A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

[Arvælyn]

Though Arvælyn had, at times, been warm and, as his eyes suggested, at other times hot- His face remained impassive as Hilana approached. Perhaps this was a conscious choice to be cold because he was still cross with her, or perhaps this was the public face he now donned in the presence of throngs. As his father's face, whether in his Draconic form or his elven seeming, was impassive so too was the son's.

"This was a sound suggestion. You have done well to invite us." These people may have been little regarded in the eyes of the city-dwelling Solunarians, but they were faithful citizens of the realm in their own right. Their fealty would be a boon to the House of Sol'Zalkyrion and with greater numbers there came a case for greater influence over the realm. If more and more citizens flocked to the draconic house in lieu of the elven, then why should they wield equal power? This was the scheme his mother had been playing at since well before the split and, as was her way, it was a subtle and gradual endeavour: A bloodless coup d'etat.

"You may give us a tour of the grounds." He suggested, once more, but with Hilana now his intended guide. He glanced to the elder chieftain who'd addressed them earlier.

"Pray disseminate to all those gathered that I will return to this throne after I have walked amongst them, at which point I will be prepared to accept the fealty of any wishing to pledge themselves to my father's throne." He gestured to a nearby Sentinel. "Their oaths will be recorded by our censor." With that he offered a hand down to Finn, and began to descend the steps of the dais, still feeling energised from the sacrifice.

"Lead on, then." He said as he stepped past his intended guide toward the throngs ahead.

[Finn]

Finn nodded graciously when Hilana approached, more aloof as he had to be in public. But at least Arvælyn seemed to have cooled off about the quest that hadn't ended so well for Finn. Perhaps next time, they might fly on dragonback instead of the wyvern. That would teach the shadow creatures fear.

His veins still tingled with energy. He felt positively post-coital except he wanted to run around singing at the top of his lungs rather than lounge and linger with his lover. Thankfully, he had enough aplomb to keep all that inside, instead channeling it into attentiveness and poise. The bard took his lover's hand and descended with him, eager for the tour to begin and glad it would be Hilana guiding them. It was good to see her, and it would be good to have a positive experience with both her and Arvælyn. He knew better than to force them into reconciliation, but he could certainly grease the wheels.

"I should see if any of these musicians want to form a band," he murmured, a quirk of a smile upon his face. He had ceased to accept coin for his art, taking to heart what Vrædyn had said about the tawdriness of working for one's living. If he had accompanists, however, he would ensure that they were paid and he would just enjoy the free drinks and accolades. Finn could play magnanimous magnatus. And he would continue to pocket his pay from the Silver Sentinels against a rainy day, which was rare in Solunarium, but he was still a village boy and didn't feel safe resting on Arvælyn's fortune.

"I am eager to see this," he announced. "And to hear more of the music, of course." Even if he couldn't play yet, but he didn't bring that up lest it sour the mood.

[Hilana Chenzira]

Whatever concern for her family, her people, and ultimately herself calmed down a bit at Arvaelyn's words. That was likely as good as it would get for a while, and Hilana wasn't about to look a gift camel in the mouth. He was some level of satisfied, or so she hoped. Her Semblance would never be strong enough to go through whatever was sure to be multiple wards. Even if it was as simple as hers, of which there was no chance. Further, she knew better than to even consider trying. "Gratias, Your Exalted Highness," she bowed her head and shoulders to him, straightening up once again, her hands folded in front of her.

Her people were still watching with abject curiosity. There would be many questions later, and some answers that Hilana could give. Hopefully most of them. But she knew that while this benefited House Sol'Zalkyrion, it benefited her nomadic kin as well. By bringing them into the fold, such as it was, she could help ensure that they could have some influence and considerations that were afforded the others in the realm. Their needs were different and their traveling made for a logistical challenge, but increasing the number of Sentinel outposts in Atraxia was a perfectly reasonable answer to much of it.

And for all of her tribulations with the Dragon Prince in the last month and a half, Hilana really did believe that Arvaelyn wanted to do better than what his extended family had over the last thousands of years. Finn likely did, too. The Mesminstrel had always been keen to explore her culture in their lessons, and he wasn't a big city by at heart. He may have embraced it with Arvaelyn and the capital, but deep down... he understood it better than most.

Three birds, one stone.

"Of course, Your Exalted Highness," Hilana stepped back and out of the way so that when the winged hybrid left the dais, she was out of his and Finn's paths. The elder had gotten up and was approaching near Hilana by the time Arvaelyn had addressed him, and he nodded solemnly and bowing low to him.

"Your Will, Your Exalted Highness," Rayan agreed. He was not too put out by the fact that the young Vastiana had been requested instead of his humble self. He knew the girl and the stories that surrounded her. Her late mother's energy and more to spare; she could bring them up and down the lengths of the expanse. And technically, she already had. He turned back to the assembled crowds and went to talk with the other elders to spread the word as instructed. There was much to talk about, too, considering what they had witnessed. While fealty had thus far always been to the Elves... Arvaelyn Princeps Coronam Draconum was a blend of dragon and Elf, and both he and the Magnatus at his side were chosen of the Founders. That could not be ignored or dismissed. Further, there was the massive platinum dragon in the distance, and even Hilana was peeking at them. She wondered which of Their Hallowed Highnesses it was, and she resolved to ask later if she had the opportunity. The crowds dispersed, many crowding close but not too close, though the children tended to be bolder than the adults.

Hilana followed Arry and Finn as they started on the cleared paths. "You'll hear that again soon now that the priests and sacrifices are done," she was agreeable. And sure enough in the distance, instruments were starting - drums, mostly, though there sounded like there were other percussive instruments joining in. "Many will take to the central area soon. Tribes play, families play, and individuals will play. It usually goes late into the night. Matchmaking will start in earnest soon, though for some it already has," she was reflective. "There are always those amongst the gatherings that don't wish to take to the stage, so we can go through the camps, too. Families camp on the outskirts," she explained. "If you keep going straight, that will take you into the bartering and trading pavilions," the Vastiana advised, feeling Tiaz moving on her shoulders as he looked at Finn. "Some of the smaller tribes specialize in certain trade goods, much like artisanal houses and families in the cities and towns. Further, some plants and animals are located in only in certain areas around the Expanse, and few of the tribes here actually go around the entire region anymore. Most have shorter, established routes. Some along the river, some deeper out. Some like west, some like east. Some to the northern area by Tertium, and there's fewer of them here because of the distance... but they'll likely be at the Derby in Tertium next season."

As they passed into the impromptu market area, many sellers had set up colourful canvas shades against the ever-present light of the Sceptre of Avaerys. "You never know what will turn up here. Sometimes tribes find ancient artifacts and hang onto them until the market. Many will trade or sell them to my father, which is how they regularly end up in the hands of House Sol'Avaerys," the girl remarked. Her father and Consul Argenti had been fast friends since school, and since the Consul was always looking to enhance his standing, his contact with Lebaoth paid off well.

Sure enough, there was all kinds of goods for sale: animals, tools, supplies, foodstuffs, clothing, adornments, weapons, and other goods. Some merchants from the towns and cities came out here to barter and sell, too, since the festival was held in the same place each year, it was not that difficult to traverse to it. Food was being prepared, from stews, wraps, kebabs, kofta, seasoned rice dishes, roasted meats, and sweets... and as soon as Arry and Finn came into sight, crowds hurried over with samples to offer them to try. None of this food seemed too different from the comestibles that Hilana had prepared for them in the last few seasons... except, perhaps, for the roasted scorpions being offered to them on leaves.

[Arvælyn]

"The last time I let you out of my sight you came back in two pieces, Finn. I forbid you to go on tour with a troupe of nomadic musicians when there are plenty of capable instrumentalists in the safety of the Umbrium." Arvælyn was jovial in his commanding. It seemed that, at least with Finn, he could have a sense of humour about what transpired on Hilana's excursion. They'd certainly had time to process it during Finn's convalescence.

With the pale, Northern human on his arm, the draconic elf followed the Vastiana where she led. In the surrounding Symphonies, he could feel a lot of confusion over his proclamation of a single-sex betrothal. Perhaps he'd been premature in uttering so iconoclastic an announcement in a culture where marriage was understood to be a procreative alliance, but these were safer waters to test than those of the capital.

"Should we return home with souvenirs?" Arvælyn mused, albeit facetiously, at the mention of trading pavilions. His family was uniquely difficult to satisfy with gifts. Perhaps Raithen would be easier, but Arvælyn wasn't truly close with Raithen... particularly lately, and it was just as well he'd flitted off with the Deus Imperator to serve at his pleasure somewhere far from him. At these thoughts, his Emblem might have been seen to surge, if it wasn't so markedly subtle. A smile returned to his face,

"Could you just imagine my mum keeping a straw doll on her desk because I gifted it?" He grinned to Finn, "Or perhaps a Phocion would fancy a nice floral pashmina? Oh!" The Princeps blinked, as they were suddenly surrounded by clambering Vastians offering foodstuffs.

"I see you come by your habit honestly, Hilana..." He chuckled, "Very well, very well." He lifted a hand and began to pluck a few samples from the offerings with his Kinetics. A small solar system of snacks would float between himself and his amatus as they walked, so they could enjoy a nibble when it suited them. He tried a nicely seasoned, bite-sized kofta first. He'd become far more of a carnivore since his transition, though only Finn was likely to have noted this change.

"Interesting. I wonder at what sort of sites they stumble these relics... Do your people keep detailed maps marking such things?"

[Finn]

The bard didn't have to feign interest. He had always wanted to know more about Hilana's people, what made them different as well as what made them similar. This was part of the joy of travel that he had found, even if that travel would be circumscribed to Atraxia for the foreseeable future. His mood was heightened by the feast Aværys had shared with him, and he found himself laughing more lightheartedly at Arvælyn's sallies and the delight of a moveable feast. He thanked those offering as well as his amatus.

"I would also be interested in maps," he added, attention piqued. There were so many things to take in, but certainly some of them were of more intense interest than others. Since taking on the Rune of Traversion, map-making had become a hobby of his. As often as not, when he was perusing Prince Vrædyn's library or those available to him through Arvælyn, Cithæra, the Palatium Umbarum, and the Silver Sentinels, he would be distracted by maps. There was no substitute for going to a place and delving into the intricate web of ley-lines that connected points in space, but every little bit helped make it safer, more stable. He had become more risk-averse in some ways, though none had called him a coward to his face.

"And also..." He glanced at Arvælyn and then back to Hilana. "...soul cairns." Since his initiation and the pursuant conversation with Æros, he had been curious about those artifacts of Reaving that imprisoned the souls of those who fell victim to its might. There were souls he would certainly free to the Grimlord's embrace, but if he found one that was compatible, he might just form a bond when he achieved any sort of mastery over his own Rune.

Finn was curious about more general magical theory now that he was steeped in a magical culture, even more so than Kalzasi's. For instance, when the shadow beast had disarmed him, his Rune had translated to his right arm. Once the limb was reattached, he found that his Rune had doubled, at least physically. He had no greater mastery or power for it, just a strange proof of the nature of things.

[Hilana Chenzira]

At least Arvaelyn was in a more expansive mood. Hilana relaxed a bit further - perhaps not as much as she might have in his presence before his ascension to Princeps Coronam Draconum, and certainly not since the Ecithian gambit that had ended so poorly for Finn and Khyan, but she felt like she could breathe a bit easier. Fiya and Tiaz were looking at Finn and Arvaelyn over her shoulders, the silvery little female peeking out at them from where she was draped on top of the elder statesman of the pair of pythons.

He wasn't wrong that there was curious murmurs and questions about the single-sex betrothal. Bedmates like that were fine and perfectly acceptable, but marriage was essentially a corporate merger. It was for producing children and cementing alliances and friendships and connections between clans. But there was nothing outright... against it. Considering they had shown themselves to be avatars of the Holy Founders, none were bold enough to consider it. They didn't know the details, but they did know that duty was duty. Children were necessary, lest the bloodlines die. Even those who would have preferred to lay intertwined in the arms of their same-sex partner were usually married to another, and children needed to be a result of it... which led to part of the night's events, too, beyond the matchmaking, but Hilana could tell her guests about that part in all due time.

The idea of Princess Cithaera with a straw doll amused her, but Prince Phocion with a floral pashmina... that made the Vastiana giggle and her shoulders quaked with mirth. "There are some nice things here that they may well like," Hilana was still chuckling. "It might not be what they are accustomed to in Solunarium Proper... but my people have many artisans, too. It just may take a different sort of eye to appreciate them."

But the food all around them and to see Arvaelyn and Finn eating and enjoying their fare was met with much approval. Those whose samples were taken were exultant with success, and the girl laughed again, but she certainly helped herself to the scorpions that were offered, thanking them and popping one of the spicy, crunchy bugs into her mouth. Once she swallowed, she looked back at them. "The Rite of Hospitality came around as a result of the Orcani menace. Back when our people lived in Northern Ecith, in the fertile grasslands and fields and hills and mountains, we were farmers and hunters and gatherers, but we were primarily stationary. But when they invaded us, and started to destroy our homes and villages and people... we were forced to move on from there," the girl told them. "Many died from the monsters. Those that survived may have had nothing but the clothes on their backs, and so the Rite of Hospitality began. Individual tribes may not have gotten along, but we are all one people... and the survival of our people is more important than whatever petty grudge that may have existed back then when life was purely about escape and survival. But it became an ingrained part of our culture that it exists even now, while the Orcani are kept out as much as possible and sightings are few and far between... but there are sightings, as you saw from the sacrifices."

But at the more solemn questions as they walked, Hilana considered. "Different tribes have maps, either on paper or in their heads. We could perhaps ask them to share them. They would do that for you, I think, as a gesture. You've offered them much, and that is something that they could share with you in turn. We can draw the maps out and mark them up and make notes of what details they have on them. Some may be picked clean by now... but there might be some that aren't. It wouldn't hurt to get them marked up and then they could be investigated for relics. I've seen expeditions from the House of Sol'Avaerys before out in the sands.. but I don't think all the locations have been divulged. They didn't always share that with us when we met up with them. Sometimes for extra coin they would, but not all tribes shared their secrets... and it was always wiser not to press."

She had another scorpion and considered the soul cairns. "Soul cairns may be the harder ask. Oftentimes those are passed down along the family. Some may never be used or wielded... but they have their place amongst their kin as craft-fallen. Still, there is no harm in asking. Some might consider it an honour that you would consider their ancestor. Some may not be ready to let them go," Hilana held her hands out from her sides to indicate that it could go either way.

With the amount of food orbiting around them, there were many items on display that may have caught their eye. One of the elders was stumping towards the path, intent on blocking them, while urging his grandsons to carry something to him. Two teenagers were hauling a large tusk of ivory, curved and frankly massive, weighing easily over one hundred pounds. But what was carved on it, carefully, painstakingly, and inlaid with paints and sealed, was the image of the Crownwyrm. "For you, Your Exalted Highness. A gift from my family," the elder bowed, as the teenagers presented the tusk carefully to the Dragonborn Prince.

[Arvælyn]

The prince listened silently, taking in the surrounding sights as Hilana gave her lecture on the nomadic custom of Hospitality. He wondered if this was one of the parallels the Vastians found with his Re'hyæan ancestors when they first met in the desert all those years ago.

Arvælyn considered. Surely the Vigilia Argenti had comprehensive maps of the Atraxian desert, but in a way they were dilettantes to the desert these people dwelt. Even with their powerful magics there might have been things missed... things it wouldn't have even occurred to them to seek. He'd never made a concerted effort to explore what the archives offered in terms of Atraxian cartography, but now that he was out in the middle of the Expanse he was curious. He knew there used to be more major cities during the imperial era, and anyone who'd seen the ruins in the Umbrium would have to be aware that this region had been civilised well before that. But it seemed much had been lost to time, or perhaps it was just another Solunarian secret waiting to be unveiled when it would benefit the revelator.

"Finn is too charming by half." Arvælyn smirked, a bit wearily if one were looking closely. "I've little doubt he could entice a soul cairn out of someone if he set his mind to it." He arched a brow and slowed his gait as the elder moved to intercept them. He paused as they drew close, and lowered the remaining constellation of foodstuffs toward Hilana. His Mesmer instructed her wordlessly to take hold of them so he could focus fully on what was being brought to him.

"Gratias, venerabilis senior." He inclined his head, "Why don't you tell me about this gift and how it came to be?" He glanced from the elder to his grandsons and then his fiery gaze dipped down to regard the tusk itself.

[Finn]

Finn would be only too happy to return home laden with prizes bought from or gifted by Hilana's people. He was the exotic one here; even in Solunarian dress, he was clearly of Karnorian stock—fair skin and bright eyes more suitable to the subarctic climate. He was grateful for his Vigilia blacks and the skin-preserving ointments Hilana concocted for him else he would just be a half-burned mess all the time. As a Kalzasern village boy, he was wont to worship the sun whenever it was available, but here it was available all of the time—at least until the strange Eclipse—and his ingrained habits became hurtful.

The injured bard would just remember the names of his favorite foods here so he could list them, or at least describe them, to Hilana later. If she wouldn't always have time to make them, he could at least bring recipes to the servi in the kitchens. And, of course, he would be looking at instruments. Had he his druthers, he would have a music room of his own full of instruments he wanted to learn how to play, shelves of sheet music, and books about the subject—an academy of music all to himself, and to his friends and fellow Leh'anafel.

"I wouldn't ask anyone for a beloved family relic," he was quick to assure her. "But if, say, an Orkhan reaver were to leave one behind..." It hadn't occurred to him at first that they might be heirlooms, and if someone offered a family member's soulbound weapon to him, he would be honored and be its steward. Aværys' influence was helping him to see why he might be deserving of such honors heaped upon him, but his conscience still made stipulations. "Also, if they merely wish the soul of their departed family freed, I might be able to help."

At the larger gift, his eyes widened. He only looked; the gift was for Arvælyn. Finn's eyes found beauty everywhere. He hoped Arvælyn saw it here. The people were so quick to honor him; he didn't even need Varvara's chains to command them. For a moment, he fought the urge to pull the adulation toward himself. Aværys' hunger was famously unending; Finn's was but a drop in the bucket, a drop in the sea. Still.

"Gorgeous," he murmured to Hilana.

[Hilana Chenzira]

“He is, isn’t he?” the girl had to chuckle when Arvaelyn remarked on Finn’s natural charm. It was the truth, after all, even without his mesmer. The pale northerner was incredibly charismatic, as was the Draconic Prince... but since his Dragon blood had asserted itself and certainly made him more awe-inspiring, he was also more intimidating to approach. Finn, on the other hand... He lacked the prestige of Arvaelyn’s birthright and position, and at the same time, the inherent threat thereof. She smiled at Finn when he reassured her he wasn’t after the heirlooms, but when he made the offer of freeing them, Hilana’s eyebrows went up and her head tilted. “Can that be done?” she wanted to know. Perhaps some would indeed let their family members go to the great Paths until their time for reincarnation came. But there doubtless were other trophies that had been claimed over the years from their ancient foes... It couldn’t hurt to ask.

When Arvaelyn asked her to take over managing the food buffet that had been circling him and Finn, Hilana had no qualms doing so. Where he had kept them aloft with Kinetics, the Vastiana with her colourful skirts mimicked his craft by working with the wind spirits to draw them back and away so that they were no longer between the two and the elder who had approached them, having stepped to the side as well. The foodstuffs danced merrily around her, and when a few children approached her with more samples for them, Hilana winked at them and added them to those that were gently bobbing in the air until the Prince and his Betrothed were ready for more. “It is, isn’t it?” she murmured back to Finn. “We have something for you too,” she smiled at him. ‘We’ might well have meant her own family, or her people, but... time would tell.

“Before the great darkness came, my sons ventured through the mountains to the jungles of the south,” the elder Vastian told him. “There are many strange creatures there, as there are in the Respublica Ecithianae, and they came across this loxodonta monstera. When it charged them, they fought it, and were able to slay the beast,” the old man focused on Masquerade, creating a simulacrum of a giant elephant on the pathway behind his grandsons with the tusk. The gargantuan beast threw its head up and trumpeted soundlessly through a swinging trunk. It was well over twice the height of either of the exalted guests at their festival, with darkened, leathery skin and wild-looking eyes. The extensive tusks shimmered in the light of the Sceptre overhead. “This tusk remained intact from the fight, and I knew that it would make a proper gift, Highness. I have carved it in the likeliness of your Exalted pater, and we would be honoured if you would accept it.”

The simulacrum faded, but with Arvaelyn and Finn able to look at the details up close, it had clearly been carved by a master. Scales, horns, claws, teeth, wings... each had their own depth to them, accentuated by the richness and darkness of the ink that had been etched. Closer examination would reveal the Scrivening that had been inlaid in the etching. “If you would touch it, Your Exalted Highness, and will it to life...” The use of aether would activate the scrivening, and the image of the Crownwyrm would lift off of the tusk, the effect of the Masquerade magic inlaid within allowing the vision of the dragon to circle in flight around Arvaelyn and up higher, soaring overhead before being recalled, perching on the tusk before vanishing again.

[Arvælyn]

"Too charming," Arvælyn repeated, "And too kind." Smiling, he shook his head at Finn's aversion to requesting a boon that might serve him just because it bore sentimental meaning to someone else. Surely the power of wielding a potent weapon was more important than some stranger's nostalgia. To his mind it seemed more selfish to deny such a treasure to one who might properly brandish it than to request the artefact be put to use.

But soon his attentions were turned to his gift and the givers thereof. He listened to the tale told by the Vastian elder and was pleased when his mental images of a beast he'd never laid eyes upon were replaced by the more accurate depiction conjured by the mage's Masquerade.

"How thoughtful..." He mused aloud, starting to reach for the tusk but pausing his outstretched hand just short of touching the ivory. "I have never seen such a creature in the flesh... is that flesh, or is this creature hewn of stone? In any case, we do not have them where I was raised. Your sons are most brave." He completed the gesture of touching the Scrivened etching, starting despite himself as the reflection of his father in his full draconic form surged forth and rose up from the souvenir to the skies.

Far behind them, but large enough that he remained visible even over the highest of tentpoles, the lounging Kairyndralok lifted his great head from its resting place in the sand to get a glimpse of the projection. Many Vastians circled the dragon, standing at a respectful distance which was still far closer than any amongst them had been to one of the sacred creatures. As the false dragon returned to its ivory home, the true dragon snorted smoke and lowered his head back to the dune beneath him.

"We shall treasure this gift, and I'll see that your rendition of the Crownwyrm soars the heights of the Thalamum Draconum."