Dance of Blades

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: Frost 40, 122 -
NOTES: -

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It had taken a minute to train enough with swordwork such that he felt remotely comfortable with the idea of undertaking Reaving's initiation. Frost itself hadn't really given him the very most free time, either. A lot of it was spent either in Umbrium's newly minted senate itself or poring over a seemingly endless amount of documents and texts. Æros had managed to carve out the time, at least, to a degree. Still a bit clumsy with a blade though he was, his dexterity and control of his body from being a consummate dancer would aid him in terms of evading hits and keeping his balance. That, and he had his Magic to help him, so it wasn't as if his bladework needed to be picture perfect.

Æros was set to meet with Commander Asim a bit later in the day to receive the rune. Much as the Winter Court Fæ did not enjoy going topside, especially since the night was banished by the light of a false sun for what felt like an eternity at this point, he left early enough such that he would have ample time to arrive at the city's outskirts. Dressed mostly in white, he, uncharacteristically, was cloaked for the most part; the fabric was meant to protect his skin from the sun.

Walking, his journey wasn't the fastest, but he was left alone for the most part– few would mess with somebody of obvious status. That being the case, people did stare, as they always did. Either because of the empyreal pull of his Mesmer quirks or the Færie's very unique appearance, he couldn't quite tell, but for him it was normal. However, on his way out of the Aurecine district, he came across a familiar face. One that he hadn't seen in quite some time, really. Finn, esoteric bard and lover of Arvælyn.

And…Æros did have some time before he had to arrive where he needed to be; why not say something? As the two were about to pass one another, the horned patrician stopped in front of this almost-stranger. "And here I thought fate wouldn't deign our paths cross again. Going anywhere urgently?"

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

These days, Finn spent more time in the Umbrium. He lived there now, and his work with the Silver Sentinels was most often conducted below. The false son was strange, though he supposed it kept them safe from the strange shadows. He glanced at Mount Sorokyn and wondered how the shadows would fare against dragonfire. He wondered whether Arvælyn would some day learn to spout fire—he hoped it was not accidentally discovered during a session of fellatio, anyway.

Finn was not dressed for his status, but insofar as he was aware, there was no legal standing for a magnatus. He was simply treated well. But he wasn't dressed as the draconic crown prince's lover, nor as the subvigil of the Silver Sentinels. He was merely dressed for the weather.

But a familiar voice called him from his reverie, accompanied by the familiar bits of symphony that weren't kept ordered and private. He had met Æros in a bar nearly two seasons previous, and then seen him at various events, but they had never really had time to talk. Parties were a game with rules and objectives, and those didn't always avail themselves to socializing. Odd, that.

The bard turned the full force of his smile upon Æros, backed by Aværys' grace. He was known as Arvælyn's consort, and so it behooved him to always put his best foot forward, especially with someone of the senatorial class. This wasn't that bar where they had merely been two artists having a conversation. Now, whatever he said or did might affect the political machinations of Arvæalyn, Cithæra, and Zalkyriax. Now, at least, he could always be seen in the best light, though he was assured he could also use the gift to cow people into submission. That wasn't really his style, though he supposed it might come in handy working as a Sentinel, or if someone attempted to harm Arvælyn.

"Salve, Æros," he said, the man's name sounding like music.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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The man that stood now before him really wasn’t the same Finn that he’d met some months in the past, now was it? Aura and Symphony had all the same markers of such a man, yet both glinted, almost coruscant with a newfound, empyreal sort of glow; he now bore a rather majestic mark that was not there before. It was...fascinating.

Perhaps it was curiosity, maybe infatuation? But indeed, Æros found his interest in the other born anew. He could hope, too, that this iteration of Finn might happen to be a bit less modest regarding use of his magic and whatever power he now possessed. For what use is power one does not utilize? Further, though the platinum Fæ knew not the nature nor gravitas of what it was the other bore, he did wonder if, in any fashion, he could find a boon of his own– after all, closeness to Finn could also provide further proximity to the royalty of the realm.

That all being the case, Æros had somewhere to be. “Walk with me, will you? That is…unless you’ve somewhere to be. A fool would I be to rob a royal of his consort,” the starlit elf winked. “I should add– might be your last chance; I am en route to be marked by a Reaver. I don’t plan on perishing, but…” he clicked his tongue, “...even our best laid plans don’t always pan out.” He spoke with a bright tone that blatantly disregarded the very real danger the initiation posed. One might consider that part odd, but only if they should fail to take measure of the horned man’s arrogance.

The risk of death was certainly palpably present, Æros just didn’t care. In truth, he only mentioned it for the drama of it; he did not actually believe it possible. While it would take a lot of confidence to think like this, one could argue, in his case, such a mindset was not entirely unwarranted. Though as yet ignorant to what ancient magic his blood held, he was a masterful mage in his own right and believed himself in possession of what physical skills were necessary to succeed with little issue.

Should Finn agree to tag along, the two of them would continue forth in the direction of Luxium's gates, their eventual destination being the military camps dotting the outer walls.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

Gloriously blue eyes widened at the news. While he had two Runes of his own, he had never witnessed someone's initiation and wondered whether it might not be interesting as an observing party. His smile was bright under the broad-brimmed hat that kept the worst of the sunlight off his fair skin, and nodded.

"My royal consort has no need for me today, and I would fain ensure that you get home safely before your threshold sickness catches up with you." Indeed, his errands were mostly made up of so much smoke and sand, reasons to leave palaces and such for other places that he could have sent a servus to do for him. But this time, those excuses had paid off in reconnecting him with Æros, and if he was invited for such an occasion, that might make an excellent personal connection.

Though he felt a flicker of guilt for using his God-given power on the platinum fæ, it was a necessary experiment and it wasn't as though he was using it to twist everything to his advantage. They had always gotten on well enough.

Finn fell into step with him and proceeded to ask him all the questions he could think of regarding the Rune, though he kept questions that would edge too close to Arcas and the Dawnmartyrs. In Karnor, it was a Rune seen as almost belonging to the fabled order, which had revealed itself since Arcas was reborn as Talon Novalys. In Kalzasi, he would have only thought of getting the Rune himself if he were to join the order, but he was claimed by another God now and Talon couldn't claim him. But if it was associated with him in Karnor, it obviously wasn't here. He seemed somewhat reconciled with the Twins but old grudges would die hard and Finn certainly didn't want to antagonize anyone, least of all one of the few people he had met outside the purview of Arvælyn's family.

"Are you nervous?" he finally asked. While he wasn't using Mesmer—'twould be folly to use it on another Master—he hoped the charismatic effects of his connection to Aværys would put that question in the best possible light. He didn't know Æros well enough to know whether it would offend him or garner only a joking deflection. The platinum fæ had seemed more the rakish artist when they had first met, not someone who would engage in politics and seek a battle Rune.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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“That would be unfortunate were I to collapse on my way home, wouldn’t it?” Æros punctuated the sentence with an awkward laugh. “Though Hilana did say she’d meet me there and provide support enough to hopefully stave that off ‘til I get back to the Umbrium, but your presence would be appreciated.” He wasn’t entirely unprepared for the aftermath, however, this was because Hilana had insisted she help– he is often forgetful about planning for things like that.

Given his magical mastery and sensitivity towards manipulations of the sorts, he wasn’t entirely oblivious to the empyreal aura that was made manifest on his companion nor the fact that it was, indeed, influencing him. The thing about that, however, is that he didn’t care– sometimes it is markedly fun to dance to another’s tune and whatever this magic was? Æros made no attempt to resist. To some degree, he liked it; he wanted to play along.

As the two of them walked, Æros did his best to offer answers to any questions posed by Finn. His academic knowledge on the rune was fairly high given his prior education and Solunarium’s focus on magic. That being said, it did not acknowledge Arcas or the Dawnmatyrs at all, and the starborn was actually quite oblivious to the connection. This was a very deliberate move by those who wrote the curriculum given the fact that Solunarium did not have a very amicable relationship with Arcas nor his order. Instead, Reaving was seen for what it could do, the power it gave and little else– a lot of study was put into the mechanics thereof and the most efficient ways to utilize it, as well as creative, niche uses, but there was little taught beyond practicality. In Solunarium, it held little association with any god or deific figure.

However, when Finn asked if he was nervous, Æros' flow of words abruptly stopped and for the first time in that conversation, he paused to think about it. Was he? His immediate reflex wanted him to answer ‘no.’ because, on the surface, he wasn’t. Dip below that, though, and one would find myriad anxieties that the starlit mage made painstaking effort to suppress by use of Mesmer upon himself. It was easy to forget those things provided he didn’t think about them, even easier when he could use magic to push those thoughts away, but when asked directly? Well…that’s a bit different, isn’t it? He didn’t like to think about risks or his own mortality and it took him a moment to decide how he actually wanted to respond to that question.

“I would be a liar to answer no,” he responded with a tone oddly chipper. “...but the rewards outweigh the risks and I can’t say the prestige of being a decorated mage isn’t incredibly tempting.” Indeed, that was part of the draw. Beyond his personal reasons for choosing Reaving, the patrician wanted a myriad more runes because, beyond magical prowess, it would grant him social accolades as well to master more.

From this point, it would not be much longer until they arrived at their destination; the two had just passed through the city's gates. The camp they sought was not much further.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

"I would worry you were lying or stupid if you said, unequivocally, that you weren't," he said with an amiable grin. "A dancer moving into his family's senatorial role... a minstrel become a bard and amatus of a prince... the artists shall inherit the world, it seems. The Silver Sentinels have made use of my Runes, such as they are. None have broached the subject of me undergoing another initiation, though. I suppose that... the unique dangers of each Rune aside... having the mettle to survive one or more means one is more likely to survive another given the best of circumstances, which Solunarium seems keen to provide. I hope my presence might quiet those nerves."

If not, all Æros had to do was ask, unguard his symphony, and let Finn banish even those deeper fears, at least in the short term.

"Perhaps later we might also train at arms, as well. You will want to be an expert with your weapons, not just the trick of pulling them out of thin air. You might even help me be a bit more graceful with my blade. One instructor still claims I look like I'm chopping wood." He laughed, unbothered, and shrugged. Certainly, chopping wood and apprenticing to his mother, the blacksmith, had shaped his body early on, and training with the sword had kept him athletic in physique. Several sculptors had asked if he would model for them, but he assured them that it might draw the ire of the dragon prince rather than his appreciation.

Arvælyn was a jealous man.

When they approached a camp outside the walls, Finn could assume that was where they were headed. He began to wonder whether he should consider Reaving. If an assassin came for Arvælyn in their bedchamber, 'twould be easier to pull a blade out of the aether than have one stowed within easy reach. But, Kalzasern as he was, he wondered whether he oughtn't to ask Talon for it directly. But, Solunarian as he was living, he wondered whether that might not anger Aværys.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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“My approach to further acquisitions may be cavalier– but alas, I do lack the blissful ignorance of not knowing the risks.” Æros shrugged, his delivery of the last part of that sentence leaning a bit toward the dramatic.

In particular, Reaving’s failure was more unfortunate than simple death. One would end up sealed within their prospective first weapon, and to many, Æros included, that would be worse. A passing thought of curiosity came to him; he did wonder exactly what was done with the failed initiates. What is the worth of a soul, trapped in such a way? He’d never thought to ask– foolish on his part, really; he’d had plenty of opportunity to do so when initially treating with the commander and his colleagues.

“Ultimately...I simply don’t care to heed them.” The follow-up statement was remarkably flat by comparison.

Risk or not, and his own emotions aside, it wasn’t as if any of that weighed heavily enough to actually provide him with tangible trepidation. Even if it was, he had never held anything against using his own Mesmer to wipe away whatever would inhibit him from moving forward with his magic.

"...maybe I ought to? Can’t inherit anything if I’m dead.” Æros almost sounded thoughtful; of late, his self perception had been all over the place. Granted, his mind wouldn’t be swayed in this scenario.

The half-elf’s gaze shifted toward his companion more directly, and though he eyed the other incredulously, he responded with what was ultimately an extension of trust. “Your presence can be…what you make of it.” Vague as he was with his words, the elven patrician made his intent clear when he relaxed what guard he held over his Symphony.

“However, when it comes to the Vigilia? I know little of their inner machinations. I imagine, though, that they wouldn’t impose further introductions of magic on you because, well…you’ve already mastered some as it stands.” He sounded largely indifferent when speaking on the sentinels, but then continued, “...they also don’t have any record of how your past initiations went, and I very much doubt they’d really want to risk killing you by imposing such a thing because…well, if you were to die…how, pray tell, do you think that would go over with your amatus?” It certainly wouldn’t be well. If Finn wanted further runes, that’d be easy, but he would likely have to seek them out himself.

Dating somebody so powerful sounded so painful. To have so many of your choices scrutinized by somebody who could actually impose consequences on not only you, but pretty much everyone around you? Why, it sounded completely insufferable, and so Æros was, in large part, plenty pleased that for himself, he held that power within the confines of his relationship. And while the starlit senator’s reach was not near as wide as that of the precocious princeps, that was not the point– it was more that he was glad Khyan could do approximately nothing in response to any choice the capricious Færie made.

“Perhaps later we will,” Æros appeared amenable to the other's suggestion. “It seems we’ve opposite flaws.” He almost laughed, a half smile drawing itself upon blue lips. “I’ve been told I’m lacking in offense– I can evade with grace, almost endlessly, but I find it hard to strike.” Though when he did, the amount of mass he possessed made every strike count, because at the very least, he also possessed ample mastery over the use of his form. Weaving a blade was a bit different, and while it wasn’t as if he’d never used props before, they, historically, weren’t quite as sharp.

Upon arrival at their destination, they were swiftly found and greeted by the commander with whom Æros was meant to meet. Asim was a competent, battle-hardened Vastian man and it would be immediately apparent that, on this occasion, he bore something on his person that guarded his Symphony from meddling; it was a potent something, too. For despite all of the Færie’s mastery, Asim’s song was nearly silent. Ætheric manipulation below that of a grandmaster would be null, from what he could tell, and whatever enchantments were there affected more than merely Mesmer– he couldn’t semble the man either. This was likely done deliberately so that the patrician would be unable to force him to yield, thereby bypassing the point of the initiation. It would appear the only rune he could make any real use of was Masquerade.

At his side, too, was Hilana. She appeared to have arrived a fair bit earlier than Æros and Finn. “I hope nobody minds that I’ve brought a guest,” Æros started after greetings were exchanged, with both of the Vastian parties being painfully formal. “...but I don’t imagine his presence will affect much.” It wouldn’t! On the surface– but that was ultimately up to Finn. Asim and Hilana, for their parts, expressed little pushback to the other man existing as an observer. Should he wish to be anything more, however, now was the time to express that.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

Finn had enough mastery of the blade to know that it was important to train against as many different people as possible because no two foes were the same. It used to feel strange to think that way, but then Zaichaer's hatred had come down upon him and now he was in Solunarium where danger lurked in the shadows of the Umbrium and in the light of the Luxium.

For the most part, he mulled over what seemed rhetorical rather than responding.

"I find it difficult to strike," he admitted. Compassion was a flaw here, or so it seemed. Finn had never truly wanted to hurt anyone, but now he had trauma that gave him hair-trigger responses sometimes. He didn't know how to heal that, so he strove to train himself into a greater ability to control them. "But we can work on that together."

Finn greeted Hilana warmly, and the commander with all due respect.

"Commander Asim." He paused a moment. "As I am a subvigil and often close to the Princeps Draconum, it would behoove me to always have a weapon at hand. I have mastered two Runes and should be entirely capable of withstanding the initiation into another if you would be willing to help me." He tried to couch it as a request rather than a command, his melody setting the commander at ease; this was an opportunity, but if he was denied, there were plenty of other avenues available to him. It just seemed like an appropriate time to... strike.

And Hilana being there would set him at ease as well. Though not a Mesmer, she handled herself capably and had already saved him once.

"However, if managing two initiations at once would worsen his chances, I will await a more opportune moment."

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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For Solunarian nobility, there were ways to train that were more ‘realistic’ than sparring with peers and yet not as risky as, say, venturing out into the wild blue yonder to find a monster, or more sentient bounty, to hunt. Æros could, essentially, buy ‘fodder’ of a sort; prisoners or slaves that were trained in combat, and he could kill them with little remorse. They’d fight for their lives, too, but the reason this held little to no risk to him was that, as a consummate Mesmer, he could break their minds if his bladework failed him. And to that end, the starry senator lacked the softer morals that would prevent him from pursuing this avenue. However, that did not erase the value of sparring with those one considered an equal or greater. Æros had gotten great use out of sparring with Commander Asim, after all, and so doing the same with Finn held plenty enough appeal.

“Really?” Æros sounded a bit surprised that somebody with quite a bit more experience than him found it difficult to strike as well, but…he supposed the reason wasn’t the same. “...but yes; being decisive with one’s offense is something that I imagine’s necessary, and I’d be honored to spar with you, subvigil,” the half-Fæ remarked, punctuating the sentiment with a wink.

Upon arriving at the military encampment and hearing Finn’s request to receive the rune too, of the three, Æros was the least surprised to hear it. All things considered, it was reasonable to have assumed he’d ask given that he’d tagged along all the way out here. Asim appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then replied, “Your trials would be separate and one after the other; him first.” The commander paused in consideration.

“...we’ve the time provided Æros doesn’t run long.” He might, given his propensity for evasion, though such a thing would not be purposeful on his end.

“I’m not inclined to stop you if you’re of the belief you’ll succeed.” There was some hesitation given Finn’s proximity to the princeps; if Finn failed, where would the blame fall? However, given that, Asim assumed that Finn wasn’t stupid enough to risk his life in this way without meeting at least the bare minimum requirements, nor would he be a proper subvigil if he were incompetent with weaponry.

“That being said, nothing more on our end must be prepared– you only need a weapon you wish to bind yourself to and Hilana can prepare you just as well as she can Dominus Æros. If you’ve nothing on hand and truly intent on receiving the rune now, we do have options for you to use, subvigil.” Forming a pact with a weapon was a personal thing, so an initiate ought to pick something of high quality, high value, or perhaps something simply sentimental. Over time as one’s skill grows, one would be able to empower a shoddier pact weapon, but it would behoove any initiate to bind with something sound from the start.

Not skipping a beat, Æros had directed Hilana to start the process of preparing the site for the rune; all this meant, really, was cleaning the skin– the idea of getting an infection on the wound where one’s rune was inscribed wasn’t exactly an enticing one. After Finn were to give his answers to Asim, the commander would transition from that line of thought to devoting his focus to Æros.

“Are you ready?” The commander’s inquiry was flat, professional, though respectful.

“As much as I can be.” For the present moment. Æros could’ve delayed this if he wanted…it was just that, well, he didn’t.

Answer given, the starry senator and the commander stepped away from where Finn and Hilana stood and into a large ring used for both general sparring and most of the Reaving initiations. Æros passed his would-be pact weapon to Asim such that the other could inscribe the rune into flesh. Once that was done and the Reaver of the pair flexed æther into the initiate’s rune, he’d take the blade back, Asim drawing his own in turn.

The commander advanced upon his initiate right away, giving the other no room to breathe and very little time to react. Æros backstepped and spun to the side, immediately put on the defensive. Unlike when they sparred, he couldn’t see the man’s Aura, magic being blocked in large part by whatever enchantments the Vastian bore. As quick as he could, Æros used his Masquerade to create three Simulacrums of himself, and unless he was independently controlling them, they’d be synced to his movements, a few feet apart. Given his mastery of the rune, they were indistinguishable from the real thing except when struck, in which case the commander’s blade would slice through as if striking only air.

Casting on the backfoot, it was only after he created the Simulacrums and distracted Asim by causing each as well as himself to scatter that Æros was able to find a moment of focus to drench the ring in æther, making the whole arena his Canvas. Doing so allowed his Simulacrums to react more on their own, suffused more with his essence than they otherwise would be, acting on the vague instinct to ‘survive’ or avoid being struck, acting also on offense, as if they could cause damage if a hit landed, and so on. He could still puppeteer them if needed, but that part was no longer necessary.

From the position of observer, Finn could choose to do nothing, looking on passively– but Finn was a master of his own magics, and he’d also recently acquired an Emblem. While Æros himself was a consummate Mesmer, his focus was entirely on the fight for his life, on the weaving of his own æther. He wasn’t exactly in the position to stop Finn should the man choose to meddle.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

"Aye, sir," he replied; they weren't in the same order, but Asim was a commander and he was but a subvigil, whether or not he was wearing the veil at the moment. Finn indicated the blade he wore; it was a finer one than he had ever owned before and it was now the one he was most practiced with—it ought to make a fine pact weapon, though he might ask a few questions before the initiation.

In any case, the bard observed how Hilana prepared the skin for the mark, and then they were ringside to watch. A few words were exchanged with Hilana, but they were both of them focused on the process and all. She was seeking magic of her own, the better to improve her lot in life. He didn't think Reaving was high on her list, however.

Soon enough, Æros was in combat with Asim. His form fractured into several versions of the same, and Finn was treated to a glamour show as Commander Asim sought to shatter illusions and find the true image of the senator. He did try to observe the commander since he would likely be fighting him soon enough, and it would be helpful to know how he moved, if he had any tells, and such. Finn was infinitely more confident in a fight these days, but it didn't hurt to go into it prepared.

As for Æros, Finn would intercede if he feared for his life, but otherwise, he didn't want to intrude upon it. Some fights needed to be won by oneself, whether fights against bullies or fights for a warrior Rune. He had no idea if meddling might stymie the initiation or, worse, harm where he sought to help. A Sentinel was supposed to protect the populace, but this was a specific instance where that was likely unwelcome.