the rising son [Finn, Arvaelyn]

[Arvælyn]

"Oh stop that." Arvælyn batted at Finn's arm as soon as he rose from his buoyant bow. He was actually stronger than he'd been, which he tended to forget so his intended playful punch may have stung a bit more than intended.

"Sorry..." He winced, "...but very well." He took a deep breath, before looking ceilingward. He didn't know why he was doing that, but it seemed right. "Dæmon? Talon? Er... Arcas?" He glanced down to Finn and sort of shrugged awkwardly, "We're, um... ready to see... uh... thee." It felt more formal to speak as the Founders were wont to, and summoning a demigod felt like an occasion that called for some element of formality, he reckoned.

His eyes fell from the ceiling to the front as he rose from his seat to regard the yawning drægir.

"Oh, I'm sorry." He arched a brow and smirked wryly, "Did we wake you?" He inclined his head, "Highness. Yes, you're fine here for the nonce. The dragons haunt their chamber and leave the palace to us, by and large." It seemed Arvælyn was at least somewhat aware of the enmity still borne by the Zalkyrians toward their present guest.

"But nevermind that, I believe you wished to take us somewhere? I think we're ready... At least to discuss our options in greater detail, if you don't object. There are things expected of me here, but... there are things you might offer that no one else can. It is those gifts that interest me most." Elementalism was a hallmark of his family. Any given Aværyan could confer that Rune and, in his position, he really had his pick of any of the better known magicks. With his draconic lineage now apparent, there was greater comfort that he would survive the initiations, even if they would go harder. There were things Arcas could confer that were not found in Solunarium. The trick would be finding one that wasn't anathema to the powers who still loomed above even his crowned head like colossi.

[Finn]

Finn rubbed at his flesh, amused that Arvælyn was now physically stronger than he looked as well. And then Dæmon answered the call, looking as though he had just woken up. Familiar motifs born of Aoren rang in his symphony, and Finn found himself grinning with a knowing smile he probably oughtn't to have worn in front of a prince or a demigod. But it subsided as he felt his brow tighten. His eyes swiveled up, but he would never be able to see his own emblem without a mirror. Perhaps it just resonated with any sort of divinity.

"Hello..." As his divine Shinsei was sleep-rumpled and in their private space, he settled for old familiarity. "...Talon. I don't know that I can become a Dawnmartyr. I'm not Solunarian, but I am devoted to Arvælyn. I don't know if conflicts will ever arise. But I would like your blessing if you would give it. Your blessing to join you in your realm sometimes and fill it with music." He considered. "You mentioned Cathena City? If you take us there, it'll be another place I can visit, saving you the effort as ferryman."

His grin was lop-sided, boyish. Magic had been something he hid when first they met, but the Silver Sentinels had honed his magic to great effect. The far-strider could slip through the cracks in reality nearly as easily as he could plumb a person's song. In this, at least, he was more at ease, though he might never be so showy with it as were the desert people. Their power was flaunted to remind people always of their status. Finn didn't crave the limelight at all times.

And they might be more at ease in Talon's home. There were likely people listening here. Cithæra at the very least would want to keep apprised of their conversations, he imagined.

[Talon]

T A L O N

“I am enjoying the honeymoon that Aoren and I were robbed of.” He gave both Arvaelyn and Finn a smile before running a hand through his hair. His hair had grown significantly longer since his whole ordeal began and he was growing to like having it hang down past his chest. He took out a leather band and tied back his hair into the ponytail that he typically sported as he examined both Finn and Arvaelyn with senses both arcane and divine. His eyes settled upon the holy marks that were emblazoned, quite deeply, upon their souls. He recognized the presence of both Avaerys and Varvara respectively. Peering deeper he could see just how deep that claim went. Especially in Finn. Again he felt a twinge of irritation but he let it slide. By Finn’s own admission he was wholly devoted to his partner. Given Arvaelyn’s heritage, it only made sense that he would have such a lasting and primal connection to the very bloodline the dragonborn prince was part of.

“To be a Dawnmartyr is to carry the torch of what I believe based on principle. The presence of my Emblem, while coveted among my knights, is not a requirement to becoming one. If that is a path you ever seek, you should go to them and pass their trials. Regardless, I cannot bestow an Emblem upon you. Avaerys has laid a heavy claim to your soul and unless I wished to call upon the intervention of my Father, only Avaerys can revoke that claim.” Lowering his hands he took in the sight of the two men in front of him. As he considered their words he nodded. Extending his hands to them he wiggled his fingers.

“Take my hands. Let us be off.” He waited patiently for them to accept his hands. Once they did, he extended his senses into the Aetherium. He opened himself up to a realm of perception that only beings such as himself and higher could perceive. He followed the wellspring of Light that dwelt within him, allowing it to fill his being and extend outward from himself to both Finn and Arvaelyn. Reaching outward, he opened a doorway, one that only he could. He pressed the essence of his being upon the Veil between this world and a world that existed beyond it. He felt a brief moment of pause before the Veil parted around the three of them.

The air around them twisted, spiraling in on itself before parting like curtains revealing the Mists. The Mists shimmered prismatically for a moment before they connected with the wellspring of Light inside of him and became a cloud of gold, silver, and platinum light that glittered pristinely. The Mists coiled around them and through them…he moved them. He stepped through the Veil, bringing Finn and Arvaelyn with him. As the opening of the Veil between worlds enveloped them, they were given a glimpse of the very foundations of planar structure, of the space between spaces. A spiraling storm of cosmic power that flowed infinitely in all directions. Arcs of powers crashed into titanic structures, allowing glimpses of colossal beings that haunted the clouds of the infinite storm.

He squeezed their hands reassuringly then guided them onward to a point of light centered at the spiral eye of one of those cosmic storms. As they drew closer, the more the veil of Daemon’s mortality began to fall away. The mortal flesh that enclosed his form began to adopt a crystalline sheen. The silver of his wings captured the light shining from the heart of the storm. His eyes took in the light and ignited with a holy fire. All over his body, the witchmarks and runes he was graced with began to emit the silver-white light that was his by form and reputation. As they drew nearer, the edges of that light adopted elements of azure.

Arcs of cosmic lightning thundered across the clouds and finally, they passed through the eye of the storm in a blinding flash.

When the blindness faded, Finn and Arvaelyn were alone, drifting through a sea of clouds. In the skies above them, an ocean of cerulean and silver stars shone like glittering gems. Daemon was nowhere to be seen but the force guiding them continued to propel them forward. A cloud formation shifted to reveal a celestial structure floating within this soft plane of silvered lights and indigo accents. Approaching the structure, rivers of light flowed from the edges down into a starry field obscured by misty clouds. Crystalline formations floated around the celestial structure, some of which appeared to be colossal shards of raw light itself. All around them there was a mixing of the essence of aether and Light. Creatures, some avian in appearance, some humanoid, floated through the clouds. They too seemed to be made of the very essences of aether and light.

Drawing closer to the celestial structure they were gently guided to a platform where they were deposited. Standing there waiting for them, was Talon.

It had been ages since He had occupied His realm fully. It soothed an ache inside of Him that He had not realized was there. To exist so fully in a place that was suffused with every concept associated with Him, it brought a measure of peace in a storm of conflict. He looked at His body for a moment, seeing the starlight formations that drifted across His skin, He was reminded that in this place, He was more God than mortal. For this was His realm, His province, and no others. In this place, He reigned in supremacy. Smiling at Arvaelyn and Finn, He spread His arms in greeting.

“Welcome.” As He moved, the very fabric of this plane’s reality took notice of Him. The essence of its aether bowed to His presence and yearned for it in equal measure. Light flowed from Him like a river, feeding the very silvered rivers that flowed from His realm. In the symphony of this place’s music, all notes flowed back to Him.

[Arvælyn]

The Umbrian prince inclined his head as Talon's response brought back memories of his dread wedding reception. Finn was still fresh off the trauma of his attack, and the memories of his sweet face twisted in such terror were starker in his mind than the tearing flesh or pooling blood of the fallen. It was horrible for all of them, but far worse for the subjects of the ceremony. At least for Arvælyn it indirectly led him to discover and claim the birthright recently revealed to the public.

Arvælyn lifted his brow at Finn's request. Too humble by half, to his more high-sighted reckoning, but wasn't that one of the things that made the minstrel so adorable? As Dæmon elaborated on Dawnmartyrs and Emblems, Arry was unsurprised to hear that Aværys restricted the incursion of other gods' marks on His adherents. He'd not have been surprised to find Varvara similarly covetous, though even the ambitious Arvælyn would not have sought out another Emblem after so many huge shifts to his soul and body of late.

Glancing to the proffered hand, Arvælyn smiled to himself. It wasn't so long ago that he'd been wholly awed at meeting his first divine being, let alone touching him, and here he was blithely inviting him to cross the threshold to another continent. He nodded, stretching his hand forth to accept the invitation.

As they were guided into some sort of unknowable beyond, Arry blinked and instantly uttered the first thought that popped into his head, which was:

"This is not Cathena." They'd stopped there on the trip from Kalzasi to Solunarium, and it was a much more... grounded place than this jarring, ethereal realm the sensations of which stirred as well as perplexed the senses.

By the time they were floating in the ostensible absence of their host, Arvælyn's wide, fiery eyes gaped at the otherworldly beauty surrounding them. He had wings that he didn't know how to use yet, which instinctively moved as they seemed to levitate- slow, lazy beats to suit the apparent dearth of gravity. He clung to Finn's hand, let they float apart, but something drew them with intention in one direction.

As they approached a platform whereupon Talon awaited them, his eyes were still wide. He looked perhaps even a bit crazed, but clearing his throat he shook off the feeling of being either crazy or heavily intoxicated to repeated his previous sentiment, albeit this time with intention and delivered directly to Talon:

"This is not Cathena."

[Finn]

"Oh," he said, inordinately disappointed. While he had never sought out divine favor from his friend, with everything he knew and loved (save Arvælyn) on another continent, he hadn't realized how much a soul-deep connection with Talon would have meant to him. It made sense, though. Aværys and Varvara were controlling, avaricious. But he smiled and took Talon's hand, his regret clear, but if he was glum, at least he was going to spend time with friends and his beloved away from the politics of Solunarium for a while.

His senses were stretched thin by the journey. The rune on his shoulder was powerful, but he still lacked experience using it.

"Oh."

Finn was floating in a sea of light, hand clasped tightly with Arvælyn's. Talon was there, but clarified. There were no traces of Dæmon now, and he could almost understand the mystery of reincarnation, that Talon was truly himself, but that the light of long-dead Arcas shone through him, as well.

Everything was light, and he felt as though everything would work out as it was meant to in the end. But even through that, he could feel his brow tighten as Aværys expressed... something. He even imagined he felt Varvara's chains sliding through his veins. His runes tingled, and in the light of Talon's realm, he saw the strange, shadowy work that Lyra had done to his hand, though he couldn't understand what he saw there.

And then he heard the symphony of the place and his mouth fell open.

It might be difficult not to follow this song to its source in the future. He could sense the threads of the slipspace connecting this realm to the one from whence he came.

[Talon]

T A L O N

At the flabbergasted expressions on both of their faces, he could not help but laugh. The sound rang through the realm and all things present there joined in on the mirth. The Light shone purer, Justice settled into its rightful place and Hope sprang forth from the silvered halls all around them. When his amusement finally died down, he wiped a happy tear from his eye and subsided into a chuckle.

“No. It is not Cathena. I apologize if this is not what you were expecting. If you would prefer the villa in Cathena, we can certainly go there. It is one of several homes I possess.” He looked around wistfully at the realm they occupied. There was a simple contentedness that resonated through him. He was happy in this place. Every aspect of it aligned with him. It was him.

“I would be remiss if I said I was not a little jealous.” He made a slight frown but it contained mostly good humor as he regarded the Emblems present upon both Arvaelyn and Finn.

“That…may have spurred some of my decision to come here.” He gave a bashful smile and rubbed at the back of his head. Talon cleared his throat, his wings flexing and settling. “I will say, the only powers that can bear witness to us here are divine ones. The pantheon has bigger things on its mind than our conversation, however. A summit I must soon join.”

The Eclipse presented problems that rippled outward in more than just the material world of Ransera. There were things that would need to be addressed but it would be a little while before such a meeting of gods would transpire. Divines did not perceive time and urgency in the way mortals did. Sometimes that was a good thing. Sometimes it left mortals wanting for quicker action. He supposed that was where demigods served the best, as a bridge between perceptions both mortal and immortal.

“And if your Patrons wish to join us, they need only ask.” He rest his hands at the small of his back.

“You may go wherever you like here. My only request is that you leave the souls of those who have chosen my realm as their final rest to their earned peace.”

[Arvælyn]

As Talon's laughter subsided, Arvælyn's light chuckle supplanted it.

"How could we have possibly expected... this?" He wondered through his snigger, shaking his head as it, too waned to silence and he regarded the novel vista with wide-eyed wonder. One comment did draw his attention sharply toward Talon.

Jealous? His volcanic eyes narrowed ever so slightly. There was a time when he'd joked that he'd have abided Finn coupling with Talon, just for the potential benefits to their social standing in Kalzasi. But the ease he'd noticed Finn falling into with Talon back at the arena had pricked that possessive part of Arvælyn's psyche. Here and now talk of Talon's jealous stirred his own. In that moment Arvælyn's gaze at Talon was very much like his father's had been.

The light of this realm did seem to draw the light from the Emblem rounding his neck. She was intrigued, he knew. This place as not familiar to Her... an unknown frontier. He could almost glean the whisper of a chant he'd half-heard rising from the depths of Kaladon during their pilgrimage. If They wished to crash this party, They seemed disinclined to do so directly.

As Talon's talk turned more toward the moment at hand, he broke off his gaze to regard the surroundings again.

"This place is some sort of... hereafter for your adherents?" Arvælyn hadn't been reared with much knowledge of religion, and his recent education on the matter had been pointedly slanted toward two particular deities by a Faith that barely acknowledged the existence of alternatives. The only formal education he'd ever enjoyed was the propaganda of a theocracy, albeit one to which he was quite bought in. He may have come to it late, but it was hard to disapprove of a Faith that served his own interests with such aplomb. Self-interest had kept him alive this long, and he seemed to be doing all right for himself.

[Finn]

Talon laughed. Arvælyn chuckled. Finn smiled sheepishly. But he thought he heard echoes of his own music in the symphony of the place, and Talon assured them there were shades here, and their songs must have blended into their environs. There was complexity, but there was also a sense of coherence like the toll of some great bell that reverberated in one's bones. His brow glowed, perhaps a sign of Aværys' jealousy. That Gods might feel that way over him seemed entirely odd. He was a nobody with a lute and a song.

Well, if he couldn't hold a piece of Talon's light to his soul, at least they could flee here should peril come too close, become too mortal.

"I shall certainly come back to explore," he said, "and I wouldn't dream of disturbing anyone's rest."

His face turned towarad Arvælyn then, and he drowned out the jealousy in his symphony with love and devotion.

"What will you ask for, amatus?" he asked whimsically. "Something from the Prince of Dragons to allow you to become a dragon entire?"

In truth, for once, he didn't know what Arvælyn desired. He had family, a place, prestige, his lover—the only thing he could think of was a dragon's desire to hoard those things for fear of losing them. Time spent with actual dragons might change more than just his body—he might learn new values, new desires. He wanted for nothing. He had a palace, servi, more food than he could ever eat, gold, influence, magical power. The trappings of the stage no longer moved him. Kalzasi had been shed like last season's fashions. He was still himself, but that self and its situation had shifted drastically.

Finn held onto his hand, an anchor in this strange and wonderful place.

[Talon]

T A L O N

“It was the safest place I could think of where we could speak freely, where I could exchange a gift without concern for intrusion. Especially if such a gift involved bestowing a Rune of Magic.” He stepped back, ushering the both of them further into the sanctuary of the platform they were standing on. At Arvaelyn’s question, he nodded his head.

“Whether by pledge in name or by virtue of spirit, many who adhered to a life of Justice, Hope, and Light have come to this realm as their final resting place. Some choose to remain here, enjoying the peace they have earned. Some choose to become a spirit to embody the ideals they valued in life.” Guiding them through a silvered archway, they were brought to what could only be described as the interior of a crystalline temple. The rotunda stretched skyward and upon its glassy surface was a canvas of stars at the heart of which glowed a pale white light. At the center of the hall was an arrangement of pillows and tables in the traditional Kalzasern style.

Talon seated himself on one of the large cushions, spreading his wings out behind him. There were already cups of steaming tea waiting for them. He picked up one of the cups, blowing at the steam before taking a light sip. He smiled at the flavor that splashed across his tongue. An assortment of meats, cheeses, fruits, and vegetables was available along with wine and water. At Finn’s question, he looked up from his tea.

“If that is something you wish. It would take some time, but under the right circumstances, it could be done.” Across his many lives, he could think of only a handful of times wherein such a thing had happened. He would have to collect the piece of himself that was missing but it would be within his power to do given that it would simply be a matter of inspiring Arvaelyn to the highest potential of his heritage.

“I would caution you, however, life as a dragon is vastly different than life as a mortal. You may find yourself altered in ways beyond merely the physical.” Though dragons adopted mortal guises quite easily, they were not part of the mortal races. They were beings of a wholly different caliber.

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn's fiery eyes scanned the area for signs of the shades. So odd a term when applied in the current environs, but as Arcas observed, they were distinct from spirits. There was much to take in and the overwhelming sensations felt as though they were on the wax, not the wane, the longer they remained. It was only at Finn's question, that he was broken from his anxious reveries to glance sidelong at the human.

"What?" He blinked in surprise that was augmented by the fact that it was very difficult for one he knew so well to startle the more than masterful Mesmer mage that Arvælyn had become. Perhaps it had been something that just popped into Finn's head the moment he said it aloud. A flush surged in him like the fires of Sorokyn. He felt strangely exposed by the question being posed, as it was... Laid bare in front of Arcas in his shadowless realm under the light of his scrutiny.

"I..." His gaze danced away from Finn and far from Arcas. "I believe I have undergone enough protracted transitions for the moment. It would feel like folly to leap headlong toward another metamorphosis so soon. I've only just assumed the form for which I was born. It feels as though I ought to inhabit this one a while..." He glanced over his own shoulder and extended his right wing. "These weren't fully formed a week ago. I can't even use them properly..." He shook his head and absently waved a dismissive hand.

"At any rate, næ. I would not ask that of you." He lowered his head for a moment and considered. The truth of the matter was he'd pored and pored over his reflections and reveries in search for an answer to the question first posed by Dæmon and now repeated by Finn, but come up empty. Or rather spoilt for choice, which was, perhaps, worse.

A Cardinal Rune was something he could come by with more ease than most, situated as he was in Solunarian society. To ask that of Arcas would only accord him the boasting rights of having been conferred the bequeathment by a demigod. And this one came with baggage in his realm. For that reason, a Divine gift was also a risk. Then there was the notion of relics... He'd even thought of trying to impress Finn with some sort of boon that would benefit his people more than it did himself. But nothing felt right. He lifted his head slowly, lips pursed in pensive consideration.

It fell away in an instant as a notion crossed his mind as if from nowhere. It had never even graced his list prior to this very moment and yet, as if by compulsion, he uttered it straight away.

"I would ask for you to arrange an audience for me, Lightbringer." He lifted his burning gaze to meet Arcas' luminescent, "With your father."