Recuperatio [Khyan]

[Finn]

Finn took a healthy swig of the wine; it was good, but then of course it would be here. At least Khyan got to live like a convalescent prince for a while. The bard did hope that he could make life better for the people he cared about, and Khyan had been his first local friend, even if that had been cut short by circumstances until more recently. But he laughed at his friend's assumption, and just shrugged his good shoulder. In truth, unless they had at some point been so inebriated he couldn't remember, Arry hadn't flipped the script and their roles until his father had alchemized him into his current, draconic form. It was more give and take now, which Finn appreciated, though at first, it had taken some getting used to.

But just as quickly, hilarity turned to chagrin. He set his hand on Khyan's.

"I apologize. You are welcome to practice your Semblance upon me... just don't delve too deeply. I don't want to be the sieve through which any state secrets fall out. I don't even know that I know any, but I would hate to unknowingly spread sensitive information. But you have my permission to read me as deeply as you would if we were peers in society's eyes and not just mine. Please."

He gave that hand a squeeze, took another sip of wine and handed it back, eager to move into the game portion rather than make another faux pas.

Finn considered the question, then leaned in as if to whisper a secret.

"Deus Aværys is rather well-endowed." His smirk was peurile and his humor sophomoric, but not a lie. "In veritate, I have to say it is his divine presence. His eye upon me. The emblem allowed us to work our magic beyond the Expanse. And when the shadows attacked us, he came at my call, allowed us to defend ourselves and get ourselves back to Solunarium post haste. He has invested himself in me. He wants to see me succeed. To be great. I suppose I never really felt a religious feeling until now... and that is strange.

"But if you are asking what else I can do... I can... make myself impressive. Without relying upon the Rune of Command. I can inspire awe, fear, desire. I was even able to terrify those shadows... And I can communicate more clearly. I mean, I can still stick my foot in my mouth, as you have recently observed." He made a wry moue. "I think even when I make mistakes in Vastian or Vallenor, the meaning gets across. There's another power that comes with it. Or privilege. I don't know. I'm to mirror his ambition and hunger, seek followers. I intend to rebuild the Leh'anafel, an ancient elven order of Singers who used music, Mesmer, and other skills to maintain oral histories that survive cataclysms, and nudge politics and such in the right direction. Anyway, he said he would bless any who swore fealty to me. Which... I suppose might work in an Order such as that. I might be a magnatus due to being in Arvælyn's orbit, but I'm not noble in my own right.

"Ah, is that enough? Veritatem vel Provocatio?"

[Khyan Nykara]

“If knowledge of the Crown Prince’s kinks isn’t a Solunarian state secret, I don’t know what is.” Khyan said with a wry shake of the head as he reclaimed the wine. He took another swig and returned it to the nightstand, then shifted himself back toward Finn. He rested on his side facing the bard, propping himself up on one elbow with his cheek cupped by the corresponding palm.

“That is truly remarkable…” Khyan conceded, at the discussion of Aværys’ presence in Finn’s life. Religion was so present and palpable in Solunarium, and yet there had been a remoteness that even Mesmeric conditioning could not fully circumnavigate. The Founders were infused into every aspect of society and yet they’d been silent for so long. To most They still were- himself included. That lent Them a certain mystique which the the princeps pontifex and his Ministerium exploited to great effect, but it wasn’t the same as what Finn described.

“My greatest regret in brooking this wound is that I was unconscious during His intervention… I missed it altogether.” Æros claimed to have seen Aværys at the arena during the jubilee, but Khyan had never been so blessed. He wondered whether Aværys’ presence blesses him even if he is wasn’t conscious to the Radiant light gracing his skin. If a tree fell with no one to see it, and all that.

“Oh that is intriguing…” Khyan mused, “And has his musical Majesty begun to accrue subjects to fill out his merry band?” He bit his lip and gave Finn and once over as he considered what that might look like in the modern age. If Finn was a direct subject of Aværys, would vassalage beneath him supersede fealty to their local lieges…

“Ah yes. That is plenty, um… I’ll go with Provocatio. Let’s break that seal straight away.”

[Finn]

"I could request an audience for you," he suggested diffidently. He would have to wait for the right time so as not to annoy Aværys, but the God-Emperor appreciated male beauty, which Khyan had in spades. For all he knew, he might whisk Khyan away to a servitude that honored his family. It might even bode well for Æros if the fae senator gifted his human possession to the God of Hunger.

"And no," he laughed. "Not yet. I had considered Æros, but I don't think he would swear to a human peregrinus. I might reach out to that woman who was performing that time we danced..." The dance itself had haunted his dreams from time to time, although not in an unpleasurable way. "At first, I might have to rely on my nearness to the throne. Until I am... majestic enough on my own. If only you were a singer."

Finn considered what dare might be appropriate, provocative without crossing the line. For all his creativity, nothing came to him and he began to feel the pressure. One wanted to be witty and clever in games like this. Suddenly he was speaking almost without thinking, or the thinking came later and he instantly wondered if he had made a mistake.

"I dare you to swear fealty to me with Deus Aværys as your witness."

It might draw Aværys nigh. It might ease Finn into the idea of owning the fealty of others. It might be a conflict of interests, but Finn would never seek to sow unrest between Khyan and his master, even though he hoped that someday Khyan would be his own master.

"No. I'm sorry. That isn't fair. I just... let me think..."

Finn found himself flushed with embarrassment. He had never been good at games of brinksmanship.

[Khyan Nykara]

"Certainly not!" Khyan flushed, "Surely the Rex Regnum has better things to occupy His time than satisfying the curiosity of a servus... Even if the missed opportunity does haunt me like a hex." He sighed heavily.

"Well, I sing!" Khyan protested, "...sort of. I'm not a professional, no, but as a boy I was in the Radiant Choir, I'll have you know. The one at the Templum Solis Radians, mind you, not some little pleb church on the wrong side of the Vasta." Part of him did want to pledge himself to Finn's sacred crown. Perhaps that was some passive effect that emitted from the Emblem evenly when it wasn't actively in use, or maybe it was the natural inclination of his heart. It was hard to know in Solunarium and for Khyan particularly, as one who was magically manipulated so often he rarely thought on it. Whatever the case, it would have been... complicated to embark upon such an exploit in his current position.

His musings on the matter were cut short when Finn came out with his dare. Khyan blinked.

"Well, you're bloody good at this game, aren't you?" He let out an unbidden chortle, and shook his head. "We'll make a Solunarian out of you yet."

At Finn's brow an euphoric warmth began to emanate. It felt akin to foreplay- a driving, hungry sort of anticipation teased toward being released.

"Næ, Finn. The die is cast." He sat up and scooted off the bed. There was no more soreness at his wound site as he moved. He was still on the mend, but close to full health now. His bare sole touched the unnaturally warm tile- He still hadn't gotten used to that odd royal amenity, but it was quite nice. He stood and turned to face Finn. He looked like a proper slave in his subligaculum lowering himself to one knee, and tipping his head down.

"Under the Eye of Aværys, Lord of Hosts and Sunlit Scion of Glory, I do hereby pledge-..." He halted himself abruptly, and lifted his gaze to meet Finn's. Was he under the compulsion of the crowned Mark? He knew this choice would cause strife... Or was it even a choice? As he hesitated, Finn's power surged with wanting. He was at the precipice of a cosmic climax with this boy knelt before him poised to accept the breadth of his Glory.

[Finn]

In his own way, Finn didn't know whether he was the one manipulating or being manipulated. He believed Khyan when he said he daren't delve into Finn's aura without express permission, but he didn't know if the rising tide of emotion that centered in the physical location of his Emblem as well as several other places was his own, that of his God, or his own yet revealed by his connection to his God.

Even as he imagined taking whatever boyhood talent Khyan had had and molding him into a singer, the servus slipped off the bed to kneel. It was arousing, and not only in the physical and mental realm. The hunger within him rose like another melody in his symphony. He carefully shifted his legs off the bed and stood. This was happening, which was both exciting and terrifying.

The fingers of his good hand spread in a sort of benediction over Khyan's dark pate.

"Ceaseless watcher," he sang under his breath, a murmuring sussuration of longing and binding, "turn your gaze upon this wretched creature."

If Khyan wanted to do this, Finn wanted to give him his audience with Aværys, even if the God only stood silent witness to the swearing. He would give Khyan a voice. He would teach him to sing. He would instill within him Aværys' hunger, awaken Khyan's hunger such that he struggled against bondage, worked to pull himself and his family out of despair and servitude. Perhaps his climb would raise Æros up, as well. Perhaps it would raise Finn up.

Fortune might have cast him from magnatus to servus, but surely that could be countered. Surely Domina Varvara would understand that some chains needed breaking, or perhaps in the breaking of some chains, Khyan would be forged into a new link in a chain with Finn. For all the time he had spent with them, Finn couldn't claim to know the minds of the Gods.

[Khyan Nykara]

Before Khyan's widening eyes, Finn's Emblem blossomed into Radiance that was blinding, but also too alluring to look away from. Pale blue eyes turned bright gold as the Deus Imperator's attention shifted fully toward this scene playing out in the Umbrium. Though his physical form was not there, Finn would feel a whisper's breath dance against his ear.

"Finally thou seest fit to feed Me... Stake thy claim." It pleaded, "And share in My rapture."

Khyan couldn't see Aværys- not properly. There were unmistakable signs of His presence. Why were they unmistakable? Khyan couldn't have possibly articulated the rationale, but he was certain of it all the same. Just as he was certain that he needed to finish what he'd started and let the promise of this promise play out.

"....and I do hereby pledge my soul to this Radiant Chosen of Aværys, Ever Bathed in Victory's Glow!"

A beam of pure divine energy shot forth from Finn's brow to Khyan's and the Vastian's eyes rolled back in his head, as Finn was overtaken with a burst of unparalleled euphoria unlike any he'd ever known. This was Power. This was Glory. They were bound such that Finn could, for a moment, see through Khyan's eyes... feel the tightness at his still-healing wound... sense that Khyan, too, was overcome with a rush of ecstatic joy not unlike Finn's, but not nearly so forceful.

The rush might have lasted an hour or it might have lasted a second, but by and by it dwindled and Khyan doubled forward, catching himself with his hands as heaving breaths rocked his body.

"Well done." Aværys whispered for Finn's ear alone. "A splendid amuse bouche. Now fetch me a feast and together We shall broach e'en greater Bliss." It felt like a kiss at the back of his neck, and then the Emblem's light and warmth began to fade.

[Finn]

For a time, Aværys was indwelt. Finn housed the God. At the same time, he was in Khyan, seeing himself in the eyes of the servus. He shivered at the idea of elven lips upon the nape of his neck, the promise of shared pleasure. He didn't know if this ought to upset Arvælyn; it felt orgasmic, and yet not. He was, for a moment, as close to Khyan as a lover, and Aværys nearer to him than his neck-vein.

As the rush of Aværys' presence began to fade, he knelt down, used his good arm to wrap around Khyan and help him up and back onto the bed. His mouth brushed up his neck, the barest bristles of his well-kept visage scratching.

"I accept," he said shakily into Khyan's ear. "Your body belongs to Æros; your soul belongs to me."

Then they were sitting on the bed next to each other. Finn felt as bashful as he had after his first time having sex. There were things he wanted to say, things he felt compelled to say, but he was silent for some time, trying to figure out how this would work. This had not been planned. This would certainly complicate things for Khyan, which had never been his intention, no matter his feelings on slavery.

Had he said that out loud? If so, had it been a parting shot from Aværys or was this truly a hunger that resided within him?

There was much gnosis to be had with Aværys' mark upon his brow.

The silence stretched on and he glanced sideways at Khyan, trying to gauge his reaction to all this. Perhaps the native Solunarian would know how to proceed. Finn certainly didn't.

[Khyan Nykara]

"Fuck..." Khyan whispered between panting breaths. The arms that held his front half off the floor were acquiver, and it was a relief to be physically aided back to a more comfortable position. His breath caught in this throat at the mention of Æros, eyes widening. He'd been so intoxicated by the presence of... well it must have been Divinity... that he hadn't had the wherewithal to consider potential repercussions. He'd just been so caught up in the moment... Or had it been compulsion? Whatever the case, fear and guilt racked him instantly.

"Was it my soul to give?" He wondered, glancing down at his hands. He drew them together and clenched one in the grip of the other to keep both from fidgeting. "Fuck fuck fuck..." He whispered, each syllable a reflex and each one punctuated by his hands striking his legs.

"That was... We ought not have done that. I don't even know what it means, but..." Khyan racked his brain for memories of what he'd learnt about the Founders' Emblems. Was he as good as Finn's puppet now? Would his two masters no fight over control of him like a ragdoll? Æros with his masterful Mesmer manipulating him via arcane means as Finn did so with the Divine power instilled in him by Aværys? Khyan had always been an impulsive sort, but this was at another level of irresponsibility. And it seemed to betray one of the fundamental rules of life at the bottom of the Solunarian hierarchical pyramid: Know thy place.

"I forgot my place." But he'd been Hungry. "I'm only a servus..." But he'd felt Ambition. "Æros would be within his rights to kill me for this..." But he'd been compelled by such Power.

"We have to tell him before he Sembles it, or... I don't even know. I have no frame of reference for how he would react to something like this..."

[Finn]

"I believe it was the will of Aværys... I mean, I didn't intend to... I tried to backpedal... Fuck. Perhaps Cithæra could invert the... and I could erase it from your...? No." He shook his head. Slavery was wrong—he was certain of that. But Khyan had so many people pulling his strings and now Finn felt like one of them. He felt no better than a slaver and he felt shame.

"It is my place to tell him, no? You are a servus but I am a peregrinus. I probably... owe him compensation? But your soul belongs to Aværys anyway... now it just belongs to him through me as well. And I am not going to try to tug of war you..." He frowned. Khyan was upset and Finn could only feel responsible, though he too wondered how much of it had been divine string-pulling. It had been an appetizer for Aværys, and a hunger had been awoken in the two mortal men.

Finn considered begging Prince Vrædyn's presence and advice.

Finn considered whether Æros might not take this all in stride. They had the beginnings of a rapport. They had art in common, and had gone through a runic initiation together. He was Soluniarian; perhaps he would see the value in his servus being claimed by an Empyreal Lord—another tie to the Palatium Umbarum, another tie to the Rex Regum.

But this was newly trod ground, an undiscovered country to Khyan and Finn. Once the adrenaline wore off, he was going to be exhausted. But he needed to be there for his friend. If Khyan's soul was in vassalage to his, then he also had a responsibility for that soul. The hunger of ambition might be primal, but the recognition of duty was civilizing.

"I will tell him, Khyan. Mine is the higher status, mine is the culpability if there is any."

[Khyan Nykara]

The rising panic reached a fever pitch as Khyan considered the stakes and potential consequences in play. His heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. It felt like it was pounding against his sternum to free itself from the cage of his ribs. Khyan was poorly equipped to deal with stress these days as his master was remarkably liberal with his use of Mesmer. Anytime Khyan felt dread creeping into his consciousness, Æros would typically smooth it down. The fact that Æros was distinctly unlikely to do that in this instance only added to the abject terror brimming beneath his shallow breaths.

"Please..." He begged in a weak, husky voice. "I need to be calmed. I'm-..." His mind was racing. It was hard to stay focused on anything. "Use your Mesmer on me. Bring me back down." He looked up with glistening, desperate eyes. He looked like an addict in withdrawal, and that wasn't unlike how he felt.

Finn was focused on the practical, but Khyan couldn't just then. Finn was probably right that he was the better harbinger of this strange update. Even if he wasn't, it seemed safer. Finn was better equipped to deal with Æros' wrath, if he responded in rage. As a Mesmer of comparable prowess and possessing the Sentinel wards of protection, he'd likely be able to thwart any arcane attacks and Finn was likely a more formidable combatant if they came to blows. Khyan himself could have his brain melted and legally he'd be expected to take it. He had no rights that didn't legally belong to Æros. These were among the myriad reasons Khyan was presently aquiver with abject terror, pleading for a magical remedy to the assault his mind was dealing itself.