"Toe the Line" [Æros & Dæmon]

[Pharaoh]

"Toe the Line"
21 Ash 122
Fortis Lacerta Arena
Palatine/Aurecine Border, Luxium

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Punctuality mattered in Solunarium but, as in many affairs, it was dependent on ones position in the hierarchy. A magnatus would not brook the tardiness of his inferior, but would demand their patience when it came time to wait for him. Such was the case on the occasion of Dæmon's appointment at the Fortis Lacerta Arena. It was a far cry from the reception he'd received upon the prior evening's final victory. No crowds met him with cheers as he approached the gladiator's entrance with his noble sponsor at his side. Only two, stony-faced human guards. Their faces were bronze beneath the balmy sun, now approaching its zenith.

"You are he called Dæmon?" The senior guard inquired in thickly accented Common of the quite tall, silvery-haired man who fit the description he'd been given in advance, "And you hees guarantor?" The man turned his eyes toward the Platinum-accented Fæ, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You have I seen." He gestured to Mathias, "Who thees keed?"

He appraised them all with his eyes, and each was adept enough at their Crafts to note the subtle sweep of a Journeyman Sembler perusing what he could of their three Auras.

He grunted, satisfied by whatever he'd gleaned and nodded.

"You may enter. You weell patience bear een vestibulum where yesterday you await fights. Comprehendis?" He waved them off, "Vade." The gate was opened for the guests, and they were admitted entrance to a stadium that, while far quieter than the day prior, was bustling with the activity of attendants of various disciplines preparing the arena for the battles to come.

When they made it to the antechamber beneath the royal box, the room was empty- Dark and quiet. The stone slabs that passed for seating would be far beneath the expectations of one such as Æros, but that was the extent of the amenities afforded to their group as they were left with ample time to await the arrival of those they had been summoned to meet. If the figuratively stellar combatant's literally stellar patron had yet to impart all the advice he wished to relate prior to this all-important meeting, he would have plenty of time to do so before the Magnati would appear.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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- - -

Æros had made his way back to Luxium by the twentieth of the month. The past week, for him, had been utterly exhausting during his brief sojourn out to Tertium. Having to deal with withdrawals in the back of a cart through the desert, almost dying, and then linking himself to a man that was essentially the equivalent of a living statue, his life, for all intents and purposes, had more variance in those seven days than in the past four or five months altogether. That’s before one even accounts for the fact that his leave was not even made willingly; anyone he knew would have had no clue where he’d gone and no warning to boot. He often found his mind wandering to how his employers felt, some few friends, and one choice individual with whom he’d become far closer to in a short span of time than he’d ever expected.

All this combined, and the fact that he’d been busy near to the entirety of the day before, Æros was distinctly high strung at this moment. He had certainly not forsaken that which he was dependent upon, but even then, such things had not annulled the sheer volume of irritation coursing through him in its entirety. For the most part, it had absolutely nothing to even do with the situation at hand nor, really, his present company. Perhaps, under other circumstances, this would have even been exciting. Really, it should be, for the stranger he’d met was exactly as worth his time as he had thought…yet here he was, feeling as he was.

At least he no longer suffered in the desert's heat, still hanging onto the crystal he'd been given some few days ago.

This being the case, he presented with a cool sort of apathy. He could only hope he’d hear good news, or if he didn’t, that the Princeps would just kill him instantly. Dying by his hand, of all people, had to be fun, right? Something like that, at least. The man had an interesting reputation and a pretty face, if nothing else. Maybe it’d even be gorey, painting the stone red.

While these thoughts ran through the Færie’s head, he and his two companions were approaching Fortis Lacerta Arena, far less busy than the day before, as there was nothing for the typical civilian to find at the moment. There were two guards that awaited them at the gladiator’s entrance and they seemed about as joyous as Æros himself felt at the moment.

The two guards greeted them in Common, though it was not exactly the cleanest rendition of the language he’d ever heard. Quirking a brow at the two, he smiled, almost laughed when the guard regarded him.

To their question, “He is called Mathias, ward of Dæmon, mind him not. He will cause nobody any trouble.” Æros responded in smooth Vastien, even cadence, polite tone.

As he spoke, he felt the gaze of a mid-level Sembler fall upon him, to which he did not respond. He was entirely expecting and used to this type of thing, as it was very common here, and he expected elsewhere as well, unless foreign societies were run by simpletons foolish enough to forsake so valuable a rune.

Regarding their instructions, “Yes, I am familiar with where to go.”

With that, the three of them made their way to the antechamber, the sight of which made Æros roll his eyes. Ah, how delightful. He was not unfamiliar with the fact that the higher the station, the higher the tendency to disrespect quite literally anyone beneath them, even one with as much relative power as the half-Starborn. That, and realistically, the royals’ opinions on his blood was suspect at best. However, having never met them, he couldn’t quite say for certain. He actually really didn’t want to know, but he supposed that in a situation like this, it was possible he’d end up finding out. Oh, and it was Drævyn, of all of them, too. That being the case, ‘twas not a thing worth worrying about; should he deign to cast some sort of judgment, it wasn't as if Æros could say no.

Alongside a sigh, Æros made his way over to one of the benches with the other two in tow. Sitting across from them, he rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together, not looking either in the eye, but rather, half-lidded black-gold gaze staring between them.

"Tell me, just how do the two of you intend to behave in His Serene Highness Prince Claudius Danann-Sol'Aværys Drævyn's presence?” The question was asked with a tone apathetic, obnoxiously taking the time to say the man's entire name with title included, though it did have some of his typical whimsy in the musicality of his cadence.

Such a question was posed because, sure, he could wax poetic and talk their ears off about how one should behave, but it was better to correct them than it was to waste his breath being redundant. That, and he just…fond as he was of his own voice, what joy was there to be had in rambling on and on about pompous royalty? Quite possibly the only select group of people more inherently obnoxious than he was.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Talon]

D A E M O N

“You really have no grasp on the term subtle.” Mathias finished pulling on his shirt after Talon had reapplied and improved the structure of the protective wards drawn along his spine. He looked over at his squire, fully understanding what the young man was referring to.

“In hindsight, I likely should have made the match last longer.” He put away his spellwright’s ink and tools, wiping off his hands with a cloth. He examined his handiwork through the lens of Mathias aura. Over the days leading up to his participation in the arena fight against those monsters, he had found time to slowly expand and update the protections laden upon his squire. The longer he was in Solunarium the more he was beginning to contemplate granting Mathias request for an initiation into another rune of magic. Talon knew he would not always have the opportunity to layer into the weave of the young man’s aether the protections that this spare time afforded. Barriers against the manipulation of the mind. Barriers against some forms of injury, all of them woven into the design expanding outward from the rune between his shoulder blades and extending along his spine. All of them carefully buried into his aura in order to avoid immediate detection.

“I get that we’re here to get close to them for some reason. Don’t you think that maybe it would have been smarter to, I don’t know, take a little while longer?” He understood the young man’s worry.

“Truth be told, I do not know if we have that long. Which is where you are going to come in.” He placed his belongings back into the featherlight bag.

“What do you mean?” Mathias leaned against the nearby table, folding his arms over his chest.

“I do not know what the meeting today will yield. There is so much that we do not know. So much that is simply left to mystery that it has been hard to know where to begin. With that being said, what I am going to need is a set of eyes and ears to be where I cannot.” He looked at Mathias pointedly who was nodding. In the weeks and months since stepping into the role of his squire, the young man had come a long way. It was time to start putting some of that training to use.

“How though? I still don’t speak Vastian. That…will make it hard to blend in.” He quirked a brow.

“Have you examined the details of your earring yet?” Mathias blinked at him. He reached up a hand to brush his fingers over the simple gold piercing that had been bought for him in the runeforging shop just the day prior.

“Uh. No. I, uh, haven’t.” Talon shook his head, the tug of a small smirk touching his lips as he reached up to touch his own.

“This is a test, isn’t it?” He nodded to his squire who sighed and brushed his fingers over the earring. “Okay. I will study it.”

Satisfied with that answer, Talon ushered them out of their room in order to accompany Aeros to the meeting that awaited them. As he did so, he touched the earring on his own ear in order to activate the enchantment upon it. The first he activated was the ability to Speak Vastian. The second was the ability to Translate and thus understand what he heard spoken.

---

He did not speak as Aeros handled the interaction with the guards. He had not had the time to inform the nobleman of his acquisition of the enchantments he and Mathias were now in possession of. He contemplated the wisdom of doing so. While he was certain that whoever this royal was would undoubtedly be in possession of either powers or staff capable of discerning enchantments placed upon objects, he had found in his brief time in Solunarium that discretion was proving to be the better part of valor. As it were, Talon kept his aura in tight check. He allowed enough of it to be immediately visible so as to give off a middling level of competence but kept the underlying layers of true power hidden tightly next to the core of his soul. To the casual observer, he was a decently learned mage of perhaps upper end of Journeyman. Only a master who was actively looking for the deeper layers would perhaps be alerted to the true depths his aura might reveal. Even then, they risked blinding themselves in the attempt. When they stepped into the waiting area, he was unsurprised at the tardiness of the royal.

He, more than perhaps any of them there, understood the nuance of a royal court. He had grown up at the pinnacle of one his entire life. Even in his current state, he was still expected to abide by the decorum afforded to royalty. From what he had seen of Solunarium, etiquette and protocol when interacting with societal elites was extremely rigid. While he did not yet know all of the nuances, deference was not hard to perform. The Imperium had ripped away any sense of ego he might have once possessed that may have caused him to bristle at the thought of bowing and scraping to others. Some part of him did not know how to feel about that. Nevertheless, as those thoughts lingered in his head he found himself drawn into a conversation with Aeros.

The half-Fae’s mood had been difficult to decipher as of late. Irritation. Anger. Apathy. Annoyance. He had seen flickers of those things scattered across the man’s aura. From his tone, he did not need to be a Sembler to discern that such things were still swirling in Aeros head at that exact moment. Talon sighed heavily, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose and rub along the septum. Mathias took a seat on a bench nearby.

“Oh boy. I know that sigh.” He did not immediately respond when his squire commented.

“You are displeased, Dominus?” He remained standing, regarding the other man intently. “Perhaps, if this engagement is a beneficial one, we can pursue an errand that pleases you.”

He extended a hand to Mathias who knew without prompting what he was reaching for. Mathias deposited into Talon’s hand a simple but elegant bracelet. Stepping forward, Talon extended it to the nobleman.

“I know not what vexes you so, but perhaps this will help.” The bracelet was designed in such a way as to compliment the half-Fae’s complexion and attire without being overly gaudy. “It is a bracelet of protection.”

He examined Aeros for a moment before speaking.

“You asked me not so long ago whether or not I am here to bring ruin.” He could reveal little but he could at least do his best to allay some of the man’s fears, even if he did not know them. “No. I am not.”

With that, he straightened and considered the man’s question.

“I know only a little of your customs but the protocol of royal greetings is not lost on me. Deference. Speak when spoken to. Answer questions as they are asked, succinctly, politely.”

Off Topic

Bracelet of Protection

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Owner: Aeros
Attunement: Yes.
Purchased: 15,000 gp
Enchantment: Journeyman Negation
Specialty: Protection
Charges: 10

The power of this bracelet is that of Negation. It has been attuned to Aeros aetheric signature, meaning that only he is capable of using the magic of the bracelet unless the attunement is wiped from it. The bracelet will produce the listed effects until such time as the last charge is expended, at which time it will go inert. It takes a total of 2 hours for a single charge to be regained.

Snap Shield (2 Charges) - With a snap of the fingers, a quick barrier can be formed and expanded up to a 10 ft. radius around the wearer. It is comprised of a single layer and will take a dome shape around the wearer and the immediate area. It can be assigned up to two tasks. The barrier will last for a total of 1 minute before dissipating. For every charge above 2 that is expended, the barrier’s total time can be extended for another minute.

Barrier (2 Charges) - A standard Negation barrier that can be expanded to cover up to a 20 ft. radius around the wearer. The barrier can be given up to 3 layers with each layer being able to be assigned a single task. The barrier will stand for up to 10 minutes. For every charge expended beyond the initial 2, the duration of the barrier can be extended for an additional 10 minutes.

Addendum (1 Charge) - By using this ability, the wearer can modify the task of a given layer to a barrier already created by this bracelet.

Expand (1 Charge) - By using this ability, the wearer can expand the total area covered by their ward by up to 5 ft.

Layer (2 Charges) - The wearer can add an additional layer to an existing barrier created by this bracelet. This layer can be assigned a single task that works in tandem with the other existing layers to the barrier.

Earring of Tongues

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Owner: Talon, Mathias
Attunement: Yes.
Purchased: 20,000 gp
Enchantment: Master Mesmer, Master Semblance
Specialty: Language Translation
Charges: 10

The power of these earrings is simplistic in nature. Each one is attuned to either Talon or Mathias aetheric signature, meaning that only they are capable of using the magic of the earrings unless the attunement is wiped from it. The earrings will produce the listed effects until such time as the last charge is expended, at which time they will go inert. It takes a total of 2 hours for a single charge to be regained.

Library (Passive) - Contained within the earring is a repository of languages that can actively be tapped into by the wearer who is attuned to it. The earring can only store up to 4 languages at a given time and can store them up to the Fluency level. The languages currently retained are: Orkhan, Vastian, Tallenese and Mythrasi.

Add Language (1 Charge) - The earring can receive a new language by tapping into the knowledge of an individual who speaks the language. The speaker need merely touch the earring and offer their understanding of the language to the earring at which point in time it will archive that understanding at the speaker’s level of fluency. If the addition of a new language would put the earring over the amount it can retain in its library, either a retained language must be discarded or the addition of the new language fails and the charge to gain it is expended without effect.

Speak (2 Charges) - Tapping into this power requires only that the wearer consciously choose to do so. This can be done by actively touching the earring or simply concentrating on it to tap into its power. Upon activating this ability, the knowledge and understanding necessary to speak one of the archived languages is conferred upon the wearer. They speak at the level of fluency that is archived. This effect will last for 12 hours. They are only able to actively speak one archived language at a time.

Translate (2 Charges) - Tapping into this power requires only that the wearer consciously choose to do so. This can be done by actively touching the earring or simply concentrating on it to tap into its power. Upon activating this ability, the knowledge and understanding necessary to translate a language that another individual is speaking is conferred upon the wearer. The language being translated must be one of the languages archived by the earring, otherwise this ability has no effect. This effect will last for 12 hours. They are only able to actively translate one archived language at a time.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

To the question he was asked in response to his own, his brows rose and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. The knee-jerk response Æros wanted to say was suppressed; snapping at the man would benefit nobody. The source of his anger had naught to do with the parties before him, anyhow. Well, perhaps some of his irritation, but that was only a single facet of that which influenced his mood.

It was…debatable as to whether or not he should answer a question of this nature honestly at all, and to what degree, especially in a setting like this where one's voice carried, bouncing from surface to surface. His gaze shifted off to the side, as if searching for something, before it returned to looking through both of his companions. Exhaling deeply, he shifted his hands so that one was a fist and the opposite wrapped 'round the first, leaning his chin against both, partially obscuring his face.

"This is…nerve wracking, you should understand," he began, and with a glint of mischief in his expression, "...fickle as they may be, fastidious as they are, the royals here are red in both tooth and claw. Outcome depending…the two of you might be free of me after today– so my mood matters not, hm?" Æros punctuated this sentiment with a wink and laughed; he was pretty sure, however, that his actual meaning would be missed by both parties but this was part of why what he'd said was funny to him in the first place.

Æros’ Common was an odd thing. His diction was natural and his manner of speaking was considerably literate, yet he spoke incredibly slowly and struggled with his pronunciation, almost as if he’d spent none of his time learning the language practicing proper speaking. Which…is exactly what happened. As a result, his elocution was eclectic and sometimes hard to follow. That being the case, he did his level best to entirely disregard this fact, and as such, would likely disapprove of anyone directly pointing this out.

As Dæmon continued to speak, however, Æros appeared to be genuinely surprised. Given how dry the other man was prone to being, it was plainly difficult for the Fæ to read the other sans his Mesmer, a fact that vexed him greatly yet still. The warrior's expressions were muted and his tone shifted…infrequently. The half-Starborn couldn't quite tell if the sentiment expressed by his newfound companion was one meant to simply placate him or out of…perhaps genuine concern for his well being? But if that were the case, Æros would be a bit baffled, considering the overall level of affection they'd shown one another up until this point was…light, one could say. And not exactly for lack of desire on his end— it simply…was difficult for Æros to know where to place his steps when he cannot even begin to plan a few more ahead.

Of late, he’d felt more confident regarding his skills in magic, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe if he tried again…? With no outward indication, he attempted to open himself up to the Symphonies of the two in front of him. Remarkably, instead of little to nothing, they were both loud– the sounds of which rode through him like heavy waves, reverberating off one another. However, Mathias’ was a discordant, garbled mess and Dæmon’s…well, everything bled together, coalescing in such dense layers that it was impossible to understand on the surface.

The frequencies of Mathias were easier to pluck apart, and so he channeled his focus into the boy’s first. Though he was able to isolate a few things and hear them clearly, it was…very quick that he realized, for the moment, what ran through him offered no insight of which Æros cared to learn. Everything he heard was what one would expect a young man dragged into a situation like this would be feeling. He did find the boy’s emotions regarding himself to be…amusing.

On the other hand, Dæmon…? Well, his was like a wall of static, heavy and extremely uncomfortable to wade through. He could parse weak vibrations of things he could read, but being so heavily entangled with what was, ostensibly, garbage created by warding magics, he was distinctly unsure of how reliable a single thing he’d felt was. It was encouraging on his end that he was able to breach what warding was present at all, but not being able to tell how Dæmon in particular felt was grating.

And because he couldn't tell, he was unsure of what type of response to give. Feigned gestures meant to placate him would not be well received. Something more genuine would depend on what the other's motivation was. Such a conundrum, it was, for somebody so used to having a pool of insight from which he could drink deep. Unused to moving through social interactions essentially blind, things like this were…nigh painful.

"Please me? Mm, I am typically an easy man to please…" closing his eyes for just a moment, he laughed once, then continued. "...and do forgive me for my candor, but do not try to placate me out of some misplaced sense of obligation. We are…business partners, no?" He tapped his fingers against the knuckles of the opposite hand, then continued. "...however, if your desire to do so is, ah…more genuine in nature, then be my guest; I am not so cold as to be against something more personal. I simply ask of you thus: be honest with me. Duplicitous behavior would be…" trailing off, for emphasis, "...very much unappreciated, hm?" Æros' tone snaked from being vaguely theatrical to deadly serious and at times sarcastic, emphasizing his points as he went.

What next came from Dæmon's lips perplexed him ever further. Was he being genuine, then? So hard to tell…Æros' eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, allowing the other to continue.

As he was presented with a gift, the Færie straightened his posture, a sort of bewildered expression taking over his features as eyes of black gold widened just a bit. With tentative movements, he extended one of his arms with his hand facing palm up, accepting that which was being given.

Once in his possession, he brought the trinket before his eyes in a bid to examine it. This was…oddly thoughtful? The design appeared personal to him, at the bare minimum, and the craftsmanship was consummate. From where did he even acquire such a thing?

A few emotions cycled over his visage as he gazed upon it; confusion, flattery, appreciation. And not being one to decline a kindness when offered, he opted to wear it now. However, he was…a bit taken aback, finding himself somewhat at a loss for words.

In doing so, Dæmon clarified that he had experience in the past interacting with royalty of other nations. Hm. Funny, that! Just who was he, really?

Finally, Æros met with the man's gaze. "Fun coincidence that this gesture came right after I express the ease with which one may soften my mood," he chuckled, expression and voice containing more levity than before. "...but not the point. This gesture is a gift, the weight of which is not lost on me. I thank you." Of this, he is sincere, making no attempt to obfuscate his emotions.

"Mind telling me from where you got this?" The curiosity in his voice was bright, interwoven with a sort of fascination with the piece as he shifted his wrist around, looking at it once more.

With his gaze back on Dæmon, "One thing you should mind when dealing with the ruling class, however. Your…merciful conduct in the arenas is seen as soft, here. We are a people who don't shy away from cruelty, and as such…your gentle hand, giant as it may be, is not something most will appreciate. Steel yourself and be prepared to lower your morals. Understood?" This was a warning as much as it was a request.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

After another long while, the churn of gears presaged the prelude to their meeting. A familiar clangour for both Dæmon, because he'd heard if several times last night from this very vantage, and to Æros because he'd been to enough events at this arena to recognise the groan of those old gates as they were lifted. Had they ever been replaced since the Epoch of Aværys?

As the three guests regarded the arch leading onto the sunlit arena floor, two figures stepped into view from either side. They were standing at quite some distance, mid-arena, and each was clad in a long, black robe with a thin, chain belt rounding their waists, and silvery adornments starting at their shoulders- similar to epaulets, which fed seamlessly into a collared, half chest plate. To a local it would be apparent, at a glance, that these were Sentinels of the Vigilia Argenti. This would immediately raise flags for any number of reasons.

The detail which Æros would note was the cause for the greatest concern, however, was the fact that both figures wore veils over their faces. Sheer, black lace speckled with what appeared to be tiny gemstones that glinted in the harsh noonday sun like the stars that painted Æros' own skin. The half-Fæ would know that Sentinels typically only appeared veiled in very particular scenarios- most of them lofty, ceremonial and/or diplomatic in function.

To a Sembler or a Mesmer it would be equally apparent that their garb was heavily warded by a masterful practitioner of their Craft against incursions. But whether they wished to press further beyond the cursory was for them to decide... They paused across from each other as the faceless shapes seemed to face the gate and the guests behind it.

"Oh, Dæmooooon!" A sing-song falsetto voice intoned, then a bit deeper into the chest: "Dæmon, darling! You're meant to step through the gate. You can tarry in awe once you've clapped eyes on me, but first let's get a look at you." The voice, which was speaking Common, was not coming from either of the black-clad Sentinels, but from above.

As the guests of the arena, stepped onto its freshly raked sands, they would see labourers bustling about in the stands around them, but as they came into view of the royal box it was there that they would see the source of the voice. Perched, ostensibly precariously on the the balustrade just overhead, rather that within the safety of the box proper, was a grinning, Golden elf behind whom stood a pair of uniformed golden guards and the Stadium Master of the Fortis Lacerta. Donning a revealing, lavender sari with gold accents and accessories and kicking their legs, which were dangling over the balustrade, they offered a dainty wave as gazes found them. After a beat, they glanced over their shoulder to the obviously anxious Stadium Master and whispered:

"Do the thing."

The man quickly cleared his throat and raised his voice to announce:

"Regard: Their Resplendance, Drævos Val’Aværyan Vyxis Dux, Descended of Aværys, Scion of Re'ha!"

Æros would likely recognise the figure looming above them- a Duke in the Solar Court and baseborn child of Prince Drævyn. Their reputation was both storied and dreaded. A mercurial, capricious creature, who seemed capable of serving the Unbroken Line adeptly, in spite of their reckless attitudes toward their lessers that were displayed prominently on their downtime.

"Apologies for that half-arsed announcement." Vyxis rolled their eyes, before turning them back toward the visitors. "My herald stuttered last night, so I slit his throat with my Waning Prayer... May he serve Domina Varvara better than he served us." Their accent was pronounced, but not thick. They were clearly both educated and practised in the Common tongue.

"My, my, my Dæmon... You are a big one, aren't you?" Vyxis squinted and leaned down so far that the guards behind them seemed anxious they might tumble from their perch. "Your eyes are a bit close-set... Like two star-crossed lovers longing to be one in matrimony. Are you half-Cyclops?" Suddenly bursting into high-pitched laughter, they sat upright and the guards poised themselves to catch them if they tumbled backwards, but they maintained their balance aptly through the peels of their amusement.

"We are in jest." They settled into stillness once more. "You may undress, whilst we speak...." They noted, as blithely as if they were offered a drink to a guest in their home, "I am so, so sorry I missed the first match last night. My royal father spoke of it with awe, and that elder twink has been coming to the arena since Sundering..." A flash of annoyance crossed Vyxis' countenance, as they sharply clarified:

"Yes. All of you. Undress straight away." The irritation vanished as suddenly as it appeared, and Vyxis continued unabated, "I did get to see your subsequent bouts however, Dæmon... And I've been briefed that you're a foreigner, which is why I'm addressing you in this clunky, artless tongue, but I must say I disappointed in the way you ended your matches... The whole crowd was, really. It's a blood sport, darling. We want to see alllll of the blood. Surely you know where the juiciest arteries are? What's the point in being such a showoff if you can't seal the covenant with a proper sacrifices to our beloved Founders?" Beat.

"Oh." Gesturing, "You may speak now."

Drævos Val’Aværyan Vyxis Dux

[Talon]

D A E M O N

He listened to Aeros warning. He wondered if he would have the patience to weather the fickle nature of vapid royals. He mentally braced himself for the parade of whimsy that was about to ensue as he put on a display to entertain. When the half-Fae extended his awareness into the aether and tapped into the symphony of both his and Mathias minds, Talon was not unaware of the touch. Light as it were, he did not shrug it off but he watched carefully as the man probed for some measure of understanding that could be gleaned. He was not being insincere in his regard, that much would be clear. More than that however and intrusion upon his inner thoughts was not something he welcomed.

“I am being sincere.” He spoke plainly. At the mention of honesty, he quirked a brow. “It is hard to be honest when you dance around questions disguised as statements and not-so-subtle advice. If it is honesty you want, you will need to be forthright with me. If you have a question, Dominus, ask it.”

He left it at that and listened to what else the man had to say.

“I purchased it from one of the enchanters in the Umbrium. If I am to be fighting in these arenas, I cannot always be presently near you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You need only meditate on the bracelet and its abilities will open themselves to you.”

It was then that the nobleman had commentary to offer on his behavior in the ring. Despite the complete slaughter of the creatures pitted against him in the arena the day prior, he had shown remarkable restraint when fighting against more human and mortal opponents. He had not killed a single one of them. He had gone to painstaking lengths to hold himself back so as not to break them for there had not been many who could contend with him. Outside of the monstrous battle, his fights thus far had not been up against foes who presented more than a passing challenge for him. As the half-Fae offered his advice, Talon brought his hands to rest at the small of his back.

“Tell me, Dominus, do you know what bone sounds like when it is not cut, nor chopped, nor smashed, but stretched to the furthest extent of its anatomical limit? When it is pulled until the structure buckles and finally snaps?” He posed the question rhetorically as though he were commenting on nothing more than the weather. He fixed Aeros with a blank, unblinking stare that did not waver.

“I do.” He did not pause as he continued speaking.

“Do you know what a man sounds like as he begs and screams as his skull caves in beneath the crushing weight of bare hands?” Again, he fixed Aeros with that unblinking, unwavering stare.

“I do.” Talon’s gaze went unfocused as his mind filled with hazy thoughts and distant memories. He blinked and shook off the thoughts with a deep intake of breath.

“Could I give the crowd the blood it so desires?” He nodded. “Yes.”

He looked distant as he recalled many of the battles that he had fought across not just Talon’s life, but the lives of those that had come before this one.

“Pray I do not have to.”

The grinding of gears announced a change in their current setting. His eyes came to settle upon the black and silver garbed individuals awaiting them. He spared them both little more than a cursory glance before stepping out of the waiting area and onto the sands of the arena. His eyes came to rest upon the figure perched at the royal box. By their voice, their cadence, their address and demeanor, Talon had already come to a single conclusion:

He did not like them.

He did not need Semblance to peg the individual in front of him. The flippant, almost vapid, speech and callous disregard for those around them? He had seen their type before. The pointed insults. The clear pleasure in demeaning others simply by virtue of the fact that they could? Already his nerves were pressed thin. That was not good. He adopted a stone face, tightening the reins on his emotions and his expression of them with his hallmark discipline.

Emperor preserve him. This was going to be a challenge of a different sort. Beasts he could fight. Soldiers he could command. Legions he could do battle with. It would take every shred of patience he had not to lose his temper with what was likely a spoiled brat who had far too much power and little to rein them in. When bidden to undress, he was faced with a dilemma. He felt Mathias stiffen beside him. After a pause, the young man did as he was told and began removing his clothing.

Talon was faced with a different problem. He could will his garments to change but he could not remove them. Only the Emperor could free him of them.

He remained clothed.

“May their resplendence forgive me for my ignorance. The customs of Solunarium are new to me.” He gave a bow with a hand pressed to his chest. “Their critique is received.”

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Æros’ eyes narrowed just a bit at Dæmon’s insistence of sincerity. Maybe now did he mean this, but in the past? When Æros had directly confronted him with assumptions he could very much lean into being factual? Had Dæmon skirted around the truth, not confirming for his own sake, but allowing for an open, mutual understanding between the two? Had Dæmon spoken to him in private about the matter, offering some sort of mutual understanding of his circumstances, opened himself up to the noble whatsoever in any attempt to create a proper, friendly rapport? No.

No, rather, he had outright denied what the Starborn had come to conclude, and not only that, but he offered zero up until this moment as a method of reassurance. Up until this point, the Fæ had trusted him on the basis of his undeniable raw power and his power alone. But on a personal level? On an emotional level? He had been clued into nothing, left in the dark. The sincerity shared between the two, up until now, was slim to null. Touchy, this subject was and this wasn’t exactly a response that endeared the other man to Æros in any capacity. Again, he felt disrespected, but this time it felt pointed towards him, words like blades.

At once after the larger man finished speaking, Æros stood and approached him, no hesitation. Starlit expression hardening again, the half-Fæ stood only inches from Dæmon and gently caressed the larger man’s cheek with the back of his hand, a drag slow enough such that the other man might mistake the gesture for affectionate as the gentle prick of his ætheric stars ran against the skin of his face. The faux display was meant to express the opposite of what it was on the surface. Rather than affection, one would taste from his visage that Æros was the very polar opposite of pleased with that which he had just been told.

“Do not presume that it is I who wants you to dance this bloody dance,” he nearly spit. “I am merely a guide for you; complacency has eroded compassion from the hearts of those who wear the crowns. I am not more than a jester in their court, much as I may appear powerful to you, so it is, sincerely, not I that you are meant to impress.” Æros paused for a moment, but his gaze did not waver.

“...I am no warrior. My magics aren’t even innately violent. All I can do is drive a man mad enough to harm himself, and that is not how I’ve ever deigned to use it. I am a pleasure seeker and a hedonist, dear Dæmon– violence is not my purview.”

He stepped back as the gates began to clamor and rise, offering one last thing: “...In the future, it would be…easier to parse your sincerity should you, oh, I don’t know– warm up a bit in the expressions, hm? These interactions would go...so much smoother.”

The Starborn walked past his companions with that, not even a glance in their direction once he passed, making sure to stand in front of the others once he emerged onto the arena’s freshly raked sands. He was only almost surprised that it was Vyxis and not Drævyn himself, though he much preferred Drævyn, in truth, so he was…disappointed, in a way.

The noble would appear to pay little mind to the presence of Vigilia Argenti. Not because he didn’t care, but…if they were given orders, he would have little reason to resist. There was no escape for him should this end poorly, so why would he balk at a force which he could not hope to stop should the axe fall? He would die with grace, if it came down to it.

As the metaphorical jester, Æros had little qualms doing that which was asked for him by the man high above. For what was he if not a dancer by his own merit, a performer by his own will? And so he would perform, moving whichever way those of higher stations desired of him. His own feelings on the matter aside, he knew how to play this game and play it he shall. In scenarios like this, it was the path of least resistance which offered the most rewards.

To Vyxis’ request, he said and expressed nothing, merely obeyed, disrobing with no ceremony, though only the clothing– metal he kept on. However, he did bow with somewhat of a flourish once bare. Standing with expression blank and hands resting on his hips, the brightness of the sun bounced radiantly off all of his stars, the deep night of his skin both consuming and accenting the coruscating luminescence thereof. If nothing else, he looked confident and entirely unashamed, having much the same proportions he would don on the nights he and Khyan had laid with one another, only the slightest of modifications. As such, one would not require excitement on his end to find his endowment noteworthy.

Upon being given permission to speak, it was Æros who’d open his mouth first. “Should you find anything you see displeasing, mind that we of Fæ-ethalan blood can alter ourselves to whatever we may desire…and in this case, such power is in your hands, Your Resplendence.” Again, he bowed, this time something deep and reverential, yet playful and performative. Fully intending to be showy, his body moved with grace and elegance, highlighting his figure as he did so.

Standing straight once more, “Though I should note, anything quite complex requires time, so while I may be capable of more…chameleonic changes, those simply cannot be swift. Sincerest apologies, Domine.” Æros went out of his way to suffuse his voice with emotion when regarding the royal, acting with flippant disregard to his own dignity.

While Dæmon’s response sent a bit of a chill down his spine, knowing that it would…very much displease the noble of higher station, he could at least hope to speak for himself to some degree. Not that it really mattered, did it? The chips would fall and he was powerless, as always.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

"Alas!" Vyxis knitted their brow, extending their arms in a melodramatic display of woe, "Perhaps my Common fails me!" They tilted their head sharply, then.

"But, no... No, that cannot be it." They tapped their index finger against their chin, in an exaggerated show of befuddlement. They looked from Mathias on one side to Æros on the other.

"Clearly the other two understood me, Dæmon. Are you bashful, dear? That is adorable, but in faith, my sweet semi-Cyclops, you flatter yourself. You've nothing to worry about if you fear our lascivious interest. The other two?" They winked at the supple, young Mathias and ran their tongue over their top lip, "...They are much more my speed. I'd need a bloody step-stool to have my way with you, and you look as though you could pinch off my prick with a flex of your ample buttocks. No." They wrinkled their nose in distaste at the notion. "We shan't be having any of that." Vyxis paused.

"At any rate, please allow me to clarify, lest another of our potential cultural differences prove confusing to you, Dæmon. When I say you 'may' undress, I really mean you 'shall' undress. And do take a lesson from this one..." They gestured to Æros and grinned as their eyes perused his form, "Here is a proper showman. He made a meal of his disrobing, and we shall be inquiring after his availability for dinner as our schedule permits, if he continues to entertain thus." A well manicured brow arched as the half-Fæ addressed them. It was brazen without being indecorous... Forward without being disrespectful. They smirked.

"Postea dicendum est..."
[We must speak later...]

Sensing further reluctance from the statuesque foreign mongrel, Vyxis sighed loudly and dramatically, before pushing themselves off the balustrade to the shocked concern of their guards. It was quite a drop, but just before reaching the sands they released a Kinetic blast to soften a their landing as they alighted into a crouch with both hands and one knee gracing the ground.

The Semblers amongst the group might note that Vyxis bore three Cardinal Runes, the strongest being Mesmer, with lower tier Elementalism and Kinetics also at their disposal. By Solunarian standards they were not the most ambitious of mages. No efforts were obviously being made to conceal their magic or anything else within their Aura or Symphony. There was inert illusory magic in their sari, but it seemed to be some sort of ornamental effect that wasn't currently in use.

Sensuously they rose to their full height- Dwarfed by Dæmon and diminutive even to Æros, they sauntered forth. Above their guards looked at one another, perplexed, before both ran down the back steps to make their way down to the arena floor.

"We assure you, Dæmon. Our interest in your form is entirely clinical." Their eyes danced askance to catch a closer, lingering glimpse of Æros' endowment. "Bloody hells." Returning their attention to the largest of the group, they strutted over until the toes of their soleæ were an inch away from Dæmon's, crossed their arms over their narrow chest, and spoke on:

"You must understand that we Solunariani are only just growing accustomed to foreigners showing up on our doorstep unannounced, and when you lot make such an impression as you did in vying with the chimæri, the um..." They searched the skies for the word, "...Mutants, I believe is the word in Common? When such an impression is made, due diligence must be exerted. Particularly," They held their palm up to their mouth and added in a stage whisper:

"When you are being considered to participate in an exhibition bout in front of some of our highest and most celebrated elite!" Their whisper gave way to a squeal, "Are you not EXCITED?!" They clapped their hands rapidly and hopped up and down a few times, before dropping the giggly act and going completely still.

"Now lose..." Teeth clenched, "...the fucking..." Hissed, "...clothes."

Finally, their guards appeared behind them and rushed to their side in front of Dæmon.

[Talon]

D A E M O N

He kept his gaze focused on the Solunarian noble who stood before him. His eyes roamed over their form before he brought up foot and brushed his fingers along the ankle of his sandal. The material of the sandal shifted beneath his fingertips. The sole of the sandal retreated and the strap receded into the metal plating that covered his shin. This was followed by what appeared to be a melting of the metal as it wound its way up his calf and wrapped around his thigh. He lifted his other foot and repeated the motion, the apparent leather and metal melting away to expose his bare skin. He touched the belt around his waist, going through the motion of removing it. As he pulled it away from his waist, it too writhed and began wrapping around his forearm only to diminish in size and melt into the bracer that was located there becoming a liquid like substance that joined it seamlessly.

He unbuckled the strap over his shoulder and removed his half-cape. Each time he removed an article of clothing it melted away as opposed to simply falling to the ground. As more and more of his bare body was exposed, he was reminded of how he had been made to strip down in front of the Matchmaker. Every inch of his body had been inspected. It had been touched. It had been explored. While the woman had always been polite enough to ask for permission to touch him, even if she had not been the one doing the touching, he had recognized what it meant to refuse. It had been a violation of him to the highest degree. It was not an experience he would ever forget. Standing there in front of the Solunarian noble, he wondered what direction this would go.

Even he recognized they were treading dangerous ground but he kept himself in check as best he was able. While he had long ago lost any semblance of shyness after what he had been put through and having never been shy about his body, he knew his nerves were on high alert. For reasons even he could not completely place.

But undress he did. Every inch of his sun bronzed body was revealed. Not a single part of his form was uneven in its tan. The sunlight sought him out, for the Light was his and belonged to no other. It caressed his bare skin with reverent affection. He would never burn in the sun. If an emotion at the idea could be ascribed to the element of Light it would be horror at the very notion of scarring his form. As the rippling muscles of his torso were allowed fully into view, the numerous runic markings upon his body could be seen. Sweeping and artful, while most of them had been acquired when he lived a largely mortal life, a touch of his radiance existed in even the soft silver-white glow that emanated from his runes.

The final article of clothing remaining was the skirt around his waist and the undergarments beneath them. He brought a hand over the cloth as though he were unwinding it from his waist and felt both the skirt and undergarments recede. Flowing away as though they were nothing more than silk cloth caught in the winds, becoming part of the bracers that remained in place around his forearms. Talon was not a small man in any sense of the word but he was proportionate for a man of his size in all respects. He quirked a brow at the noble before him, as though to inquire whether they liked what they saw, remaining supremely unconcerned by the presence of the guards immediately within arms reach.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Æros knew this for what it was. In all likelihood it was a test of obedience beyond anything else– and to him, such things were not…new. It figured Drævyn himself wouldn't show up for something like this and it figured even more that he would send his child, likely told they could make whatever request they wanted just for the fun of it. So it goes. The only thing he'd refuse to do was act at all ashamed, numb as he was to the upper nobility's bizarre predilection for degradation and humiliation.

And Vyxis was…certainly entertaining, if absolutely nothing else. From the whimsy with which they spoke to their more theatrical way of expressing themselves, Æros couldn't hold his countenance fully steady as the noble spoke, breaking his decorum for just a second to crack a smile and a bit of a laugh regarding their commentary about himself and his companions. He was…not at all surprised about their opinions, all things considered.

Specifically to the lines about himself, Æros held his gaze upon the royal, brightening his expression and appearing as if he were just as into the idea as Vyxis themselves.

"I am at your service, Domine," he spoke in response, loud enough for his voice to carry.

Though only briefly, the half-Fæ's eyes widened in surprise as Vyxis jumped from the balustrade and approached them. It was the abrupt nature of the advance that caught him off guard…the young royal's actions fit just fine with their prior behavior. He blinked, expression softened now– mostly out of relief that he'd been well received thus far. Vestigial shreds of his sense of self preservation had been choking him since he'd been told of this meeting's very existence, a fact he would deny, but it nonetheless put him so much more at ease to see that Vyxis was not displeased with him.

But then…there was the pesky fact that the royalty was very likely entirely serious concerning their interest in him. The idea of having to carry this façade any further was pretty far and away from exciting. Of course, Æros would do whatever was asked of him, his own trepidations notwithstanding. It wasn't for a lack of attraction, no; rather, if he failed to please the other adequately, he imagined Vyxis to be…petty, if nothing else. Such pettiness would make it difficult to actually relax and enjoy himself, which, for him, defeated the entire purpose of the act.

However, he let none of this anxiety show. Instead, he kept his posture confident and expression light, addressing Vyxis with a graceful bow once the other had gotten close enough. Being no stranger to his own objectification, the comment the royal made regarding his size pulled a laugh, something akin to a puerile giggle, from his lips. Frankly, this wasn't actually the size he was used to wearing– it was just favored by one of his lovers and enjoyed by another he'd become quite fond of, so he'd yet to be given a reason to change it.

"I am malleable, mind– should anything you see displease you, Your Resplendence," again, he reiterated his offer regarding both his ability and willingness to make any desired changes, tone bearing no shortage of coquettish flirtation.

Standing now with his hands resting at the small of his back, Æros watched as the royal addressed Dæmon. Though he would stifle laughter at the other's particular turn of phrase, Vyxis' displeasure nonetheless felt like a spike to his already frayed nerves. He did hope that should something go awry, his own acquiescence would earn him at least a pardon from punishment– or a swift end as opposed to something drawn out.

Blessedly, Dæmon listened this time, though the Starborn was unsure if such a thing even mattered at this point. For some, saying 'no' even once was too much; hesitation in and of itself could be seen as an insult. Æros watched as the larger man's clothing and various accoutrements faded into nothing, melting off and disappearing in the rather…outré fashion it did.

What he saw was of no surprise, all things considered. The Færie had been curious but, to be honest, all was predictably in proportion. It wouldn't have taken much imagination to come up with on his own, so to speak, though it did make him wonder a few things about…the logistics involved, given the average proportions of one's standard other man. Perhaps he favored the larger races, then? Avialæ or maybe even Orkhan? Unless, of course, he enjoyed hurting his lovers, unwieldy as he was. Not like he could judge in that regard, however.

The third of their group seemed uncomfortable by this whole affair and Æros couldn't blame him. He was but a ride along on an adventure of which he had no idea where he would end up. The Fæ couldn't imagine he ever saw this meeting going in this direction, and as consequence, he almost felt something alike to pity. Those unused to Solunarium's, ah…more novel cultural quirks and royal behaviors would very easily find themselves swept up in the tide. He could only hope Vyxis' eye would stay on him, coruscant and eye-catching as he was.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"