Flow [Sivan]

[Torin Kilvin]

25th Glade 124

Torin sat cross legged in the garden behind Sivan's 'house'. It was more of a tower now, at least, that was how Torin thought of it and referred to it in his limited conversation with the spirits that were creating it. There was a hot spring in the basement now. At least, one of the basements, he didn't actually know how many floors downward the house extended now. It felt sort of like a secret and he liked that, knowing he could ask but not doing so.

The elf that was master of tower and garden both was currently sweating through a series of elegant sword forms. Sivan had been significantly more diligent in practicing his arms training than Torin had. Even with the new threats and dangers that had been able to pop up anywhere in the world at any time during the Eclipse, Torin had been busy with his new role as a Lord and his valley had been mostly protected from the shadow creatures by wards and other deterrents. It wasn't as though there was any mandate from either Aurin or any other authority that meant he had to learn to defend himself beyond what he already knew. He was competent, but watching Sivan made him yearn to be more than that.

His friend was always beautiful, but like Torin himself, when not working he could at times be, if not clumsy, not perfectly away of his surroundings. At least, that had been the case, perhaps he had still been growing into his body when they had met. Elves finished maturing physically later then humans did so despite the years between them they seemed to be at a similar development level, so it was possible. But to Torin seemed more likely that it was due to all the lessons he had been taking with his elvish neighbor. The awareness of the body that the lessons appeared to impart must translate over somewhat to the rest of his life.

It was mesmerizing to watch the movements flow into each other in the dance-like way of the elven sword play. Torin's Semblance was on a little, as it almost always was, and seeing the aether dance around Sivan as he moved only made the sight more enchanting. When, after an amount of time that the human could not have put a count to, Sivan came to a graceful stop, weapon raised in a salute, Torin blinked as though coming out of meditation. He wasn't entirely sure he hadn't slipped into meditation and so it was from a clear and nearly empty mind that he said,

"Can I make you a sword?"

[Sivan]

When Sivan practiced his sword forms, he always tried to do them correctly, of course. This would seem to be obvious, but Laurevere had always been an exacting teacher, even as he was more friendly with Sivan than most anyone else in Kalzasi. There was a correct way to do everything, and it was a habit now to keep all the "little" things perfect so he could focus on the "bigger things."

Though he was barefoot, barechested, the scabbards of his swords were tied just so to his body. Though he rarely walked the streets armed anymore, he had learned to accommodate their weight, be mindful that they didn't knock into things.

This was a dance, but he treated it as deadly, even fighting figments of his imagination. Laurevere would know, should he cross the moon gate between their gardens, and Sivan hated the disappointment in his tone when Sivan just went through the motions. One didn't just wave one's blade in the direction it was meant to go; its movement was supported, prepared to alter should it alterations in the situation find.

Like a hawk, he caught sight of the hare, moved through the forms to the rose unfolding, taking an imagined assassin's arm with a downward stroke. His battle continued until it concluded. It never truly did, though; one merely paused. His senses had been open the entire time as he had become habituated to doing while sparring or even going through the forms. It helped him understand where his body was in relation to things, and so even has he fought, he was aware of Torin's breath on the air, the clack of bamboo from the clockwork feature he had constructed for the fountain, the zip to and fro of every bee from the nest.

He could have sliced one cleanly in half, he thought, though of course he wouldn't.

When he finally paused, his skin was slick with sweat. Even the slower forms required strength, constitution, and dexterity. There were no half-measures.

Even as Torin came out of his meditative state, so too did Sivan.

He blinked at the question.

"Yes?" he ventured. "But... they are very particularly made, I think. Perhaps Laurevere knows a Hytori smith who could show you..." He paused, embarrassed. Of course, Torin was fabulously skilled and talented, but there was a rightness that some things required, especially Hytori things, that were never quite the same beyond their borders.

His own swords were the barest, most stripped down imaginable that could still be called Hytori; Sivan had insisted when Laurevere wanted to gift them. He was already donating his time and teaching, which were invaluable. Torin would surely make him the finest of blades, but Sivan wasn't sure he could wield them properly if they weren't just so.

"I don't know how I would adapt to another pair of blades," he admitted, hating to be particular about gifts that were given to him.

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again as he listened, all attempted to acknowledge and agree with what was being said.

The Hytori blades were very specific and while he had taken opportunities to examine examples whenever there had been a chance to, it was not enough to inform him of the making. There were books on their making and he would get them and read, but it wasn't the same as learning from a master. Torin was considered a master blacksmith now but there were so many different ways of doing things, so many techniques that were unique to the cultures that had birthed them that he knew there would always be more to learn if he chose to.

In this case, he was most decidedly choosing to.

"I'd like to learn. If Laurevere knows a Hytori sword smith in Kalzasi I'd love a recommendation but he doesn't I can talk find one. Or," He amended, realizing that there might not be a Hytori with the skill set in the city, "I can find one and travel to them."

Torin had mentioned to Sivan, mostly in pillow talk and similarly idle moments of comfortable conversation that he had always wanted to travel and learn from masters of blacksmithing and runesmithing in other lands. It had seemed a dream beyond him, but now he was well respected in both arts, not to mention a titled lord and a not insubstantial mage.

Sensing Sivan's hesitation he pushed out of his cross-legged sit so they were standing face to face.

"I wouldn't want to do it alone, not like a surprise, I'd want you to be a part of it. Your weapons should know you, as you will know them. Your magic, your essence, folded into the steel."

Since completing the gauntlets he had made for Kala a part of him had been longing to create more runeforged items that were connected inherently to the ones who would use them. Sivan had worked with him on a variety of projects and they knew each other in that way, a way Torin sometimes considered more intimate than even their physical connection. Sivan was no Runesmith, anymore than Torin was an Alchemist, but they complimented each other's skills.

[Sivan]

"I suppose we could always go to Silfanore," he said with a jaunty smile he didn't quite feel. A part of him did want to take Torin to his fatherland, show him those things that would delight him and try to shield him from the judgment of his people. A part of him wanted to see it for himself now that he had accomplished a bit more, figured himself out more.

"We could set up a little satellite forge in the Enclave. You could learn to fold steel over and over until you lose count of the folds..." He laughed quietly. "I suppose I just don't feel my skill warrants your work. I'm an indifferent swordsman, and your works are masterpieces all."

Golden cheeks turned rose in embarrassment. He mumbled.

"But, of course, I can't say no to you, and your presents and attentions make me feel..." A quavering breath. "Make me feel."

Sivan knew Torin didn't think he took advantage of his goodwill. Magic blades for Master Aurin made sense. Divine raiment for Lady Kala made sense. Sivan already had everything he needed. He was rather sure he had everything he wanted, even. But he changed the subject back, quickly as he could.

"'Tis safe to travel now, I should think. Perhaps this summer should the sun's light hold?" He wasn't anticipating a return of the eclipse, but then he hadn't expected the first eclipse either. A new moon fucked up the magical circumstances of several alchemical processes. Sivan thought he had worked around it, but only time would tell if the new patterns would hold. "Perhaps not long enough to learn how the art of Hytori swordsmithing, but at least to get a sense of Silfanore, at least. And then you would want to see Inokova... they have the best artisans..."

[Torin Kilvin]

The human's eyes lit up at the idea that he might be allowed to study in Silfanore, his aura lighting up as though it were he who was being offered a priceless gift.

"Do you think they would let me learn? I won't lose count, if they let me try." It was a silly, thing, a childlike thing, to say, even if it was likely true. He meant it and knowing this he laughed at himself, but harshly, just feeling how he must sound.

When the elf spoke of himself as lesser Torin closed the stew between him and took the hand no occupied with naked steel.

"You're an amazing Summoner, and a very good alchemist. I know I don't know anything about your culture but surely they wouldn't negate your abilities while praising mine."

Maybe they would both be looked down on by ancient elven mages but Torin was used to people assuming he was lesser and considered it well worth the chance to learn. Sivan had a history though, and perhaps the calculation wasn't the same for him. Squeezing the hand he held he said,

"We don't have to go to Silfanore, or anywhere you don't want to. I can find teachers." Here he tilted Sivan's prettily flushed face up into the little space of height that was between them and kissed him.

At the suggestion of a time frame for travel the smith took a moment to consider. The valley was doing well, flourishing even, with the aid of the golems and the new families a much larger portion of the land was planted and there wasn't really anything he was needed for. Besides, they could bring their beacon stones and knobs and be back in Kalzasi in an eye blink if they needed. Summer was his least busy season in terms of his business and he had already been considering closing the shop for a season or two so concentrate on work he longed for. After the moment he nodded.

"I was thinking about taking the summer off to study anyway, what better way than with some of the best masters in the world?"

It was quite obvious that he was trying to remain mature about the offers, but his aura was a burst of little explosions, like fireworks.

[Sivan]

"Oh, certainly," he said with a vague smile. "They don't bar people from studying. I know a couple of metalsmiths. Between them and my old master's name, I could certainly find you a temporary apprenticeship to a swordsmith. They won't teach you how to make mithril or anything, but swords aren't a state secret." He smiled again for the kiss and the moral support.

"So we're going to Sol'Valen, then," he agreed with a wry smile. There was no arguing with Torin's enthusiasm, and anyway, Sivan didn't have a good reason not to return for a visit. He could see to any loose ends his father's death had left behind. He could speak to a few of his old master's colleagues and perhaps get some second and third opinions for how to help IX. And it would be good to relive Silfanore through Torin's eyes...

"We will have to stay in the Enclave, I should think. That is... well, there are some ways around that, but there's nothing wrong with the Enclave. Will we be taking Timon with us or...? Hmm." With the portal knobs (and license from the authorities, they could get back to check on gardens, valleys, and the like. A part of his mind was going over logistics like that, as well as what longer-term projects would need to be put on the back burner. He rather thought the gardens could get on without him for a season, and surely Laurevere or Rivin or someone could keep an eye out for certain things that might betoken an emergency.

Sivan wondered if he would work while he was there or whether there would be other things to occupy him, old ghosts and that sort of thing.

[Torin Kilvin]

A grin split Torin's face, something rare even when he was happy, in fact, Sivan had likely seen it more than anyone. It was the sort of expression shared between equals and Sivan was just about the only one of those he had.

He said nothing about the creation of mithril, having no intention to betray any teacher who might take him on by even asking for such a secret. If he played with mixing metal and magic at home, in his own valley, in his own time, that had nothing to do with it. The dream of 'discovering' mithril was one he knew to be a child's fancy, but that didn't mean the study and exploration were of no value.

"Maybe we can find an Artificing master who would be willing to take us both on as temporary apprentices, then we could honestly say we were apprentices together."

They had been apprentices at the same time but that wasn't the same thing and Sivan knew that Torin had often longed for that almost brotherly connection as a young boy and had not found it later when he had been thrust into the large group of city apprentices.

"We'll stay wherever you say, as long as you let me pay for it. This will be worth far more than a set of blades, to me."

His blond curls, cropped short for the warm season were still long enough to shake with his head when asked about his own apprentice.

"I was thinking that he could stay with the Leukos' in Starfall for the season. He wants to learn the finances of running of a noble house and someone should." The implication that it wouldn't be Torin was strong, if somewhat ashamed.

Pushing the unpleasant knowledge of his own inadequacies aside he nodded to the house,

"I thought you might show me your springs, since you probably want a bath. I can join you, we can plan and I can help...wash off the sweat."

In point of fact the smith wanted to see how much of it he could get off with his tongue, information he let seep between their auras as he led his friend inside.

~~~

Two weeks later Torin was working steadily at his expanded order for his patrons. They had been more than willing to let him go for the purpose of bettering himself, and equally willing to take on young Timon for a similar purpose, but had asked that he finish a few important items for them first. There were also two or three orders that independent clients had put in before he'd let it be known that he was not taking any more orders for an undetermined amount of time. Timon promised to open the shop one day out of each week (which was posted on the sign out front of the shop) to take orders for a waitlist if anyone insisted on having his work for their needs.

His hammer rose and fell for several hours before he moved the set of pauldrons from the smithy to the rune smithy. When he had the beginnings of the magic that would harden and reinforce the armor in place he walked out into the main room of the foundry to find Sivan toiling away at his own work. The smith waited until the elf looked up from the paper he had been writing on before saying,

"I've had an idea, for your sword, or swords. You can say 'no' to anything, but I thought it might be useful if we made them open to alchemical adjustments."

Moving over to perch his butt on an empty bit of the desk Sivan was using he continued,

"I could make them with a sort of magical open space so that you could apply alchemical substances and the blade would absorb them, take on their properties. We'd have to build in a way to purge them back to empty, but then you could decide, on a given day, what would be most useful to you."

[Sivan]

"If you want a fumbling handjob under the covers," he said of the shared apprenticeship, "all you have to do is wake me up in the middle of the night and ask." Though the words were arch, he flushed at them and at the thought. His attempt at being wicked mellowed, as did his smile. He would accept another, temporary apprenticeship if it helped him help IX.

Sivan nodded at the plan for Timon. He didn't comment on the shame; from what he gathered, the noble and powerful always had people to delegate things to. Laurevere often complained that a good secretary was impossible to find in Kalzasi, and Laurevere wasn't even the likely heir to the patriarchy of his family. It only made sense that Lord Torin would need something—someone—to undertake duties on his behalf. Sivan knew Stardew Valley would flourish and grow. Torin was a conscientious steward.

As for the springs, he nipped at Torin, wolf-like, shepherding him toward the door that led inside.

*~*~*

"Do you think you can enchant a blade that stabilizes the ultimately unstable nature of an alchemical solution?" he asked curiously. This was a matter they had discussed at length. There seemed no perfect way to make an alchemical reaction permanent. The trick was using it to change the thing in permanent ways before its nature reverted.

There were difficult, expensive ways to elongate the half-life of alchemy, but few and far between were the works that made such difficulty and cost worthwhile.

"I should think it would be enough to teach the blade to... hm... absorb the alchemical addition for as long as it will last. Rather than leave a mess or residue. Some residues are toxic. I don't know that I would want to wield a poisonous blade, but if I did, it would be better that no gleam of the poison be apparent on the bared steel."

[Torin Kilvin]

The smith nodded, taking the clean wet rag that was being offered to him by the mini-golem they had made as a test for the larger ones. The creature spent most of its time in the forges, cleaning, sweeping, and occasionally fetching things for Torin or the others who used the space. It seemed to have caught on to the fact that, once he was done working in the forge he usually needed to clean at least his hands. Several times he had forgotten this as an idea struck him and tried to write in one of his notebooks with hands still covered in soot.

It was surprising and gratifying both to watch the little golem learn and grow. He tried to ensure that it had anything it wanted but it was a simple thing and getting it to realize that it wanted something was as difficult as understanding what it wanted when it did.

"Thank you, Fel-IX." He did not remember who had first started calling the golem that, but it had stuck. The creature's metal chassis vibrated in a way he had come to realize meant it was pleased, almost like a quick version of a cat's purr. Then it was trundling off to see to whatever duty it currently believed was due.

"Mmm, I think I could." Torin considered for a long moment before nodding his head firmly, "I know I could, but if you wanted a permanent enchantment on the blades, doing it as part of the 'forging would be much simpler.

More nodding came at the sensible suggestion that the blade simply absorb all the alchemical properties of the substance applied to it so that it did not show what it was capable of and didn't leave any weird after effects of the concoctions. Slipping off Sivan's desk he moved to his own, flipped through his notes until he found the section that he was using for the swords and made several additions before returning, holding the book in his hand.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you without asking." It was something he found himself apologizing for several times a week. His ideas burst out of him more often than not and while the elf was used to it, he still felt as though he owed the professional courtesy of acknowledging that Sivan's work was just as important.

"What were you working on?"

[Sivan]

Fel-IX was entirely an invention of Torin's, but Sivan didn't mind. He still felt incredible guilt that his skill could not aid IX, but perhaps he could solve that dilemma with a sojourn in Sol'Valen, where all things seemed possible—other than him fitting in, but he wasn't doing this for himself.

"I suppose it would make sense to enchant it with magics I don't have myself... and we can continue to discuss it, but I am more curious to see what happens when you enchant it like a living thing. I'm curious to see what the aether thinks I need in my weapons." He laughed quietly; the idea of carrying weapons was still strange to him. That his neighbor should walk about his days and nights armed made sense as he was a Val'Hytori. Sivan had never served in the empire's military, not even as an auxiliary mage.

"Watch... I will swing my sword and wild spirits will shit flower petals in its path." He laughed. It was a funny thought, but it was also clear he didn't see himself as a fearsome warrior even if he was now a competent swordsman.

Sivan was quick to begin taking notes himself when Torin moved away. They had a tendency to move smoothly from one thing to the next as if of the same mind. After a long day working together with their runes opened wide, it was almost akin to how Sivan had felt in the Grove.

"What? Oh... Ah, alchemically, I'm working on solutions that will help me improve various functions and properties of the lyrethillium glass... meta-alchemy, if you will. Alchemy to improve my alchemy. As for artificing, I have been doing a lot of cross-referencing with books I found in the Archives to do with Awoken specifically. I want to have my memory as refreshed as possible so every moment I spend in Sol'Valen can be used to learn new things that I can't just read in a book here. If that makes sense. I'm going to help IX. Finally. Somehow. Or else... I'm going to find a better artificer than myself and put IX in their care. I... owe it to him if I can't help him."

But rather than let himself get down in the dumps about IX, he switched back to the more technically things floating in his head and his notebook regarding his alchemically prepared glassware. Torin knew enough by osmosis that he would be able to follow most of his tangents.

fin.