the rising son [Finn, Arvaelyn]

[Finn]

That such a thing were even possible was interesting—Talon confirmed the thought that had sprung up unannounced in Finn's mind. But Arvælyn demurred, and Finn could understand why. A part of him wondered if he could be changed to match his lover, but despite what Aværys claimed, Finn was an ordinary human and had no hidden enchantments in his blood. He supposed he would live through some of what anyone who loved an Avialae did: being wingless and loving a man who could fly. Well, Arvælyn would eventually be able to fly. Now he sort of... well...

He blinked at the words that came out of the dragon prince's mouth, startled out of his symphony.

An audience with the Dragon King. The Drægir and Moritasi dealt with mortals, but their divine parents tended to remain more aloof. While Finn wondered whether Aværys would block him from meeting Syren, Arvælyn went ahead and shot the moon.

Eventually, those wide blue eyes swung from his lover to his divine friend, curious as to how he would respond. Finn knew the histories as well as any bard, but he wasn't sure with any accuracy the last time there was a generally agreed upon apparition of the highest God of the pantheon. His counterpart, the Goddess Naori, had appeared to the Avialae to free them from Kathar yokes, so this request had temerity if not audacity. But perhaps the Dragon King might, in fact, make an exception for a dragon prince, the hybrid of elves and dragons.

It would be a momentous thing if granted.

All Finn could think to say was, "May I come, too?"

[Talon]

T A L O N

Whatever he had been expecting, he had not been expecting that. He stared at Arvaelyn, his mouth slightly agape. A dozen thoughts ran through his head but not a single one of them had anything to do with the dragonborn prince in front of him. They all had to do with whether or not his own Divine Father would even entertain the idea of meeting with him, let alone Arvaelyn. There was a level of anger that he felt toward the Dragon King that he could not quite place or name. Anger. Resentment. Loss. Rejection. Those were all emotions that passed through him. For thousands of years, he had passed from one life to the next and throughout it all, every deed he had performed, had all been of his own volition. Eikaen had been silent across the many ages. His Divine Father was either wholly ignorant of everything he had faced or he was unmoved by any of it.

Memories passed through him. He remembered vividly the life he had before that awful day. He remembered with terrifying clarity how the Shadows had tried to drag him into the darkness. He remembered his brother saving him while his father had battled a beast that had seemed made from the very fabric of the cosmos itself, a dragon of darkness and void. Across his memory, he could recall only one other interaction between himself and his father. It was the day he had cast down his wrath upon the armies of darkness following the moment his heart had been pierced…and the exact moment when that small piece of his soul had been chipped away. The piece that would one day be reborn into the world as Talon.

Absently he reached up, touching a hand to the single silvery scar that forever remained on his chest, directly over his heart no matter what form he took. His fingers brushed over it as he stared at Arvaelyn, unblinking for at least a solid minute. He released a breath through his nose.

“I do not know.” He looked at Finn then back to Arvaelyn. “For what reason do you seek an audience with the Dragon King?”

Thousands, hundreds of thousands of men, elves, orks, and who knew what else had sought an audience with his Divine Father. He could count on one hand the instances that he knew of where the Dragon King had been inclined to grant such an audience and none of them had been with mortals. Every one of those instances had been granted under extraordinary circumstances, not merely on a whim. However…maybe if he asked, after everything he had been through in this life and others, perhaps his father could be bothered to see him and by extension Arvaelyn.

“And you will need a reason, Arvaelyn. I was born over ten thousand years ago. Rare is the instance when the God of Gods grants an audience to those who are not at least half-gods themselves.”

[Arvælyn]

"Clarity, above all." Although the notion had sprung into his mind seemingly out of nowhere mere moments ago, he did not hesitate in offering his rationale. It came out as soon as Arcas left pause enough for him to contribute.

"But more than that, of course..." He added, with a chuckle. After all, people had been seeking reason and meaning from the heavens for as long as mortals had existed. He didn't expect to be granted an audience for such vagaries. In truth, he didn't expect to be granted an audience at all, but after what he'd learnt in the Thalamum Draconum at Mount Sorokyn's core, he realised he felt inclined... No, obliged to make the gambit now that he'd been offered a boon from this particular party.

"I would treat with him on behalf of my kin and their subjects." He tilted his head, an odd wry smile and a sudden ease seeming to overtake him, which had been absent just a trice earlier when he wasn't making epic and precarious requests. It was as if his brazenness was feeding itself.

"My paternal kin, that is, not the distaff." He explained, with a bit of joviality to the details known to all that he was electing to leave out of his verbiage. "His Exalted Majesty did not ask this of me, mind you... Nor is he even aware of your offer. Or perhaps he is... It's hard to keep track of whom knows what in Solunarium, but whatever the case, I would speak to him of matters draconic... Of old gripes and novel opportunities." Arvælyn glanced briefly to Finn with a cavalier grin, before returning his roiling gaze to Arcas.

"I am not... ignorant of the gravity of my request. I do understand it may not be possible, and if, for whatever reason, Your Highness is unwilling or unable to oblige it, well... I suppose I can always just ask for a pony."

[Finn]

Finn had little to add to this conversation, but he observed with wide eyes and listened with attentive ears. Gods and Elves said these were momentous times of change; perhaps they would be momentous enough to garner the attention of the greatest Gods. Everything was changing so quickly, it was easier to believe anything was possible. After all, here he was, sitting in the realm of Arcas reborn in the form of Kalzasi's Shinsei with his lover, the half-dragon prince of a country on an entirely different continent from where he had always lived.

He remembered when the wagon-back trip from his village to Kalzasi had seemed like some great journey, when his city-living uncle had seemed like the height of sophistication.

And perhaps if Arcas asked on the behalf of someone else, a chosen of Varvara, of ancient Ugrimal, and a child of a crownwyrm, the stars would align in their favor.

It didn't take a Mesmer to read some of Talon's reactions. He reached out and placed a hand on his forearm.

"Even you cannot know the mind of the Dragon King. Nor is it likely He understands fatherhood as a mortal would. Remember the love of your mortal father and take comfort in that. He raised a son he was proud of." Though Finn did wonder at Talon residing in Cathena City, spending time in Solunarium, when surely they were discussing the succession back home. Perhaps he no longer wished to be Shokaze. Perhaps divine matters were of greater import to a divine being. Once more, Finn found himself out of his depth.

And then he rolled his eyes at Arvælyn. A pony, indeed. As if he would go about anywhere without a litter carried by servi, fanned and fed peeled grapes by the same.

[Talon]

T A L O N

He bowed his head at Finn’s words of comfort. They did much to soothe the roiling questions that sprouted up inside of him. Savien had been a good man. He had been a loving father. There had been moments when the two of them had butt heads of course but such was the nature of family. He gave Finn’s hand a pat then folded his hands together in his lap. He pondered the matter in front of him. What did Arvaelyn have to entreat his father for? Would such a matter even be of importance to the God of Gods?

“You are right. I have no way of knowing what he will think or want. Not until I ask.” He regarded Arvaelyn for a moment, a slow smirk crossing his face.

“A pony is certainly a much simpler request.” He chuckled then sighed, shaking his head. “I will hand it to you, you do not hold back.”

“I will ask.” He picked up his tea and took a sip once more. He mulled over his thoughts once more. There was no telling when the response would come. Eikaen could answer immediately, he could answer a year from now. Time did not flow the same for him as it did for mortals and half-mortals such as himself. As he lowered his cup he looked at Finn.

“In the meanwhile, you are welcome to return to this realm whenever you have the need, Finn. You will have to enact Farstride to cross the planar divides. That gift, however, costs me little to provide.” He looked between the two of them.

“Can I offer you nothing else? Solunarium is a realm steeped in magic. Magic that will undoubtedly be used to both benefit and hinder you in the days to come. A cursory glance over both of your auras tells me that Finn, you possess Memser and Traversion. Arvaelyn, you possess Mesmer, Kinetics and Masquerade. I have it within my power to gift you both with Semblance, Kinetics, Reaving, Traversion, Negation, Elementalism or Masquerade.” He chuckled and looked at Arvaelyn.

“Of course, I could always teach you how to fly.” He rubbed a thumb over the side of his teacup

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn shifted his gaze toward Finn, sensing the sympathy in his Symphony. His reflexive response was annoyance. Perhaps it was born of the small ember of envy that had turned his churning eyes green a moment ago, or perhaps it was simply that it was a distraction. Arvælyn didn't truly know the reasoning, but his rational mind quickly dismissed the sensation- whatever its source, as he recalled that Finn's softness and sweetness were one of his most endearing qualities. Even when they weren't directed at him. He recalled, too, that he could be cold as any reptile, even if his eyes brimmed with the fire that blazed in his blood. He pursed his lips, struck by Arcas' response. It seemed Finn's impulse had been more warranted than the draconic elf realised, judging from the vulnerability laced through the words uttered by the Lord of Light.

He canted an eyebrow and sniggered at Arcas' comment on his candour.

"Well, I do not know how much you know of my background..." He began, with a wry grin, "But I came up as an urchin mixed blood pretending to be fully human, before I was a comfort boy pretending to be fully elven, then an actor pretending to be all sorts of people. I've had an exhausting twenty one years living lies, only some of which were of my own design. I daresay I've earned a spot of veracity." Finn would know that it was rare indeed for Arvælyn to speak of his background in mixed company, but there was a shift in him since learning the truth. It all mattered less to him, now that he was settling into the fact that, in the end, he could live a truth. That hadn't really ever been something he expected for himself. He'd long imagined that to lead the sort of life he coveted, he would need to be someone other than he was. But now that his greater background was far from humble, the rest could be suffered with far greater ease.

At the offer of another gift, Arvælyn found himself taken aback. Finn may not have asked for much, but he'd asked for more than all the world, but still Arcas seemed keen to confer more. He blushed and chuckled at the offer of flying lessons.

"Heh... Do our disparate types of wings even operate the same?" He shook his head, "In any case, I have the... perhaps childish hope that such is something I might learn from my own father. I don't suppose you have any relics from bygone ages that you'd be willing to part with? I'm certain my people would be thrilled if there was aught from the Battle of the Rending, but... I know that was another lifetime ago, even for you."

[Finn]

Arvælyn's irritation didn't last, and if he had learned anything from being so constantly steeped in the symphony of his amatus, it was that one needn't pay attention to the tiny shimmers in the music unless one was feeling something out. Otherwise, he might overreact to Arvælyn being peckish. In any case, he put his hand on the small of Arvælyn's back, a physical reminder of his support while sharing some of the meaner parts of his upbringing.

It occurred to him to ask for Negation, the better to protect his lover, or Semblance, the better to suss out danger, or Kinetics, the better to spar with Raithen—he could think of uses for all of those runic gifts—but he supposed between the various magi in the employ of the Silver Sentinels, he could elect any number of Runes. That was strange, thinking of himself as a sorcerer as well as a bard, but his magics and his music had soared to unbelievable heights and he supposed he would have to think of himself as both.

Finn found himself smiling at the thought of Arvælyn sharing the skies with his father; he rather wished he might fly as well, but the secret of crafting Avialae had died with the Necromancer.

"Any magic would be a boon in Solunarium," he admitted, "but I wouldn't know how to choose from that long list of yours. I was thinking, though... I suppose you are behind in your runeforging, but perhaps someday you might craft me an instrument? The spellthread made for excellent strings, but an entire instrument..." He had mastered the lute, and could play almost anything with strings now. He was sometimes toying with the pan flute he had made with Hilana at the oasis. It made sense to become a multi-instrumentalist, the better to hear things on the proper instrument when composing.

"Mistress Lyra told me stories of an ancient order, the Leh'anafel... the Singers. I have researched them and decided the world could use them again. An instrument crafted by a Drægir and a master enchanter would help me make that a reality. I'll write a song to fix what's wrong... take what's broken, make it whole... a song so beautiful it brings the world back into tune... back into time... and all the flowers will bloom..." His focus on the Leh'anafel and on his surroundings went a little hazy. Sometimes he got like that, when inspiration felt like a God's breath in his lungs, and he lost track of the world around him.

And then he came back. He always came back. Realizing he had likely babbled a haze of words and concepts that barely made sense even to him, he flushed.

"Not that... not that a song could resurrect Zedros or anything..."

[Talon]

T A L O N

“I can understand the desire to be true to who you really are.” Growing up, being groomed to be who he was, many were the expectations that had been placed upon him. It was only very recently in his adult life that he had managed to find who he was truly meant to be, by his own accord. At the request for something from the Battle of the Rending, he shook his head.

“Any such artifacts likely rest in the hands of Aurisian nobles or Cathenian oligarchs. If you are interested in seeking out the relics of your ancestors, I would advise searching there.” While he had found a bit of a home away from home there on the shores of the Republic of Cathena, and it was certainly far more enjoyable than his more recent accommodations, he was not yet familiar with Cathenian social affairs.

“As for your wings? I suppose there would be some difference. I would have to confer with my husband to learn the finer details of dragon flight. At any rate, I hope it is an enjoyable experience for you.” He shrugged his shoulders. He would not press, it was clear that Arvaelyn was very keen on learning from his father. It had been the same for him as a boy. Savien had been a diligent and patient teacher when it came to educating his children on how to fly. For the sons that possessed wings, he had flown with them many times. For the daughters who did not possess wings, he had taught them how to fly on either gryphon-back or, if they partnered with an icewing phoenix, how to fly with the great birds of Kalzasi.

“You will have to visit my forge in Kalzasi when the opportunity arises. We can go over the schematics then.” He brought his tea up to his lips and sipped with a smile at Finn. He had been thoroughly impressed at how skillful the bard had become since they had originally met.

“It is settled then. I shall petition my Divine Father for an audience for you and for Finn, I shall forge a magical instrument when next you have the opportunity to visit my forge.” He nodded. With that business concluded he looked out across the realm that was his and smiled softly. He was happy in peaceful places these days. Whether that was due to the ordeal he had just escaped or simply because he was touching upon some greater part of himself, he was not sure.

“When you are ready, I can take you back home.” In the meanwhile, he simply conversed with Finn and Arvaelyn, catching up as much as they deigned to allow.

[Finn]

Review

Experience: 10 xp, available for magic.

Lore: Arvælyn — 12; Finn — 12; Talon — 13

Injuries: Not in this thread, anyway.

Loot: +1 meeting with Eikæn for Arry; +1 runeforged lute whenever Finn gets to the Skyforge.

Note: Finn can now Traverse to the Plane of Light and Talon's domain unless he blocks him; I will always ask first, though. Still mad they didn't get to meet Papa Eikæn. Let me know if I missed anything.