A Rune for Torin [Torin]

[Aurin]

Aurin got up so he could watch him go from the doorway. A part of him wanted to watch his bare body shiver through the wintry air, but he figured it was best to keep things pleasant so, like a drug trip, he didn't take anything negative into the experience that he didn't have to. His senses were flooded with aether, the better to help him gauge the transition, but neither of them was truly attuned to some of the stirrings in the yard. Perhaps if Torin had a Dratori or a summoner over, they might comment on how the spirits of this place paid attention even in their Frost dreaming, aware that the sleeper had awakened, that the mortal master of this place would soon be able to sense them.

When they were back on the hearth, he paid keen attention to Torin and what he said and presented. The boy was so often deserving of praise, and Aurin tried to give it to him. He ate it up like a starving man, which was gratifying, but also hurt the heart he pretended not to have.

"It means a lot to me," he managed around a knot in his throat, managing to meet Torin's gaze, "that my desire to protect you is reciprocated."

He let Torin help him put them on. They felt good on his wrists, like security, and he figured there was no time like the present to let his body heat mold them to his body. Then, in order to make Torin's eyes prickle as well, he put distilled spirits upon a bit of gauze and pressed it to the wound. The sting was care, and when he examined the smith's delicate wound, he found it well done and drying on its own.

Aurin stood up and offered Torin a hand up.

"Let's go lie in bed. I want you warm and comfortable, and your mind will want to dream, the better to think through all the new things you're going to sense."

Desire still rolled off of him, and he suspected Torin would sense it soon if he didn't already. He tried to tamp it down, but vulnerability in his boy turned him on. He wanted to claim it like a jealous god, but also prove that Torin was right to trust him with it. But it would be better to wait until he came out of his threshold sickness.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin beamed as he helped Aurin align the bracers to his arms, each strap had many small holes, close together for the best fit possible. It helped that the smith knew intimately the size of his man's arms, but there would be room to put on muscle or lose it, if there was a need. "You mean a lot to me. Ever since..." Here he stopped and rested a hand on the place in the redhead's side where he had taken a knife two seasons ago, "I can't stop thinking about it happening again."

The bracers good, on him, seeming to match his natural movements, which felt even better. The sting from cleaning the wound was harsher than Torin had expected it to be and he hissed, moving a little before settling back to let the redhead press it all over the cuts.

" 'M afraid I won't have time to make you anything else for the New Year, maybe I can do the traditional mittens and candy." Mittens and candy were what he had always received for the holiday back home. Sometimes, if he were growing quickly he would also get other small necessary things. That there might be a different tradition for children in Kalzasi, or where Aurin was from, did not occur to the blond as the two men stood together and began to make their way up the stairs. At the top of the landing he stared at his man for a long moment, murmuring,

"You're pretty." While running his hand through something that was visible around the man's head, but only to Torin. "You're bigger than you are."

When they were inside his bedroom and the door was shut he nudged forward, pressing his bare form to Aurin's clothed one till their eyes met. He blinked slowly at what he could see and then blushed deeply.

"Oh. Aurin." Strong hips bucked forward of their own accord, as they sometimes did when Aurin told him what he wanted to do to him. His hands clenched, clinging to the fabric covering his man and he made a needy sound in his throat.

"Will you have me now?"

[Aurin]

When Torin touched the scar through his shirt, he reached out to touch his face.

"You give me a reason to survive, boy," he growled, and left it at that. He laughed softly at the mention of mittens and candy, and again as Torin marveled at how the aetheric body expanded beyond the physical. At least, he had heard mages call it the aetheric body and so that was how he thought of it. "You're bigger than you are, too."

In the bedroom, he was surprised a bit by Torin's answering lust, and it eroded his decision to be good.

"Get on the bed," he said, giving Torin a nudge. Then he stripped down to his skin. If they had to keep Torin quarantined from the world until his soul aligned with its new Rune, at least they could enjoy a bit of intimacy. He climbed up onto the bed and made love to Torin. It wasn't the first time, but the burly boy was so eager for extremes that it was rare. But Aurin had walked too many people out of bad trips, and knew that the calm and the joy would be reassuring whereas some of his more piquant pleasures might not be so well received in this heightened, altered state.

He whispered honest things. They came quite close together, and he was careful to clean up after them. He took care of everything, and he took care of Torin. Soon enough, they were sprawled out on the bed, Torin resting his wheat-haired head upon his chest. Aurin felt good. It was the afterglow, but it was also the connection; it was the joy he could give to Torin and it was the sense that this would all turn out all right in the end, and the smith would have another tool to make him better at his craft, another skill to help him gather information and keep himself safe.

In the moment, everything was good and everything was right.

[Torin Kilvin]

Watching Aurin (a somewhat glowing and shifting version of Aurin) undress was well worth watching, so the smith just lay back on the bed and stared openly as his lover was revealed. There were things showing, things that his long study as a runesmith did not offer him insight into; tendrils pouring from or wrapping around the redhead as he climbed into bed with his boy that said boy felt like he understood, even though he didn't.

Their coupling was slower and sweeter than it often was. Torin might have pushed for rougher or initiated it himself, but in that moment the gentleness eased him through the first moments of aetherial alignment. He clung, just holding on and being present as the things he'd seen pouring from Aurin twined with things he could barely see but soon realized were parts of his own signature. For a moment he wondered if he could pull his aether through Aurin's Rune, as Aurin had done to activate Torin's. Reaching out he tried, but even the tiny intentional use of his infant magic made him dizzy near to fainting. He let the thought go and relaxed into the love being pressed deep into his body.

When the cleaning was done he almost regretted not mingling their seed on his new wound. It was an impractical want but there was something natural about it, something old and edged in ritual. When they were wrapped close and warm he lifted his leg enough that he could see the wound for himself. It put him in an ungraceful position but Aurin had seen him in almost every imaginable position and he didn't feel shy about it when it wasn't being called out.

"It's beautiful." He declared, as though coming to a decision. "It's hard to believe you've never given someone a Rune before."

Aurin gave the impression of being good at anything he chose to do and, so far, Torin hadn't found evidence to contradict the attitude.

The wound was already scabbing over, so the lines were more visible than they would be once it healed. Of course, he would be visible for other reasons once it was done.

[Aurin]

Lazing about in the afterglow, he felt a bit as though he had gotten away with something naughty. But this was a nice, relaxed space to be in while the soul took to its new shape, he supposed, and he was glad that Torin felt so safe in his presence. He pressed his lips to Torin's temple tenderly, said, "Perhaps someday I'll take a blade and carve my name into you..."

It was sweet and threatening both.

As for the rest, he was too relaxed to think his answer through. He tried not to lie to Torin unless it was necessary, but he was a past master at omitting certain details to make things run more smoothly. But not today, not now.

"Well, I did give Arry the illusionist trick," he admitted blithely. "To my mind, it'll be good if he has to disappear from danger, but I'm sure he'll want to use it to glitter more brightly on stage. Little attention whore..." He chuckled and let his the back of his head rest against the headboard. His eyes ran along the posters of the bed where some of Torin's little additions were artfully hidden. Thankfully, it didn't seem as though he would need to be restrained to get through this threshold sickness. If anything, he just seemed a bit dazed, trying to focus on new sensations from new senses, which seemed a lot gentler than what Aurin remembered from the fever dream of his past.

"It was different, I suppose, but similar enough. He made it through unscathed, and so will you."

For as keen a judge of character and reaction as Aurin could be, sometimes he was an idiot. Today was one of those idiot days. For all his preparations, he had just blundered and didn't realize it yet.

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin grinned a little, flushing and wanting to ask where Aurin might put his name, but he was already starting to feel hazy. Between the sex and the fundamental change he was undergoing, it made sense. It wasn't frightening, not with Aurin there with him, and he was just beginning to think about drowsing down towards sleep when an unexpected answer came.

Blinking slowly, having to deal with the confusion as one of his eyes retained its normal sight and the other showed him the world washed in a rainbow of colored threads. It was like seeing a tapestry so close up you can't make out what the picture is. A part of his mind was quite sure there was a picture, huge as the sky and broad as the world, but if there was, it would be the study of a lifetime, not an hour.

When his brain was willing to stop thinking of the tapestry of existence and let him process the words a chill ran down his spine like someone pouring mercury into his bones.

"What?" He asked, at first only confused before the full meaning found him. Then,

"You what?!" Sitting up far too quickly for either of the two major activities he had engaged in that evening, he scrambled back until his shoulders were pressed to the headboard of his bed.

"When did you..?" Realizing halfway through that this was not the important question he changed it to, "Why, why would you do that?!"
The panic in his voice was rising, and he looked as though he would still be moving back if there hadn't been something solid behind him.

The logical part of his mind did not understand why he was reacting as he was. He was not friends with the half-elf, and Arvalyn had been rude to him on all occasions that they had met, but there was no reason Aurin should not give him a Rune that would aid his career.

Torin tried very hard to listen to the logical part, but there was another part that had begun to scream, high and far away, but growing closer and louder by the moment. Meeting Aurin's eyes as if there might be answers there he did not know that he looked half-wild; eyes huge, pupils blown, chest rising and falling in little pants like an animal cornered.

[Aurin]

"Two weeks ago," he answered, confused. "To help him with his careers... Torin..."

Of course, the sex had relaxed him enough that he wasn't on top of his game, but alarm shot through his veins and burned away the pleasant hum. He twisted toward his lover, taking one of his hands in his own to reassure him. He knew that Arry had been unkind to Torin, but had endeavored to keep them separate so as not to cause either of them undue discomfort. He hadn't seen Torin react like this since... ever.

"Torin. My boy. It's me. I'm here. Everything's fine. You need to calm down."

He leaned in to kiss him, to share his warmth and his scent, things that tended to calm Torin down after they had had their fun of an evening. The threshold sickness for Masquerade was worse than Semblance from what he had gathered, though they had been inextricably intertwined for him. Arry's peace of mind had been paramount as he began hallucinating, whereas Torin's mind was only coping with more sensations than he was used to processing

Aurin began to second-guess himself. Had the sex been some sort of triggering event, exciting the blood too much when his mind was undergoing changes along with his soul? The fox-faced man had never claimed to be a mage, but initiating Arry had been an easy success; he wasn't prepared for this. But he would fake it until he made it, continuing to touch Torin, to speak to him, to try to keep him grounded in the here and now and the safety he normally felt in Aurin's presence.

Everything had been going so well.

"Talk to me. Tell me what's bothering you." They were orders of a sort, but his voice was gentler than usual.

[Torin Kilvin]

The rational and caring reaction from Torin's mentor and lover should have helped. Similar reactions had always helped in the past, even when he was near to panic, but something about how he was feeling now was different. The question confused him further; why was he reacting so?

"I don't know..." The admission seemed to make the emotional reaction grow, "I don't know?"

Blue eyes searched brown for answers that were not to be found there. It was all the smith could do not to curl up in a tight knot under his bed to protect himself from...

Vague shadows of memory swirled through his mind like tendrils through fog; a terrifying menace that he couldn't see no matter how he twisted or craned to understand.

Pulling his knees up under his chin and wrapping his arms around him, Torin made a sound akin to a wounded animal.

"Something's wrong. He did... something. I don't know. I can't remember. He hurt me..." At this last his head came down onto his knees and he began to cry as though he were in pain enough that he couldn't help the tears and shuddering.

"Aurin..." Was the only comprehensible word that came after the weeping started, and he leaned, slowly, as a tower collapses over decades of neglect; sinking towards his man. When their bodies came into contact Torin cried harder, as though a flood of repressed feeling were shedding itself. Aurin was safe, so Torin was safe. If he was safe, he could let out whatever this was and hope that once it was out it wouldn't come back.

The phantoms of memory kept trying to pierce through the veil of forgetfulness that held them firmly at bay and Torin could not tell which side he wanted to win the fight.

[Aurin]

"All right," he said, processing that. Not knowing was valid. "All right. It's all right. I'm here."

When Torin curled up and leaned in, Aurin knew what to do. His arms came around the smith and held him tight. Some might have called it too tight, but Torin always seemed to like that sort of constriction from him, as if he felt contained, controlled, and comforted. Aurin murmured soothing things, barely words, mostly just offering the sound of his voice. He didn't know what to make of the vague accusation, but he could certainly follow up once Torin was on the other side of his threshold sickness.

"He isn't here," he assured Torin. "It's just you and me tonight, and I've got you. I'll keep you safe."

It was a sort of a lie, a sort of a truth; safety was an illusion, but he would make it as real as he possibly could. He might not have ever articulated it, but he knew that Torin was someone he would die for; but then, so was Arry. This put him in a strange situation.

"Let it out," he urged. "Let it go."

He wondered if it might not have been wiser to have Timon stay. The lad could have run errands so Aurin needn't quit Torin's presence. But he didn't want Timon to worry either; he was better off with the nobles who treated him better than his own family could. It was just Aurin and Torin, and they were going to get through this.

[Torin Kilvin]

Aurin's comfort, while vital, was beginning to grow distant. Something was happening behind Torin's eyes, like slipping into a dream overlaying reality. The redhead's words settled into Torin like snowflakes onto a hot brand, they cooled it, only to melt and slide off, one by one, collecting into a pool of sizzling droplets below. Unable to resist the pull of the dream he sank, eyes closing against his will even as he tried to speak, tried to warn with words that were only feelings and knowledge that would not be seen. The bed was soft and it held him like a prison as he slumped into unconsciousness against his lover.

Aurin would do whatever was needed to protect his boy from danger, but he didn't see Arvalyn as a danger, to either of them. The brand of his fear began to heat him from inside and the pool of boiling reassurance rose up and pressed its way from his pores. The air felt like ice; sharp and unforgiving against his naked body, yet, when hands he trusted pulled the bedclothes up over him it felt like he might drown.

The pool inside him was growing, first into a rivulet, then a riven, then an ocean, it pressed against him from all sides as he struggled to swim. The liquid moved around him in chaotic waves that scared him until he saw that they were caused not by a storm or a tide but by the unimaginably vast creatures that moved through it with him. Then they terrified him. He had to get away.

Limbs flailing he now understood why the water was so, so hot, the infinite beings that filled it created enough heat between them to almost boil it as it crashed, rising and falling over his head. Choking, trying hard to swim, to stay afloat while it felt like something was pinning his arms to his sides, Torin fought. He would drown in this place, not even noticed by the colossi who killed him. It went on forever, with no change in the grey light that came from everywhere to explain the passage of time until he was too exhausted; until he stopped fighting and let himself sink

The liquid closed over his head and, somehow, he knew it was pleased, relieved almost, that he'd stopped struggling. Sinking rapidly in the now strangely calm fluid he realized one of the creatures was turning, in a moment it would see him there and something about that caused a terror purer than anything he'd ever felt. Flailing with more than just his body he reached out for... anything.

Gasping he fell onto a stone surface. It was dark, except light seemed to come from inside him. It was a cave of some kind, filled with crystals of a beauty beyond mortal ken, but sharp enough to shred a mortal form like heated steel through fat. Standing as carefully as he could Torin looked around. He must find a path. Where he was going he could not say but somewhere inside his head he heard, echoing, the words:

The Nightmare Crossing Begins