53rd of Glade, Year 120
The day Riven arrived, now nearly two full days ago, the two of them laid together in Taelian's oversized bed for what must've been twelve hours. Maybe more. He hadn't managed to be so lazy in months -- the two of them didn't have a care in the world, only the simplistic desire to spend as much time as close with one another as they could. And they did. Certain stretches of their conversation had no conversation at all; just moments of silence, kissing, breathing, long stares and short bouts of laughter. It really was just like before.
The following day they'd awoken fairly early, though unsurprisingly considering how early they'd gone to bed. Much of that day was spent equally lazily, the two of them hanging around the cabin, briefly wandering the forested grounds surrounding it and discussing simplistic things. They still hadn't really spoken about everything that happened while they were apart -- but as of yet, neither appeared to want to. For another night, they slept, keeping no expectations of the day.
Now, it was early morning. Taelian's eyes slowly began to flutter open as light peered in through the window. He could hear birds beginning to sing, and the familiar rustling of leaves surrounding him. He felt Riven's arm beneath his neck, the Siltori curled around his Arlaed's chest. Instinctively, he kissed him on the lips, and began to rub his toes along the Avialae's muscular calves. The two of them slept nude together as they usually did. The major difference versus before was the lack of looming realization that the two would have to go their separate ways, Riven back to his small home in the palace gardens, and even Taelian at times to the enclave of the Black Remedy.
That part was nice. A not-so-nice part of things was that he had to work tomorrow; the Finla was holding court, and Taelian needed to attend. He'd only done so once before, and it had been maddeningly dull, particularly considering he could not even understand the native Atinorin language; either of them. Much of the speech had actively been translated into Vithmi, which he swore had some words familiar to his native language of Silvain, but...
"Riven," he called on the other man, hoping he might stir him awake. Whenever he did join him in the world of the living, Taelian would promptly kiss him on the lips, smiling softly afterwards. "Good morning, my dear."
Of course, he was waking him for a purpose: the Silver Elf had begun to worry. The more he thought about court, the more he realized he was unprepared. "We need to go into the city today," he said. "I need to buy things. Attire for court, maybe a book on the native language... something I can use to learn. That's one thing problematic here; people don't like it when you speak Common, even though a majority of them seem to understand. Not only that -- but my garbs are fairly inappropriate for Atinorin court. It has its own particular style... one that doesn't fit with what I wear in Melitene. And, also -- we should get something for you, too. As you said... a winged man in northern clothes. It's never good to stand out too much, I think."
The mage exhaled. There was a lot more, as well; they hadn't even begun to figure out what to do with themselves, their lives. They hadn't spoken about anything serious since their first reunion. That was fine, and Taelian wasn't particularly worried. Still, he didn't want for Riven to feel that he had no purpose here. He wanted him to be fulfilled, and as perfect as their relationship had always been, fulfillment relied on more than just one individual. Of all the things he wanted to do today, most prevalent was ensuring that Riven felt like he belonged, or at least beginning to move towards that direction.
