This must be grace. [Sivan]

[Urs Wardell]

1st of Glade

Urs read over the same paragraph again and again.

Weakness of the heart has been observed in the patient. Magical and mundane diagnostics have identified damages relating to age. Bruising suggests breaking blood vessels. The Necromancy consult suggest surgery at…

He sighed. A small mountain of notes piled on his desk. Reports and studies. He flipped through the papers. A few notices remarking on increasing overdose cases. A memo synthesizing new surgical techniques.

The window in his office looked out over the courtyard.

“I like you, Sivan.”

They’d both been so busy. Everything had been so confusing. Everything was still so confusing.

And Urs was still waiting. The courtyard was empty. The last frost is still holding onto the grass and trees. It was only the first Glade.

And Sivan would be here soon.

[Sivan]

There was no denying that Sivan was awkward. Even with his two friends, he still didn't always know what to do or say, though they tended to give him the benefit of the doubt and afford him an infinite amount of leeway in coming out of his shell. Working in the shop for Master Jacun had helped somewhat; he had learned to be less awkward when talking to customers about things that fell under his growing expertise. But Urs was different. The sharpness of his jaw cut into Sivan's attention in a way that was unique. The way his mind worked, trying to knit together his Mother's lore with his growing knowledge, intrigued him. They hadn't seen each other in a while, but Urs was often in his thoughts.

Awkward he might be, but he had manners, even if they were cobbled together from two elven cultures with only a bit of overlap with Kalzasern etiquette. He had sent a note ahead letting Urs know he would drop by the Tranquil Gardens toward the end of his regular shift and see if he wanted to get that long overdue drink.

It was growing dark. The city was still holding its breath after the terrible incident at the royal wedding. Sivan felt bad; he had met the prince and his consort once and they seemed like good people. But he was more concerned whether this would mean war and what that would mean for him and for those he cared about. Urs was one of those people.

Sivan had hand-delivered alchemical supplies before. He had seen Urs' office. So he went to the courtyard where he could see that office window. The light was on. He waited. When he saw Urs' face looking out, he waved. Exael helped by creating a little halo of blue-white light to help catch the eye. Sivan didn't want to go in and be in the way; he would await Urs out here. The elf reminded himself that he would have to school himself not to drink too quickly lest things get out of hand. A little liquid courage might do the trick, but too much and he would just be an unforgivable mess.

He didn't want to do this wrong.

[Urs Wardell]

Urs saw a flare of blue-light cut through the evening dark.

Exael.

Sivan.

Urs felt something like butterflies. Wings of feeling that cluttered his stomach. He imagined that they were gold and blue and soft and they moved with a grace that hurt to see. His tongue suddenly felt dry.

He waved back.

They hadn’t talked since the garden. Sivan had been busy with Master Jacun and the shop. Urs pretended to be busy with his work at the Tranquil Gardens. And, even if he hadn’t seen Sivan, that did little to stop his thinking. Every day he’d played out the moments after he’d confessed. He’d reimagined Sivan’s face, his expression, anything that might be telling.

His efforts produced nothing more than confusion.

Urs liked Sivan. He liked his ears. His face. His curious way of existing. Everything and anything could be interesting to the elf. The world always seemed so brighter. It was like Sivan could reflect his perspective outward and catch everything in a shine of gold.

It didn’t take Urs long to get outside. The chill of twilight caught his breath and a white wisps of anxiety escaped from his mouth.

“Hi,” he said, smiling, looking and then not looking at eyes so blue it was like they held the sky. “So, drinks?”

Drinks and conversation. Urs already thought of a million things to say. “Hi, Exael,” Urs said, more to the general areas around Sivan than to the elf. The Celestial was surely there, somewhere - it hardly seemed the two of them lingered much time apart.

Urs very much wanted to ask. He wanted to know if Sivan liked him, if he’d thought of him, what he’d done when they’d spent so much time apart. But he didn’t. Urs refused to fall to his instincts. He wouldn’t embarrass himself again.

[Sivan]

Urs made him want to throw up.

Somehow, that wasn't a negative feeling. This confused him.

Nerves, he told himself.

Yes, Exael agreed.

Sivan was beaming at Urs, then he tried to rein it in so it wasn't overdone. The Celestial riding around behind his eyes flickered again like an aura, pleased to be acknowledged.

Hello, Urs Wardell. I will leave you now. Its glow detached itself from Sivan and then drifted toward his home. The elf thought he saw Urs shiver and so he carefully put his arm around his shoulders. It didn't feel bad. Once he relaxed, he thought it might even feel good.

"You must be cold." Urs was only a couple of fingers shorter than him. "Let's go find those drinks."

He hoped Urs didn't protest the lingering touch, or, if he hated it, that he let Sivan know so he wouldn't feel as though he had to smile through some unpleasantness for Sivan's sake. While he was certainly naive about many things, he wasn't going to break if he made a mistake and Urs corrected him.

"I asked him if we could have a bit of privacy," Sivan explained as they began to walk. "He has been riding around with me for seasons now, rarely separating, but I suppose once I perform the Sacrament, he'll have more power, more autonomy, and he'll manifest something closer to his true form. As those things exist in the Aetherium, anyway." Then he fell silent, wondering if he was talking too much, or if it sounded like he was lecturing. Of course, Urs knew a thing or two about summoning spirits, even if he didn't seem particularly bent toward Celestials.

Sivan was glad he had waited so long to bond to an aidolon, sidestepping the need to spherebind. He would have his nigh unbreakable bond, but he would still be able to contract with any sort of spirit.

He was glad he had waited so long for drinks in some ways, too. The idea of the things Urs had wanted to do were things he thought about now, as well, whereas they didn't even enter his head when he didn't know the man from any stranger on the street.

[Urs Wardell]

Urs leaned into Sivan’s touch, like he was melting.

He felt his cheeks sting with heat. “It’s a bit cold,” Urs said.

He wasn’t cold.

But he shivered anyway. A part of him was tempted to pull Sivan closer. Everything felt so strange. “Privacy’s nice,” he said, “I suppose it’d be boring for him, to just watch us get drinks. Does he find this place - this realm - curious?”

Urs tried to remember if any of Mother’s summons had ever cared to stay. Toothless could be swayed, he supposed, but the creature was more likely to go back to the Aetherium than remain. Other Eldritch creatures were similar. He wondered how, if ever, one might be interested in staying here longer than a simple contract allowed.

Urs felt a sudden comfort as they walked to the tavern. The way the streetlamps dappled yellow and white across the cobblestone streets. The sounds of the people walking.

“...I missed you.”

He felt it when he said those words. The sudden chill that ran through him. Urs hadn’t had friends in so long - and he hadn’t had what he wanted with Sivan in longer. It was curious. The dread he’d felt only moments before Sivan arrived.

And like that, it was gone. Urs had missed Sivan. He was glad he said it. He wanted the elf to know. He wanted Sivan to know he liked how he talked too much. He wanted Sivan to know he liked how he walked. He wanted Sivan to know that he liked how he’d draped his arm around him.

He wanted Sivan to know he liked him.

[Sivan]

Normally, Sivan wasn't a talkative person, but Urs asked questions and always seemed to want him to continue so he found himself doing so more often than not. It was strange, and sometimes he even got a bit of a sore throat after one of their visits. He didn't mind, though; not really.

"Well, he's a spirit of wisdom, sort of..." Sivan tried to order his thoughts, tried to translate them clearly into Common. "It... he is a Celestial, so he's... you know, good. But from what I gather, he was diminished some time ago in a struggle with the Infernal powers. He lost a lot of himself, but has building it all back up since I first summoned him. But he forgot a lot about this plane, so he has been relearning it with me. The more he learns, the more context he has... He just doesn't understand us yet. He's often quite logical, but his advice ignores mortal feeling... I'm trying to teach him empathy."

When he came to a lull, Urs said something simple that gobsmacked him. He didn't know why it should, but perhaps it was in the way he said it.

"I, ah... missed you." He was glad he had put his arm around Urs in response to a physical need because if he had waited until now, he wouldn't have had the courage to do it. Now he didn't have the courage to retract it, not that he wanted to. They had tabled certain elements of what their relationship might become, but now Urs seemed interested again. Or perhaps he always had been and Torin's strange ramblings during his threshold sickness had just made Sivan more aware of such things, the things that normally didn't find purchase in his mind.

I'm sorry I'm not very good at this, he wanted to say.

Instead, he asked, "Did Master Jacun's analysis of that sample help you at all?"

It was an abrupt shift, perhaps, but he was interested in Urs' work and it was a thing they had spoken of before. It felt like more stable ground to stand on.

[Urs Wardell]

Urs could be brash.

He’d recently been reprimanded by a senior doctor. He didn’t have a good bedside manner. Urs could be impatient. He could be unkind. Cold. Urs hadn’t cared, not particularly. He didn’t feel like the patients needed warmth, not from him. They needed him to work and nothing more.

But he’d be warm, for Sivan. He’d be patient and kind. And he’d listen to the elf talk about anything.

“I can’t imagine a better teacher,” Urs smiled. And it was true. There wasn’t anyone kinder than Sivan. There wasn’t anyone with softer eyes.

He wondered, idly, how someone might be so good. This world doesn’t favor the weak, Mother said. She warned him. A heart, she said, is a beating target.

That was a way to live, he supposed.

“ - uh,” he stumbled into Sivan, surprised by the admission, even if it was the answer he so desperately wanted. Urs held on tighter, his own arm wrapping around Sivan’s for support. “Yeah. It helped. The hospital hadn’t seen it before. We’re checking for it now against any reported drug overdoses.”

He hadn’t released Sivan - and he wasn’t sure he’d ever let go. How silly. Witches aren’t lovers. Witches live alone. The closest escape is one closest to the edge.

Her words seemed less important now.

“But we haven’t seen more cases. Or I haven’t. It’s strange. I suppose these things happen. They did, all the time, in the Midden. I hadn’t thought I’d ever see something like it here, not in the upper city.” Everything had changed so quickly. The wedding ruined it all. His investigation. War was coming, this he knew.

Mother had always expected that.

"How's work for you?"

[Sivan]

Sivan nodded his understanding.

"Oh, work has been... quite busy... Everyone is stocking up against an expected invasion, though from what I hear, Kalzasi might be the invading party? I don't really understand it all. I met him once—Talon Novalys. Very kind. It's terribly sad..." His arm tightened a bit around Urs.

"You aren't leaving Kalzasi, are you?" Golden eyebrows rose as if he was worried about the possibility. "I know some people are trying to leave, fearing conscription. But I would imagine that healers would be some of the best protected." Jacun had assured him that as his apprentice, he would be exempt from such things. After all, he wasn't even a citizen, but he would be helping create alchemical goods for the war effort. Sivan was part of that clockwork machine even though he didn't understand what was going on.

He wondered if Urs was a citizen, having grown up in the Midden, beyond the reach of the city's law. He wondered if it would matter one way or another. Leaders gave themselves carte blanche in times of war. A year ago, he would just have up and left as quickly as he had gotten here, but even if he hadn't put down permanent roots, he seemed to have temporary ones. Flower was bound in the Living Grave in his yard. IX was not functioning, hibernating under a spare sheet. He was the caretaker of a garden and while he could extricate himself from that role, it would have to be done slowly so the spirits didn't suffer for it. And then there were his friends. Destyn would likely leave with him. Torin would not. And Urs...

It was strange. He knew him well enough to be comfortable around him. He was comfortable enough around him that other feelings came up, feelings that made him uncomfortable. But they weren't bad feelings, not exactly.

[Urs Wardell]

“Mhm,” Urs sounded, thinking about the kidnapped prince. It was sad. He doubted the man even knew his father was dead. A part of him doubted the man was still alive.

And yet.

A lot of people die every day. No war broke out when Mother died. She’d been killed. Urs had been forced to flee to save himself. “No. I won’t leave Kalzasi.” He doubted he’d find himself too involved in this war if it came. He’d play his part, if asked, as a surgeon. Urs wouldn’t risk his head for someone else’s son.

He thought about Sivan. He’d have to tell him soon, the whole story. Mother’s curse. Zaichaer. A city of witches who communed with the dead.

Urs realized he liked the elf too much to keep secrets from him.

“I wouldn’t leave Kalzasi without you,” he said, blushing, pink coloring his cheeks and nose. Sivan was the closest thing he had to anything. Agatha wasn’t family, no matter how she’d known Mother. And, as much as he desperately wished to know where he’d come from, he doubted he’d have much in common without his family in Zaichaer.

He’d spent too long away from them.

“...would you fight, if they asked you?” Urs asked, curious. He realized he wasn’t sure how Sivan felt about this war - how anyone did, really. Everyone had said that everything was so sad. How tragic.

He wondered if the people here understood what war was - he didn’t. Urs knew fear and danger, but he’d but shielded from the worst the Midden and the Warrens could offer. And he had little interest in understanding death better than he already did.

No, he’d decided, this war wasn’t his.

[Sivan]

Sivan laughed, more an exhalation than anything, but the intent was there. He squeezed Urs' shoulders and felt his cheeks burn brighly in the cold air.

Then, after some deliberation, "No. No, I don't think I would fight. My neighbor just started teaching me how to use a blade because there was a break-in at my house."

He had told Urs about that, hadn't he? The feelings of violation and fear were generally pushed down so he could live, but sometimes they came up and forced him to face them.

"So I don't fancy being so much cannon fodder. I will help Master Jacun. We will likely focus on medicines and... well, possibly weapons." His mouth twisted at that, being forced to use what he had learned to aid and abet people killing each other. But Master Jacun seemed to think that creating things that people might weaponize wasn't an evil in and of itself. Sivan wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"I really don't understand what's happening. Was it Zaichaer or Gel'Grandal? Is it to be a war to rescue two people who might just as easily be executed? Is it just grinding up more bodies and lives in retaliation? It doesn't make sense."

He almost passed the taproom Urs had suggested. Frowning, but trying not to let their evening get twisted up in what was wrong with the world. Sivan opened the door for the man, unsure if he was allowed to keep his arm around him once they were indoors or if that was not the sort of friendship Urs wanted—whatever that meant. Sivan was close to a very few people, and he was affectionate with them. It didn't necessarily mean anything; it didn't necessarily not mean anything, but nothing like that had come of it yet.

"After you," he urged gently. Urs was slenderer than he was, never quite putting on enough weight since coming up out of the Midden, it seemed. He wondered if it was bad that he admired his jawline, knowing it was so stark because he had been malnourished.