Dance of Blades

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Asim was a warrior who’d fought his fair share of mages in the past; some in contexts similar to this and some in those far more deadly. Yet even with that experience, sorting through illusion and reality was a daunting task– especially when one’s senses were being constantly bombarded with false input. And to that end, Æros’ skills were sharp. The arena appeared to be engulfed in a globe of æther, galaxies of small, shimmering stars swimming within, making rivers of kaleidoscopic color. When he needed to, Æros would manifest and demanifest clones out of these illusory sparks.

Asim landed a hit on one of the simulacrums, but when he did, it shattered; thousands of tiny, glinting, crystalline shards burst outward creating an enchanting array of prismatic color; when combined with the arena Æros had made, his opponent’s visibility dropped ever further. While it was a lovely sight to those on the outside, to Asim, it was nothing more than vibrant visual clutter. Another of the starry senator’s figures lunged forward, Asim only narrowly stepping back to dodge as the broken illusion’s shards snapped back into shape with a bright flare of light. Before long, the commander was the one on the backfoot.

Æros himself had done little more than feint this entire time, trying to get the other into a state of confusion before he himself would actually strike. Asim was aggressive by nature, but the man possessed reflexes the likes of which felt nearly preternatural; his ability to parry and deflect attacks would be deadly in dire circumstances. To Æros, lower in skill as he was, he felt his only real answer was to dazzle the man with Masquerade, thoroughly useless as both his Semblance and Mesmer were against whatever it was that veiled his opponent.

With a quick reaction of his own, the half-Fæ reacted to an attack on one of his clones by compelling it to dodge, then immediately thereafter, it would appear to try and counter; when it did, it would warp into something monstrous, all tooth and fang, catching Asim off-guard and causing him to stumble. Having hoped for this result, the real Æros appeared from the sea of surrounding stars and landed the requisite blow against the commander’s back.

The initiation’s end was an unexpected jolt to his æther; his Canvas immediately fizzled and he collapsed to his knees, breathing heavy, exhausted. Orchestrating the display he’d performed had been taxing far beyond the physical. Reality shifting back into place, Asim reoriented himself and approached the first successful initiate of the day.

Offering him a hand, “...excellent work, Dominus; wield your new Craft well.” Asim spoke with a smile, a bit winded himself.

Seeing the state that the senator had been left in, Hilana moved from her place as an observer to assist him, both her and Asim helping guide the half-blood’s large figure back to the nearby infirmary tent to be assessed and looked over. Before Hilana fully dedicated her focus to the horned hybrid, she took a moment to offer something to Asim– more than water, it was a mixture that would help the man recover a bit before beginning his second engagement. And with that consumed, the commander left Hilana to tend to Æros, making his way over to Finn.

“While we wait for Hilana to finish with him, are you as familiar with this process as you’d like to be? Have you any questions?” Cordial, Asim sounded genuine; he did really want the other to understand just what it was he was asking for.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

It was certainly a didactic experience to watch the senator face off against the commander. The former had an array of magics at his disposal, but the latter had experience and skill. Finn didn't relish the idea of facing off against either of them, but his training with the Silver Sentinels had taught him to size up everyone as a possible threat to be neutralized. It wasn't a way he liked to think, but it helped him assuage old trauma responses and he was going to have to prove himself worthy versus Asim if he proved himself strong-willed enough to withstand his initiation.

When he was quite recovered and Hilana was seeing to Æros, Finn nodded gravely to the man who would initiate him.

"I learned more about the Runes as part of my training with the Vigilia," he assured him. "I understand the risks." He wasn't sure if Asim did. Finn would have to fight doubly hard, lest he fail and Arvælyn take out his grief upon those here present.

But that would be his burden to bear. The subvigil drew his blade and offered it hilt-first to the commander. The man took it and carved the Rune of Reaving into the flesh of Finn's inner forearm per the bard's request. It made sense to him that it should be a physical reminder that would be easy for him to use as a focus. Then, at Asim's biding, they coaxed his aether into the blade until it was truly, miraculously, an extension of himself.

"Don't let go," Asim said, and Finn nodded.

He could not drop it, nor could he lose this battle—thankfully only to yielding—or lose the battle for his soul as the weapon tried to draw all of him into itself.

"When you are ready," Asim said politely, taking a few steps back and falling into a fighting stance.

Finn took a moment to center himself, balancing his will against the nascent will of the blade. They would have to become one, but with him as master of himself and his weapon. When he was reasonably sure he could maintain that, he tuned into Asim's symphony, preparing himself for the dance ahead. The bard hadn't been joking when he asked for dance training, which seemed like it would come easy with his understanding of music and the training of his body to martial arts. In sync with Asim's symphony, they began to move in a dance in fact.

The subvigil wasn't quite a master of his blade, but he was quite expert in its use by now, driven by a desire never to fear violence again. Asim might have been his better with the blade; his symphony remained quite calm and measured. In any case, this was his second fight and Finn was grateful for that small edge. Knowing he would feel the pain of Asim's weapon upon his own, he sought to dodge and weave more than block and parry, and when he saw his opening, he vaulted behind the man. The magic very nearly shook his control over the bond with the blade, but he managed to grab him by the back of his armor and pull him off balance. The pact blade sang at Asim's throat, wanting to taste his lifesblood.

"I yield," Asim managed, his own weapon dematerializing in an instant.

Finn hesitated, feeling the call of bloodlust, but eventually, pulled the blade aside, let it rest along his leg, and stood straighter, helping Asim back to rights. The man nodded in gruff approval, turning, his hand to his throat. Perhaps Finn's blade had gotten a lick. He nodded once more as Finn bowed, then knelt meditatively, his weapon balanced on his upturned palms, his wrists upon his knees.

"Yes, meditation will help you weather the pain of taking your pact weapon back into yourself..."

The bard nodded and breathed, listening to the man's guidance as he learned to pay the price this Rune exacted. As Asim talked him through it, a strong hand resting on Finn's shoulders in a show of support, he looked to his first initiate and the healer to check on them as well.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

For the start of and quite a bit into the blade dance that would be Finn's initiation, Æros was reeling from the ætheric whiplash that'd come at the end of his own. Drawing up and maintaining a canvas was a taxing endeavor ætherically on its own, but additionally, he'd only ever used that trick as part of performance art prior. In those scenarios, there were no stakes and he'd had plenty of time to rehearse each step– not so in combat.

And at the end, he'd been quite clumsy; once his newly formed pact sealed, he'd let his focus drop if only for a moment, dematerializing his weapon in the same snapshot of time that the rest of his magic faded. Mentally, ætherically– this was impeccably disorienting on top of the general physical strain that was his own bout with Asim. But still, he had succeeded; sticking the landing perfectly was not a necessity.

Once Asim had stepped away and left the weakened Æros alone with Hilana, she reminded him that he could help soothe his strain through meditative techniques the man's cousin had imparted to them when guiding Hilana's growth with Elementalism. Though it took a moment to regain his composure enough to wrangle together a single coherent thought, the newly-minted Reaver did find the will within his mind to stabilize what ætheric edges of his had ended up most frayed.

Somewhat stable, gilded eyes reopened to a tap on his shoulder by Hilana; the girl was offering him some herbal concoction that didn't perhaps seem like it'd taste the most pleasant, but she absolutely insisted it would help. Weakened as he was, he sighed, and then downed it, redirecting his focus afterwards towards the clash he'd heard begin between Finn and Asim.

Watching the two weave 'round one another was a fascinating thing for him to watch; both of these two were more experienced swordsmen than Æros was himself. He did want to take Finn up on the offer to spar, to teach him dance, too, if the other man still wanted; the two of them had plenty they could learn from one another.

Æros also knew that Asim was not an idiot and was fully aware that if Finn ended up a soul cairn, well, everyone here would be in hot water. Finn himself had admitted his proximity to the draconic princeps, after all. Provided he didn't monumentally screw up and drop his weapon, Asim had no intentions of forcing the other to lose in any other fashion. It was, however, a far more satisfying result for all involved to have Finn emerge the victor fairly.

In the immediate aftermath, and after the brief exchange between him and the senior Reaver, Hilana moved from the senator's side to that of the newest successful initiate, offering him help if he needed it. She'd lead him back into the tent where Æros was resting, Asim behind them both. Asim himself appeared more than a bit winded, having orchestrated both initiations, one unplanned.

To Finn, "...I was never about to discourage your participation…but I did worry what would've happened had your soul ended up locked in your weapon." Æros started with a wry smile.

"What do you think Arry would've done if that was all we had left of you?" He laughed– he was more or less fishing for an answer here out of curiosity, because in all likelihood, Arvælyn would covet the resultant soul cairn until the day came that something could be done to restore Finn– however long that might take.

The question resulted in Hilana squinting at him; Arvælyn's wrath really wasn't a laughing matter, at least, not to her– but she was also in no position to be telling Finn what to do.

"A soul cairn of some kind might make a fun pact weapon in and of itself, though, don't you think?" A passing thought Æros decided to add on.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

It hurt. There was no denying that. But Finn had long ago learned that power always came with a price.

When it came to Mesmer, sometimes he wondered what thoughts and emotions were real if they were so easily manipulated. When it came to Traversion, he had gotten lost when attempting more complex castings than he was ready for. When it came to Reaving, though, there was pain. He was not well practiced at meditation, but he would have to become so.

It hurt. Finn tried to breathe steadily, listening to Asim talk him through embracing the pain and then stepping outside of it, where he could observe it without being a victim of it. He wasn't entirely successful, but he was beginning to form a ritual for coming down from this magic. As a Silver Sentinel, he would always be armed. As Finn, he might not always be so. At least now, he could be when the need came unexpectedly. Talon and Aoren's wedding reception would have been easier with it. Then again, had Talon chosen him, offered him Dawnfire and Reaving, he might not have been allowed into Solunarium, and Arvælyn would be forever beyond his reach.

Today, at least, was no such tragedy.

When the pain had passed, Asim offered him a hand up and they joined Hilana and Æros in the tent. Hilana offered him one of her concoctions, which Finn took without hesitation. He trusted her.

"Arvælyn would have eviscerated you with his teeth and then thrown you into Mount Sorokyn," Finn replied immediately, deadpan. Then, after a beat, he laughed shakily. He knew Hilana was frightened that their mutual attraction would upset the dragon prince. "He is protective, but I am trying to remind him that in Solunarium, one is responsible for themselves. Every gift I have been given here has been more rope with which to hang myself... or an opportunity to fly. So I am trying to get him to the point where he can be concerned about my well-being, but not blame anyone else but me if my choices get me into trouble."

Such open discussion of the crown prince's personal life obviously made the officer uncomfortable, so he gruffly thanked Hilana for her cure, complimented his students on their passing grades, and excused himself.

"Thank you, Commander," Finn said before he left. Then, in answer to Æros' question, "Interesting, yes. From what I understand, there is a level of sentience to them, however. So I suppose one would have to learn how to get along with them..."

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Having enjoyed respite for a good minute now, the sharper pains of his threshold sickness and the demanifestation of his pact weapon were beginning to wane. By now, he felt more or less like he simply had a really bad hangover; weak, lethargic, everything ached. In combination with whatever it was that Hilana gave him, the force of his own will upon his æther by way of meditation certainly helped more than he would’ve thought, he had to admit.

And yet despite his pain, he felt…joyous. There was euphoria to be found in him with every successful initiation. And while he would always crave more, Æros was always one to covet each step forward. By the time Finn had sat beside him, his spirits were fairly high, exhaustion and all.

To Finn’s initial jest, the half-Fæ grimaced, followed by laughter. Hilana sighed– because even though Finn was mostly joking, she did believe that the prince’s wrath was not to be trifled with.

When Asim moved to leave, “...farewell and thank you, Commander,” Æros acknowledged with a nod, his voice holding notable sincerity.

And as the commander walked out, he responded. “Your situation is a unique one, innit…?” Æros asked this musingly, more as a question for himself to consider rather than one for which he expected an answer.

“But…at the same time, to have to act within the interests of those around us is…not at all uncommon. I do wish it were possible for one’s choices to truly be one’s own…but that’s just not possible. I have a whole house’s reputation resting on my shoulders now, after all.” And though such a notion was foreboding, the man spoke with a smile.

“Certainly not the same as your situation, but…the point is, nothing done by those of us with any sort of power comes without ripples or waves, for good or ill.” The half-elf shrugged, immutable as this fact was.

To what Finn said regarding soul cairns, Æros nodded. “Correct. The soul stays with it, even after a pact is formed– I suppose it would be prudent, then, if one were to do this, to make sure one picks a…tolerable soul, no?” He chuckled at this.

“It sounds like a dreary existence, though– to be a tool at somebody else’s disposal like that,” eyes narrowing as he spoke. “Total subjugation.”

Tilting his head in consideration, he added, “...and yet, finding one is little more than a passing fantasy, as I’ve not a clue where I’d even find such a thing.”

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

"If you need to return to your other responsibilities, Hilana," he said, "I am certain that the senator and I can see each other safely home. If nothing else, I can see him home and then vault directly into my bed." His smile was sure, though weary. Finn knew he needn't leave his pact weapon in the aether, but he had wanted to know the cost of this magic immediately. Knowing the drawbacks helped him gauge the risks he took whenever he plied his Crafts.

"I do often feel unique," he admitted, "and it doesn't often feel like a blessing. But perhaps it is and blessings too come with strings attached. Or... chains, as Domina Varvara would have it." More rope to hang himself, or stronger chains to bind him. He could zip from hither to thither, vast distances, in the blink of an eye. Further exploration of the world would only give him a wider reach. Still, he was bound to Solunarium because he was bound to Arvælyn and, now, Aværys.

"Hm. Or we make a pact to destroy each other's soul cairn so that neither of us are in danger of such... eternal submission?" The thought certainly made his shoulders shift in discomfort. Finn wondered whether there were soul cairns in the arsenals of the Golden Legion or the Silver Sentinels. Now that he had survived his initiation—unless the migraine didn't leave him and he killed himself—he might have grounds to ask. Or perhaps Aværys would know where to find one to empower his Empyreal. As for Æros...

"I can see how in most places, the trade of soul cairns would be illegal. Perhaps that is not the case in Solunarium. But I imagine a senator ought to be able to find one, whether by legal means or the black market. Just please don't... initiate Khyan with a mind to make a soul cairn out of him. A sentient, Sembling weapon would be powerful, but he is my friend."

With a groan, Finn hoisted himself to his feet. A part of him wanted to just vault directly to his bed, but he didn't see Æros often and now they had shared an initiation together. Perhaps they would also blend their arts, as well.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Hilana nodded at Finn's words; as much as she may have wanted to stay and tend to her friends, she was a rather busy girl, and as such, had further duties that needed attending. After bidding both successful initiates farewell, she took her leave– but not before making sure they were both treated to the best of her abilities. She did want them well.

When Finn spoke of the boundaries that came with his circumstances, Æros appeared thoughtful.

"Uniqueness is a…benign concept on its own; neutral. Context makes it a blessing or a curse…or both. I would say you've got quite a bit of both," the senator said, a bit of a sly smile on his face.

"...but then, so do I. The die cast for me have been largely favorable, though; I try and appreciate all of my boons, but ever do I always find myself wanting more, you know? It can just be...a bit tedious to navigate one's metaphorical chains when pursuing one's goals, leashed as we all are in one way or another." He spoke in tangential vagaries, and though he knew this, he felt little desire to elaborate.

To Finn's suggestion that they form a pact to shatter one another should either end up sealed in a soul cairn, Æros, at first, laughed, then grimaced. The idea made him uncomfortable.

"Yes…please. As much as I love existence and intend to be around for a very long time, that sounds like an absolute misery. I will do the same for you." It was clear from his tone that such a fate was one of the last things he'd ever want to contend with.

There was being a tool for others in a metaphorical sense, which he could learn to live with or around, but to be designated as a literal, physical tool? With no will, no ability to act on one's own? Oh, what utter existential horror, indeed.

Further, "...I've enough money and sway to access the less than legal markets, yes, but it's just that soul cairns are so very…unique. Each one is. I suppose finding one in and of itself might not be that monumental a task…but a good one? One I would want to wield? I imagine coming across such a thing will certainly be a journey…if ever it is to happen at all."

And to Finn's comment about Khyan, Æros chuckled, though he almost looked offended. "Oh, who do you think I am?" His emotions were played up in tone for effect, though the movement of the faux drama caused the pain in his head to pulse and he winced in turn.

Continuing, "...he'd have to do something astronomically upsetting to ignite such spite within me…I don't even know how he'd curry such offense, actually, since that is markedly more effort than just tranquilizing him with Mesmer– and I'd have to be pushed well past my limits to do that, too. I'd never. I'm not one for wanton cruelty; it must be…provoked."

It would be an absolute shock to him if he were ever compelled to feel such a way towards somebody he so adored.

"If you do intend to see me home- which, very kind of you, regardless- would you mind making a portal down to the Umbrium? I know you've not been to my exact residence, but…anywhere in the Umbrium is closer than anywhere up here. I don't live far from Mother Midnight's temple, and I've no doubt you've been there, at least." He almost sounded pleading– anything to avoid walking in the sun, especially like this.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

After bidding farewell to Hilana, he nodded to Æros. For all that they looked quite different, it seemed as though they thought similarly about several things. He could only imagine fighting any reaver who tried to use him as a tool when he had come to some ignominous end. He could only imagine Æros doing the same. Finn could cooperate, even cede control in a group environment, but he could not stand to have his free will taken from him. It had been close enough to that when he had been to Kaladon, Aværys offering his unwanted gilt chains or... death. Now he could never receive the boons of the Goddess of Song, nor be closer to his friend, the Lord of the Dawn.

It rankled sometimes still, even though he was growing closer to the Father of Solunarium.

Finn smiled, glad that Æros saw Khyan as more than an instrument or a tool. He didn't like that intimation that he kept the Vastian sedated with Mesmer, but the bard was learning to bite his tongue, bide his time, and try to understand this alien culture that he had chosen to live with.

"I suppose a strong will could bend most soul cairns in the end," he posited. "Eventually, I suppose, the effort would be worthwhile? But certainly, some must be an easier investment. I suppose the Dawnmartyrs must keep those of their fallen brethren..." Finn didn't want to steal from them, and if they were selling the souls of their fallen, then he had a point of contention with them, but at least in theory, they ought to have a cache if anyone did.

The senator cut his thoughts short, but it was probably for the best. They didn't need to walk all the way home, and their bodies and their souls needed rest.

"Of course," he said, paused, and softened the focus of his eyes so he could weave this thread of the slip stream with that one, connecting the camp with the street beside the great Umbrian temple. He had never been to Æros' home, but if the temple was close, it was also close enough to the palace of Zalkyriax and would cut short his own walk home.

A line formed in the air, several inches above Æros' horns and down to the packed sand. At first it seemed to spread, then it became clear that it was revolving around itself. Before it reached full width, it paused and simply spread into a wide doorway like some sort of desert mirage into the darker streets of the underground.

"After you," he urged politely.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

- - -

Æros had been surprised, initially, at Finn even thinking he'd consider using Khyan for that purpose– but then, he realized he'd never quite gone into detail about the depth of their relationship. That, and Æros was Solunarian, and in some circumstances, quite callous. That being the case, he felt the compulsion to clarify.

"I ever tell you why I bought Khyan? If not, know that it would take…a lot for me to actually ever hurt him. And because he is…special to me, I prefer him to maintain his sense of self; my magic use on him thus far has been limited and mostly…for our mutual enjoyment." He wouldn't explain further, at least, not right at this moment.

It was hard to think, to string together the right words. What he'd said, however, was true for Mesmer. He did use Khyan as an extra set of eyes and ears, too; Æros made use of Semblance to extract information from the boy. Of course, Khyan was well aware of this– Æros liked to maintain as much feasible transparency with his lover as he could.

After he'd asked Finn about the portal, he continued about soul cairns, "yes, a strong enough will, and perhaps that'd be easier with Mesmer? I'm not sure how one's Symphony works after being…ah, converted? Into a soul cairn? But…that's not exactly the concern. I more meant that forming a pact with a sentient weapon is a very…" he paused, looking off at nothing in particular while he searched for the word.

"It's a very profound decision as a mage, don't you think? So finding one that works well for you, really fits you, is the truly difficult part, no? Performing such a binding pact with another soul really ought to be done only after much deliberation and with…a harmonious soul." At the very least, he would not be one to do something like that without due consideration.

And as he spoke, he'd pushed himself to his feet while Finn drew a door before him. Standing was disorienting; it took a moment for him to stabilize himself, even. When the portal was ready and at Finn's invitation, Æros nodded and passed through. Traversion really was a useful magic to have, either on oneself or on one's friends and companions.

It was still a bit of a walk from the Midnight Mother's temple to his home– he lived in the argentine district, south of the seat of the senate. For Finn, at least, this was of little inconvenience since it was in the same direction, but closer to the temple than the palace. Æros would make conversation when able, but it did take quite a bit more willpower than usual to move his body at all.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Finn]

It was interesting to hear Æros share even a little bit that was personal. His Symphony was always well conducted, and Finn was not in the habit of delving into them without affirmative consent or dire need. As he was figuring out the flow chart of Solunarian power, he didn't know where he fit, who he was allowed to Control as Prince Vrædyn put it. He might have blushed slightly at the mention of Mesmer in the bedroom; he and Arvælyn had certainly bonded through such music. His only response was to nod. He had known Khyan almost since his first days in Solunarium, but the fall of his family had prevented them from spending time together until he had reemerged into society—a servus.

It seemed they were on the same page about a number of things, and it was certainly a relief to know that someone knew he didn't want to spend eternity as a sentient sword. He wasn't sure Arvælyn would be trustworthy with that final wish; he might seek to bend the world to his will and twist what was left of Finn into some comforting semblance of who he had been.

Soon enough, they were back in the Umbrium, and he was glad that they were both coping with the aftereffects of their initiation. If he couldn't muster much energy for idle chatter, Æros could understand that on an entirely empathetic level even without Runes to augment it.

"Vale, Æros," he said with a weary smile when it came time for their paths to part ways for the nonce.

Perhaps when they were recovered, he would ask about that dance. But for now, once he was out of sight, he vaulted directly to the suite of rooms he shared with Arvælyn. The servi were no longer much surprised when he did so, and it only became a race to see if someone could reach him to help before he doffed his own clothes and drew his own bath.

fin.