. His eyes twinkled with a spark of dementia. "And I bear many titles, most of which were forced upon me by people too fearful to actually ask my name." That could be seen as a compliment. He shook his head innoticeably. The workings of his mind were strange indeed. He clenched his greatsword firmly, bringing it in front of him with two hands, and driving the tip down into the sand. The huge hilt still neared the height of his chest. It was not a means of intimidation, more a sign that indicated he did not mean to take hostile action. Yet. Still, the woman seemed remarkably calm.

"And, Zhar t'Dzjih, who cannot claim knowledge of her heritage," he started out once more, looking more at the horizon than at her delicate features. "Are you here to wait for the ebb to turn into flow and consume you, so that you may understand the way it works?" This time, the tone was not too condescending - instead, the words were filled with a sense of curiosity and a certain disbelief at the woman's insane quest of understanding something that had been going on billions of years before she was 'sent here'. Sent here. Another thing he didn't understand. Even Celestials like himself had to be born somehow, even if it was not from two other Angels.

His responses painted him as less of an evil, and more of a man who misunderstood what he saw before him. To her, it appeared as if he saw the waves as a destructive force, and therefore believed they would seek to crush her should she go to them. No, she knew differently of the waves, seeing them as a nourishing gift to the creatures who lived amongst them and to those who were carried in and out by their power. Just as humans sought respect and would rise up against those who treated them ill, nature would do the same. The storms that broke over the sea were simply nature's attempts to keep things in check. She did not go in search of the vessels on the sea with intentions to crush them and kill those who were aboard. She shook her head slightly, unable to see this tyranny, though she remained silent to let him speak his thoughts.

She considered the way he stated his name, understanding in some ways why there would be those who were afraid to ask it. There was something intimidating about his presence, an aura of strength and dominance that combined well with his large form. Had she noticed him in a city or other place where she could have simply avoided him, chances were that she would have done just that, yet this situation had not been amiable to that course of action. Of course, at the same time, his statement left her wondering just what he had been called in the past, and by whom.

"No," she stated, answering all questions he had asked in some way or another. "Nature is not cruel, she does not destroy, but rather she maintains a certain balance. The sea and the shore are a perfect example, each giving and taking so that the sea does not consume the land, just as the land does not refuse the coming of the tide. Nature only destroys when the balance is disturbed so greatly that it must do something drastic to bring things back to harmony." Her eyes went to the blade, a confirmation that he was a warrior or knight of some sort, though she had not noticed any markings that gave any further notation of rank or allegiance.

"One could say the same of you, I imagine. You carry a blade and have the skills of a fighter, which could lead to a person stating that you simply seek to destroy. I would ask you though; do you carry that sword to protect others, and at times have to kill in order to do so?" She remained silent for a few passing moments, allowing him to consider the question, perhaps even see the similarities to his own statement of nature. The question, if answered, might also give the slightest of glimpses into the man before her, seeing as she was still quite perplexed by his sudden appearance. There was something that just made it seem as if he were out of place on a beach such as this.

Once those moments had passed, she continued on to answer his final question, "As for my presence here, I came to train, to sharpen my own skills a bit. I've been neglecting my own skills as of late, with all the time I've spent in cities and such, and I fear I allow myself to grow weak." She stopped there, his question playing through her mind again, bringing a word he had used back to her, a look of curiosity coming to her features. "Tell me, if you would, the meaning of this Zhar t'Dzjih?" The word felt a bit strange as it came from her lips; though she did the best she could to mimic his pronunciation. She mentally braced herself for the possibility that it would be some form of insult or another, as the man seemed to have one of those personalities that was hard to be around. At the same time, she considered the chance that it was simply title or way of stating her status as a wanderer, or elf or something else she had made known of herself.

The Fallen Angel glanced down upon the small form afront him in silence, allowing her to finish transferring her opinion. It was remarkable that the woman could see things like that, indeed, but only a heartbeat later did Arael realize that he would never agree to her views. He was more a being of the blade than of philosophy, but standing here, encompassed by a fresh breeze and a persistent equanimity, his contemplations were undarkened by hateful heart, and memories of early, Angelic education flooded back into his mind. She asked a question, in an attempt to analogize between his own life and nature's mysterious ways. Although she remained silent, he did not answer her. Perhaps because he thought too hard about a suitable reply.

"Somehow, you remain adamant that nature is sympathetic by definition," he started, slowly, carefully choosing his words so that he would not trip over them later. "But nature does not give and take. One part of nature tries to take with force, while the other defends with force. This land we're standing upon was once sea, and before that, land. And it will be sea again before the end. Perhaps you view this as balance, but I see two beasts, trying to push each other backward, until either one submits."

His eyes lit up slightly. "As to my sword, I can assure you that I would never protect someone. Being protected means being weak. Only the strong survive. Even you acknowledge that fact, seeing how you came here to train in fear of having your skills degraded." He paused for a moment. "I can respect that in a person."

He'd almost shivered when Zhar t'Dzjih spoke her Angelic name. Normally, Celestial language flowed from the tongue mellifluously, not in the jagged dialect the small female uttered. He pondered for a moment, searching for a way to explain. He would not normally waste his time with small talk or spiritual debate, but though she kept it concealed marvelously, he could sense a certain feeling of... expectation around the woman. Maybe even fright - though not of him. He shifted uneasily on his feet and brought his sword to the right side of his body, still driven down into the sand, but only clenched one-handedly.

"Zhar t'Dzjih is a... title... Yes, a title which the Angelic community bestows upon those it deems too dreamy for their own good. It literally means "you are bound by nature", although some people do not entirely agree on the meaning of zhar." He took a long, deep breath, frenetically seeking an example she would understand. "Just... compare it to a groundwalker like yourself with the foolish wish to fly. You were not built to ride the winds - you have no wings, your magic fails above the clouds, and your machineries are smashed apart by the raging drifts of the upper heavens. Flying is not in your nature. Such a person would be Zhar t'Dzjih."

Names were, of course, fleeting, changed in intonation and spelling throughout the ages, but the similarity was rather noticeable. It could all be coincidence, but if it was not, perhaps he would learn something here today.

"What are these skills you train in? Weaponry? Magic, perhaps?" he asked, looking at her curiously. He doubted she would last too long in a fight. In a war, she would probably be someone he almost accidentally severed in two during his murderous rampages. Still, the woman had proven herself an excellent verbal opponent. However, Arael insisted that combat was the ultimate form of expression and understanding. It'd been long since he'd last fought without the urge to kill, but in the silky embrace of soft sand and oceanic odors, he was certain that he would manage. Unless 'skills' meant something totally different to this elf-like frame opposite him. He smiled innoticeably. He'd have to wait and see.

While she could not see nature in the images he used to portray it, she could understand his reasoning behind such beliefs. Those who did not understand something often sought to relate it to the way they lived, to their own terms, and for him that would be terms of battles and wars. The images were so rough, to consider the sea and the land as two beasts that fought with each other to gain what they could of each other. At the same time though, that description of nature held a rather interesting picture, two beasts of such equal strength that they would wage eternal war upon each other. In the end, a certain balance would be maintained, with neither the sea nor the land ever gaining too much of the other. She could see his reasoning enough that she would respect his views and argue them no further; rather it would give her something to consider when next she contemplated these things.

What came next, however, she could not simply agree upon. In fact, the thought alone that one who required protection was weak was enough to make her face show a mildly disturbed look. No, this went against everything she had been taught, and was a direct conflict to her very reason for being where she was today. She was a protector of those who he had just deemed as weak, yet her work so far had proven to her that those very people were actually rather strong, just not in the ways of weapons and magic. A slight sigh slipped from her lips as she realized that she and this Arael were nearly opposites in their views of many things. Of course, had his beliefs been aligned with hers, she would not have gained such an insight as his to allow her to consider and strengthen her own views.

A slight sadness came across her features as he further explained this title of Zhar t'Dzjih. It was true, she would most likely never feel the wind around her as she crossed the sky above the lands, as she was most definitely bound to the earth. "I suppose you are correct in your naming me as you do. I am unable to even return from the place I once called home. I suppose that is something left for those such as you who are gifted with the ability to fly, and I'll be left to find my own place amongst the others like me. I will say though, that I do envy you for your ability to see things I know I never will." She knew there was a place, as the elements of nature seemed to call out to her. Being bound by nature did not carry a truly negative feeling; it was more a statement of fact. Perhaps the day would come when the wind gave her the ability to fly, even if it were just for a short bit, maybe even just once so that she could understand what it is that those such as the man before her experienced.

"For now, I train with my fists, with my body and use it as my own weapon. I have been gifted with magic, though I choose not to use it unless it is necessary, as I do not want to abuse this gift." She considered her words carefully, then approached that subject which she felt was left in a state of differing opinions. "I train so that I might protect those who are in need. Unlike you, I believe that there is strength other than that which comes with martial skill. I believe a healer is a strong person, though they might not have the ability to protect themselves. I believe a child could possess great talent as a man, but at such a young age they might be left unable to defend themselves. This is why I train. I know that every being is gifted with strengths and talents, and cursed with weaknesses."

Her eyes went to the sword once more, the words tumbling through her mind as they attempted to come up with the way to explain her point. His own words had carried that answer, her eyes returning to him once more as she spoke,"There are many spheres of influence of this world. Each has its own strength, and each its own weakness. Where I might call forth the winds, fire, earth and water, you wield a blade. Both of us are strong in our own sphere, yet both of us could be deemed weak in relation to the skills of the other. Where does that put us in your consideration of strength and weakness?" She allowed the question to float there amongst the silence, giving him that chance to consider things from her viewpoint. She would not force her views upon him, as they were two truly different people, yet she would not go without at least offering him a different way to see things. In return, she took this chance to carefully consider everything he had offered to her, though she was unable to wrap her mind around the concept of weakness as he saw it.