The Art of the Possible

The Umbrium prepares for the divorce.

The Umbrium is the lower half and secondary seat of the Solunarian Capital and one of the dual-cities that comprises Solunarium Proper. Before the rise of Aværys, mining revealed the site of a ruined, underground city which they dubbed Oblitium “The Forgotten City”, the foundations of which were incorporated into what is now The Umbrium. Warmed by the magma that churns just behind the walls, the Umbrium houses the Palatium Umbrarum (The Shadow Palace) which was constructed directly beneath its sunlit counterpart, the Blazing Palace. This palace serves as the primary seat of government when the sovereign is moonborn, and houses the headquarters of The Silver Sentinels.

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Arvælyn
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"Stagnation is anathema to our sacred scripture's tenets." Arvælyn agreed. It still felt odd to speak in such pious terms and to understand them... to believe in them. What he'd known of faith in his past was learnt by rote and never taken to heart.

"You are still speaking cautiously. I understand that, but what I am hearing is a desire for old boundaries to be broken down." It was not the sort of radical rhetoric (radical by Solunarian standards, at least) that he might have expected from Finn who, raised as he was in the chaotic, Kalzasern culture, would have preferred what he viewed as equality, rather than the rigid hierarchy of the Solunarian power pyramid. This young diplomat still spoke in the supremacist terms of his homeland, but wanted for a relaxing of the bonds that constricted him and other members of his in-between class and in-between race. He wisely noted Arvælyn's own blend.

"It has been called The Dual Realm for so long. It seems long overdue that we truly embrace our dualities..." He conceded with a nod. But then it was time to head into the banquet hall, where he would sit at the table's head with his mother to his right and an esteemed senator of an ancient, elven house to his left.

Though most were reticent when, mid-meal, Arvælyn and Cithæra called for opinions, their encouragement ultimately drew out some dialogue. At first it was all cautious... obsequious even, but eventually (perhaps due to wine or the subtle plying of grandmaster-tiered Mesmer,) candour began to burgeon forth.

There were some in their midst who would have preferred a direct duplica of the current Senate, only smaller. Some called for the removal of the Vastian senate, and others for its expansion. Many questions were posed to the Draconic Crown as well as the general assembly at the table, and a few arguments broke out that left their participants red-faced. When the diatribes and desserts were finished, Arvælyn stood.

"We thank you for your opinions. You have given us much to think on. We shall bring your thoughts before the Consilium Draconum to discuss them with His Exalted Majesty. For now, we are adjourned."

Farewells were exchanged and obsequies offered. A furtive servus stepped up to Æros and whispered that he would be conducted to a private sitting room where he would await the prince, as he wrapped up with the guests and his mother. It was clearly done in such a subtle way as not to curry the envy of other senators who were not afforded such an invitation. Upon arriving at the the smaller sitting room, he would be offered his choice of beverage and of music if he wished for diversion. But, after about twenty minutes, the princeps would arrive.

"Thank you for waiting. Politics cut more and more into my recreative time, unfortunately."
word count: 495
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Aeros
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"Indeed," Æros replied. That had always been his interpretation as well. And while Arvælyn was no native, he had certainly adapted well, hadn't he?

Further, "I…yes, but such caution is hard to shed when one's own sharp tongue can be so easily turned against the speaker, no?" In the past, Æros hadn't been one to overthink so much on what to say versus not. However, his prior carelessness had led to a rather abrupt and immediate loss of favor with his beloved gods. As much as he can try to move forward from that, and as much progress in that regard had been made, as far as he was aware, he had yet to regain what had been lost. The horned Fæ would love to pretend that part didn't haunt him yet still, but he was painfully unaware of where he now stood with Them. That all being the case, he still stood skittish about his use of candor and with whom; here, unfortunately, he could not be entirely sure who all was listening.

As the banquet itself progressed and lips loosened, Æros was keen to listen to what ideas his peers had and how they compared to his own. While he did not agree with outright abolishing the Vastian senate, he did prefer their influence to be more of an advisory one than not. Further, he did like the idea of the Umbrium Senate ending up as a smaller rendition of what had existed prior, but was open to variations should somebody suggest something that was more efficient. His main contention was that it not ever grow too large, lest their discussions become mired with ever smaller and pettier disagreements. People were prone to argue about nothing as it was. Beyond that, he was quite pleased with the opportunity to actually hear more of the stances the draconic crown itself held. Prior, they had kept their cards rather close to their chest.

Once that meal had wound to a close, Æros found himself approached by a mousey little servus pointing him in the direction of where he would end up meeting with his half-dragon friend. Once he found himself in the next destination, he happily accepted the offer of more liquor, opting for a spiced elderflower mead, the scent of which he'd found enticing. And always holding an appreciation for stringed instruments, he did not decline the offered musical interlude either. He found that there was something enchanting about watching consummate musicians play beyond sound, too.

A bit oblivious to time's passage, Æros smiled at Arvælyn when the other bid to arrive. His comment drew out a breath of a laugh. "Yes…I find that to be much the same on my end as well. But I don't mind– keeps me busy and away from, ah…other, less productive habits of mine." That, and such things actually made him feel some semblance of importance. "Beyond that, I am curious. How has this new life been for you of late? Adjusting well to your new features? I do wonder about the process by which this metamorphosis of yours was handled."
- - -

'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
word count: 652

Say goodnight, to the weakness that you hide behind
Leaving the lies, leaving the fear inside
Never once were you truly alive
So scream all you like, no one can hear you


Soul laid bare,
User avatar
Arvælyn
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Arvælyn pursed his lips, considering the fæ's defence of his reluctance. There was indeed a time and place for reticence and, in Solunarian politics, it seemed increasingly apparent that that time was usually and that place was nearly everywhere. Though it was rare for candour to be invited and could be a precious opportunity, he could also see whereas it was likely not invited in earnest on most occasions that carpet was rolled out at all. In his experience, it was often a trap or an offer posed to curry compliments rather than truths.

Throughout the dinner discussions, Arvælyn and Cithæra seemed to be of the mind that this was one of those times and places for reticence. They posed questions, but demurred from answering any and Cithæra seemed particularly adept at changing the subject without people noticing she'd done so. Arvælyn was less practised at politics and more prone to employ his Craft to do the politicking for him. There was a moment early on wherein Æros might have gleaned the mother coaching the son a bit via the Re'hyæan racial trait of parent-to-child telepathic communication, but the Grandmaster Sembler would mask their Auras within seconds, if she became aware of anyone seeking out such information.

Whatever the case, the dinner was done and at last the Umbrian prince was able to relax into a plush seat and extend his legs, crossing them at the ankle.

"Aquæ vitæ." He ordered with a flick of his wrist toward the nearest servant, though his eyes remained on his current companion.

"My 'metamorphosis' wasn't handled, per se..." He noted with a snigger. "It was more that my true nature had been suppressed since my adolescence. Draconic features typically don't present until then in mixed bloods, and it was around then that my mother gifted me a talisman that proved more potent than I ever knew. Upon removing it, the change took place unbidden. I didn't know what was happening at first, but the roughest bit was called 'Greater Threshold Sickness'. It was like suffering through all of my runic initiations again, but far worse and all at once. My... draconic kinfolk helped me to assuage the symptoms, but it was still hellish..." He trailed off.

"Has anything interesting transpired in your life outside of your senatorial role?"
word count: 399
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Aeros
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During the banquet itself, Æros did make use of his Crafts to what degree he could. He kept his meddling as gossamer; the touch of his Mesmer would be lighter than that of even other storied masters by curious nature of his quirks. Most in the room would not notice, though given the circumstance, some few likely still would. For the most part, he only cared to keep others amiable, amenable to his words, and overall to endear them to him in what little ways he could. The horned half-elf figured that it was better to slowly build relations with his fellow senators as opposed to anything particularly forced. And though subtle, he did poke around in the Auras of others with Semblance– yet the most interesting pair were impossible to penetrate beyond the briefest of moments.

Æros had, indeed, been curious about how Arvælyn had reached adulthood without any of his more draconic features making themselves known. Magical suppression made sense, lest the wayward son attract undue attention to himself prior to making his way back home. Granted, given that said suppression was only a veil provided by an accessory, that method carried with it many a risk; not that such a thing mattered now, anyways– made his way back he did, hale and hearty.

From where he sat, Æros was comfortably leaned back, posture confident yet relaxed and open, with one leg atop the other, ankle resting on the opposite knee and elbow resting on the seat’s armrest, hand to his chin as he considered his response. “That degree of Threshold Sickness sounds…harrowing, frankly, but at least you did have likely the best care possible for that scenario, no?” He spoke almost musingly, because if one thought about it, being a Solunarian royal in the care of their draconic elders was probably one of the best places to be if one were to suffer from something labeled ‘Greater Threshold Sickness.’

“As for me…?” Æros paused, shifting through a variety of things both mundane– and not! within his mind. “Well, it’s certainly been a minute since we’ve spoken, hasn’t it?” The remark was relative to the fact that he wasn’t quite sure where he wanted to start, because in theory, he could say a lot– or markedly little. Brushes with the divine, formal acquisition of his lover, the forced taper of his opioid use– something he definitely loathed, since during which, one’s entire nervous system feels as if it is attacking itself, what essentially amounted to a bootcamp in leadership and modern politics, martial training, so on…

“It’s all really rather tedious…” He spoke with a trail, not sure really what would be of interest to the other’s ears. “...out of everything, the most personally enticing for the moment would be the preparations I’ve been making to gain another Cardinal Rune– Reaving. Much as many might say it is a risk for me to continue to collect them, I…can’t really help myself. I’m too enamored with magic and I’ve mastered what Crafts I do have; I just…want more.” Æros always wanted more when it came to matters of a more arcane nature.

“I also did briefly encounter Aværys during the Solar Sovereign’s Jubilee. I’m sure you know more of his circumstances than I, what with what I did see from the memories of another.” On this end, he meant to reference that he’d poached memories from Hilana of the encounter she’d had with his Semblance; since Arry had also ventured alongside her, Æros merely assumed he’d also had some sort of empyreal encounter all his own. The nature of which, however, he wasn’t able to guess– quiet as the prince’s Aura was. “I do wonder how They feel about,” he gestures vaguely, broadly, “...all of this.”

The starlit senator also held great curiosity regarding his own current standing with Them, but he would, in present company, refuse to speak of his less than favorable encounter with the moon-touched half of the pair– therefore, mention of that particular curiosity would be left unvoiced.
- - -

'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
word count: 820

Say goodnight, to the weakness that you hide behind
Leaving the lies, leaving the fear inside
Never once were you truly alive
So scream all you like, no one can hear you


Soul laid bare,
User avatar
Arvælyn
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"Apparently the condition is passing rare and only came about due to a peculiar confluence of events particular to my situation. The artefact that disguised me did so not through mere camouflage, which would have been pervaded by Semblers of potency. Half of my very nature was suppressed. Dragonborn typically do not present their draconic side until adolescence and, before mine took root, it was waylaid by the talisman. As such I was, for all intents and purposes, a full-blooded Re'hyæan, with no trace of the dragon. That means I was initiated as an Elf, and brooked the transition accordingly. What I have since learnt is that dragonborn, while we rarely if ever die from initiation, have some of the worst symptoms. So, after my paternal side began to reveal itself, it was like I was going through my initiations anew- this time far worse... and concurrently. There was a... rite that did something to assuage the symptoms, but they were still harrowing." Arvælyn shuddered at the very memory, before pressing it down and burying it under the welcome distraction of Æros' words.

On the matter of the Fæ's initiation addiction, Arvælyn said nothing- Only smiling faintly to himself as he raised the goblet to his lips for a taste of his libation. The mention of an encounter with Aværys arched his eyebrow, however.

"...from the memories of another?" That was unclear to the princeps as delivered and, though he might have sought clarification in the Symphony of the other, that course didn't really lend itself to a worthwhile conversation, even if the information gleaned would promise to be more detailed and truthful than anything mere words might offer.

At the query regarding the Founders' feelings on the state of affairs in contemporary Solunarium, Arvælyn only smiled inwardly and shrugged.

"I've no doubt They'll let us know in explicit terms when They are inclined to."
word count: 326
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Aeros
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Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?t=3644

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Æros made a face, as if recoiling from pain mixed with disgust, at the description of what Arvælyn had to unfortunately undergo at the onset of his draconic transformation. Like a second adolescence, but rapid and all at once; terrible. "I've three runes myself and…while I can imagine those amplified…toss on some extra symptoms akin to other withdrawals I've had…oh, I can only imagine your suffering. You poor thing," he really could, in his head, if he parsed together experiences he'd had, imagine what that would be like and it sounded like torture on a cosmic level; the sympathy in his voice needed no exaggeration. "I am curious about this rite, though, if ever you've the mood to speak on it."

The idea Æros had in his head for use of Reaving actually hinged on acquiring two additional runes after the fact, and, presumably, after some training with Reaving itself and then each subsequent addition. It was a long plan, and he hoped he had the ætheric ability to pull it off, but what is life without things to strive for? And now, with this new position, he had more than one.

Arry's curiosity about exactly from whom he'd yoinked this information made perfect sense, and actually, he was sort of hoping the other would further that point because Æros himself had other questions. Before speaking, he drank; a lover of all things sweet, the honey in mead was always adored. "Yes…another traveler on your sojourn, Hilana. She and I are quite close and…I am painfully nosy, so after she returned, I poked around in her head a bit. Her verbal recollection just wouldn't be the same as seeing the memories myself, so in lieu of asking I just...used Semblance to peek. I'm assuming that because she met with Them, you did as well? What was that like? I know not anyone's experience aside from hers, but comparing hers to my brief interactions with both– separately– it would also make sense that you've more knowledge about their current state of mind than I." The starborn Færie asked with ample curiosity, interest plain in both visage and voice.

However, to Arvælyn's last comment, he did have one additional response. "Of course. I am just…excited? I suppose, to see what They'll do. Brushes with the divine are galvanizing, and mine have been so bittersweet– so to the future, I am very much looking forward."

He paused, though a look of recollection and realization appeared to flash across starlit features. "Speaking of Hilana, how do you feel about her going off to Ecith with your amatus? She talked me into borrowing mine as well...and...I wasn't entirely too keen on agreeing, but he wanted to go, and it's hard to, ah...say no to him." Though Æros laughed, it was markedly nervous, and such a thing betrayed at least some of the discomfort he felt about the situation.
- - -

'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
word count: 631

Say goodnight, to the weakness that you hide behind
Leaving the lies, leaving the fear inside
Never once were you truly alive
So scream all you like, no one can hear you


Soul laid bare,
User avatar
Arvælyn
Posts: 689
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Arvælyn thought, for a moment, to impart a more explicit understanding of the experience via the conduit of the other man's Symphony, but he stayed the impulse. While it may have been enlightening, it would have also been cruel. For the purposes of their conversation, he'd elaborated sufficiently.

"Suffice it to say that the rite, like many things in this realm, dealt with blood and sacrifice. It did not cure my symptoms, but it assuaged them somewhat..." And, due to Finn's influence on his moral compass, he wondered whether his comfort was worth the cost. His own nature prevailed in reminding him that the sacrifices had been made without his prior knowledge or consent, and thus he could not be held culpable in the eyes of gods or men. So why should he let it confound himself?

Æros' elaboration on his meaning regarding 'the memories of another' yielded an arched eyebrow over one of his glowing, fiery eyes. He knew Hilana was of a very agreeable nature, but even so... He supposed it was the lot of the Vastii to submit to the will of their social 'betters'... Or so it had been for many centuries. It was odd how Solunarium made him feel softer. In Kalzasi he always felt like he came across so severe, but here he was a bleeding heart.

"I did meet with Them... Finn and I." He knitted his brow and glanced down to his drink. "If you'll pardon my reticence, the entire experience was intensely personal. I'd rather not get into it in any detail."

He glanced up, and pursed his lips considering the last question posed.

"You know... I really wasn't overly concerned with it until I woke up this morning and saw them off. Finn and I haven't been apart at length since we came to Solunarium. I know he's only a blip away, what with his Traversion talents, but... They may be in danger, and if his instincts are half a second too slow..." He shuddered and shook his head,

"You amatus...?" Arvælyn thought back to the group that assembled earlier that day. It was two Sentinels he didn't recognise, his siblings and his draconic uncle. The only other person he didn't recognise was... "The servus? Ah yes, I'm now realising the familiar notes I sensed in his Symphony were tied to you. It didn't occur to me at the time. He's dashing, for such a skinny thing. I had to warn Finn off of him, lest he wake my Zalkyrian impulses." He said, playfully narrowing his furnace-churning eyes.
word count: 444
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Aeros
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Joined: Thu Sep 01, 2022 2:18 am
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A river of blood for the comfort of one, then. Fascinating to pay a price like that for something that was debatable in its necessity, but in truth, he expected nothing less. Solunarium nobility enacted many a rite that one could debate the necessity thereof simply because they felt like it. Æros gave the other a look that would indicate moue of distaste, though such an expression was ever so brief, for a reason unclear, and quickly replaced. “Ah…of course.” He would offer little more.

Truthfully, he viewed vast quantities of vitae being used that way to be little more than a waste. Not for some moral reason, though, no. It was more that if such a quantity were to be harvested, there were…so many things it could be used for, to far greater effect, than the comfort of a princeling. That is, provided Arvælyn would otherwise survive the ordeal– it certainly was a fair price if, indeed, his life were on the line.

When the subject broached their divine Founders, the other’s answer evoked a quirk of his brow and an amused, but empathetic smile. “I would expect it to be. What brushes with Them I’ve had myself I’d say much the same, now.” There was a point where Æros was far more willing to vent about his own experiences with the subject, though at this juncture, that window had closed. “Curious as I am, I won’t press you.” For as much as the pull of his curiosity was hard for him to resist, the Fæ was well aware that pressing people in situations like this rarely, if ever, resulted in answers. More often than not, it would have a poor effect on the speaker’s rapport with their subject– a result he did not wish for.

Onto the subject of the predicament that both of their lovers had placed themselves within, Æros sighed before he again opened his mouth. “Yes– in private company, I’ll admit our true tie, though in public, that aspect is…merely hearsay.” He smiled, his eyes darting to the side, an expression leaning toward bashful.

“He caught Finn’s eye?” His voice shifted to an intrigued sort of surprise, briefly entertained by the thought. “Suppose I can’t blame him for that, can I? The boy’s effect on me is stronger than I’ll ever admit,” he laughed, almost embarrassed.

“‘Twoud be a dangerous game for Finn to cross you, would it?” Æros found the other’s jealousy to be cute, to a degree. But, having grown up surrounded by a society freely engaging in relationships far more fluid in their boundaries, he could not relate to feeling that degree of possessiveness. However, he was a selfish thing, and wasn’t keen on the idea of sharing much. He’d likely only approve of sharing Khyan in situations wherein which he was also present– ever indulgent himself, the idea of more than one at once had an appeal undeniable.

But then, starlit expression losing its playfulness, Æros continued. “Were I in possession of a stronger will, I’d’ve said no…but, I suppose, I’m much too soft." He almost sounded irritated with himself for this perceived flaw. "I was assured, as well, that your lover’s Traversion could whisk them away if they did need it– and I certainly respect Finn as a mage more than capable– it’s just…fractions of seconds matter in dire straits, and Ecith is…precarious by its very nature. As uninvolved as I am, I feel compelled to ask, what do you know about where they're going?” Hilana had told him some things and he'd picked more from her head, but he'd take any additional insight, all things considered.
- - -

'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
word count: 756

Say goodnight, to the weakness that you hide behind
Leaving the lies, leaving the fear inside
Never once were you truly alive
So scream all you like, no one can hear you


Soul laid bare,
User avatar
Arvælyn
Posts: 689
Joined: Sat Jan 16, 2021 5:59 pm
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Arvælyn furrowed his brow at the expression his vagaries yielded from his present company. Apparently Æros had made inferences, despite of his deliberately ambiguous verbiage on the matter of his balms in the Dragon Chamber. He wasn't wrong, but the response surprised him somewhat... He felt shades of the shame Finn sometimes stirred in him when he did something callous or cruel.

"I wasn't consulted on the methods before they were undergone..." He noted, half a pretext half a protest. Even if he had known, he hadn't been in his right mind at the time. Not to mention he was knowingly speaking to dragons for the first time in his life. They had millennia of wisdom to draw upon when rendering their decisions and he didn't expect they brooked critique with ease.

Arvælyn inclined his head as the half-fæ accepted his reticence on the matter of his divine audience. He considered this man a friendly acquaintance, but they were not so close that he was keen to reveal the vulnerability of those moments... nor to risk the wrath of Them who now favoured him to sate the curiosity of one who, by his own admission, bore 'bittersweet' memories of his own empyreal interactions.

The prince sucked through his teeth at the next question posed, and took a slow sip of wine to fill the pause before replying.

"Finn is... an artist, and thus an æsthete. It has taken me a while for my mind and heart to catch up to my Craft. It's still..." He shook his head, realising he was overexplaining.

"I... cannot fathom doing harm to Finn." His gaze danced down to his goblet sharply, "Not directly." As he tilted his face back up to turn a fiery gaze upon Æros, small plumes of smoke were wafting free of his nostrils unbidden. It took a moment for him to notice the phenomenon himself and he seemed slightly taken aback, adjusting himself in his seat and consciously willing himself toward becalming.

"I don't know terribly much..." He'd been present for some of Hilana's initial briefing, but he'd been in the throes of his growing pains and not terribly focused at the time. "As I understand it they're exploring some sort of... ruin or some such thing in search of clues to find... another ruin? Phocion and Valæra tend to know more about those kinds of things. I've been focused on the transition of power here."
word count: 421
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
User avatar
Aeros
Posts: 523
Joined: Thu Sep 01, 2022 2:18 am
Location: Solunarium
Character Sheet: viewtopic.php?t=3625
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Character Secrets: viewtopic.php?t=3644

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- - -
Æros quirked a brow at what remark could be read as an explanation; surprised, a bit, because he hadn’t directly asked. A half smile drew itself on his lips at the other’s words, and though subtle as his distaste continued to be, one could argue this expression resembled more of a sneer than anything else. “...ah, yes. Any negative reaction you’ve read on me isn’t…in your direction. I do get it. For who are we to question the will of our elders, hmm…?” These words were woven with a marked bitterness that matched the curl of his lip and wrinkle to his nose.

The reasoning for that, however, extended in breadth far beyond the subject on which he was specifically speaking. And though it was somewhat common for the horned half-breed to voice his varying grievances, that part depended on circumstance, subject, parties present, so on– the variables here simply fell out of alignment, and so, he did not continue. Further, Æros simply had little desire to breed tension between the two of them, so he bid to ply his primary Craft on himself, unwinding the coils of his own bitterness, softening that which had manifested upon starlit features until there was none left. He did, after all, seek to enjoy his time spent with the princeling.

Arvælyn’s brief commentary on Finn drew an expression more amused, almost impish on the face of the Fæ. “I didn’t necessarily mean dangerous for him, Æros started this reply before he noticed the plumes of smoke now emanating from the other. He found such a thing cute, and his features brightened just a bit in turn. “I did imagine what wrath would be wrought would be, ah…far more collateral in nature? Because I do understand…either perspective, in a way.” In that he, too, was an aesthete, one hedonistic in nature, finding it hard and, ultimately, pointless, to resist a large variety of indulgence. Yet at the same time, he did have threads to him that veered towards wanting another all to himself. There was a balance he wanted to strike for himself, but he actually wasn’t quite sure where the line was, at least not yet. Further, he’d, at some point, have to have that conversation with whom it would actually concern– Khyan himself– before he’d draw that line.

When his companion offered little more knowledge than he himself knew on the subject of their lover’s excursion, Æros sighed, a bit disappointed, but not at all surprised. “So I figured; my priorities have been more along the lines of what society's new balance will ultimately be as opposed to…whatever it is Hilana’s doing. I couldn’t get much more than that from her, and given the goal is, ultimately, hers, it wouldn’t exactly…make sense? For you to know more. It just…can’t ever hurt to ask, can it? To some degree, I do wish I’d had the time go along myself, but alas, my schedule didn’t allow for it.” Æros appeared conflicted on the subject. Going to Ecith, conceptually, didn't interest him at all, but if his presence would've helped to assuage some form of danger, he would've happily gone along were he able.

“Further...along the lines of that balance, if the Umbrium shows a desire for forward progress and the Solar Sovereign expresses her distaste, to what degree do we acknowledge that? How much must we bend to the will of those who sit above us, and they, in turn, to ours?”
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'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
word count: 728

Say goodnight, to the weakness that you hide behind
Leaving the lies, leaving the fear inside
Never once were you truly alive
So scream all you like, no one can hear you


Soul laid bare,
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