Feed Me Sunlight, Feed Me Air

[Sivan]

Sivan's mouth fell open in surprise. He had been practicing his Velasren on Twygg since that was how Destyn addressed him. The little elemental responded in its own fashion, and he assumed they were communicating. Perhaps he would have to enter a light trance the next time Twygg was present and commune in the manner of Dratori. It would be well to have an understanding with him. Then he was half-prepared to sprout wings before Destyn changed directions, reminding him of Laurevere's restrictions. Sometimes he still got turned around when the Fae'ethalan was around, whose mind was almost too agile.

"Dìreach math?" Laurevere asked archly. Apparently, he remembered it otherwise, but only Sivan was flushing. Not waiting upon ceremony, the elven noble strode toward the door, passing through Sivan's tower and out into the Plaza of Jeweled Arches. Sivan hurried to follow, Destyn in tow, and magically locked the door behind them. Assassins, amirite?

They caught up with Laurevere's long, sure stride as he led the way north into the Commons and their desired destination. Sivan and Destyn chatted, while of course Laurevere just looked perfectly composed and confident, the very picture of a Hytori noble—although closer examination might show his Siltori heritage to a knowledgeable eye. By the time they arrived at the Tranquil Gardens, Sivan was just wrapping up a truncated version of the story of their meeting for Laurevere's supposed benefit.

"And now," Laurevere declared, "here we are. Full circle." He stopped. "Well, Destynrael... do the plants sing to you of a dragon now?"

For his part, Sivan couldn't sense a dragon but that might be due to the fact that he hadn't met a dragon and didn't know what he should be looking for. Magical power was one thing; context another.

[Aegis]

As the trio arrived at the Tranquil Gardens, an attendant approached them, as was always the case with the local hospital. This man was dark of skin, pointed of ears, and stern of brow, often suggesting a Dratori heritage. He stopped a comfortable distance away, so as to not be intruding upon the conversation that was underway, but present enough should they need an attendant and utilize the medical services for which this place was typically sought. His robes were plain and clean, well pressed and well kept, his feet bare and one lightly tapping a rhythm.

And there was a song being sung in the gardens. It was light, wispy in an ephemeral way, maybe an echo of a song that never was. Sivan would be able to hear it clearly, finding no language in it, but there was power in these tones, voices that while not specifically known, were similar to others he would know. The plants were not singing, but the little spirits that tended to these gardens most certainly were. Destyn would find that he could sense it to a degree, always on the tip of his tongue, hearing it for the briefest of moments before it was gone.

It wouldn't be long until the pair of summoners would be able to spot the little spirits darting in and out among the gardens. Phycaal, much like Twygg. A spirit of air helping to shake loose the pollen in flowers, spirit of water convincing the soil to allow more water from the stream to permeate, a mole spirit guiding its living brethren in such a fashion as to better aerate the soil. All spirits working and singing in a beautiful harmony, in a manner clearly guided, different from how many of these spirits may act if found in the wilderness.

They soon felt the Runes of Sivan and Destyn, and little spirits began to flock out from everywhere. Dozens upon dozens flitted about and landed gently upon Sivan's person, all still singing, but seeming to take a respite to greet these Summoners. A handful landed upon Destyn as well, many of which were in the plant spectrum; one of ivy growing down from Destyn's chin to give him a beard; one of great butterfly wings alighting upon his back; one of a great broad leaf plopping atop his head.

And after this moment, the spirits departed the summoners, returning back to their duties tending to the gardens, unseen and unheard and unnoticed by those that did not dabble in the world of spirits, that did not seek to see more than they could, leaving the trio back to their own devices once more. And, of course, the nearby and silent attendant.

[Destyn]

"Sea! An-mhaith, Laurevere! Are you, you know, learning my language so we can be better friends? That would be very nice and caring of you!" Though even Destyn knew it was just as (if not more) likely that he just wanted to know what they were saying about him when they switched tongues.

Upon arriving at the gardens, Destyn was instantly engaged with and overwhelmed by their surroundings. It was so different to be there when the plants were silent, but the song of the spirits drew his attention as he regarded each one. He beamed, pointing to the mole spirit in a wordless exclamation that doubtless shouted “So cute!” But, by and by, Laurevere’s question drew him from the many diversions… at least enough to respond to the pointed question posed.

“Oh, um, no. No they do not. The plants are, you know, silenter than usual but the spirits! They are bursting with a song I do not ken. Can you also hear this, Sivan? Laurevere?” He could rarely keep track of the abilities of others when they did not align with his own. Flight capability was a bit easier to discern, what with wings and all, but even then some people could sprout wings or fly with no wings at all which, to him, seemed just artless.

“I think sometime the best thing to do when you are not sure of something is to just, you know, ask. So I will do that.” He said, turning on the heel of his boot and stomping on the gravel as not to disturb innocent plants. Stomping seemed to be the only way he could walk in boots, but now that they were here and the attendant seemed unshod, Destyn regretted the awkward accessories.

“Hullo! Me and my friends are taking care of a very special plant that I found in South Ecith. It gave me, you know, a vision that it needs a special kind of, uhm… ”

“ Cad é an focal ‘leasachán’ i gCoiteann? Ní gnáth-fhocal é seo le rá ó lá go lá.”


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[Sivan]

Laurevere was certainly not learning Valasren for Destynrael's benefit, but he was too well-bred to say so. In any case, while the summoners were taken with - he assumed - spirits, he let his eyes rest upon the man watching them, watching him right back. He didn't fear an attack at a hospital, but then, this wasn't the level of civilization he was used to.

For his part, Sivan heard the spirit song thanks to his Dratori heritage even as his runes caused a tingling from the root of his spine to the back of his head. He had been coming here to meditate for years now, but it was decidedly different from how he remembered it - more cultivated, more alive. It reminded him in some ways of his own garden. He laughed as well, greeting the spirits but not grabbing even though they accepted Destyn as one of their own. The Fae'ethalan brought the delight out of the world for others to share.

"I can," Sivan assured him, while Laurevere merely shook his head. But the both of them followed Destyn once he made his decision, flanking him as he approached the Dratori. Sivan sembled, albeit not deeply. He liked to know who he was speaking to, and his rune had helped him learn the Common tongue, but he didn't want to be rude.

"Shit," Sivan supplied, even as Laurevere more correctly said, "Fertilizer."

They looked at each other, the high elf with a long-suffering sigh and the mixed blood a shrug.

"You can use decaying things," Sivan admitted, "and we prepared alchemical fertilizers at Jacun's, but most people just use shit." They were at a hospital, anyway, where bodies and bodily functions were hardly things to be ashamed of.

[Aegis]

The Dratori man nodded and smiled at Destyn, "Hello there." A playful smirk toyed on his lips as the pair immediately jumped into the bowels of their problem. "My name is Smar Agdus." He waited a moment, his eyes first upon Destyn's, then Sivans. "I would be happy to help with your dung problem." Looking pointedly at Sivan now, "But it seems you have a handle on such things."

He turned on his heel, "Please, follow me," starting on a path that the plants of the garden appeared to be opening just for him, "Perhaps it is the vision that is giving you difficulty. Care to tell me more? After all, the world is full of fertilizers and composts and dungs aplenty, entire civilizations built upon the decay of those who came before. Is it a fickle little plant? Far from home perhaps?" As he walked, his hands caressed the plants he passed by, leaving none out; medicinal herbs and poisonous briers, those one could eat and those that burned at the touch. None phased him, and all both parted for his feet and reached for his touch.

"It's not so often that one is given visions by a plant." Then he chuckled, "Save for the mushrooms, though hard to call those plants really. Too many visions seems to be their preferred method of communication." He ducked around the draperies of a shimmering willow at the edge of a small fish pond and seemingly disappeared. And if they followed him, they would find that they too disappeared.

And would find themselves in a rocky, watery glen, far larger than the Tranquil Gardens, by several magnitudes. A great valley, filled with every native plant that was native to Karnor. Abundance was everywhere, every plant appeared to be in states of bloom and fruit, regardless of the season. Insects and birds and creature and spirit aplenty roamed unafraid, going about their roles in this ecosystem.

Their guide turned on heel once more smiling at them, "Welcome to my little slice of home. I find whenever I seek an answer to the questions of those we attend, I find it best in here. Tell me anything you can and I will help as best to my ability."

[Destyn]

When Sivan replied to his question with ‘shit’ it was only natural for Destyn to assume he was uttering the expletive out of frustration. Perhaps he, too, was unfamiliar with the Common term, but no matter. Resourceful Laurevere seemed to have an answer at the ready, which was clear enough to the apparent docent upon whom Destyn was focused even as Sivan clarified his meaning.

“Well met, Smar Agdus. I am called Destyn.” The Fae offered with a grin and a nod of his head.

“The vision led me to believing that the, um… Firmaniser that is needed is produced by a Green Dragon. I used to spend much of my time here after the Iron Queen closed the borders and made it harder for me to, you know, nip off to the proper forest. I learned much from the plants here and thought that, perhaps, this would be a place where we might find what is needed for my baby tree to grow bigger.”

Destyn watched Smar as he led them down the garden path, pleased to see how the plants reacted so viscerally to him. If this familiar flora was so fond of him, Destyn pegged him for a trustworthy sort.

“Very far from home, aye. I was in, you know, South Ecith when it found me. It has sprouted but it does not yet speak to me. It is, perhaps, too young and also hungry for firmaliser.” His casual stroll halted abruptly as they rounded a corner and stumbled upon a new and unfamiliar vista. Destyn was sure he’d come this way before and no unusual phenomena had overtaken him. This, however, seemed like a new and incongruous landscape.

[Sivan]

Sivan and Laurevere too made their introductions. The former greeted every new person with respect and was generally too polite to semble them, and Laurevere didn't know who this person was, nor their rank, so greeted him as if he were some Hytori equal to him in stature.

Sivan rather wondered whether the man wasn't another Dratori the way the living things responded to his passage. Those in his garden did much the same with him, and there were times he had meditated in these gardens when the wild spirits had taken a similar liking to him. But even he was surprised when a fall of willow branches seemed to be a curtain hiding a Traversion portal. The new setting reminded him of his garden as well, if he had exponentially larger space and time to collect for a more diverse ecosystem.

"'Tis a marvel, Master Agdus," he said, unconsciously coupling the Common with the Rivach gesture that echoed the same meaning. Even Laurevere seemed impressed, and that was saying something—he often negatively compared the wonders of Kalzasi to those of Silfanore. He wondered if the high elf knew how such things made him less inclined to think kindly on his fatherland.

While he didn't ignore what passed between Destyn and Smar Agdus, Destyn was the one with experiential knowledge of the sapling. Its spirit was mute to him as well. Sivan opened his arcane senses to the aether of this place, the better to understand it and what Agdus was doing here.

Perhaps someday he would have a valley of his own, like Agdus or like Torin, even.

[Aegis]

The man arched an eyebrow rather high, "South Ecith you say? Doesn't get much further from here than that." His eyes sidled up and down Destyn's form, studying maybe? Or searching? "I didn't realize that civilization had once more found its way that far south." There was a bit of a questioning tone there nestled amongst a hint of sadness.

Smar Agdus decided to sit down there, the plants reaching out to touch his skin. He hmmed and hummed for a bit. He closed his eyes, dug his toes and fingers into the loose loam, and he went silent for a while.

A long while.

A very long while.

Stomachs would surely be grumbling if meals hadn't been acquired by the time Smar opened his eyes and decided to speak once more. "Well, if you only need the fertilizer of a green dragon, you can have some of mine, take as much as you'd like." He nodded over toward a particularly perfumic curtain of vining flowers that parted to reveal a fairly fresh pile of dragon dung taller than either Destyn or Sivan.

"However, I suspect that something from those particular reaches to which you've trekked might need something more potent. I've only heard of the south from my mother, but she's from there, born and raised. Luckily for you, she's visiting the Northlands right now, fixing the damage that scar over Zaichaer caused to the wildlands. But I suspect she'll be forced to go south soon if things don't improve. Too much work these days for us Greens."

He flipped over the leaf of a plant, revealing two rows of purple, juicy insect eggs stuck to it. He began plucking them off and popping them into his mouth as he continued, "If you'd like to meet her, she tends to relax among the bog and the fae folk halfway between here and Zaichaer. I could fly you there if you'd so desire, my daughter can take over my duties here for a while." He plucked a few more of the eggs as he munched happily, "Or you can make your own way there and tell her that I sent you. She'll help you, I'm sure."

[Destyn]

Destyn wrinkled his nose, as if taking umbrage at Agdus’ implication.

“I am not civilised!” He protested. “I like it there because it is, you know, also not.” When the stranger sat and quieted down, Destyn watched for a while but he gathered he was in contemplation, so he didn’t bother him. He did, however, eventually get bored and so the others were not spared his stream of consciousness as he pointed out the unfamiliar plants and tasted the local buggies. Eventually he tuckered himself out and invited the others to cuddle with him whilst he napped.

Agdus’ voice roused him and, once his words registered, they startled him to full wakefulness instantly.

“Why does this keep happening to me! I met, you know, a ship captain elf and he turned out to be the god Vhexur, and now I have met a nice elf who turns out to be a dragon! Are all elf secretly powerful ancient beings?” He looked at Sivan with narrowed eyes, which turned then to Laurevere and narrowed more- his expression was almost accusatory. After a beat he remembered himself and returned his attention to Agdus, then to his offering. It was an odd thing to have come to find he’d unwittingly just asked this man for a portion of his excrement, but Agdus didn’t seem particularly fazed by it. He supposed long lived mystical creatures had seen it all, or at least quite a bit of it…

“There were also buggies… shiny beetles in the vision.” He recalled aloud.

“Oh! Yes, would you fly us to your mother? That would be, you know, very kind and helpful!” He was also still cripplingly frightened of Zaichaer, so the notion of nearing its borders with a dragon for a chaperone felt less mortifying.

[Sivan]

It was passing strange Agdus brought them there just to meditate, but he was not in the habit of interrupting people at their meditations and so he wandered at Destyn's side, taking in what he said and what they saw. He even tried a bug or two, having acquired a taste for a few types in his attempts to build bridges between himself and his fair fae friend. The bees weren't here to judge him, anyway.

Laurevere's look was scathing when Destyn invited him to cuddle, but Sivan made a temporary bed in the moss and grass with his friend. The place felt protected, the spirits content, and that always made the Dratori side of himself comfortable, its black rages and red lusts far away. The high elf knelt nearby as if to meditate, but merely kept watch.

"I'm nobody," he protested when Destyn looked at him so. Laurevere seemed like he would say something, but just shook his head, platinum hair shifting just so.

And so Smar Agdus was a green dragon. Sivan should have been surprised. Even after his long apprenticeship with Jacun, he knew his old master kept secrets from him still. Kalzasi's prince was secretly a god reborn; why wouldn't dragons be living secretly among them? He supposed it made sense. Normal elves and humans and orkhan and such would treat them differently if they knew they were dragons.

"Oh," he murmured. Destyn was going to take them on a proper adventure, it seemed. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. Not so long ago he thought they were returning to Ecith to follow up on this, but he was familiar with Destyn's magical travel. Dragonback would be new.

Laurevere sighed, long-suffering, but nodded acquiescence when Sivan glanced askance in his direction.

"If you can comfortably carry us, Ládōn," he said respectfully, "then we would appreciate your aid."