Lost in Wonderland

[Torin Kilvin]

The Bronze Fox had turned his face away, his last words echoed through The Smith's skull.

The Silver Lady had flown, as she should, yet her loss vibrated through reality as ripples in the rain.

The Minstral had vibrated, comfort seeping through his song, but he too was gone now.

The thought dragged him down through the surface; the floor drop away and he was falling.

He stood in a vast cavern carved into the earth, rocky surfaces slick with moisture, air rich with the smell of fertile ground. There came a humming in his ears, the cavern shook with it and became a vaulting expanse wider than the sky.

He was here. He was there. Here and there meant less now. He was looking in a mirror, but he didn't look right. The hum resonated in his bones like a tuning fork.

He shouldn't look. Mirrors could be dangerous, or so the superstition went. Peering into the face of the uncanny could trap the mind, the soul. But everything was beautiful in his sight. He could taste the rocks, the sky sang. Greater understanding was right around the corner, knowing how the aether would flow. He courted it. He begged for it. He begged for The Bronze Fox to return to him. He had to know. He wanted to know everything.

The vault became a banquet hall where strange creatures feasted on dishes unknown, some fresh-picked, some rotting. They were bright things, and dark. Wild and eldritch. Some of them looked hungrily at him, others with interest or pity or disdain.

Something flickered out of the corner of his eye. The Fox? No, his father, implacable rage with no place to put it. No, his mother, pushing him away to save him. No, his old master, all the substance gone out of him until he was mist, a shadow of his living self.

He could feel his body quaking, felt a dampness on his lips. When a shaking hand reached his face he realized his nose had started to bleed, but it tasted sweet instead of coppery.

"Torin?" It was Sivan's voice, and in the mirror, he saw his friend. But he was different. He was a king, or a god. He changed from breath to breath, now a hermit in the woods, now a grease-smudged tinker in a workshop, now a hierophant on a lonely mountaintop.

His golden hair was crowned in a silver, celestial light. His eyes were the sky looking down. His lips were flower petals. Power churned around him, through him.

"What are you?" Torin asked, an awed whisper. But he didn't care. He knelt. This was what he had been waiting for.

In the mirror, he saw himself kneeling like a knight in silvery armor. He looked like Kaus Leukos, or himself, having learned all that the battlemasters had to teach just so he could lay his heavy warhammer at Sivan's feet. He ached.

"Choose me," he murmured, begging. His Bronze Fox had abandoned him, replaced by this Lord of Metal and Magic. He wept, and felt ashamed.

"Torin," He heard his name, but that wasn't his true name any longer; neither was Sivan his. If only he would choose him, everything would come back into focus and make sense. Elven touched his fingers to his face, lifting his chin. Lips brushed his ear, and while he didn't understand, he only wanted him to do it again. The stars poured through him, a cold wave of night.

He could see everything, time unfurled before him; their bodies entwined. Sivan was above him and beneath him at the same time, his fair skin laid out like a fine tablecloth scattered with rose petals. He was overpowering Torin, pushing him down from his knees to some lower place. Teeth caressed at his ear. No, it was sharp; a bite, hard.

"Torin," His name again, harsh with command.

"Wake up! In the Silver Tongue, voice sounding like golden bells. When Sivan spoke Rivach, it was the rustle of woodland trees.

And then he saw himself in the mirror, kneeling at his friend's feet, his hand slipping into his friend's tunic and down his hose. Sivan's hands were on his shoulders, steadying himself, trying to keep Torin at bay. There was some fear in his eyes, and determination and concern.

The cavern faded, in warped weavings. The vault closed in, stilling itself like a gong. The banquet hall was gone, but for a long time he could still see those faces and hear their laughter at his expense, the buzz of their conversation as his mind stepped through the mirror.

Torin was in his own room, though the mirror still seemed off. He fell backward onto his ass, letting go of Sivan. He was aroused and humiliated, felt a pain in his thigh and a confusion at the edges of memory that threatened to come crashing back into him like a wave.

Reality was tremulous, but Sivan was crouched beside him, supporting him, trying to help him up.

[Sivan]

He had been told that Torin was napping, and that seemed well. But he had also been told that some sort of paranoia had set in, that his threshold sickness was unexpectedly severe for the Rune of Semblance, and now he saw that Torin was sort of sleepwalking through this plane as his mind or his astral self, perhaps, was elsewhere. It was strange, but it had almost seemed akin to when he watched a summoner put a part of themselves in another plane in order to commune with possible candidates for a contract. He himself had done such, but hadn't sleepwalked out of his scrivened circle.

It had been terrifying just then; Sivan was strong, but Torin was stronger. Sivan was present, but Torin was sensing other things. Perhaps they were real things in a sense, but they were overwhelming them and then he was assaulting Sivan—sort of. Words hadn't reached him, but pain had. Sivan had bitten him hard on the ear. There wasn't any blood, but it had been sharp enough a physical sensation to pierce the mists of aetheric patterns.

He was walking the Aetherium, Exael said, curious, almost awed.

With a Rune of Semblance?

So it would seem. Magic isn't truly so divided as you would think, you who require Runes for most manipulation.

Sivan was crouching beside Torin, his fair cheeks burning with embarrassment. He must have thought he was his lover and not his friend, but that could be forgiven, of course. There was nothing to forgive. He would just have to figure out why his body had responded, what that might mean.

The Kalzasern culture allows for non-monogamous pair-bonding, Exael supplied helpfully.

Yes, thank you, I know.

"It's me, Torin," he murmured. "It's Sivan. Let's get you back in bed, all right? If you go wandering again... Well, I'll send a celestial to bring you back."

[Torin Kilvin]

There, sitting on the floor of his own bedroom, Torin wanted to reach for Sivan again, to bury himself in the familiar scent and feel of his friend's arms. But he couldn't... not now.

The young smith did his best not to look at either of their bodies as the knowledge of what his body had been doing when he'd finally found the mirror that allowed his whole self to step back into its own plane of existence. There had been times, moments, or snippets of dreams in which he had been... closer, to Sivan, then he had ever been in reality, but he had honestly never considered acting on any of it.

Had he?

Questions that dealt with his honesty with himself were, for the moment, too much, and he shook his head a little bit. It made him dizzy. Gods, but his body felt so weak.

"Sivan. I'm sorry." His voice cracked and there were tears in it even if none came from his eyes. "I didn't mean... I'm sorry." He tried to stand and was additionally ashamed to realize that he could not. Tentatively he let Sivan help him, trying to keep the burning parts of his body as much away from his friend's as he could while being half-carried back to his bed.

"I think," He had to clear his throat, which then caused him to cough before he could finish, "I think I'm done with that. For now. I mean..." He groaned as he was levered off the floor and then back down onto his bed, which smelled as though he'd been sweating through it for days.

"I don't think I'm going back to the other place again. You brought me back, or maybe Exael? Thank you." He still sounded like he might cry when he was thanking the elf, but he also sounded like he was examining the state of himself and finding it wanting. He wanted a bath, and a massive amount of food, even if he should probably not eat solid things for at least his first waking meal.

Ordinarily, he would have just asked Sivan to bring him water and use his device to heat it, but he would need his friend's help to both undress and get into the tub and, at the moment, that felt like an imposition. Touch, which had grown easy and comfortable between them, now felt off-limits, like he'd done something wrong.

A part of Torin that he wasn't used to at all also wanted to lean forward and press their mouths together. It wasn't the same feeling it had when he wanted Aurin's touch, not near to it, but it lived in the same part of him.

[Sivan]

"You are all right."

Sivan found himself repeating that in various permutations as he managed to get Torin back into bed. On some level, he was trying to assure himself of the same. He didn't quite know how to articulate the conflicting desire in that earlier moment when he had wanted his friend to take him into his mouth. Perhaps he was just a bad friend at the end of the day.

"You are all right," he repeated. And then, "I think you are back, too." He looked critically at Torin, his mind going into a diagnostic mode to distract him from his body. "Your aura is more... settled. Connected. Fuck, your Rune is already so powerful." Blue eyes focused on his friend's face. Exael had only watched; Sivan had considered sending him after Torin's spirit, but his presence and the gift of pain had been enough to clarify his mind, to realign it with his body. He didn't feel the need to claim credit for bringing Torin back, though. He was just happy that his friend was safe and sound, even if he was shockingly underweight.

He wondered if it would be a betrayal to talk to his lover about it.

Sivan offered water. He knew enough about recoveries that involved reintroducing food to know that he should follow that with the tea, and then the broth. He wondered if Torin would need to use the restroom and whether he would need help, which made his cheeks rosy once more, though he was leaning against the bed to try to mash down certain things that were betraying him.

"Your man's asleep. What do you say we try to get something in your belly before I go and wake him?" Golden eyebrows rose in question. Hopefully, the man wouldn't get murderous about Torin touching him below the belt if he not only helped him return to his body, but managed to nourish that body. He blinked, found he was staring at Torin's lips, and cut his eyes toward the broth on the beside table.

[Torin Kilvin]

At the mention of his Rune Torin pour aether into it without thinking, the world flared to unimaginable brightness and chaos and he cried out, throwing his arm, uselessly, before his eyes as his aetheric flow yanked itself back. A trickle, almost an afterimage remained when he opened his eyes again, body shaking from the core out from having gone rigid at the shock.

"Ohhh..." It was more a moan of pain than any sort of realization. Opening his eyes only a little, and finding the world mostly as it should be he opened them normally, even if he was still grimacing. "Sorry I... I don't know how to do it right. You'll have to teach me. Or, I'm sorry."

He waved the shaking hand that had tried to shield him from his magic sense.

"I would appreciate it, very much, if you would teach me. I would understand if you didn't want to. I'll understand if you don't want to see me for a while or... again." He was even closer to crying now, but there was so little fluid left in him he couldn't even hold himself sitting upright. When the glass of water was offered he was too desperate for it to feel more shame, only let his friend help him hold it as he first sipped and then opened his throat and took it all down.

It had been days and Aurin was surely exhausted, so, once he could, he nodded.

"Let him sleep a little, till we know I won't slip back."

Torin was oblivious to Sivan's distraction, as he could not conceive of himself as attractive at that moment. But he could smell Sivan, more strongly than he'd done before, or maybe it was the tiny bit of Semblance still flowing through him. The elf smelled of alchemical ingredients, of fresh air and green growing things, of fire and water and a musk that was the simple combination of his unique body. Torin wanted to hug him, to wrap around him and cry out all the things that he couldn't think about or process right then. But he was too weak for even a good cry, too weak-willed not to cling on too tightly if he was allowed to touch.

[Sivan]

Sivan put a comforting hand on Torin's brow. He couldn't do anything to ease the overwhelming sensations, but pain had bridged the gap from the Aetherium to Torin's body, so physical touch might be an anchor while figuring out his Rune of Semblance.

"Don't be stupid," he said, a little harsher than he intended. He was confused about what had happened earlier, but not angry. But he hadn't processed it enough to talk about it yet. "Of course I'll teach you," he said, gentler. "To begin, you should only put a little of your energy into the Rune. Especially right now after you have been unmoored from your body. There is so much and your mind has to learn how to handle it all. Especially because... you are much more powerful already than I was when I came out of my mild threshold sickness. You must be careful. Try to do a little every day. Think of it as a muscle, perhaps. You couldn't swing the heaviest hammer on your first day as an apprentice, could you? Just so with this."

There were marked differences between magics managed through Cardinal Runes and those which were crafts. Sivan was familiar with both, but he didn't know exactly how to articulate the differences. But he nodded; best let the elder man sleep while he made sure Torin made himself quite comfortable back in his body. With a gesture, he had Khal warm the broth, and then he sat on the edge of the bed to spoon-feed his friend. Better a spoonful of broth than...

He flushed.

"Wiggle your toes. Be aware of every inch of your skin. Fill your belly with warmth. Physical sensations will help keep you connected to your body. That has always helped me when I have projected into another realm to speak to a spirit."

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin's eyes slipped shut in relief at his friend's comforting touch. Perhaps things would be well between them.

He was still prepared to accept whatever chastisement or requirements might be asked for going forward, even if they made him ache for the simplicity of their friendship. Relationships changed, if they lived long enough; a lesson he was just beginning to grasp.

The little bit of harshness in Sivan's voice at the idea that he might not be willing to teach Torin was, strangely, at least as comforting as the touch. He leaned into both, too tired to pretend he didn't want them badly. The words of explanation washed into him like a cooling balm and he nodded along, answering where he could but mostly just listening to the familiar voice.

"I don't know if I can make it stop, entirely, right now." Pulling his aether wholly out of the rune felt like a tearing of sorts. Perhaps that would fade over time, but for the moment he took the good advice and cut it down to the smallest thread.

The smith let his body fell into obedience to the elf's soothing voice; opening to take in the hot broth when it was offered, taking slow inventory of his whole form, one part at a time. Sivan seemed uniquely able to help him at the moment, a practitioner of both Runic and World magics, as Torin now was, as well as able to step out of his body to see beyond. He wanted to ask about those times, but knew it wasn't a wise topic for the moment.

Sinking deeper into his form felt good, safe and homey. Sighing with the sense of comfort he was beginning to regain with himself he swallowed the most recent spoonful and said, the fear faded from his voice

"Thank you, Siv. You're a good friend. I'll tell you, someday, where I was and why I..." Here he cleared his throat and took the kindly offered out of another mouthful.

[Sivan]

The elf watched his friend attempt to follow his advice. He could tell he was concentrating, but despite what he said, he did manage to bring the flow down to a trickle, which ought to make it easier to exist in the world without feeling as though a sense had been turned off. He had been floating along with the ebb and flow of the aether for days, and it would be strange not to sense it at all. Though Sivan almost always had at least a thread of aether running through it now, enough to alert him that he ought to pay closer attention to his surroundings. It came with the territory as a world mage, working on complex magical things, as well as being someone who had to run from danger most of the time.

His head cocked to the side a bit.

"I suppose you are a natural, or you are just able to intuit how to do things after all that runeforging." Either way, he smiled a little, trying to be encouraging as he fed him.

"You can tell me whenever you like," he assured him. "Whatever you like. It is your story, but you know I am interested in it."

When it seemed Torin could eat no more for the nonce, Sivan set the remains aside. He didn't want to push him to the point of nausea, after all. A part of him wanted to climb into the bed and hold him as he had before, but he wasn't sure he could trust himself. The last thing he wanted was for Torin's man to come in to find him grinding his crotch against the sleeping blacksmith. That would be embarrassing and possibly lethal.

It seemed safe enough to take his hand, though, so he did that, standing close to the bed so Torin couldn't see the crotch in question.

"You might have strange dreams for a few nights," he added. "Your mind will try to understand the mysteries, or at least put them into some sort of... ah, what is the word? Oh, context. Perhaps for more than a few nights. But you should remain attached to your body from now on, as much as any dreamer. Soon I will teach you how to meditate so you can block out your other senses and focus on your new one. People talk about it as though it is sight, and it can be, but it isn't quite..."

[Torin Kilvin]

When his stomach wanted no more for the moment and Sivan had put the bowl aside, there was nothing to district him anymore, and Torin blushed. It was pretty, despite his wasted and exhausted state, though he would have assumed the opposite. Wrapping his hand back around Sivan's own he frowned a fraction at how weak his hold seemed to be. He could hope that his youth and normal vigor made his recovery quick, but the worry was still there. What if he never fully recovered physically? What if he never fully recovered in some other way?

"I've had strange dreams enough for a lifetime." He sighed, but nodded his understanding. "What did you dream of?"

After a moment of thinking about the idea of Semblance manifesting as sight he shook his head.

"It doesn't feel like that to me. It feels like a whole new set, similar to my physical senses, wrapping around or folding into them a bit, but a whole new set all on its own. Like there was a world inlaid inside our own, only my eyes and ears, hands and nose and mouth couldn't tell it was there." His voice was a little dreamy but he wasn't close to sleep.

"Now the parts of me that could sense that other world, almost, at times, when I was runeforging, almost hear the voices of dragonshards or sense the breathing life of aether, are fully awake. I went to sleep, and they woke up. Only, now, we're both awake. Maybe I'm fully awake. I don't know." He smiled here, ducked his head a little and blushed again.

"You were beautiful there. I mean..." He cleared his throat, "You're always beautiful but it was a different kind, in the other place. You were armored and wrapped in magic, or maybe living aether, it doesn't really make sense here."

He turned his hand to lace their fingers absently, as though it were the natural thing to do and he hardly noticed doing it.

[Sivan]

"I dreamed of the nature spirits that I could already talk to, but it was almost as if I was one of them. At least, I was experiencing the world as if I was one of them..." He paused, struggling to articulate what there were no words for. "Some of it faded... as if my elven mind couldn't hold onto that even after experiencing it. But some of it stayed, and I think that is why I communicate so well with them. And it is why I couldn't bring myself to spherebind myself with summoning. I didn't want to be stuck in only one court of spirits, and I certainly couldn't be cut off from the wild spirits after understanding them so well."

He paused thoughtfully. "Anyway, with your man sleeping beside you, perhaps you won't have disturbing dreams."

The elf smiled at Torin's description. It was like that, and he too had difficulty explaining it, but he felt closer to Torin for now being able to share a Rune that often defied explanation. They would understand the world more similarly going forward.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," he said in Mythrasi. It was meant to deflect, but then he realized it acknowledged that he was only beautiful in this instance because Torin thought he was beautiful. He flushed again and throbbed against the mattress.

"Well, anyway..." He laughed nervously. "I sense your man waking up. I'm going to go tell him you're awake and let him have you for a while. I'll see you soon."

He gave Torin's hand a squeeze, then leaned down to lay his lips upon his brow.

"You're back now. Just rest so your body can catch up."

Torin would need restful sleep, fluids, and food to restore him to his former self. He hoped that he would eat quite a bit and put some more of his natural weight back on. If his recovery didn't include that, perhaps Sivan would say something. But in the meantime...

fin.