An Unexpected Gift

[Sivan]

"No, I apologize," he countered. "Len'Hytori matters wouldn't interest you, of course."

His Dratori mother had ensured he never wanted for anything, except the sort of acceptance he hadn't known how to articulate. When he returned to Sol'Valen as an adult, business had been a skill he needed to hone to survive and he was still rather inept there. Sivan didn't admit that he and his wunderkind partner relied upon a minor to oversee their finances.

He flushed slightly at mention of the princess; his meeting with her had been one giant social faux pas as well. Not only wasn't he fit for public consumption; he certainly wasn't fit for royal consumption. But if His Royal Majesty approved of him, well, that was confusing. Sivan wanted to ask for clarification, but daren't. He would simply have to remain baffled by high social interactions.

"Ah, well... I spent my extreme youth in Silfanore, my youth in Dalquor, and my young adulthood in Silfanore, except without any, ah, familiar support. I feel... off balance here. There is much I love here, but in Kalzasi, if I am not entirely comfortable, I am an oddity among oddities. And here I am floating in a most peculiar way." He paused. "I apologize again. I am not as articulate as I would like to be."

Sivan sipped his tea, wishing he could emulate Prince Rhydian without feeling foolish. The other elf seemed cool and collected at all times, even when surprised by a mithril-edged tantō.

[Rhydian ValKor]

Rhydian shrugged. He wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but Sivan wasn’t wrong. Business, as such, bore little that interested him. It wasn’t that he thought himself above it, but he’d never had cause to take an interest in matters mercantile.

“You make yourself sound like an anchorless, storm tossed ship.” Rhydian observed, seeming to find this intriguing. Perhaps because his anchor was so firmly planted in Silfanore. His excursion had been an aberration, where Sivan seemed more of a rambling sort of elf.

“I can see whereas Kalzasi might serve as a comfort to such a one. It was a place with so much character, I found, yet none consistent enough to feel like a prevailing culture. I suppose that is to be expected from a city ruled by so young a race as the Avialae. They are naifs in the woods, still finding themselves. I found none of the deep seated social expectations there that you experienced at court here. This is rather unnerving for me. Etiquette is such a useful tool for a stranger. When it is specific and neatly outlined it takes so much of the guesswork out of diplomacy."

He paused to sip his tea.

“Perhaps you can think along these lines to feel less adrift here. The core of our expectations is codified. Learn it well, and you will dazzle. Take it from me— a reticent demeanour will protect you from social dangers and lend a mystique that will serve you well in your endeavours.” He was referring to Sivan’s business business business dealings, but would not deign to specify as much. Sivan was, in his estimation, savvy enough to draw his own conclusions.

[Sivan]

Sivan did, he thought, catch Rhydian's drift.

"You make me sound like a haiku," he noted with a smile. "I like that. Thank you."

An anchorless, storm-tossed ship, nevertheless, Sivan made harbor once more in his first home, his fatherland. It was certainly a new experience as a more accomplished adult. He was sure of himself when it came to alchemy thanks to his draconic master, which kept him from capsizing when the masters were more critical of those parts of the artificing he hadn't learned before their master's soul had sailed for the Grimlord's berth.

He had solid friends he could count on: Laurevere, a noble; Torin and Destyn, foreigners he could take care of, forgetting his own anxieties.

And even though he made mistakes and was nervous, he seemed to have attracted royal notice and not embarrassed himself or his masters. He would have to remind himself of these things as the next time those anxieties sought to besiege his mind.

"Do you find...?" He paused, unsure whether he ought to ask, but deciding to ask all the same. "Do you find that dancing with your blades teaches you how to do battle with yourself?" He frowned. "No, that's not it. We oughtn't to be at war with ourselves, but perhaps the discipline of the martial arts... Did they lend themselves to your confidence?"

There were a great many things other than defending himself he had learned from Laurevere in the guise of swordplay, but the Val'Hytori warrior didn't always opine on the philosophy of it. He seemed conflicted about a great many things, and Sivan often chose not to press him. But Rhydian surpassed Laurevere at blades and also, perhaps, with the attendant wisdom that came with such mastery.

The prince owed him nothing, but it didn't hurt to ask.

[Rhydian ValKor]

"Do I? Curious. That was not my intention." Rhydian seemed vaguely bemused at his apparent accidental poetry, but the matter did not seem to trouble him overmuch. The prince was perfectly comfortable sitting in the silence that pursued, as Sivan mused upon and extended his metaphor internally. When questions were posed, he pursed his lips and glanced over to the other elf.

"As I understand it, there are different methods of managing oneself. Some toil to tend the internal- sowing seeds that might blossom into some semblance of happiness. Where I think a martial lifestyle is salient, however, is working from the outside in. Presenting oneself a certain way to the world, rather like... Well, like armour. Learning to don armour well is a challenge. That is why I still need to train in plate on occasion, lest I forget the impediments it presents. One must compensate to turn them into advantages. Suffice it to say, Sivan, I think there is great merit to finding who you would like to be and presenting yourself that way. Even if you don't feel you've earned it yet." His eyes danced down to the tea tray.

"...even if you never feel you've earned it. Because, no matter what anyone says, other people's perceptions of us matter. They affect how we interact with the world and to what we have access. So, yes. Discipline leads to the facade of confidence which leads to actual confidence. Or so I would summarise it." He offered with a faint shrug as he finished off the tea in his cup and placed it back down to pour refills for both of them.

[Sivan]

Sivan nodded, internalizing the martial prince's wisdom.

"Form ever follows function," he quoted. Then, "My Master used to say that. It is a maxim in artificery. One crafts the form to the function one expects of the golem. Then, when training it, teaching it, its external reality informs its internal reality. If the artificer has crafted a form proper to its function, the golem will more quickly and more fully become what it was intended to be."

Of course, this got more complicated as the golem got more complex, and he could only imagine it was more so with an actual elf.

"A roundabout way of translating what you said into the language of magical design." He smiled faintly, setting his cup down as the prince seemed content to serve him as well. As practice, he tried to play it off as entirely normal that a prince of the blood should be pouring his tea.

Perhaps he could be more unflappable with practice, like Rhydian, like Laurevere, like even the Len'Hytori among the masters at Tavárinoikos.

"Perhaps someday you might show me a trick or two with a tantō? Laurevere insisted I learn katana for wider spaces and wakizashi for closer quarters, and both for versatility and adaptability. But I imagine a knife fight must be a different sort of dance."

His language was careful, making no demands. They had established that there was no debt accrued, but Hytori of every stripe were taught that hospitality and gift-giving could form virtuous circles. It was a hand offered and Rhydian could gracefully accept or decline without fanfare.