We Have it All [Finn]

[Arvælyn]

"We Have it All"
37 Glade, 122 Steel
The Palace of the First Wind

As high profile performances went, this one came upon Arry and Finn quite last minute. Though the Solunarian visit had been in the works for several weeks, the Kalzasern government had more pressing concerns than entertaining dignitaries from a distant desert kingdom. Thus it was that the matter was largely neglected until the envoy was en route and some underling brought it to the attention of the powers that be, and it wound up being delegated to Lord Yserloo who brought the matter to Aurin Kavafis. Upon hearing for whom the performance was to be staged, the impresario of the Golden Peacock had sundry reasons to recommend Arvalyn. Apart from Arry’s general awe and eagerness to perform for nobles of import, there were recent revelations that seemed to tie the youth to Solunarium. Perhaps rubbing shoulders with their envoy might yield more intel. Yserloo, deeming Arry to be yet too untested in front of this sort of audience, insisted that the Hytori rising star be complemented by one more seasoned to these settings: the minstrel Finn.

It was a good thing Finn had been affixed to Arry’s performance, or the hemming and hawing in which Arry engaged over his makeup might have made him late.

“I can’t remember the last time I had a blemish, and of course the day of my most important performance since Aværys I wake up with a pimple the size of Lake Udori…” He’d bemoaned, before being reminded of his recent bequest from Aurin which served as a far superior concealer to the brand that came out of a bottle.

Arry had done quite a bit of research into Solunarian culture in preparation for his role as their founding sovereign, and hoped very much to evoke their aesthetic in his style of dress, but not so overtly as to seem like parody. So he wore robes in a Kalzasern style, but cut from fabric that bore a pattern set in cloth of gold that was based on Re’hyaen glyphs. With only a few days to prepare, he hadn’t the time to commission something new, so it was actually his ensemble from opening night of "Aværys Eternal" with a few different accessories. Yserloo and a few of the other guests would recognise it, but the guests of honour obviously hadn’t attended the show and they were the ones everyone was keen to impress.

After engaging in a two-way pep talk with Finn, it was time to take the stage. Finn was the far superior instrumentalist, but Arry had been his eager student of late and was able to complement his more nuanced playing with a few chordal accents to sustain the rhythm and fill out the sound.

Their selection was a new collaboration- a world premiere, in fact. They might have selected something more upbeat, but Arry knew that Solunarians tended toward darker themes in minor keys in official settings that bore no religious implications.

Standing forth and beginning to strum, Arry regarded the dimly lit faces in the intimate crowd lounging on chaises before him and began to sing:

► Show Spoiler

[Finn]

The revelations out of Antiris had been shared with Finn, as well as the job offer. He had done contract work for the Golden Peacock before, but he was quite certain this one was an act of nepotism. In the end, it didn't matter. He liked the idea of being seen as a package deal with Arvalyn Val'Cithaeron. His golden boy was as common as he was, but he shone more brightly and reveled in it, which allowed Finn to perform without being the center of attention. That this engagement was for the Solunarian delegation gave him an idea just how clever Arry's friend was, ferreting out information and then working his connections to take action. He was glad Arry had someone looking out for him.

While Finn was more the composer, he wished Arry would try his hand at it. They had come up with so many songs together now, it didn't seem like a huge leap for Arry to try it solo from time to time. His lover was eager to hear what came out of him without Finn's own influence.

Of course, he had let Arry dress him in some of his own clothes and some borrowed from the theater's costume shop, the better to play foil to the elf.

The song was a flight of imagination, though it was certainly a path they could one day tread if they weren't careful. But today, in performing it, he gave himself over to the visceral pleasure of feeling his chest resonate with his lower register, supporting Arry as his voice soared. His lover's instrumental accompaniment allowed him more freedom to indulge in bits of virtuosity, feeling another visceral pleasure in the return of his fingers' agility. And his battered lute and the hard heel of his boot provided a bit of percussion as the rhythm drove on and on.

[Arvælyn]

Arry's lyrics tended toward darker themes and these, it seemed, had inspired Finn's composition to new depths of nuance. They'd been rehearsing and revising the piece for a few weeks, now, and the music never failed to put him in the right mood to deliver the ominous tale he'd conjured up- a first-person perspective on the classic, tragic flaw (or as the Solunarians would call it 'hamartia') of the ambitious. Perhaps it was telling that Arry should have been inclined toward such a subject after fighting tooth and nail last season for the opportunity to portray Aværys- A figure who was, in His own right, a supremely ambitious individual whose downfall had likely come about due to overreaching and sacrificing too much...

In the darkness before him, Arvalyn could see the faint glister of gems and materials that bore a sheen reflective enough to answer the light that washed the stage. All of the faces were obscured by shadow, so he wasn't able to see straight away whether the Elves of Atraxia looked much like himself. There was one figure, reclining in a prominent, central part of the house who caught his eye, however...

With a face as pale as a full moon and silvery white eyes that seemed to emit their own lunar glow as they refracted the stage lights.

► Show Spoiler

He found it difficult not to stare, but after registering his features, Arry raised his eyes just above the heads of the audience and let his thoughts wander down the paths forged by his lyrics and Finn's music. The final notes of the song rang out- Perhaps offering an unexpected cadence with an upward lilt, but did it portend a favourable ending or merely a terminus as quick and conclusive as death? However they interpreted it, the assembled guests seemed to approve.

His eyes fell to that moon-pale figure, as he rose to his feet and applauded heartily- though his brow was furrowed and he wore a scowl rather than a smile. As their eyes met, Arry realised that crystal tears were raining from the twin moons of his silvery eyes. Lord Yserloo stepped between them, to announce:

"Finn and Arvalyn!" And to make a speech about the credit the Crown of Kalzasi was owed for patronising the arts, which turned quickly into an advert for his own theatre. Arry stepped back, squeezing Finn's arm and smiling, proud and encouraging, as the man spoke. Yserloo stepped down from the stage, the pale figure intercepted him to whisper something in his ear, before stepping away to a private corner and claiming a seat in the shadows there. Yserloo, rushed back over to Finn and Arry to inform them:

"The ambassador! Sentinel Phocion has asked you both to join him for some refreshments!" Yserloo gestured to the corner, where silvery eyes stared back- seeming to glow like those of a cat in the dark.

[Finn]

It was easy to get lost in the music with Arry, especially when it was music they composed together as well as played together. Add to that the answering energy of the audience when they performed together, it was a heady thing. He gave a slight shake like someone startled out of a dream, but smiled and recovered his aplomb easily enough. Yserloo's grandstanding didn't bother him; it was the way of things and he was just glad to have steady work this high in the firmament and that their careers were rising similarly. He didn't want either of them to grow to resent the other for whatever was deemed more successful.

When he recognized tears bepainting the fair cheeks of the Sentinel, he was mildly surprised. He, at least, hadn't been plying his Rune upon the audience. But sometimes the music hit just right and struck an answering chord in the heart of the audience. He hoped as much.

The minstrel nodded to Yserloo.

"M'lord," he acknowledged, then smiled to Arry. "Well played, Arry."

He set his lute aside and motioned for his lover to preceed him. If one of their stars hung higher, he wanted it to be Arry's.

"I mean," he added quietly, smiling softly, "my lord Val'Cithaeron..."

Finn didn't let his nerves manifest. The fiction of Arry's persona was all well and good for the Kalzasern stage, but he wondered if these elves were connected at all with Sol'Valen, whether they would see through his ruse, whether, seeing through it, they would burn with indignation. Living with and loving a Mesmer more powerful than him was teaching him to school his emotional reactions, which meant he observed them and then tucked them away to be processed later.

"Ave Vigilia," he said once in Phocion's presence, bowing in the Kalzasern mode. As he knew much more of the older Vallenor than the Vastian he had studied with Arry in the days before this, he offered the man an ancient greeting he had found in a fragment of a play, the oldest document he had ever laid eyes on in the archives. If the man didn't understand his mother tongue, at least the beauty of the words and his clear intent ought to translate.

[Arvælyn]

“Salve, musicus…” The two people in Kalzasi he’d met that spoke Vastian to him seemed to have learned from the same source, Phocion thought smirking slightly. He supposed it stood to reason, with his realm being as remote as it was. The last time Vastian was regularly spoken this far from Solunarium was during the Epoch of Aværys and for reasons both practical and arcane it was not common for Solunarians to expatriate- least of all to travel so far from the warmth of the blessed Atraxian sun.

“Greetings, Sentinel.” The elf of the duo had elected to salute the emissary in Mythrasi, which yielded an arched brow from the Sentinel. That could betoken several things. Perhaps this boy was a child of Sol’Valen, proudly expressing his loyalty to the realm that had cast out Phocion’s ancestors. Or perhaps he knew enough about Solunarium to know that the elves spoke Mythrasi amongst themselves, but not enough to know that it was rarely spoken in the presence of humans.

“And to you, cantor.” Whatever his reasoning, Phocion would greet him politely. His task here was that of a diplomat, not an avenger. “Will you both join me for a cordial?” He gestured to the chaise longues across from him and sat upright to pour from a pitcher into the goblets on the table. As he leaned forward the candlelight glinted off of the silver diadem that rounded his brow and contrasted starkly from his raven black hair.

“I was quite moved by your song. Am I to understand it was an original piece?”

Arry seemed very nervous in the presence of this man. There were so many questions he’d been dying to ask since Aurin had filled him in on the revelations of Antiris and presented him with this opportunity, but now that it was upon him, he was terrified of being over bold and squandering this golden chance with this silver boy.

“Aye… I wrote the words and Finn…” The hand Arry placed on Finn’s shoulder felt more like it was there for want of encouragement than merely to indicate of whom he was speaking, “…composed the music.”

[Finn]

"So many languages," he murmured to himself in Vallenor, unsure if anyone would understand him.

Finn stayed close to Arry as the foreign prince invited them for a drink. He tried to be gracious, but among so many elves, he felt a bit oafish by comparison. At least with Arry, he felt like they complemented each other. He complemented the hand on his shoulder with a hand on the small of Arry's back; he didn't need to listen to his symphony to know he was nervous. How could he not be? These people might be his people.

The minstrel smiled.

"We seem to be greater together than the sum of our parts."

As they eased down to sit upon one of the chaises longues, he didn't break his contact with his lover. He didn't know whether their relationship would offend Solunarian sensibilities, but they were in Kalzasi; it wasn't like they were going to tear each other's clothes off right here and now. But he was proud to be with Arry and he didn't care who knew it. His eyes were attentive to the man's serving. It was still strange to him when a noble did so, but now he was doubly nervous because he didn't know Solunarian drinking rituals and didn't want to offend the Iron Queen's guests—and Arry's countrymen.

"Thank you, Excellency," he said for the drink when it was presented. "I don't suppose anyone in your entourage is a musician? I would dearly love to hear contemporary Solunarian music."

For as much time as he spent digging up old music in the Archives, it would be so much easier to have someone simply play a thing for him, letting his ear and his mind record them.

[Arvælyn]

Phocion looked sharply- perhaps archly at Finn when he uttered words in Vallenor, the which the Sentinel recognised but did not speak.

“Quite the polyglot.” He observed coolly, pushing the goblets toward the two seated across from him and claiming his own by its bejeweled stem.

“Ah.” His silvery white eyes regarded the points of contact between the pair and a faint smile replaced his default scowl. “Am I to infer you are partners in more than merely music making?” Before they could reply, he raised his cup in toast, though he was leaning back now and made no effort to touch his vessel to theirs.

He regarded Finn with a blank expression as he sipped delicately, then placed the cup down on the table between them.

“While I understand that it is customary here to refer to ambassadors with such honorifics, I assure you it is unnecessary in my case. I am a member of an order that knows no title aside from Sentinel when serving in the corresponding function. In Solunarium a diplomat is much like these goblets that house our refreshment- a vessel meant to serve. During my time in Kalzasi I am merely a mouthpiece for Her Divine Radiance, Glory and Puissance be at her beck.” He lowered his eyes briefly, before raising them back to regard the golden elf, Arvalyn. He might have been a noble of Solunarium to look at him- but Hytori often appeared as such, though they were not whole in the eyes of Aværys- having abjured the blood of their silver halves in a misguided move millennia earlier.

Finn’s question drew his attention away from the Elf and then over his shoulder to where the members of his Honour Guard lounged in quiet discourse.

“I know not, in sooth… Their musical ability was not amongst the criteria I reviewed upon their selection. But I would be happy to inquire, if it would divert you pleasantly?” His voice was musical, albeit breathily so. He seemed to speak at just the volume to be audible over the ambient noise of the room without needing to strain. One did, however, need to focus.

[Finn]

Finn hadn't planned to take point on the conversation, but when Arry didn't respond and Phocion started directing more of his questions to Finn, he picked up the slack. Perhaps his leading man wanted to observe for a while, to choose his moment and his method to extract a bit of information from the emissary or his guard.

He raised his glass with a smile, following suit as Phocion led the way.

"Ahh, yes." He flashed a smile at Arry and then back to Phocion. "The music came first, but then more developed." His thumb moved back and forth where his hand was set against Arry's back, but he didn't make any overt displays of affection otherwise.

"Pardon, Sentinel. I'm a commoner so even a vessel of Her Divine Radiance gets respect from me." He followed the man's gaze and smiled. "Well, if you happen to ask them at some point, I might be diverted, though I suppose we were the ones brought in to divert."

It felt strange to be back here a little over a month after the kidnapping of the Shinsei. He had been back since, having to give a statement to the guard, though of course he had little of import to share. He thought he had a lock on the slipspace lines moving through here, though he wasn't sure he would attempt to vault out even if he had been alone; there was a good chance the palace was warded and he didn't know what would happen if he slammed into such a ward. Probably nothing good. Perhaps later if the elves were occupied, he might feel along those lines to see if he felt any sort of barrier; it would be good to know.

In the meantime, however, he was just hoping that Arry would learn something that would help, something that would make him feel more connected to blood or family or whatever it was that he needed from the elves of Solunarium.

[Arvælyn]

Phocion adopted an expression of faint, but earnest amusement at Finn's obeisances.

"I wonder whether you are so adept at flattery in all the tongues in which you dabble..."

The Sentinel abruptly stiffened his back and sat upright, and cast his gaze over his shoulder in such a way that several of his guards' faces shifted in his direction and their postures, too, straightened. He gestured to one of the sunborn elves, who leapt up to approach their corner of the room. Yserloo's eyes followed the Golden Elf curiously as he made his way to his charge.

Phocion arched an eyebrow and spoke at his typical volume, which caused the guardsman to lean closer- amber eyes, not a distant hue from Arry's, cast toward the pale-faced elf.

"Suntne inter lictores musici? Egredimini et videte."

"Ilicet, Vigil." The guardsman offered a nod that verged on a bow, before returning to his cohorts and speaking inaudibly as they attentively gathered around him. Phocion, meanwhile, returned his attention to the pair before him- then shifted specifically to fall upon his cousin elf.

"Arvælyn, was it?" Phocion inquired, eliciting a bashful nod from the younger man. "The Lord Yserloo has spoken highly of your recent triumph upon the stage..." He let the statement linger a moment, and Arry's eyes widened slightly at the implications. "Am I correct in understanding that you essayed the role of Deus Aværys, Bathed Be He in Aeternal Majesty?"

Arry blinked, anxious to acknowledge what might have been perceived as an egregiously presumptuous deed in the eyes of the theocratic Solunarians. He'd been half eager to share this information, but half terrified. It seemed Yserloo had pushed matters off the fence.

"...Aye, Sentinel." He hesitantly acknowledged. "It was the highlight of my career and without a doubt the greatest role I've ever been privileged to play. I... did a great deal of research into your culture and religion, which I found absolutely fascinating." He chuckled nervously, "Part of me wishes we had a Varværyn Temple here in Kalzasi that I might convert."

Phocion chuckled,

"You are quite the pair, gentlemen. It is little wonder you found an intimate connection, practised as both of you seem in the arts of charm." He softened slightly, "Alas, I am only sorry we were not able to attend your performance." He turned his attention to Finn, as not to exclude him from the discourse. "Am I to understand the remaining dates were cancelled after the loss of your Shinsei?" He clucked his tongue, "Such a pity, that." And sipped his cordial, silvery eyes remaining fixed on Finn over the rim of the goblet.

"What did you make of the play?"

[Finn]

Finn was pleased that the Sentinel seemed genuinely pleased by their work; this was important for Arry even more so than it was for him. As the elves spoke briefly in their native tongue, he found himself mouthing the words, Suntne inter lictores musici? Egredimini et videte. Something between the musicians, perhaps? He truly didn't know enough to make much more of it than that.

The minstrel wondered whether Arry was in earnest about the conversion. He had never been particularly religious insofar as Finn was aware. It might have been a bit of glib charm, but after he had made the possible connection between his mother and the Solunarians, Finn couldn't be certain.

When the question turned to him, he tried not to be too effusive in his gushing.

"Well... I'm certainly biased on his behalf, but I could see why they cast him, above and beyond his talent and skill. Some of the music was truly transcendant, and it certainly excited a desire to visit. To see the burning sands, the spires, the volcano... But even Tertium would be interesting. The sea, the new people." He paused, returning to the play proper. "It did what all good narratives do to me, Sentinel. It made me feel as though I were a part of it, and then it made me want to know more.

"But yes, the city mourns its prince... I can only hope the powers that be are doing something to bring him back. But... with Arvælyn no longer quite so busy, perhaps I can show him my humble village, or perhaps we can travel. A wand'ring minstrel I..." He glanced at Arry to see if he would catch the reference, then back to the honorable Sentinel. "I think he deserves a break."