Treading Air [Sivan & Torin]

[Destyn]

Treading Air

69 Searing 121

The aerial route to Sivan's cottage was passing familiar, now, whether day or night. In this instance, it was a bright Searing day and Destyn hugged a covered basket taut to his chest. He was in no particular rush as he made a leisurely descent through thick, white clouds.

"Watch it, kid!" A gruff voice called ahead, causing Destyn to halt- or rather to hover in place, as a large Avialae Skyguardsman pierced the murky air in front of him, mere inches from his nose. The suddenness of it all gave Destyn quite the shock, and once the moment had passed he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Sudden loud noises and rapid motion whooshing through the hair still alarmed the recently traumatised Fae'ethalan, but he didn't scream this time. He'd been able to remain silent, and perhaps too much so. It was probably too late for it to be audible, but he called out: "Sorry!" And stilled his wings to drop into a free fall.

He drew his wings taut against his body, placed one hand below and one hand on top of the basket to hold everything in place. He pointed his toes as he drew his legs together, until he was a fae-shaped missile, shooting downward. Once he'd burst through the bottom of the cloud, where the skies were clear again, his wings unfurled to catch him. At least below the clouds he wasn't as likely to stop traffic, since he could see what was coming well before it was in range for him to obstruct it. He spread his four wings wide and held them firm, so he could glide toward Sivan's home.

As he made his final descent toward his destination, his wings took to beating again, so he had more control over the speed of his landing. From this distance, he could see that Torin was approaching the front door to Sivan's house, so he adjusted to head for the street in front rather than the garden in back- his usual destination.

He alighted with his strong foot first, before the second touched ground- But this time he hadn't brought his cane. Perhaps it was only because he had a basket to carry, but whatever the case it seemed to imply improvement of some kind.

"Beannachtaí, a chara!" He proclaimed, as the loud beating of his wings ceased and they folded behind him, with a few insectoid twitches. Destyn's attention was promptly drawn away from his oldest human friend by the sound of Sivan's door creaking open. He'd doubtless heard the clangour of Destyn's wings from within.

Treading Air

[Sivan]

Up in the Living Grave's branches, Sivan was doing delicate work that would have been heavy lifting for the bees. In communion with the spirit of the hive, he was able to maneuver things within the broken amphora to help them build the nest to their own specifications. Out of deference to his help and, understanding that he was helping, he didn't even need to wear gloves or netting. The hive saw him as a part of the hive—strange; neither queen, drone, nor worker, but a part of the hive. The spirit expressed satisfaction that he had manipulated things such that the bees would be better able to build with those materials they created around the stronger metal framework he had installed for them. The nest would have good bones and the ceramic exoskeleton that would make them feel safe from aggressors.

The wanderers returned, legs laden with pollen, dancing news into the hive's awareness. Sivan's guests were near. He thanked the hive for the warning, promised his guests would not trouble them, and prepared to descend. But the hive expressed sadness that they could not provide enough nourishment for him and for his guests, though he assured the hive that he had plenty to eat and would be grateful to partake of their stores when their stores were more robust. The hive showed him images of what it had planned. It knew what products he needed from the hive, and it was figuring out how best to get it out of the hive and to him—a reservoir for honey, a space to leave excess propolis.

He thanked the hive, expressing gratitude and happy anticipation. He had done some studying in Master Jacun's book collection and found all sorts of uses for propolis in herbalism and alchemy, and honey would just make his meals and hot winter drinks more delightful.

Falling out of his light trance, he was comforted for a few moments by the song of the hive. It might warn others off, but it felt comforting to him, like a mother's lullaby, though it was currently a work song while the sun was still up.

He descended from the tree, touching his hand to the trunk and murmuring something to Flower, who hibernated within. Then he washed his hands and walked through his snug little cottage to open the front door. Seeing Destyn with Torin, he smiled and waved a welcome. Waiting for them, he peeked back at the bulk of IX hidden under its blanket. Still dormant, but at least he could say so should Destyn still be anxious. Anyway, they would likely just walk straight through and out into the garden.

His sprites buzzed around in anticipatory excitement. Exael chimed in, Don't forget to ask the fae'ethalan if he has the knowledge to perform a Sacrament.

I doubt he does, but I will ask. It is more likely I will be teaching him things, but the next time Jacun sends me to the Archives, I will look for it before completing his assignments. If nothing else, perhaps Val'Maranthy might share some Tower lore. He hoped it didn't come to that. While he had nothing against the black robe, he would rather not be beholden to one or to their organization.

[Torin Kilvin]

The day was balmy, clouded over, and filled with lazy breezes that ruffled the large human's shoulder-length hair about his face. Attempts to put it back to rights were thwarted at every turn so he gave up, let the soft strands tickle his face, and obscure his vision as he walked. He knew the way, and it was not a busy time where he would worry about bumping into strangers. There was a basket looped over one arm that contained a good number of assorted pastries, some savory, some sweet, which he'd let the baker choose for him. He was not picky and Sivan had never shown the inclination himself. His only requests were that some of the sweet ones contain berries and some of the savory be vegetables only.

The wind increased in intensity suddenly as he rounded a corner and came in sight of the cottage, causing him to look up in search of the cause. Destynrael, it appeared, was the source of the sudden storm. A grin lit Torin's face as his friend came to light upon the flagstones, turning a shade bashful at the affectionate greeting before returning it.

"Feasgar math, mo caraid.." He said, spitting out the mouthful of hair and tried to straighten himself with his empty hand. "You are looking better." The statement sounded half a question, left open for the Fae to expand upon if he wished.

The mutual nature of their acquaintance had been explained in Sivan's note, a turn of events that pleased the runesmith greatly. It had been on his mind to perhaps introduce his two friends, hoping that Destyn might help Sivan with Flower, and perhaps Sivan could help Destyn in some way as well. It felt like Sivan could help, though Torin did not know any of the elf's trades well enough to say exactly how.

When the door opened without either of them knocking he turned his smile on Siv and stepped forward before remembering his manners and allowing the injured Fae to go ahead of him. The inside of the cottage was, as always a delight, temperature and humidity kept at perfect levels by its owner's small coterie of sprites. His eyes lingered over the cloth-covered bulk that he now knew was a living being, tucked into one corner. There were arguments about whether such beings could actually be called 'living' but none of them held sway in Torin's mind. IX was resting, recovering, as any other sentient creature might. He had assisted Sivan a few times in ensuring the inner workings were well maintained and it had felt at once like work he might do normally and being a doctor or a healer.

"Hello, Sivan." His greeting waited until Destyn had finished his own, its simplicity emphasizing his obvious contentment. "I wasn't sure what to bring, so I just stopped at the bakery near the forge." The two had shared quick meals there on occasion and knew the simple fare to be of quality. A pottery jug of fresh milk and one of cold ale were tucked into the basket as well, in case the afternoon went into the evening.

[Destyn]

Treading Air

69 Searing 121

The wayward Fae tilted his head at Torin's observation. Did he look better? He still had nightmares, though they were dulled somewhat since he'd started wearing Sivan's worry stone to sleep. The time had also softened the edges of his trauma, so the sharp moments of intrusive memory were fewer and farther between. They still attacked multiple times per day, but not necessarily multiple times per hour.

grinned broadly and boyishly as Sivan answered the door.

"Hiyee!" He beamed, and limped inside with his covered basket. "I brought only fruits." He announced, after Torin declared what his contribution was. Perhaps it was a Kalzasern custom to herald ones bestowal in social situations, and he didn't wish to be rude by the standards of the locals.

Walking without a crutch or cane, Destyn's wounded leg seemed more stiff than tender now. He didn't walk overtly lightly on that foot, it just appeared heavy laden when he stepped with it. He only took a few of those ponderous steps within, before turning back round to their host and waiting for him to lead the way to their destination. He'd been under the impression they were to picnic in the garden, but he didn't want to be presumptuous in the home of another if he wanted to do something inside first. He knew that humans weren't, as a people, as outdoorsy as the Fae and most Elves, but Torin had always seemed to buck the trends of his kinsfolk so he imagined he wouldn't mind dining outdoors.

"Torin- 'member when I made you try grasshopper the first time?" He mentioned the memory as soon as it popped into his head- which probably seemed apropos of nothing to the pair flanking him, since they weren't privy to his internal monologue, but it made total sense to him.

Treading Air

[Sivan]

"Oh, thank you," he said when they told him what they had brought. The first across the threshold, Destyn received an embrace; then Torin. It wasn't normal for him, but suddenly he had friends in Kalzasi—friends in the world—and even if he was awkward about it, he was going to let them know that he cared. Sometimes fighting one's instincts was necessary for growth. He had learned that well enough as a tender of green things and other creatures, corporeal and otherwise. He shut the door behind Torin, caught his glance at IX and winked at him.

"Destyn is scared of the monster under the sheet so I thought we could enjoy the Searing heat while we have it in the garden?" They both knew the way, but he gestured in Rivach that they should precede him. "Oh, I've bees now. Please don't eat them. But they've offered some honey for us to enjoy. Also, there's a squealmouse out there. He came home with me from the forest. Please don't eat him either, but don't let him steal your food if you're going to eat it. He's not tame, but he can learn good manners. I'll just..."

He pulled up the trapdoor in the corner that definitely hadn't been there before and crept down into his little root cellar, and came up with a couple of bottles of wine.

"I have food, as well," he continued as he emerged again. "I suppose we'll lay everything out and see what we need from my stores." He eased the trapdoor shut with his foot and then went out back with them. The garden remained a sanctuary, the air perfect in that way the elements working together along with the other natural spirits who spoke to certain Dratori could accomplish. The bees were a soft drone high up in the branches of the Living Grave tree that housed Flower, far enough up that the stragglers weren't near enough to disturb his guests if they were leery of bees.

"Take off your shoes," he urged, stepping from flagstone—its edges worn down by Geb to prevent cut feet—to soft, mossy grass. Things were big and green in pots and little plots, everything looking a bit more lush and overgrown than it should this far north. His harvest might be modest, but it would be varied. And, given how little space he had to work with, modesty might not be the right word for his harvest.

"I need to do some math," he said, half to himself, hang some mirrors strategically on the walls to encourage more sunlight down here. "I've scrapped all my failed magic mirrors, but at least I know how to make a mundane mirror now." He laughed. "Make yourselves at home, my... friends..." He stumbled over the word, but he smiled dumbly afterward, just pleased to be able to say it and mean it. There was a blanket laid out, but he popped a squat directly on the grass. These trousers were already grass-stained from working in the garden and his feet were dirty from the earth, but he didn't feel like he had to impress these two with anything other than his character.

That was nice.

[Torin Kilvin]

The embrace was unexpected but it felt like a natural continuation of the slow build of trust and touch he had been ambling into with Sivan for most of their friendship. His deep, resonant laugh filled the small space as he left Sivan's arms, mind returning to the memory Destyn offered to him.

"It was still alive, and you just let me put it in my mouth." He hadn't disliked the insects, once they were dead; liked them better when they were fried and crispy, but he could not stand the idea of biting down on something that could feel it. He had been surprised at the time, and was still, that the insectoid wings on such creatures and how they resembled Destyn's own, did not disturb the Fae. It felt unkind to mention it, as much now as the first time he'd noticed, so he did not.

The garden sounded lovely and he followed, bringing up the train of the little party, noting that Sivan had, apparently, added a cellar, or maybe discovered one. Making a note to ask about it later in case the elf had secret house-building skills that might aid in the restoration of the runesmith's own new home he stepped into the lovely little green space. Taking a moment he greeted the ever taller tree with a gentle hand to its bark. Torin possessed no ability to speak to plants, nor did he have any magic that allowed him to see what one might be feeling, yet it still felt right, respectful, to greet the other person residing in the garden.

This done he plopped down with all the grace of a teenager who has finally grown accustomed to the length of their limbs, directly onto the grass. Stains did not concern him as none but the clothes he refused to work in survived untarnished beyond his first hour of wearing them in the forge. Upon the blanket he unpacked his offering, a half dozen flavors of little hand-folded pies, shaped like half-circles in sets of two, or three, depending on whether they contained things Destyn would find offensive to his palate. When the two jugs had been set out he turned to his smallest friend and asked,

"Do you drink milk? I got some to go with the fruit pies, but I don't remember ever seeing you drink anything but water and wine."

The larger man became very still as a tiny creature came creeping out from the grass, nose twitching, whiskers vibrating at the scent of the pies. They had been instructed not to let the squealmouse eat the food they wanted but Torin turned pleading eyes on Sivan. He didn't want to feed it, exactly, but neither did he want to have to be the one to chase it away when it looked so small and hungry. Well, not hungry, considering it lived in a garden full of more food than it could ever eat, but, still, the young runesmith had always had trouble denying food to anyone or thing unless it was trying to eat him or another person.

[Destyn]

Treading Air

69 Searing 121

Destyn grinned gleefully, returning the affection from Sivan. Such things were more natural to him, but he'd gathered such was not so for his Elven friend. He hadn't wanted to presume, but was pleasantly surprised at Sivan's initiating it. He stepped back to allow the other two to hug, before claiming Torin for his own separate embrace.

Destyn's eyes went wide when Sivan spoke of IX and he glared over toward that corner of the cottage. He kept his eyes fixed there as they continued through to the back of the house until they were safely outside.

"What?!" Destyn blinked incredulously at Sivan, "You think I eat bees and mouses?!" He wrinkled his nose in disgust, "But they are-..." He furrowed his brow archly, "Furry!" He stuck his tongue out and shook his head as he limped lightly along to place his basket of fruit down nigh of the Flower Tree.

"He must be talking to you, Torin." His umbrage wasn't long lived, and seemed to have disappeared from his boyish visage by the time he removed the cloth to unveil his selection of pears, apples and sundry berries.

"Oh, all right!" The Fae was quite content to follow Sivan's instruction to do away with the shoes he'd found he was expected to wear almost constantly now that he was a city boy. He still wasn't used to their constraints and they didn't help his limp in the least, as he wasn't accustomed to wearing hard-soled shoes in the best of times- Let alone whilst his leg was healing.

With most of his weight on the stronger leg, he lowered himself into a crouch until it was low enough that he could plop his bum down onto the grass without hurting either it or his wounded leg.

He chuckled at Torin's recollection, "Right! You are s'posed to use your teeths and then it isn't alive anymore!" He shook his head, amused. Indeed he wasn't bothered that some of his food had wings any more than most humans were troubled that chickens had legs. Ironically, that did bother Destyn who couldn't imagine eating flesh off the bone the way humans and other predatory creatures did. Munching down on a nice crunchy bug that went down in one bite was another matter entirely to Destyn's mind.

"Milk?" Destyn knitted his brow, "No... I don't drink milk." He didn't eat pie either, but he hadn't been directly asked about that and he didn't want Torin to feel bad about his selection. Destyn knew that his clan had a peculiar diet which made him a supremely picky eater by Kalzasern standards, but he didn't judge others for their palates.

The Fae noticed the human get very still all of a sudden, and he followed Torin's gaze to the mouse.

"Remember, Torin. You're not allowed to eat it." Destyn reminded him, feeling very helpful.

Treading Air

[Sivan]

Sivan added the raw honey to the spread of food growing in front of them, then used his knife to cut the wax seal off of one of the bottles of wine and uncork it. He took a swig and passed it along, not relying on plates and utensils and cups when it was just easier to share and share alike. The sprites came out to visit as well, brighter and surer presences as they seemed to be growing in his care. They just liked to be around the people, and they added a bit of fairy light to the enchanted garden. There were eldritch will o' the wisps as well, at least for the evening. They didn't seem to want to be included, but they explored the space, adding a bit of light. Otherwise, there was the open sky directly above that hadn't gone completely dark, and the lantern by the door that lead back inside. It seemed to be enough.

"Oh, you can share with him, Torin," he said with a quick smile. "But he gets plenty to eat here so you don't have to give up your food if you don't want to. The bees have taught him about boundaries already." His smile flashed into a smirk for a moment, though he didn't relish any creature's pain.

Taking a pear, he cut off a slice with his knife and dunked it in the honey. After a bite and a swallow, he noted, "You seem to be moving a bit easier, Destyn. I don't know much about fae'ethalan... physiology... but I can probably make a salve or something if the pain is lingering."

Next, he reached for one of the savory pies, wanting to balance out the tastes he enjoyed. The smile that came next was slower, and lingered. He shared it with both of them.

"I'm glad you're already friends... Thank you for coming. This is... ah, special for me. I'm not used to having friends. I'm glad I haven't ruined it yet." His smile went a bit rueful and self-effacing, but he left it at that, eyes seeking upward as sleepy birdsong caught his attention. There were several nests in the branches of the Living Grave. Thankfully, none of them were getting territorial, and were leaving the bees alone. This was his first time creating any sort of a sanctuary, but as its custodian if not its master, it seemed he was able to keep everything living in harmony. Nature was red of tooth and claw, but there seemed to be a relative peace here.

It occurred to him that whatever sense of rest the place offered might be what drew Destyn and Torin back, but he banished the thought. It wasn't helpful.

[Torin Kilvin]

The affection offered by Destyn filled Torin's senses with the presence of his friend, flooding him with memories of days spent in ease touch as they explored the woods and nights spent leaned close together drowsing before the fires of the tribe. There was an immediate sadness that came on the tail of his reminiscence but he did his best to swallow it. Destyn seemed less sad than he had on their previous meeting and Torin didn't want to spoil it by reminding him of what he'd lost.

When the food was all laid out and they were all seated around it he took a moment to lean back on his palms and just be there. With the friends he'd made, and the earth, the sky, the sprites, and wild creatures thriving about them. It was so peaceful, like he might just exist there without the need to have purpose for a time. Except that he was hungry, of course, so, he sat back up and pulled a pie from the pile, not really caring what kind it was. Breaking off the crusty end he tossed it gently in the direction of the squealmouse before taking a huge bite of his own. As bright fruit flavors burst over his tongue he wondered what made it squeal, and if it might squeal while he was around so he would know what it sounded like.

He laughed a little, almost choking, when Destyn reminded him not to eat the mouse, deciding only to nod instead of trying to explain his somewhat childish fascination with the tiny animal. "I'll do my best. Hopefully, there's enough food to keep me full."

When Sivan made his short speech sympathy ran achingly through Torin and settled in his chest. The urge to hug the elf again tugged at his arms but sitting as they were it would have been awkward and likely messy so he held onto the feeling. Perhaps, as they drank and grew more comfortable they might sit as they had when they fell asleep working on IX.

"Thank you for letting us be here, together." It might have been awkward but there was nothing stiff or fake about the sentiment, he looked between the two men, noting their differences and their similarities in a relaxed, appreciative way, "My only friends are here, and it's good to have you both close at the same time." Gratitude was plain in his tone, though it wasn't directed, as though he were thanking whatever force had brought them together.

Taking the wine when it was offered he drank long from its neck, his throat opening to let in the heady flavor before handing it off to the Fae. It left him even more relaxed as he ate the shared spread, comfortable enough not to be self-conscious of licking his fingers or worried at the kiss his mouth left on the bottles they passed.

[Destyn]

Treading Air

69 Searing 121

Destyn eyed the mouse with fond interest before casting his gaze toward Torin. He offered an encouraging smile and acknowledged,

"It is a very cute squealmouse. I like the way their noses always twitch when they sniff around everywhere." He pursed his lips and did his best to imitate the movement by wrinkling his nose and tightening his lips then releasing again and again in rapid succession for a few moments. When he noticed the mouse had paused to stare at him, he froze with a scrunched up face and his eyes locked on the beady little mouse eyes. Slowly his expression melted back toward his typical resting ingenue face.

"Sorry." He said to the mouse, before turning his attentions back to his friends. "Yes, Sivan... My leg, like your Common, is getting better over time. I do not, I think, need a salve. Searing is a season when many things grow, it seems." He smiled warmly. He wanted to acknowledge Sivan's noticeable improvement with the local language. Though it wasn't his own mothertongue, he'd mastered it to the point where he could distinguish regional accents and dialects. He could tell Sivan's was grown less pronounced than when they'd met.

"Bees are very friendly. If you are not greedy or boarish they will gladly share with you." Destyn announced, as he stuck his index finger into the honey and scooped a fingerful into his mouth. "Mmm..." The lips that rounded his knuckle formed a relishing hum as he suckled at the sweetness. And his tongue was not the lone sense surfeiting on sweetness, just then! His ears were treated to a bit of the same from the fond sentiments of his two friends.

"It is special." Destyn agreed emphatically. "You are not alone in feeling this. It is, maybe, different for me, but I am also not used to having friends. Only family. Friendships outside of the clan were few and fleeting..." He looked to Torin and placed a hand upon his knee. Perhaps his gesture of affection may have been slightly marred by the wetness left by a sticky index finger, but knowing Torin? Probably not.

Destyn blinked at the wine bottle, sniffing the mouth of it and unintentionally reenacting his impression of the squealmouse, before taking a swig. His eyes went wide as he downed a bit more than he'd bargained for.

"Uh oh!" He exclaimed as he handed it off to Torin. "I am very, um... susceptible?" He checked in with Torin to make sure that was an actual word- It didn't sound right. Upon confirmation, he continued: "Susceptible to alcohol. It makes me silly."

Treading Air