The Art of the Possible

[Arvælyn]

"I suppose." Arvælyn remarked, arching a golden eyebrow. "Though 'elders' seems a bit of an understatement in this circumstance..." He trailed off. It was odd. He felt half ashamed and half defensive in response to the coarseness revealed in Æros' sentiment. Once again in a matter of moments he was reminded of Finn, and how he bucked against the Solunarian system... albeit less often and with less vehemence since his crowning at Kaladon.

"Right..." The smoke dissipated in a sharp huff, which Arvælyn consciously emitted to waft the evidence of his ire off and out of view. "Well, I didn't grow up with much, and I lost a lot of that along the way. I always thought that was the source of my nature, but... perhaps it is also my inherent inclination to hoard things away." He pursed his lips in contemplation as silence passed between them for a span.

"Indeed. I don't fancy being parted from Finn at length... least of all when he's putting himself in danger for some nebulous purpose." He'd been present for the initial briefing, but hadn't been in his right mind at the time. He knew, of course, that it pertained to dragons and some sort of relic, but in truth he didn't know much more than the most cursory of information gathered over dinner from Finn.

"Well, at least we have each other's company in the absence of our amati." He smiled, toasting vaguely and sipping as the other spoke of a few of the struggles they were facing during this transition period.

"That's really the rub, isn't it? We lack equilibrium and want for checks and balances to sustain the new system. With no real precedents in place and with Solunarium having been so isolated and fixed to the old ways for so long, it's truly an uphill battle. We're reinventing the wheel, as it were." He sighed, shaking his head.

[Aeros]

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Æros chuckled, because the statement was apt. “Indeed– we are but foeti by comparison, are we not?” For what is a decade or two, really, to those who live centuries? Of course– one should not waste one’s time, take it for granted, the like…but such existential quandaries were not things either he nor Arvælyn could properly ponder as of the present. “Sometimes it really does fit to remember that…” and for only a moment, the horned elf appeared lost in thought.

“...but there is balance to be had, too. New and novel ideas dreamt up by the youth have a perspective the long-lived may struggle to find on their own.” But where was the line?

The other’s draconic nature was a novel thing to get used to seeing. Not possible to forget, what with the wings and those blazing eyes, but what he had, ever so briefly, forgotten about were what features existed beyond simple ornamentation. Of course, wings were functional, too– just not here.

To Arry’s words, however, Æros tilted his head in consideration. “Perhaps. Despite the drastic shift in circumstance, one cannot easily shed the influence of one’s formative years…” and as he trailed off, his gaze shifted downcast and to the side. For even though Æros wanted for little, the way he was raised was markedly cruel; his relationships with some family members were still quite hostile. Funny, that.

Regarding the fact that the fate of their lovers hung yet still in the balance, Æros sighed, clearly not sure how to feel. Anxiety about it was unproductive, but he felt immediate guilt were he to try and dismiss his concerns. “Much as I will continue to lament our ignorance, it is, admittedly, nice to have another with whom to share the worry. And your company certainly isn’t something I would ever mind,” Æros laughed, voice playful. “...though I hope their return will not draw ire from either of us. I do like Hilana.” Foreboding, that.

Before Æros responded to Arvælyn’s ponderings on the subject of their city’s fledgling new systems, he thought for a moment. “Well, given the circumstances, I don’t imagine the Solar Sovereign herself has any real pressing desire to make dramatic changes, and if that’s the case, then that gives us an opportunity to push ideas more novel in nature and they’d be left with little recourse other than to react, no? So I suppose it would be brazen, though perhaps beneficial, to introduce a deluge of further change whilst the system is still new, that is, if we are so inclined.” Strike while the iron is hot and all that.

“Now granted, my biggest concern at the moment is to quash the foundation on which the Sanguinists stand, but the riddle there is that, should our Founders show Their faces, that part will ultimately be up to Them and Them alone.” Æros did so hope that They would acknowledge the undeniable benefits of crossing Their blood with further figures of myth.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn had to chuckle,

"Merely a spark in the eyes of our ancestors." He added through a smirk that was pressed to the rim of his cup as he tipped it back for another sip.

"I fear that was rather the point, in my case." He mused at this talk of 'formative years'. "The majority of my life has been a trial. Founders know it's felt like one, but... I didn't realise it was of the more intentional sort. Not that I believe my lot was chosen for me specifically, but that however I was to handle what came my way would speak to my worthiness here... Whilst Prince Arkænyn was sent to a regal lot in Auris, mine was lower the common... Lower than the lot of a Solunarian sla-..." He pursed his lips and knitted his brow, as he suddenly gleaned the meaning of a very old lesson.

"Oh, I see..." He whispered through a wan smile, as if more to himself than his current companion.

"Ire?" His face fell flat once more and he tilted his head, as he looked to Æros, bemused. He wasn't certain why the senator's train of thought took him from worry for their lovers to ire toward Hilana, but he shrugged it off as the topic shifted.

"Honestly, I think the question has been well settled for most critical thinkers who aren't under the sway of Sanguinist Mesmers. Even if my diluted Varværyn blood is mitigated by the draconic, there is still the fact that-..." He paused, lest he utter secrets that were not his own to divulge, "...the Emblems have reemerged. The Radiant and the Tethered are born anew... A few of them, now, and only one Mark is borne by a member of the Unbroken Line. Thus have the Founders spoke, but... This is not commonly known. Please... do not share this knowledge with others." Arvælyn urged, with sudden sternness. The Rune of Mesmer surged at his wrist, as if asking to be employed, but the prince let it dim back to restfulness.

[Aeros]

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“Indeed,” Æros affirmed regarding the reality of their youth.

He struggled to imagine the perspective of somebody who could live for hundreds, even thousands, of years– such a thing was ever so fascinating to think about, however. And though he was nowhere near what would be his natural death, he had every intention of stoking the flame of his own life for as long as he possibly could. Of course, measured risks would be taken in matters pertaining to the arcane; for what is a long life if he wouldn’t eventually dwarf those around him ætherically?

The starry senator regarded his companion’s words inquisitively when the other spoke on the purpose of the origin he was given.

“It was…intentional..?” The question was asked quietly, entirely rhetorical, because after he sat with the thought for a moment he realized that such a thing was no surprise at all.

“Mmmh, trial by fire. Markedly callous, and yet…I get it.” Æros said these words flatly, having pulled his perspective back and shifted to looking through the lens of the princep’s parents; it was a brutal strategy, but it was one that made sense.

“Surviving the vicissitudes of the lot you were handed shows remarkable strength.” Æros spoke with sincerity.

Because while he fully meant that sentiment, he did say it, in part, to keep the focus off of himself on this particular subject at this particular moment, vexed as he was about what pettiness was woven so tightly into all of the trials he’d grown up with. It was that pettiness at the core of his mother’s behavior; it was that which bled and festered and begat her toxic need for control, her spite, malignity, arrogance, so on. It was just that, by comparison, his problems felt markedly small.

And to Arvælyn’s confusion regarding the subject of ire, Æros exhaled a breath of a laugh, a soft smile appearing on his features; he thought something was funny, but precisely what that was would be left to ambiguity.

“Mayhap it would just be from me, then?” He inquired with an inquisitive, yet oddly light in tone, tilt to his head.

“If Khyan is returned to me much worse for wear than how I sent him, well…she did promise he’d be fine and I worry about a promise being broken, ‘tis all.” And to this, he shrugged; he did not appear to be particularly nonplussed. That part, however, was a careful façade meant to cover the tumult of emotion he actually felt on the subject.

Æros had not expected a proper answer to the quandary he’d put forward, much less the one proffered to him by Arvælyn. His brow furrowed in thought as a hand rose to his lips and his posture adjusted, leaning back; he found himself now lost within his own thoughts, pondering what he’d just been told. Ideas, emotions, abstractions and speculations of all sorts ran through his head in rapid succession at the realization that the very concept he’d hoped for had been confirmed. And yet…he didn’t quite know what to say in response to that information right away.

“Is that so?” A question posed as he drew his hand away from his face; he proceeded to lace clawed fingers lightly together, the forefinger of his dominant hand tapping languidly against the other.

“Blessed be, They and Their wisdom,” while his words were wrapped in relief, he spoke mainly with an awed sense of wonder. “...and of course, you are guaranteed my silence.”

Æros closed his eyes and a subtle smile surfaced on his lips. His feelings were complex for the moment, but ultimately, it brought him great solace to hear that the Founders Themselves saw potential within those beyond the Unbroken Line.

While he knew not to whom such things had ultimately been granted, he had a guess as to one. He’d a chance encounter with Finn the other day and the other had gained…something. He saw it with his Sembler’s eye and it was a mark the likes of which he had never seen prior; it had looked god-touched, but he, at the time, had no way to be sure. Further, the other had used it on him directly. Æros offered no resistance to the man’s influence, as he was incredibly curious; he wanted to know how it worked. On this, however, he would hold his tongue.

With that realization, “...how fascinating.”

Looking now into the eyes of the other, “...thank you. For trusting me enough to say anything at all,” punctuating the sentiment with a nod.

“If that is the case, then I suppose it makes sense for Them to be so…quiet. Perhaps out of a desire for Their scions to act? And one cannot help but wonder if They intend to distribute such things further…” Æros had no idea how many were currently granted; if it were few or not, if They had any further plans on augmenting that number or not; he held great interest in these particular questions.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

"Intentional after a fashion... I don't think I was deliberated placed into my specific lot, but I do believe I was sent abroad to live with none of the trappings I might have enjoyed here. At first I thought I was sent away for my safety... to protect me from the machinations of the Solunarian court, but now I'm not so sure. I think perhaps I was meant to see the chaos of the outside world to better frame my perspective here." At the compliment, he shook his head.

"I don't think that's true, actually. I don't think I displayed remarkable strength. I simply survived. I survived under the same abject conditions that many, many people endure. There are more poor people in the world than wealthy, and in most cultures poverty is particularly difficult to brook. You're always hungry... always wanting. Never satisfied with your position in the world. There's this... illusion of freedom that rarely ever translated to actual happiness." He purses his lips and went silent for a contemplative moment, before Æros broke the quiet that hung in the air between them.

"Let us not dwell on the risk to our beloveds... I don't get enough sleep as it is, being as busy as I am. The last thing I need haunting my nights are the stirrings of worry over things out of our control." He sighed, frowning. He hadn't spent a lot of time apart from Finn since coming to Solunarium, so it was very easy to be overwhelmed by concern for him. Finn's absence felt unnatural, so the reminder that he was off in a land of unknowns was enough to set Arry's head spinning in dark directions.

Arvælyn hadn't considered the supposition that the Founders silence and ostensible inaction might be born of a desire for their Marked to act on their behalf.

"Do you think?" The notion wasn't beyond belief, to be sure. "I imagine it would serve Them to expand Their reach farther at some point. I don't doubt that They are observing and assessing as we go about our lives. I have no particular insight into when or even if they'll choose to intervene. It would certainly make my life easier if I had such knowledge... All our work to manage and adapt the Umbrium could be for naught, if Aværys Imperator suddenly wishes to reclaim His ancient throne..." A slight grimace painted Arry's lips, not because he would begrudge the Deus Imperator His claim, but because he was bending over backwards to pave the path for his draconic dynasty to assume power in earnest and he didn't wish for the efforts to be ultimately inconsequential.

[Aeros]

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Æros tilted his head in consideration at the other's words regarding his early life circumstances. "Volume wise, yes, the number of people born directly into what you lived through is greater than, say, the level of wealth I had, or even several levels below, but the point, really, was that many of them languish and die– even though the vast majority of the world's populace may suffer, that doesn't mean survival in and of itself is easy."

He shrugged, "...maybe that alone doesn't deserve accolades, but I think your quick adaptation and the refinement of your skills here does, at least."

Arry didn't have the years of education and training one would expect a prince to have, and yet he was faring just fine. Perhaps forging royalty outside of privilege was the better route? But then, who could really say?

"...and I do think it's partially a personality type to always want more. Contentedness with one's lot is not ubiquitous among the wealthy, either." It wasn't for him– there was always another set of stairs to climb every level he rose.

And then regarding their lovers, Æros smiled, though it was bashful at the realization that he had been letting his own worries spin a bit out of control. "You're right; I'm prone to the selfsame spirals of worry…as you can probably tell." It was a matter of self awareness, because now that he realized he was spiraling, he quelled the emotions with Mesmer. Sometimes that awareness took a minute, strong as emotions could be on their own.

Onto the subject of the Founders, Æros pondered the other's words, taking note of his expression at the notion of Aværys making a more formal return.

"...and I suppose it would've been expecting too much to have assumed anyone aside from perhaps Zalkyrion himself might have more insight into the inner machinations of Their minds– if even he does, mercurial as They can be." His voice was light, almost musing, a touch disappointed that there wasn't more, but without any blame– Æros was always prone to wanting just a little bit more, curious as he was.

"I do imagine that They've the ability and means to always watch; I often wonder what that type of awareness is like, myself. In some ways it seems overwhelming, but…for beings ascended as divine, it's probably as rote as breathing, no? Fascinating to think about…" he trailed off, realizing that this would very easily slide into a tangent of questionable relevance.

"I am of the same mind that it would be a touch painful for Solunarium's rule to be overridden again with all of the work that's been put into paving the way for the Umbrium to run smoothly; watching what work I've done sink, too, wouldn't be exactly…ideal," he shrugged, "...but should it be His will, there'd be no protestations from me; I will say, though, the notion of Them acting through their marked also fascinates me."

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn sipped at his wine while Æros clarified his case and nodded when he concluded.

"Praise be to Aværys." He replied wryly, as Æros went into the description of the type who 'always want more'.

"Actually, people in the lower castes seem more contented here than the wealthy... Which I found odd, initially, but now that I understand the ways of the realm makes perfect sense to me. The wealthy are more likely to mitigate their conditioning than the poor. Which is often to their detriment..." He observed with a blithe shrug. The notions of freedom being what they were in the North, he wondered whether he'd have shirked some sort of arcane manipulation to make him happier in his lot. He supposed such a course would have rendered him unworthy of his current position, but it might have felt like a solid remedy to the woes of those days had it ever been offered.

His reverie broke at the talk of the Founders.

"Mm. Perhaps..." He adopted a rather impish smile, "In truth, They could be watching us right now. Irrespective of Their marks, they're able to inhabit those who share their blood. As I understand it, it's rather like the way Re'hyæans can communicate parent to child on a larger scale and more... subtly."

He sighed as the talk turned to the potential for sudden and severe upheaval. Indeed it would have been challenging to face that circumstance now. He was beginning to get invested in the future they were building in the Umbrium, and he knew his mother had bolder aspirations still- She was certainly of the ilk who always wanted more.

"Well. It wouldn't be the first time I built toward something passionately only to lose it abruptly." He pondered the last such occasion- When he'd been the star of a play. Ironically, he'd been portraying the very sovereign who might commandeer his claim and undo his work.

"But, as they say: Deus Vult."

[Aeros]

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"Praise be to Aværys, indeed." Æros smiled at Arvælyn's mention of Him– he'd not said anything to deliberately draw the comparison, but it did fit.

"It's likely His influence has much to do with how common such an attitude is among our upper castes…but that is good. It stokes ambition, progress." Two things the senator believed necessary to maintain Solunarium's edge. "Contentedness among the lesser castes is…fine, good, even, but those of us with any modicum of tangible power ought not to ever become too complacent." Stagnation was, in his eyes, an incredible tragedy; especially so since he'd personally gone through a recent period of just that very thing.

Æros appeared excited but almost cautious at the notion that the Founders eyes could be on them at that very moment, even if it were an ultimately bittersweet thought. He'd never know either way unless it was Their will, would he?

"I've always thought Them to be able to oversee those of Re'hyæean blood, Their subjects, in general. Although to the notion of Them being able to possess Their kin? That…I have seen. It does make me wonder to what degree They've kept watch over me, but to that end, I can only wait and see." And with that, he drank from his own glass. For as far as he was aware, he was still barred from seeking their attentions; that part, however, he'll be hard pressed to outright mention.

When their conversation shifted to the notion of yet another total societal upheaval, Æros tilted his head in curiosity at the mention that Arvælyn had gone through something similar before. It was likely not to the same degree the massive subsequent shift their gods reappearing and claiming Their thrones would cause, but he was interested in knowing nonetheless.

"Oh? I've been…aimless for a bit, so I can't say I relate. What were you working towards before?" If the memory were something his companion would prefer to leave untouched, he'd acquiesce, but he did have to ask, at least.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

"The Golden Path." Arvælyn said with a slight nod. He may have been new to the Varværyn Faith, but he'd been an attentive, curious student. Naturally his mother saw to it that he was given access to the Scripturam Integram editions of the sacred texts, rather than those that were edited down for those of the Faith who had humbler lots in life.

"Ah yes... I believe Their Marks ease the conduit between Them and us..." He trailed off, pondering the Emblem that rounded his neck. Finn got a crown and he got a collar. Perhaps that was fitting, after a fashion. Arvælyn was not someone who needed to be reminded that he was royal- He relished it. He did need to be reminded of humility, and so Her mark was a stark reminder that he owed fealty to higher powers. Finn, conversely, was not naturally inclined toward thinking of himself as powerful or influential... He knew that he served and didn't need that reminder. His Emblem was there to remind him that he could wield a sceptre as deftly as a lute.

"I was an actor in Kalzasi before I knew I was connected to Solunarium at all..." Arvælyn said, wistfully. "Ironically, the theatre produced a Common-translation of 'Aværys Eternal'. I was originally cast to play Phædryn, but the lead actor was having trouble in the role so I had to take over rather last minute. I knew the whole play back to front. I had a few weeks in the role, but then Talon's wedding happened... There was an attack and the Shokaze... that was their king, essentially, well he was assassinated. Our production was halted, because it was perceived as having anti-Arcas sentiment at a time when such things were markedly unpopular in the region. So, my first lead role was cut short. We ended up coming here, because Karnor was volatile and a friend did a bit of digging into my past and found ties to this place. We met Phocion when he was visiting as the Solunarian ambassador, and he invited us to visit and..." He spread his hands,

"Here we are. My acting career is behind me. I do miss it."

[Aeros]

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“Yes– no matter how devout one is, the tenants of both Paths are quite pervasive culturally.” Æros sounded generally approving of this, biased in favor of such teachings as he was.

And to Arvælyns comment about the Marks, “...is that so?”

He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t think the person who I witnessed serve as conduit had a Mark at the time? This was…before They were freed, to my knowledge, but I’m not sure about the logistics involved with bestowing such things…but I suppose he didn’t need it; having it would’ve just made the bridge easier.” And as for the present, the senator did not doubt that Phocion was one of the few who possessed Her Mark.

“I’d be fascinated to see that happen again, but I’m not sure if I’ll get the opportunity; their whims are beyond my ability to predict.” He was underselling his interest a bit; he actually wanted nothing more than to treat with Varvara again, but without the ability to pursue her audience, he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

As the subject shifted to Arvælyn’s past, he listened to his friend speak with curious interest.

“How…interesting that it was that production you were in the process of setting up, the chips fallen as they have. A play about Aværys effectively led you here.” Æros exhaled the slightest bit of a laugh; he found the serendipity that fate seemed to sometimes have amusing, in a way.

“...but yes, I do imagine you’re far too busy to pursue acting even as a hobby in the present. A shame. I’ve had to peel back from my own artistic endeavors, but…I don’t much mind, at this point,” he added.

It did sadden him to not be able to perform the way he used to, but he’d been treating his swordsmanship like a dance whenever he sparred, so that was, on some level, a way for him to still enjoy his art.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"