And These Hands Are Not Mine

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: 20 Sundered Rise, 123
NOTES: -

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As days flit by and Searing truly began in earnest, there was a question posed from many lips and upon many tongues– why? And it was leveled, repeatedly, at Janus; by kith and kin, by those ever stranger, any time he did deign possess temerity enough to show himself. Why he said what he said, did what he did, and why, by his will, did he bid Æros take Palæmon?

People were…curious, and such curiosity made manifest in two predominant flavors: something bitter, and something more mild. Much to his dismay, the bitter flavor came from those with whom he was most familiar, and the milder from his former Luxian acquaintances and the like...many of the latter were actually rather kind to him. But alas, for them all, he held no answers; some things he knew not why he did himself, and others…he dare not say.

Beyond Æros and Palæmon themselves, he dared not to breathe a single syllable of a word of what had happened when he'd gone to the palace alone. But even still– him repeatedly refusing to answer, saying he couldn't rather than wouldn't, and given the behavior of the two made to share, within his house came the understanding that his hand had been forced. Particularly, if Thessia leveled correct guesses at him, he would not confirm, but he also would not, in that case, deny, allowing her to piece together something of a guess.

And, unfortunately for the now sunlit Gens Sælyan, this decision by the prince cleaved a ridge within their number, sowing a not insubstantial amount of discord. Those who'd been against the shift in the first place felt like they'd been proven right, and many who'd been neutral or faintly positive recanted their support in the wake, dismayed by the notion that the true punishment for Janus' folly had been foisted upon his son and nephew. Palæmon, who was far removed from politics and wholly blameless, and Æros– one who many regarded as already suffering.

Particularly conflicted in this way was one young Cicæro. He knew not what to make of it all, but he did posses the desire to make the best of his new position, at least.

Ever still, such infighting did not stop time's sand from blowing in fate's wind, and soon arrived the day where Æros was to report to the Palatium Furiarum to officially perform what new duties he'd been assigned…whatever exactly that would truly entail, he wasn't quite sure.

Recruiting the aid of another uncle, Hespæros, Æros– and Palæmon? Palæros?– emerged in Traversion Arrivals, dressed well enough to match what he'd expect of fellow courtiers but not too ostentatious. Being a fan of his own craft of Masquerade, he did use it, but not in any exceptional extravagance; the metal accoutrements he wore would shift like a desert mirage, as would some of the fabrics, colors blending in a subtle, hypnotic fashion.

On his way in when he was asked to state his purpose, he would state it, and then go from there.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

They were met by an ostensibly frazzled court clerk who took their names and business at court, then stepped away for a few minutes, and returned with news.

"The seneschal is occupied. You are instructed to meet with the other prægustatori in the gardens near the Northeast lotus pond. You may inquire after your responsibilities with them."

Though the main complex of the palace lay at the foot of the volcano, it was understood to encompass the six Prædia that housed the distinct cadet branches of House Sol'Aværys. Between these estates, the main complex and the Templum Solis Radians, lay the massive palace gardens. Naturally, the gardens were maintained by Elementalists and Summoners, and included flora from all over the known world and some that had been engineered specifically to serve the æsthetic of one section or another. The gardens also housed the royal menagerie enclosure, though few were afforded the opportunity to view the collection therein.

Æros would find the other food tasters where the clerk had indicated. Such court positions were on public record, so he would know who was included in their number. The first prægustator he noticed was seated on a blanket eating an apple. The moonborn had his sleeves rolled up and two pairs of boots standing beside bare legs extended and crossed at the ankle. Æros would recognise him from nights in the Noctis Æternæ as:

Marius Val'Levriel Victrian

The second, another moonborn, was kneeling at his side whispering something into his ear. The devious glint in her eye made one suspect the words she spilled might be more far more poisonous than anything they ingested in their duties as tasters. Æros would know her socially, as her mother, an influential senatrix, had been aligned with Janus prior to the split of the senate. She was:

Cara Val'Tavares Tithya

The last, and loftiest, of their number was seated on at the edge of the lotus pond, dipping his feet into the cool waters and tipping his head back, relaxedly. He was a pureblooded scion of both Astræon- and Naxos-Sol'Aværys. Though his parents, both heads of houses in their own right, were equal in stature, he was a member of his maternal gens, Astræon, due to an agreement between the two princes and given this was his mother’s first marriage and his father’s third. With such a pedigree, Prince Seværys had been a cogent contender for the Radiant Throne, before the Platinum Prince was introduced into the picture. If his current position was intended to be a slight, none too perturbed did he seem, but such was the demeanour of:

Castor Astræon-Sol'Aværys Seværys Princeps

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Beautiful as it was, it had always been Palæmon's desire to stay as far away from the palace as he could. Introverted and perhaps overcautious, he preferred the company of the flora of his own gardens to people; and within the palatial walls, there were so many…people. Æros, on the other hand, was perfectly comfortable in a variety of settings normally, but this had him a bit on edge.

For one, Palæmon still stirred, Æros unwilling to suppress the man completely; he'd done so before, the one time he'd previously borrowed his cousin's skin, but the understanding there was that the arrangement was temporary. This was…different, and if it were to be his– their– life now, he ought to be around to experience it. But as such, he was managing two Symphonies with his Mesmer as his cousin lacked the Craft. For one of Æros' skills, this wasn't a terrible burden, but it almost felt…wrong, in a way, to do so.

Palæmon's moonborn pallor gave him an almost opalescent skin tone, though this was interrupted on both his arms due to the witchmarks which spread from his two visible Crafts– each had been placed on one of his palms, with one flowing like water, clear and pale blue, up his left and primary arm, and the other, growing painted and floral up the left. He was fairly modestly dressed, but the sleeves only went down to his elbow, leaving both visible.

When they sought the palatial seneschal, they were only met with a rather concerned looking clerk who greeted them, then, most likely, stepped away to confirm their role was as stated– and when they returned, they were directed to the gardens.

This position was, technically, appointed to both of them, but Palæmon was assuredly the more passive of the two. Even though it was his body, he knew not how to navigate social climes beyond dealing with his own kin, really. Still, that did not stop Palæmon’s influence from causing their gaze to wander, slowing their pace just a bit. An experienced botanist himself, he was enchanted, nigh spellbound, by the sight of the gardens. Perhaps this wouldn’t be…so bad? It was…breathtaking, really. Over time, he’d managed to grow a magnificent garden of his own, but it was not nearly to this scale.

As Palæros neared the location to which he’d been directed, three were already present; he’d recognized their names when he’d seen them, and the scene before him was idyllic– three beautiful people in an equally gorgeous setting. Given who they were, though, building a rapport with them would…interesting. Palæmon stirred, nervous about the prince in particular, but Æros would quiet that; it’d be fine, he’d insist.

Upon his approach, he’d briefly bow his head to them as an indicator of respect; though they were now of the same position, each of the others present had seniority, and, well, Seværys was…Seværys.

Giving the trio a charming, easy smile, “...I was given little instruction beyond to find you three; pray tell, how will my time be spent while I’m here?” Æros spoke smoothly, velvety voice cordial and warm.

He did notice the potential venom on the lips of Tithya, but he’d not acknowledge that ‘til he had to.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

"Oh, it's the new bloke..." Seværys said, tipping his head back so far that he was looking at the approaching courtier upside down.

"Blokes, Sev." Victrian corrected with a wry smile. "Plural. Remember? He's the haunted host."

"Very spooky!" Tithya giggled.

"Let us not be inhospitable." Seværys said evenly, as he swung his legs round and pushed himself onto his knees before rising to his feet. With a flick of his hand and his Elemental Craft, the water was flung from his bare legs and he was dry as he padded through the grass toward Palæros. Piercing, amber eyes met the Moonborn's as a dashing smile curled the lip of the prince.

"You can call me Sev, when it's just us tasters." He gestured to the two on the blanket, "The lass is Tithya, and the lad is Victrian."

"You're already late! You missed brekkie." The latter noted, "We only have one job, you know."

"And it's not half-bad! Honestly, I can't believe you're still hungry, Vic." The former grinned, stealing the apple from his grasp and taking a mocking bite, while staring him in the eye. As she chewed, her eyes rose to inspect the newest member of their little band. "What does His Serene Starlit Highness have against Moonborns, I wonder? Now three of the four of us are Silver."

"Three of the five of us." Victrian amended, once more. "I don't know the one he's wearing, but Æros was an exotic dancer in the Noctis Æternæ."

"How exotic?" Tithya inquired, straddling Victrian at the waist.

"Fæ!" He replied, as his hands crept up to tickle her sides.

"Don't mind them." Seværys rolled his eyes, as Tithya broke into peels of giggles. "Those two must be getting all the poisoned dishes and it's addling their brains. Care to sit with me? I was just cooling off by the pond." He gestured back to the spot where he'd been dangling his legs when they arrived.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Æros’ initial assessment appears to have been correct. The trio of other prægustatori bantered amongst themselves through their greeting and introductions, and he was right to assume that the two moonborn would be less friendly than their solar counterpart. Palæmon wasn’t quite sure how he gleaned that, oblivious as he was to a large array of social cues, but nevertheless trusted Æros.

Further, Æros could tell from opening himself up to the Symphonies ‘round him that the others only buzzed with static æther or subtle reverberations– Seværys in particular possessed a dearth of any noise. The only target for Æros’ magic would be himself and his cousin– but that was fine.

However, Palæros would act oblivious, and almost apologetic when the others spoke, as he’d bring a hand to his chest and nod his head. “Am I? Apologies– I arrived at the time I was told to, but that’ll be amended from now on,” he’d say, punctuated with a light, cordial sort of smile. Really, the instructions he’d been given had been…patently vague.

Tithya’s joke about moonborns did pull an exhale of a laugh from him, given the ratio. He couldn’t say if such was true, given he knew not why nor how the others were appointed to their positions, but Palæmon knew well his presence was due to his father, not his moonlit pallor.

When Tithya indicated her ignorance of Palæmon’s name, neither were surprised, given his deliberately low profile life. “I am here along with Palæmon– it’ll be easier to tell us apart eventually, promise; but feel free to speak to either of us.” He said so graciously, aware how bizarre the notion was, but such was reality.

Palæros would tilt his head at Victrian’s answer to Tithya, though still looking in fair spirits and amend, “half-Fæ, but aye; in lieu of having the boon of pure elven blood, I strove for a suitably fitting marriage of my features with my elven half; Winter Court and Platinum became a celestial sea.” In clarifying this, he put subtle spin on the tone of his explanation, weighing his words to imply he’d much rather have been a full elf. “I did my best working with what I had,” he’d add, words carrying a bashful lilt and ending with a soft laugh.

And then finally, to Seværys’ offer, his smile would brighten and he'd breathe out, amused, at the man's joke. Æros shifted their features to look as charming as he could, gaze half-lidded yet playful. His soul had preserved, too, the grace and reflex he'd had as a dancer. Translating it between bodies was a bit odd, but he'd been hosted by Palæmon before and had...taken the time to get used to him in the days leading up to now. Of course, his cousin lacked much of his stamina, but that could be remedied, to a degree, with time. However, because of this, his mannerisms flowed with all of the silken elegance he had in life.

“I’d love to,” Palæros would reply, moving with long, graceful strides to close the distance between the two and sat down. They were close, but not touching; Æros was careful about giving the other his space out of politeness– that is, unless he were to indicate otherwise.

"Is this how time is spent between meals? Because Palæmon could easily get used to this," he'd say with a soft laugh and impish grin, the soul of his cousin stirring with trepidation; he really didn't want to be acknowledged, but the statement wasn't a lie– he was surrounded by that which he'd dedicated his life to, and frankly, he was curious to at some point cross paths with the groundskeepers.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

"He was kidding." Seværys waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder when Æros made his excuses for missing breakfast. "You'll find he usually is." And with that, the golden elf squatted down at the pond's edge and rolled back onto his rear, extending his feet into the water with a satisfied sigh.

The little tickle session seemed to have concluded, with both Moonborns turning with revived interest to the newcomer as he spoke a bit on the details of Palæmon's internal arrangement.

"Have you said 'hello', yet, Pal old pal?" Victrian grinned, "I hope you aren't feeling neglected in there sharing flesh with your... cousin, is it?" He retrieved his mostly eaten apple from Tithya, and took a bite, before tossing the core to the feet of the nearest servus, who would collect it for discarding.

Tithya looked at him, eyes wide at the description of his racial mélange and how it presented when he had a body of his own.

"Wait, you looked like a Platinum Elf?"

"Nooo!" Victrian wrinkled his nose, "His skin was purple, not his eyes... Well, maybe they were, too, I didn't tend to focus there much. He had the loveliest little galaxies swirling across his body. I never saw him as starlit after the Platinum fashion, though- Why do you say that, Æros? I would imagine 'Winter Fæ' are no strangers to snowy hair..."

"Don't take a thing they say personally. They aren't hateful, they're just hazing you because they're bored. And I'm sure you did fine. You hardly had control over your parentage. We all do just that. The best with what the Founders grant us." An easy, lazy smile was directed at the newest taster(s). "We have a lot of freedom between meals, and we're rather fortunate that His Serene Starlit Highness likes to dine later than most, so we aren't taking early meals like dotards." He quipped. "Are you being lodged here at the palace, or...?"

"Of course he isn't!" Tithya rolled her eyes, "Only his vaunted princely cousin Sevie gets the royal treatment."

"Well, to be fair, it's what's on the tin, Tith. He is a bloody royal, isn't he?"

"Shut up, twat. My point is, the rest of us have to hoof it from the Aurecine."

"You're a Traverser, Tithya."

"Yeah, well, the security here is a bear to deal with. They make me blip outside."

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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There was some brief concern internally that they’d actually been late, so it was good to know the other was prone to being facetious in that way so early on. Palæmon was ever the stickler for punctuality when he did have places to be. Æros? Well…it definitely depended, but for this, he certainly did want to be on time.

When Palæmon was addressed directly, Palæros’ features would shift to something more meek; more visibly nervous, even, judging from the way his body tensed up. His gaze would shift over to Victrian, and for a moment, there was silence; it would appear he had not a single clue what to say. “I-...we're…cousins, yes,” was all he managed to reply, his voice much softer this time.

After another brief beat, his demeanor and overall affect would shift back to something much more at ease as Victrian shifted onto the subject of Æros’ body in life. The other man not recalling the color of his eyes almost made him laugh, but he did stop himself.

“Good to know you kept your eyes on what was actually important,” he’d reply in jest; he’d not have been very good at his job if the audience's focus was his face alone. The subject made Æros a bit nostalgic; for as lost as he was at that time, parts of him did very much miss performing.

As the conversation moved, Palæros returned his attention to Seværys, acknowledging his words with a light, appreciative nod, but before he could respond aloud, the others chimed in.

“Would that I could stay at the palace," he'd say, exhaling a laugh. "But no, it is as she says-" he'd nod to Tithya, "I'm commuting from the Aurecine district as well, though I– well, neither of us, actually, have Traversion. But getting kin to make a portal here, at least, is easy enough, and I don't much mind the security…without it, our jobs would have much more tangible danger, no?" The question was as light-hearted as the rest, but no less true all the same.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

"Whoa! What?" Victrian pushed Tithya off of himself, sending her rolling onto the grass as he got up onto his knees, suddenly keenly interested in the newcomer, as Palæmon took over.

"What the fuck, Vic?" Tithya hoisted herself up to a sitting position and smoothed out her skirt.

"Did you fucking see that?! How his whole posture changed, and then his voice got all breathy and meek?" Victrian pointed at him, "How fascinating! Which one of you is going to do the tasting? Will you trade off?" And then it was Æros again, teasing back a bit.

"Of course I kept my eye on my drink, Æros." Victrian replied, not to be one-upped. "It wouldn't do to be poisoned before I was even taken on as a taster."

"It's not poison you'll have to worry about if you toss me around like that again!" Tithya sneered, eliciting naught but an eyeroll from Victian.

"You don't really want to stay at the palace." Seværys replied, the words ponderous in his smooth, gentle tenor. "It can be good to have a bit of distance from time to time." He shook off the grim demeanour and his easy smile returned. "But of course you have the right of it. Security need must be particularly vigilant here. Especially since the palace has lost the support of the Sentinels, we're at something of a disadvantage."

"So." Victrian began, crawling catlike through the grass to sidle up behind the pair by the pond, plopping onto his side. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper, "We were talking before you arrived, and we infer that your assignment is due to Lord Janus' speech in the Umbrian Senate? It was the talk of the palace that day. I heard the kitchen staff were ducking flying cutlery." He plucked a small flower from amidst the grass, and lifted his hand to tuck it behind Seværys' ear so it protruded through tufts of his golden hair.

"Careful, Victrian. If the wrong person hears you, you'll be trying the arsenic tarte for luncheon." The sunborn bade.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Æros was somewhat surprised by Victrian’s keen interest when Palæmon spoke. His eyes would widen further when he threw Tithya, even. He thought it’d make the others uncomfortable for them to speak back and forth– but, he supposed, many within his own house had been fascinated by the nature of his ghostly existence…that is, before present circumstances. Interest at home was much more solemn, now.

But Palæros would simply smile and say, “he and I are two entirely different people, yes; that’s what I meant earlier– you will be able to tell us apart.” He might’ve appeared amused, perhaps by Victrian’s unbidden interest.

“We might trade off, but that depends on him; I’m not…overriding him on purpose. He is just…” Palæros would trail off, contemplative, but then his comportment would change again; softer, more tense, much less confident.

“I’m as present as Æros is, it’s just–...he talks more,” he’d add, an uneasiness to his voice.

But when the subject had shifted onto Æros in life, “...oh? Your drink? But you did remember the color of my skin and…what’d you say…?” Palæros’ brow would furrow and his eyes would narrow in faux thought, then widen again, his gaze set on Victrian. “I had the loveliest little galaxies swirling across my body?” He’d ask, tone woven with an impish sort of incredulity, features equally playful.

And as the conversation moved once more, Æros noted the way Seværys spoke of the palace; it made him wonder why it was he thought that.

With focus on Seværys, “really? Hm…I’ll take your word for it; I suppose you’d know far better than I.

“And oh, you’ve a point– with the Vigilia gone, do you know if there’s much being prepared to take their place? Or…some equivalent? I…admit, I’m a bit out of the loop when it comes to things of this nature,” he almost sounded embarrassed of his ignorance, but having spent the first half of the year dedicating himself to Umbrian politics and then dying, Luxian affairs were far from the forefront of his mind.

When Victrian moved, Palæros eyed him curiously; the mention of flying cutlery caused the possessed to tense, if only for a brief moment before his more relaxed posture restored. His gaze would shift off to the side, looking at nothing in particular for a moment, before returning to Victrian, and then to Seværys when he added his comment.

Looking to both of them, “I…in truth, he wasn’t very forthcoming with…ah, whatever it was that happened after he left the Umbrian Curia that day. We only know that he immediately went to the palace. It was he who told us we’d have to…live like this, but the whyfor…?” Palæros would shrug uncomfortably. “We can only guess. You might be right, for all we know.” He’d shake his head, the corner of his lip twitching in disgust, anger briefly flashing ‘cross his brow, in his eyes.

But then, peace once more. “Sev is right, though; ought we speak of this?” Palæros' voice held the slightest tinge of hesitation. He knew the princeps was right, though he was curious, admittedly, about what exactly had happened to Janus at the palace– he’d absolutely refused to go into detail.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

"A Sembler does tend to be observant, yes..." Victrian replied, rolling his yes, "But when you said I was focused upon what was 'actually important', I naturally assumed you meant the libations. Speaking of which, that is one of the drawbacks of our role. We're not allowed to imbibe whilst on duty outside of our function as tasters. Apparently alcohol interacts with certain poisons in such a way as to impact their effectiveness." He sighed heavily, "As if a prægustator has ever actually ingested poison..."

"Well, there was Carmillus..." Tithya mused,

"They weren't on duty, that was after they left the court."

"And Arminius..." Seværys countered,

[glow=blue"Seriously? That bit of trivia predates the rise of the Founders. Of course the Cælians were subject to such pathetically mundane attempts upon their lives. Here by the time a meal gets to our lips it has been Sembled down to the smallest atomy by the Aværyan Guard. And if it hasn't? I-..."[/glow]

"You are the last line of defence." Tithya and Seværys said flatly in unison. It seemed this was something of a common saying for Victrian, who huffed at their tacit ridicule of his repetition.

"The Golden Guard has always dabbled," Seværys explained, "And under Her Divine Radiance, a focus had been placed upon keeping Cithæra's soldiers in line, so there was already an infrastructure in place. I think what they lack more than anything is bodies."

"The Sentinels poached the best mages, so the Guard is left with the cast-offs and the disgruntled." Tithya grimaced,

"Well, I wouldn't discount The Aværyan Guard. The baseborn of the Royal House boast some of the most potent mages in the realm." As the conversation turned to the recent Sælyan scandal, all three of Palæros' new colleagues gave him their rapt and unwavering attention.

"Perhaps not." Tithya shrugged, "I just wonder what the fuck was going through your Uncle-Father's head when he did that. He had one job."

"Just like us! And you'll find, as your Uncle-Father did, that the best way to do it is without pissing off the Crown."

"So, what do you both do for recreation?" Seværys asked mildly, as he leaned back to rest upon his elbows, splashing his legs idly in the waters of the lotus pond.