We Have it All [Finn]

[Arvælyn]

Arry's golden eyes shot to Finn's fair face as Phocion posed the minstrel a question about his portrayal of Aværys. It was rather convenient, in truth. As Arry was accustomed to talking up Finn, so was Finn accustomed to doing the same for Arry. It was a convenient arrangement. They could both appear humble whilst the other sung their praises.

"Well." Phocion began, when Finn concluded his assessment of the play and his reactions to it. "Should you ever find yourself on our side of the Crystal Sea, perhaps we might entreat you both to perform for us in the Umbrium. We have quite a lively cabaret scene in the shadows of Mount Sorokyn, believe it or not..." It wasn't exactly an explicit invitation, but their conversation was young and their drinks barely dented. Phocion dented his a bit more with a delicate sip, as Finn went on to speak of the missing Shinsei.

Arry chuckled and shook his head at Finn's musical reference. He would chide him for being so referential, but not in front of an ambassador he was keen to charm.

"So, Arvælyn..." Phocion initiated with a pallid glance to the golden boy, "Might I entreat you to perform one of your recent monologues? Surely, the subject matter is not so controversial in the present company as it seems to have been for greater Kalzasi..." He sneered a bit in so saying, and Arry's whole body tensed with an onrush of nervous energy.

"I..." He looked to Finn, but Phocion urged on.

"I would be fascinated to hear the text in Common, as I've only ever heard it presented in the original Vastian." He glanced up, and considered. "How about the final speech?"

Arry glanced up to find Yserloo approaching, hands clasped together and a grin so encouraging it seemed to strain his neck.

"Yes, yes!" The lord implored in a voice loud enough to draw the attention of all others lounging in the parlour, "Pray, take the stage again and orate for us all!"

"I suppose this is what they call a command performance..." Arvalyn noted, with a wry smile. "Finn, um... Would you mind noodling a bit of accompaniment? You remember the death scene- Something rousing, but minor?"

[Finn]

"Certainly," he said, standing immediately to retrieve his lute. He was already strumming something apropos when he returned. "Your wish, my lord," he said to Arry more than Phocion, bowing, "is my command."

Rousing, yet minor, he could do. Not sure whether Arry would stand for a powerful position or remain seated and keep things more conversational, Finn devised to mirror him.

He threaded the faintest bit of aether through his rune to bolster Arry's confidence. Finn's own power was growing, almost like some vine growing toward the sun. Even if Arry likely did feel his helpful melody, they had made a habit of reaching out magically to support each other in the past. Once he had done his part to set the mood, recalling times when Arry had recited for him before he had ever trod the boards as the divine king as well as the actual performance, he brought his volume down a bit so as not to compete with his beloved's voice.

Finn would keep his eyes on Arry for a while, helping anyone who looked at him to allow their focus to slide over to the golden boy. Later, when they were enthralled, he would look at Phocion and the others, gauging their physical reactions as much as he listened to the symphonies of the room. Then he could assure Arry later that his work had been enjoyed as well as lauded by the mysterious guests of the Queen-Regent.

Yserloo looked ready to take flight, anyway, but if the Avialae was paying attention to Arry, it could only mean good things for his career and that was what Finn wanted for him, too.

[Arvælyn]

Arry took a deep breath, as Finn stepped away to collect his instrument. He rose from his seat and slowly paced, working to calm his nerves with exercises learnt from his colleagues at the Peacock. The music and the Mesmer, as they began to emanate toward him, were more calming and grounding still. Reflexively his tendrils reached back out to caress Finn’s soul, as he stepped over to touch him with a gentle hand upon the arm. He cast a wan smile to his beloved, and began to guide him back toward the stage they’d trod earlier. Yserloo saw about the lights and soon Arry was blinking against their radiance, as he seated Finn upon the lip of the stage. He took a moment gazing out into the distance and that blinding, artificial sun- before taking a seat at Finn’s side, addressing him as his scene partner in lieu of an actress to portray Varvara.

“Alack! The sun and moon set hence as twain.
Too brief trod We as cohorts on this coil,
Enkindling warm amends from quondom hate.
With greater might than We did wield apart,
United have We fostered novel pow’r.
Ere Our return, what knew this weakly world
Of that which We bequeath? Supremacy
And Majesty, like We, do marry well
And grant a fleeting taste of things divine,
To them whose little lives are candle quick.
From lowly slaves were mighty masters made,
As We erected pyramids of stone
And of mortal society withal.
Puissant be the peak from which We reigned,
But steadfast stands the base we did construct.
The pinnacle may crumble into dust,
But mark the new made maw our fall doth forge.
Posterity will see that mouth erupt
When sacrifice accrued doth nourish Us
To our return, ordainèd by the stars.” Arry cast his golden gaze out toward the house and above the heads of his audience.

“ This war we wage… It endeth not with Us.
This wheel will turn and turn until We win,
For Our opponent lacks what driveth Us
To righteous frenzy and salvation’s fire.
They bear not the mettle in their souls
To break a paradigm for victory.
For mercy is a weakness of the will,
When foes are left alive- Later, they kill.” Delivered with firm resolve and bare teeth, Arry held for a moment, before lowering his head to indicate the end of the scene.

[Finn]

Of course, Finn had accompanied Arry before, and seen him perform this on stage, but then he was a member of the audience. Being there with him was another thing entirely. He was a performer as well, but there was something magical about the actor's craft. Up close, he still couldn't see how the magician pulled off his tricks, even as he helped him cast his spell.

He imagined Aværys and Varvara must have been terrible in aspect, nothing like Talon, whose divine aura could overwhelm, but who remained more grounded in his mortality. And he had wondered what Syren might be like, curious why there had been no patron deity of the arts before Her. Or perhaps there were. History was long and much of it warped by time and perspective, linguistic shifts and cultural shifts.

Having stood in for actors when Arry was practicing his craft, he tried to give him what he needed, and when he turned away, he let his gaze follow Arry's out above the audience. He could almost see the character's goal.

And when Arry was done, he brought the music toward a conclusion, not finishing until it could be subsumed by applause. At least, Yserloo was applauding, and Finn smiled adoringly at Arry. He had been so focused on his lover and the performance that he hadn't really paid attention to the other elves. He hoped that even though it wasn't in their language, it would be taken in the spirit in which Arry had performed it, which was respectful.

[Arvælyn]

Phocion fell silently attentive as the golden youth took the stage before him. He was well cast from an aesthetic perspective- of that there was no doubt. As the boy canted his face to one side, the profile he cut brought to mind the Colossus at Tertium, which stood guard of the harbour along with its sister statue. The pair were constructed to remind all comers into whose realm they embarked as they drew close to port.

The voice of the actor drew Phocion out of his reverie and promptly into the world of the play… the history of his people. Perhaps the most important event to ever befall the Race of Re’ha. A pernicious plight in which a primal pledge was forged. Goose pimples pricked up the skin on his arms and he clenched his fingers about the meat of his slender thighs. He’d heard this speech many times from many performers, but the text never ceased to move him. Whoever translated it had found nuances absent from the original Vastian text, though of course losing other allusions perforce in the process.

The other distinction apart from the language which made the performance strike differently, was the music. There were hints of Solunarium in the chord structure, though it was not a style that any Solunarian composer was likely to explore. That tinge of the alien, intentional or otherwise, amplified the potency of the moment for the emissary. When dealing in matters divine, he thought, there should always be something remote and indiscernible to remind the audience that they could not ever truly comprehend a moment of such import as the Rending of the Founders.

As the last words were spoken and the music began to taper, Phocion lowered his head and uttered loudly enough to be heard on stage:

“Gloria aeterna Aværys! Decus imperatorium Solunarium!” The other Solunarians lowered their heads and responded,

“Victoria in candore!”

Arry glanced down to regard the audience, trying to piece together the meaning of their Vastian response. Something about glory to eternal Aværys and imperial Solunarium, and then victory in… candour? He knitted his brow, no… victory in radiance. By the time he’d worked it out, the call and response had given way to applause. Phocion rose to his feet and gestured for the pair to rejoin him. As they made their way back over, he freshened their drinks and reclaimed his seat.

“Well done to both of you.” He acknowledged. “You both bear desert hearts.”

“Gratias!” Arry beamed as he reached for his cup and took a hefty, fortifying swallow to ease the rush of adrenaline the performance had stirred.!

[Finn]

The would-be bard just smiled. It wasn't insincere, but it was a mask he had learned to don when receiving praise for his work. Too much made him uncomfortable, but he could generally hide that behind his pleasure at the appreciation. Sometimes his Rune helped him pick apart complex emotions; other times, decidedly not. But, in any case, he was more tuned into Arry's symphony than his own at the moment, as well as Phocion's, and then the other foreign guests. He felt safe enough of the palace. Regardless of Talon's absence, he had been vetted by the man and his late father — no one was likely to trouble him here.

Desert hearts, he thought to himself, wondering what other allusions that carried to these desert people. He wondered whether they would venture to Solunarium in search of Arry's story. At this point, so long as his family was seen to, he would be more than happy to travel. Kalzasi was a sad place now, and he thought they could do more good cementing good will between the nations than hanging around the Golden Peacock and such.

He took his cue from Arry, bowing as he did, and then returned to the Vigilant's hospitality.

"Gratias," he echoed, pleased to find his formerly injured hand not causing him any problems. "I suppose if you approve, your countrymen might as well."

His smile was without guile; he didn't hide the fact that he had a touch of wanderlust and was keen to see the seas of sand with his lover. How better to do so than as a guest of its high and mighty? Artists had to rely on such patronage in order to thrive. That was no secret.

His hand fell to Arry's back. If the elf glanced his way, he would see an encouraging smile, lit by the thrill of performance that hadn't grown old yet. His symphony sang of wandering thoughts if his lover cared to listen. They had discussed it all, of course, and would perhaps again once they weren't in the company of the august.

[Arvælyn]

"As insular as we've been over the years," began Phocion, "That which is foreign is greatly favoured. You would both have the boon of novelty to complement your performances." He paused, before adding- "Not that your talent requires any such augmentation." He inclined his head, "But you would be at something of an advantage in that regard."

Arry considered the notion. They'd talked about quitting Kalzasi ever since the mayhem at Talon's wedding, and Solunarium had, of course, been part of that discussion. The notion of leaving his salient career at The Golden Peacock had been the most daunting detriment to the idea, but if there was a good chance at practising his craft in the new locale that allayed at least a few concerns. Even if he'd probably have to double down on his Vastian education to make a lasting go of it...

"Is there much theatre in Solunarium?" Arry queried.

"Oh, yes." Phocion nodded vigorously. "There are sunlit amphitheatres in the Luxium that seat thousands, and in the Umbrium..." The silver Elf smirked, "We actually have a very groundbreaking cabaret scene. Aboveground they love to play the classics, but in the shadows things get very interesting. Even if you two didn't make a splash in the Luxium, I have little doubt you'd excel down below."

Arry wrinkled his nose. Cabaret sounded like a backward step to him, after his experiences in the Velvet one. The last thing he wanted to do was travel great distances to the land of his forefathers only to fall back into prostitution. The Solunarian definition of cabaret was far different than the Kalzasern, but Arry had no frame of reference to make that distinction.

[Finn]

Luxium and Umbrium carried connotations in his mind, the Vastian words similar enough to ones that he knew that he could guess at their meaning. What Phocion said of their respective artistic trends seemed to fit his preconceived notions. He wondered what it would be like to be foreign, to be the latest trend, to be—as they said at the Velvet Cabaret—the tits. He knew Arry would eat it up, whether it was an accident of their foreign births or a testament to their hard won skills. Finn supposed he would to; he knew he would much rather be celebrated than denigrated when traveling to a foreign capital.

"Arvalyn prefers his art high," he jested gently, patting the elf's knee. "But I will certainly ply my trade wherever there's an appreciative audience. And if he won't let me sully my golden reputation, I will at least be in the audience."

Finn was excited by the prospect now, both of helping Arry delve deeper into his past, and of seeing more of the world. Of course, he would ensure his family was safe, and then he would take the surely convoluted route from city to city until he crossed the sea and came to the sea of sand. Surely, their travels would inspire him, and if Phocion liked them as much as he seemed, perhaps he would even show them the Luxium and Umbrium.

He supposed even the highborn of Solarium would know how to have a good time. They had as much an invitation as they were going to get, which would make it easier for them to get from Tertium to Solunarium. Now he only wondered whether Arry would try to garner more information now, or wait until they were abroad.

[Arvælyn]

"Stuff and nonsense!" Arry balked, somewhat playfully, with a gentle smack to Finn's shoulder. He might have been blushing, but between the bronze in his complexion and the dim lighting, who could say? "I promise..." He began, turning to Phocion, "I am not the martinet in our relationship he paints me to be. I've never vetoed a venue for Finn to perform and I've even gone out to support him in..." His lips went crooked, "less than savoury spots."

"I see." Phocion replied impassively, as he took a delicate sip of his drink. "Well, I do hope we'll begin to receive more visitors from the North." The emissary mused, "I would be most curious to see how natives of Kalzasi might regard our realm. Our cultures are so different..." He trailed off for a moment, considering his words before uttering them, "We both share a reverence for arcane power, but it presents itself so differently in the day-to-day. I suppose the turmoil that inspired my visit means that these aren't days for pomp and circumstance in Kalzasi, but from what I've gathered that isn't really a major part of your society. Different problems and passions, I suppose, yield different priorities." He was being candid, if not explicit- highlighting contrast without dipping into outright critique.

"In any event," Phocion rose from his seat, "Though the duties of a diplomat have the boon of pairing often with delightful diversions, the bulk of the work is more mundane and I must to it." He inclined his head, "Someone will be by before you leave to exchange information, should you ever wish to arrange a visit to Solunarium. Vale, Finn..." He inclined his head to the human, then turned to the half-elf, "Arvælyn."

[Finn]

Finn smiled, their jest a well-practiced exchange. He didn't mind playing the fool for Arry; he was a fool for Arry. If Phocion had a thought regarding that one way or another, he was too skilled at schooling his symphony for Finn to tell without being invasive with his gift. He didn't have a glib reply to Phocion's musings, and so he remained quiet. In any case, it seemed time for their audience to end. He dropped a courtly bow, wondering how it would fare in the Solunarian court.

"Vale, Vigilia," he replied and watched the potentate depart their common presence.

Finally, he turned to Arry, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. There were many themes running through his symphony just then, but Finn got the impression that they would be riding out the war in a foreign court, and that was fine by him. He wasn't much of a warrior, but he felt more confident that he could protect the two of them than the streets of Kalzasi if it came to a melee in the streets. In any case, they might be more effective as unofficial ambassadors from Kalzasi. They could only hope Solunarium would ally with their city-state and not their aggressor's.

"Come along, Arvælyn," he teased good-naturedly. "Yserloo looks like he wants to talk to you."

Indeed, as the last of Phocion's entourage quit the room, the angel of the Golden Peacock Theater homed in on them, no doubt to grill them for whatever details he could use as social capital at the evening's festivities.

No, Finn wouldn't mind a change of scenery in the least as long as Arry was by his side.

fin.