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Khyan’s words burned him, venomous and sharp, much like the asp he’d come to embody. Æros understood the boy’s fury, circumstances being as they were, but he’d never asked for this; rather, trading Khyan’s soul for his own was, quite possibly, the worst fate he could imagine, and the boy would see that in his Aura if he looked. However, the fallen half-blood felt it impossible to deny the deal, sacrilegious to say no. The Founders themselves had treated with an old God to pluck his soul from the Void…it felt beyond insulting to Them, to even Shaeoth, to break and allow himself to recede back into that dark place, lost and forgotten, because then, what was the point?
Once Shaeoth had spoken that his words had been accepted and the world began to shift ‘round them all, Æros managed to speak one last time, forcing every fibre of his will into the volume of these words in the hope that he’d be heard, “I wanted to give you everything, Khyan…but I can’t give you, or anyone…the world if I’m dead.
“Enact your vengeance if that is your desire, beloved, but don’t you see? I have my wish– another soul in place of yours. I am no betrayer to you, and…no matter how you may feel, I still love you, with everything I have left, with everything that I may become.”
And to the Founders, "Blessed be that You enabled this gift. I am...ever the more indebted to You Both."
Æros meant every word, and by some grace of fate, he managed to say everything before the force of the winds brewing ‘round him got too loud. If he could, if he had the ability, he’d convey the gravity of his emotions with his Mesmer as he was wont to do; if he could, he’d use that Mesmer to assuage Khyan’s rage, too, to comfort him– but aether in this sorry state of undeath was…difficult to manage.
He’d asked of Shaeoth another option instead of Khyan and, by some twist of fate, the Lord of the Void had granted that wish. He didn’t care what fate he’d next see– he was at peace; he’d get a chance to enact his own vengeance upon that which had tricked him and it would not cost him the soul of his beloved.
By now, the winds of fate had begun to tear at him, first his worldly possessions, and then at his flesh. The process was utterly excruciating. Æros had been, to some degree, masochistic in life…but this? This was beyond anything he’d ever felt, anything he could ever imagine; it was a divine agony that, so extreme in intensity, was, in the end, rapturous.
Once Shaeoth had spoken that his words had been accepted and the world began to shift ‘round them all, Æros managed to speak one last time, forcing every fibre of his will into the volume of these words in the hope that he’d be heard, “I wanted to give you everything, Khyan…but I can’t give you, or anyone…the world if I’m dead.
“Enact your vengeance if that is your desire, beloved, but don’t you see? I have my wish– another soul in place of yours. I am no betrayer to you, and…no matter how you may feel, I still love you, with everything I have left, with everything that I may become.”
And to the Founders, "Blessed be that You enabled this gift. I am...ever the more indebted to You Both."
Æros meant every word, and by some grace of fate, he managed to say everything before the force of the winds brewing ‘round him got too loud. If he could, if he had the ability, he’d convey the gravity of his emotions with his Mesmer as he was wont to do; if he could, he’d use that Mesmer to assuage Khyan’s rage, too, to comfort him– but aether in this sorry state of undeath was…difficult to manage.
He’d asked of Shaeoth another option instead of Khyan and, by some twist of fate, the Lord of the Void had granted that wish. He didn’t care what fate he’d next see– he was at peace; he’d get a chance to enact his own vengeance upon that which had tricked him and it would not cost him the soul of his beloved.
By now, the winds of fate had begun to tear at him, first his worldly possessions, and then at his flesh. The process was utterly excruciating. Æros had been, to some degree, masochistic in life…but this? This was beyond anything he’d ever felt, anything he could ever imagine; it was a divine agony that, so extreme in intensity, was, in the end, rapturous.
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"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
