Princely Possessions (Talon)

[Mae Eloeth]

30th of Frost, 120 AoSxx

Light cream chiffon fluttered by an open window. Heads turned, and all throughout the expansive corridors of the Elysian Halls the sound of heels clacking against the pristinely polished wooden floors echoed. Lady Mae Eloeth took each stride quickly, a folder grasped tightly in her fingers as she passed through the latest Sundering exhibit. Countless weapons hung from the ceiling like chandeliers, held up by the chains of prisoners past, and each connected to a respective sword, polearm, or staff. From the tips of each weapon a long, thin blood red string hung and dangled the name of a fallen soldier on parchment that dangled at eye height for most humans. But not all parchment had a name. Some simply read 'fallen hero' in blue ink. Passing through the field of death strings each parchment that touched her skin sent a flash of the memories imbued within each of the weapons through to her mind. Screams of pain, bloodshed, the last breath of a soldier or monster cut off by the end of a sword. It wrenched her gut every time, sent fear into her bones, but as soon as a soldiers name left her skin the emotion faded to a lingering memory. There had been a pathway marked by carpet through the threads that would have allowed her to pass through untouched, created for those faint of heart, or children, but she refused. Their lives had been given honestly and with pride, and if all she could do in return was honor their memories then that's what she would do.

As Mae clacked through the last of the threads a few guests bowed their heads in her direction. Her lips pursed, teeth clenched as she offered a brief nod only as low as was socially necessary, and continued onwards through the halls until she came upon the souvenir shop. It was just after opening, early morning, so not many had yet made their way to the room, which gave her the perfect excuse to let out a long sigh as her brow relaxed into it's normal furrowed state. The employees knew her well, most of all Kikku who rushed in through the opposite door. He was a short, thin human man with a freckled face, fidgeting hands, a stutter. Mae honestly couldn't stand his presence, having been of much lower class and had gotten the job simply to get by in school, but he did his work well and he never complained. And for that, she forgave his other obnoxious habits.

The curator stepped forward and placed the cream folder in Kikku's hands.

"I'll need a list of guest responses to our Memories in Blood exhibit. As usual, just 50 random people, space out your questions throughout the day, and make sure to ask children as well."

Kikku brushed a finger under his nose and sniffled."Y-yes, Ma'a- ma'am." He bowed, and with a flick of her hand he scurried off with triple knotted shoes towards the same exhibit she had just passed through.
Truth be told it was one of the more extreme displays they'd had in a long time, but for that reason alone it had drawn the attention of even those from Zaichaer and Antiris. It really was a risk, having put up such a sensitive exhibit, one that could shake the very core of someone's emotional state if they weren't careful. It was for that reason that surrounding the hanging names were warnings. To the morbid they might have as well been a welcome sign, though.

With her final errand of the day completed, no tours scheduled, and no more paperwork to hover over, Mae folded her arms behind her back and headed for the grand entrance. A magnificent, royal display of gold and mahogany architecture opened up before her. Six statues of the past kings of Kalzasi and eight columns, each of which depicting various gods, lined the edges of a exquisite, lengthy rug that ran across the entirety of the room from entrance to the dining hall. The ceilings, painted with scenes of gods and demi gods, hung chandeliers that lit the room in a glow of ever-burning light. Soft, romantic pianoforte music echoed in the room from the sound exhibit to the right of the entrance to set the mood of a most regal museum.

Mae approached the welcome desk with a placid expression, her hair falling gently over her shoulders. Her dress, light in fabric and in color, gave the woman a soft, celestial look. Though, her reputation as a frozen, frigid rose sorely outweighed the friendly exterior.

The host, a fair skinned blonde woman one might mistake for human, handed a guest a small card with a smile. "Here you are! One all-access day pass. The Hall of Remembrance is on your left, our Hall of Creation is on your right, and the dining hall is in the back. Please be sure to check all warning signs, and only touch the interactive exhibits. Enjoy!" The host chimed, bowing as the man took off with a shrug towards the Hall of Remembrance.

"Phew!" She then turned to Mae, her classic, disgustingly sweet smile plastered on her face. "What can I do for you, Ma'am?" She asked, closing the booklet in front of her and beginning to rearrange the mess of cards splayed out from a likely clutzy knock of her arm against the stack.
Mae's brow twitched. The girl was, unfortunately, a perfect fit for a hostess. "Has Prince Talon arrived yet?" She asked, a hint of irritation behind her voice. It was less than usual, which only made the host smile and thank the stars inwardly. Mae was in a good mood, it seemed!
"Not yet, he is due in ten minutes. Is he really going to display his work here?! The Prince of all people- and you're meeting him?!" Mae held up a hand to cut the girl off, nodding and pulling one hand in front to adjust the angle of a pen. Perfect. All in order.
"If all goes well, then yes. But as I've mentioned last week I do not need any of you asking for autographs or bothering us."

"Of course, Ma'am." She said, sheepishly grinning but turning back to welcome another guest with a wide grin. Mae sighed and turned to face the entrance.

'If all went well...'

Truly, she could only hope. This would be the fifth year of her trial as curator. If she couldn't pull the numbers up another 15% than she would have failed, and her parents would remove her from her position in favor of sending her to Zaichaer for lessons in business. The thought disturbed her. A city of rich history but no magic, a police-run cluster of rigid rules and a lack of expression... So, this may have been her last chance. In the past four year's she'd increased profits of the museum by nearly eighty percent, a huge margin of profit for any business but for her parents it wasn't good enough. It never was. Their most recent letters read simply of 'how far' she still had to go, and the disappointment of cutting it so close. But she knew, if they had been the ones to attempt such profits they'd have failed themselves. Hell, if it weren't for Mae the museum wouldn't have gotten to where it was today nor been the reason for the university to boast of a 10% higher graduation rate after the inclusion of her library and student discounts.

She'd done everything, and now she had to do more. Always more. And the prince was her ticket.

So, she waited. Arms now crossed and brow furrowed as she stared at the entrance of her great hall for the man who would hopefully be the catalyst for her success.

[Talon]

Talon finished smoothing over the sash that was wound around his waist. He stretched his wings ensuring that none of the fabric was pinched or constricting his movement. Black velvet and midnight blue silk coupled with a silvered cotton shirt, adorned his well-built torso. The sash around his waist was a greyed black so as to resemble charcoal. The coat that went over his undershirts was a dark vanta black that seemed to absorb all light. Form fitting pants that were tailored to his strong legs were tucked into a pair of knee high black leather boots. Talon did not often wear bright colors. His pale skin, touched with the silvered lineage of his ancestry as half-Siltori, often looked best when contrasted with dark black or a pristine alabaster white. This coupled with the wings upon his back and Talon’s wardrobe, while largely monochromatic had a variety of styles that he was not ashamed of. He took after his mother when it came to dressing himself.

His father was a soldier. He preferred the weight of chainmail or plate upon his body and a pair of greaves over his boots to be comfortable. His mother, ever a sorceress of allure and mystery, enjoyed the fashions that trended throughout the city. Though she made a point to tailor her styles to match her equally pale skin, she was never without variety in the appearance. Talon was the same. He sighed heavily and looked at himself in the mirror. This was going to be one of many major public appearances that he had made in seasons of late. Ever since stepping more heavily into the role of Prince of House Novalys in his father’s absence, he had been tending to public ceremonies, presiding over the sessions of the Elder Council and acting in his father’s stead. He looked the part. Running a hand through his hair, it had recently been cut so the styling was fresh and sharp.

“Going for a date, big brother?” Talon smirked at the voice of his younger brother. He looked over to see Rien leaning against the doorway to his dressing room.

“It is strictly business.” Lifting up a letter he extended it to his brother who took it promptly. Rien read over it, one of his eyebrows quirking slightly.

“Invited to discuss an exhibit of your personal works at the Elysian Halls? By the Rose herself, no less?” Talon did not miss his brother’s conspiratorial tone. He chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up a silver pendant with a blood red jewel at the center. It was the one pop of color in his ensemble. Dressed and ready, he stepped forward and took the invitation back from his brother.

“As I said, brother. It is just business.” Rien gave him a skeptical look, eyeing him from head to toe.

“Right.” Talon brushed past his brother, not missing the opportunity to playfully thwack him with his wing. Rien laughed and shoved him. As Talon made for the door, Rien caught him by the arm prompting him to look at his younger brother.

“Hey, we never got the chance to--to really talk about…” Rien’s face was hooded with a pain that Talon had learned to recognize in the expressions of his loved ones. Without missing a beat, the Novalys heir tugged his brother into a firm hug.

“I am alright, Rien. Stronger than ever.” His brother hugged him back tightly. Stepping out of the embrace, Talon rest his hands upon Rien’s shoulders. “I know everyone now gets nervous when I make public appearances but I cannot stay locked up in the palace forever. What message does that send? But if you would prefer to go to all of these ceremonies instead...”

He let the statement trail off before the both of them grinned. The two of them shared a laugh but Talon could still see the haunted look in his brother’s eyes.

“Promise me you’ll stay alert, yeah?” Rien stared at him intently. Talon nodded. “And be careful, yeah? The Rose has thorns!”

Talon cupped his brother’s face and brought their foreheads together before stepping away.

“Try not to cause too much trouble while I am out?” Rien scoffed at him.

“And ruin my reputation? Brother, I am the definition of trouble. People worry when I don’t cause enough!” Talon just shook his head as he turned and began making his way to the Elysian Halls.

---

A strong downbeat of his wings and Talon slowed his descent as he landed nimbly on the steps of the Elysian Halls. The palatial building had seen a turnaround in years of late. Ever since coming into the hands of the eldest daughter of House Eloeth, it had seen a surge in activity. She had single-handedly reinvented the museum turning it from a dusty old building into a place buzzing with activity, a center of knowledge and culture. Beside him, several palace guards landed gracefully, none of them missing their strides as they fell into step with him. They wore the garb of palace soldiers in silver, black and white. As Talon ascended the steps, people made way for him and his entourage. Normally he would have stopped to speak with his people but he was on a schedule that day and it was unwise to keep the Lady Mae Eloeth waiting. Everything Talon knew of her told him that she was a woman who valued her time and he did not want to insult her by wasting it.

The doors to the museum were opened for him by his attendants and he strode into the Elysian Halls with a practiced confidence that had been groomed into him since birth. Talon did not storm in. He did not make a show of his arrival. The guards who attended him were silent, their expressions blank as they moved in a wide perimeter to flank him. At the very rear of his entourage was his beloved companion, the Knight-Captain of his personal guard. Aoren would be remaining close by but he would be keeping his respectful distance, recognizing that this was as much a royal and political affair as it was a matter of personal interest to Talon. Seeing the greeting desk and the staff who attended it, Talon made his way there at his normal pace. He came to stand just a few feet from the desk.

“Good morning. I am here to see the Lady Eloeth.” There was no crier to speak for him. No soldier stepped forward to announce him. Talon spoke for himself. His grey eyes examined the two at the desk expectantly.

[Mae Eloeth]

30th of Frost, 120xx

He wasn’t late, but he wasn’t early either. Lady Mae tapped her toe, anxious for the arrival as she began pacing back and forth in the center of the grand hall. Her heels would clack on the floor, then soften as she reached carpet, and repeat the pattern until she finally turned round to face her hostess once more.

“And you’re sure he got the letter?” She asked, her brow knotted in worry. It wasn’t odd for people to see her without emotion, but it was odd for them to see her worry. The woman was normally fiercely composed, almost terrifyingly so, to the point that many of her staff wondered if she wasn’t just a construct.

“Yes Ma’am, I confirmed it’s signed arrival just yesterday. Why don’t you have a seat? I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.” The shorter blonde said, motioning to a small bench to the side of the desk.
Mae scoffed. To sit on the job? In the grand hall, like a guest? Preposterous. No, the only seat her rump would touch was that of a dining chair, her own desk chair, or that of her vanity. The woman simply shook her head in response, but slowed her pace as she turned on heel and began her continued, anxious pacing back and forth.

It was then that she felt it. Heard it. The rush of air, the gasps, the somehow well known hushing of eager mouths. She turned, the doors had opened and in stepped the prince. A memory flashed in her mind.

A scrawny, beanpole of a boy with pristine feathered wings wearing clothes he’d been meant to grow into, his father by his side crown on head, and the sound of champagne glasses clinking around them while upbeat gala music lead guests to dance in long gowns and well fitted suits.

“My daughter, Mae Eloeth, you Highness.” Her father bowed low, his arm folding over his waist before rising up. Mae curtsied, just as she’d been trained, with shoulders back and eyes to the floor. When she rose back up her expression was warm. A smile lit up her face like the sun on a cold frost morning, and her blushing cheeks matched rosey lips.

“Honored to meet you, Your Highness.” She said, looking away shyly from the boy in front of her.

“My my, well, won’t she grow up to be a fine young lady? Talon Novalys, introduce yourself.” The king said, patting his son on the back with pride.

What she remembered of how the boy acted was fuzzy, as they’d never met much after that, but the small memory that she did have paled in comparison to the image she saw in front of her now. Gone was the lanky, awkwardly proportioned by and in his place was a Prince. His magnificent wings and strong stature were lit alive by the halo of light around him that fell in through the high windows above. She would have smiled at his entrance, relieved to see him in the knowledge that he at least would entertain the idea of her letter. But her father had trained her well.

‘Don’t smile in public. When they know what you like, they can manipulate you with it. Secrets keep the money flowing and the power in your hand, in our families hands.’

She remained silent as he approached, and in turn moved closer to the welcome desk. She listened, intently. His voice had changed. Once higher pitched, now low and backed by the confidence of his lineage and his people. It reassured her, in some way, to know that her city's prince had grown up to be such a fine example of a man. Even going so far as to come without a speaker- bold, which she respected. But it was unlikely he remembered her. Not that she’d hold that against him, the man had probably met with thousands of people every month since he was a child.

“Welcome to the Elysian Halls, Your Highness.” Her voice carried forward with a stern grace as she curtsied. Practiced, elegant, her movements as smooth as a dancers, but when she rose she was just as expressionless as her reputation claimed.

“I am Mae Eloeth.”

For the first time in years, she was truly nervous. If it didn’t go as she planned, then she’d lose her one opportunity of redemption. It meant she had to be perfect, which also meant she couldn’t throw her normal facade on. Her usual, calculated nature and manipulation tactics, while not immoral, would be both unwise and unjust to use on royalty. Not only that, she would bet her finest piece in the museum that he had been trained to pick out tactics far more advanced than she could muster. What she had realized in the past few days of waiting was that the only thing she could do was be honest. Give him every reason to display his work, make him a good offer on it, and pray he had enough reason to give the museum a cut.

Truthfully, she was prideful of the museum. It was lavish, but in ways both the common folk and even royalty could appreciate. Carefully balanced between artistic and historical, familiar and luxurious, calming and exciting, not one inch of the halls had been left unplanned. Even the wood in the flooring had been carefully picked and harvested, each plank laid down with precise decision so it’s grains lead one's eyes and feet around the museum like a maze. Each sconce somehow placed at the perfect height for both dwarf and orkhan alike. Even the location of the Sound Exhibit and Dining Hall, the shape of their doorways, each allowed just enough of the aromas and music to filter through and leave a hint of what they had to offer in the air. Never overpowering or distracting from any other exhibit, instead only enhancing those around them.

With the much earned confidence of a woman building her empire, Mae outstretched her arm to gesture to the expanse of the museum behind her.
“Would you like a tour? I don’t believe we’ve had the honor of your attendance before.”

[Talon]

Practiced. Elegant. Formal. Her voice matched everything that he had heard of her. Talon turned his grey eyes to Mae Eloeth. She was every part the cultured noblewoman as he had come to expect. She was beautiful but there was a coldness to her beauty that reminded Talon of how people perceived his mother. A figuring to be observed but never touched. He offered the woman a slight inclination of his head as was due his station. For the briefest of moments he recalled the brush of a memory.

A girl with a smile that could have thawed the ice that capped the Astralar Mountains glided toward him. Talon had to blink as he looked at her. Her hair was a dark black but held in it a midnight sheen that seemed almost blue in the right light. Talon had been surrounded by old statesmen, women with sharp eyes and the stale laughter of people trying to impress his father all day. This one was different. He shifted beside his father, doing his best not to look so scrawny next to the giant of a man. He felt his father gently squeeze his shoulder as if to banish his restlessness. Through their light bond, his father gave him a sliver of calm that helped to ease his nerves.

The girl and her father walked up to them and they were introduced. Mae Eloeth.

Talon smiled giving a bow at the waist.

“Hello, Lady Mae.”

Talon let the memory fade. He took in the grand entrance hall of the museum. Compared to the last time he had been in the building, it had been outfitted with much more lavish accoutrement. His eyes lingered on one of the statues of his ancestors. There were similar monuments to the past kings of Kalzasi in the palace. He shifted his attention away from the statue to step forward in order to join the Lady Eloeth in the tour that she offered.

“By all means, Lady Eloeth. Show the way. It has been some time since I have visited the Elysian Halls. I visited briefly in my boyhood but I had not the mind to appreciate its wonders then. I suspect now will not be the case.” Talon towered over the woman, as he did most people. He did not let his presence loom however but kept a respectable distance so that Mae could converse with him without having to strain her neck. He followed Mae, the fall of his boots upon the polished floor being surprisingly light for his stature. Talon had learned long ago to muffle his steps so as not to alert creatures to his presence as he explored the Warrens. He kept his hands clasped loosely at the small of his back. His posture was upright without even the hint of a slouch in his frame. He was not stiff however, the posture was as natural to him as flying.

[Mae Eloeth]

30th of Frost, 120xx

Half of the guests in the grand hall, if not more, had all stopped to watch the interaction take place. As if history was being made itself right in that very room. She looked up at him without straining her neck, not that she was bothered by his height. Many an Avialae had come to her museum in the past, among other tall guests, and she preferred her personal space anyways.

"Then, follow me, Your Highness." She said, beginning their tour and leading stride down the hallway.
"That is because before me, this place held no wonder. History, yes, but no wonder. That is why you find yourself in a completely new building, Your Highness." The words came from her lips in a cold, ice-like slither. The warmth she had once exuded as a child had long gone, stolen by years in high society, by artificial smiles from political friendships, and by the harsh reality of ones upbringing. But the elegance had remained, refined even, and though her heels commanded attention through the halls she still seemed to glide as if on a cloud, or if she'd had wings herself. But the closer they became to the exhibit, the quieter her footsteps became. No change in pace, but a practiced fade to her step. It was like a hush over a crowd, or a slowly fading ringing of temple bells. Like she knew that no longer was she the most important figure in the room; it was the exhibit. And it was then that a small piece of her coldness subsided. Replaced not with warmth but with an honest, quiet appreciation of the piece ahead of them.

"First, Memories in Blood." She stopped just before the entrance to the maze of hanging parchment, and let the man take in the forest of blood strings and weapons. For a moment she was silent. She could hear the quiet flutter of parchment behind her as a few guests traversed through. Soft, often silent tears and sobs falling from their eyes. Normally she may have warned a guest of the emotional decision they'd be making by entering the field. But with the prince, she knew. He had seen enough blood, and she did not think him so weak as to need a warning before honoring the dead.

"Here, as we pass through, each parchment hanging from sword or shield, you will feel the memories of wars won and lost from times as old as the Sundering rush through you. As we honor their fallen lives, we are allowed a glimpse into their final moments fighting for our pasts already lived, presents we are in, and our futures we have yet to decide." She took a step in. How many times had she felt it? The stab of failure, the crush of victory, the slice of blade through heart and the screams of the damned? Over a hundred by now. When she'd first placed the exhibit up, she had been the first to test it out. The first to experience the overwhelming grief and elation run through her like the very swords that hung above them. It had brought her to tears, the first of which her staff had ever seen from her. But it had to be perfect. She touched every single parchment. Felt every ounce of pain and suffering they had collected, and in the end walked from the room with a simple "It's ready" cracking from her throat. Each time she walked through since then had felt as heartbreaking as the first, only now she had hardened her face to stay as poised as possible, as poised as she had been trained.

But that didn't stop her jaw from clenching. Many wished to rush through, to leave the harsh reality of the worlds past, but her feet were slow. Deliberate. She took paths she hadn't taken in a few days, being sure to honor each and every life that dangled at her height. Of course, some were higher. Before the lengths had been adjusted, she'd been able to feel every single piece, but since then a few specific parchments hung just at Talon's height. And as he would touch them, visions of Avialae warriors from ancient times would appear in his mind, fighting, screaming, both joyous and in horror as their lives came to an end. She knew. Sometimes, only other of your own race can understand the plight of other's lives. The struggles of oppression, of victory. Some Rathari would feel the same shift running through their bodies when they touched the parchment of another Rathari, and some Avialae may find themselves feeling tiny connections, brief, fleeting, to Avialae past. She moved through the piece in silence, her fingers gently caressing a few parchments as she passed through and waited for him on the other side. She wondered, how would he find it?

When he finally came through to the other side, she did not study his face. She gave him that peace alone, and turned to continue onwards to the library in the silence cultivated by the experience.

Perhaps one might question her placement of the exhibit, as it was the closest to the entrance of the museum, but it had not been placed there on accident. It was meant to shock, to awe, to leave one in a fit of unknown emotion as they traveled the rest of the museum. But each was specifically placed to bring you through the breadth of emotion. To start in tears of sadness, anger, to then move on to the library where the books of old told stories of grand battles and taught grander spells, ones often used in the very battles they'd just connected themselves to through the Memories in Blood exhibit.

"This is the Antiquities Library. You are welcome to come back any time to read, but books may not be taken out. If you are curious, I know a few royal texts from generations behind in your family that are among the collection." Truth be told, she'd ready almost every single book in the room if not had it read to her. It was a smaller maze of a library, but one of the upmost importance to society, and to history.

"Here, we have Dragons of the Past." She said, walking through an arched doorway and into a large room with four skeletons each carefully placed and reconstructed to be posed in menacing, delicate, or curious manners fit to each type. She detailed each of their histories, their personalities, how their structure had changed over the millennia to fit with the evolution of society and the world. At times she appeared perhaps saddened by a few of the more harsh facts, like the recent uprising of dragon hunters who slaughtered the beasts for trophy, or would attempt to before meeting their untimely demise in the jaws of a hollow.
"Should you decide to come back another time, we have a reconstruction of their anatomy enchantment going on at noon every day."

And on they went to the rest of the museum. In each one she left no exquisite detail undescribed, and would step back to let him observe in closer inspection as he desired. Her voice, the entire time, was even. And through each exhibit the memories and emotion from Memories in Blood would be brought fourth. The awe of war mirrored in dragons, the respect of history in the library, curiosity and wonder of magic spells brought back by the Excavations from the Planes, the shock of war in Histories first Siege Weapons, and finally the loss and sorrow of life in the Shipwreck of Sundering that gave one a peak into the personal lives of those lost.

Then, they passed through the center of the museum. The smell of pork, turkey, even roasted rabbits and freshly mulled spiced ciders wafted through the open door to the Dining Hall. Chatter of excited patrons could be heard, and perhaps for the first time since his entrance, now that they were away from the exhibits that for once took more attention than the prince himself, all eyes were upon them.
"I would take you to the dining hall, Your Highness, but I believe our discussions may become interrupted by other guests. I will have refreshments and a spread set up in my office for you should you desire it after our tour is finished." Mae's eyebrow twitched as a group of women passed by, their mouths curled into excited smiles.

"Oh my gods! That's Prince Talon- do you think we could get his autograph?!"

"No you dolt, he's with the Rose!"

"Are they dating?!"

"I don't know but he's so lucky!"

"Him?! What about her?!"

The chatter continued as the group rushed by in a fit of giggles and pinkened cheeks, but Mae merely rolled her eyes. Her shoulders tensed, though likely unnoticeable to most, as more jovial exclamations were heard throughout the grand hall.

"I apologize for my guests. Let us continue." She stated simply, annoyance lacing her voice as she let a firmer, faster stride take control of her feet, leading him onwards to the Hall of creation and local artists exhibit.

[Talon]

The whispers as Talon walked beside Mae were plentiful. Partly because his public appearances had been reduced in days of late. They were only a season past the attack on his life and his parents were still uneasy with all of their children. His father, once the sovereign had found out, had been horrified. He had signaled to the staff at the palace that he would be returning to the city earlier than planned. Talon feared that such a maneuver would damage them internationally. The statesman in him wanted to reach out to his father and urge him to continue his tour of their allied cities. The son in him missed his father and desired to learn from him in closer proximity. It was a careful balance. Banishing those thoughts, he ignored the whispers as a few words drifted to his ears as Mae spoke on her achievement regarding the museum.

“I heard she invited him personally.”

“Is it true? Is the Prince seeking a consort?”

“I don’t think they’re a good match. She’s so cold.”

Talon ignored the idle chatter as he walked, following Mae’s guidance to the first of the exhibits. Memories in Blood. He listened to her explanation of the exhibit in silence. His face reflected both his curiosity and his solemnity. He wondered how many of these soldiers would he have known? How many of these were the first time these fallen had been heard since their deaths? When he thought on how many had died in the wake of the Sundering, in the wake of the sojourn from the lands of Geleros, and in defense of Kalzasi, he shuddered to think of the amount. Death was no stranger in Talon’s life. It was no stranger in the lives of most Kalzaserns. He stepped forward without hesitation, his shoulder brushed against the first parchment. The flash of a battle scene filled his senses. A woman standing proud in defense of her fallen comrade as she stared down the face of a monstrosity that had no name. It would be her last stand. But she was triumphant in the end.

Talon continued on. The next was a young man, perhaps no more than a boy, valiantly thrusting his sword into the skull of a draconic creature as he was bitten nearly in half. The next was a man who saw only smoke and shadows before the breath was stolen from his lungs. Screams. Tears. Acts of courage as well as cries for mercy and prayers to the gods filled his mind and his senses. Talon shed not one tear but the toll of such things was still visible both upon his face. He paused as one last memory touched him. He turned his head reaching up to grasp the parchment between his fingers. Closing his eyes he let the memory flow through him. He smiled both in fondness and in sadness as a voice range clearly in his ears. As the words from a poem he had heard often as a boy flowed through his mind, he spoke the words aloud.

“For everything, a season.
For everyone, their time.
Seldom is there always reason,
For every miracle or crime.
If you must fall, left to stare in wonder,
Counting minutes beneath the sun,
Stop and ask yourself this question…
Is this the end?
Or has your journey just begun?”

He opened his eyes. Those words had been spoken to soldiers bravely defending Kalzasi against an incursion of the worst sort. His ancestor had roused the defenders into finding their courage by giving them hope to believe in a better afterlife should they fall. Talon thumbed the parchment looking up to the sword that it was attached to. It was a blade that, even hundreds of years after the death of its wielder, still looked sharp and ready for battle. Turning his attention to Mae, he looked to her with a soft smile.

“Vaelon Novalys. Sixth Shokaze. My family has been searching for his sword since he fell in battle. I am shocked and honored that it has been found.” He released the parchment eyeing it with the appreciation of someone who had happened upon a rare treasure. “When this exhibit is closed, Lady Eloeth, I would ask that this sword be returned to my family, that it might join Vaelon in his final resting place.”

As they moved on, Talon took a steady breath and proceeded to follow Mae to the library. His eyes lit up as he beheld the collection of books. As a youth, he would be the first to admit that he had never taken to reading. As he had grown into maturity he recognized the error of his ways. He sought knowledge fairly often as it increased his ability to be better prepared for the challenges ahead. As his father’s heir, he was expected to be knowledgeable in a broad spectrum of subjects. It was only after his Warren March that he truly began to take such a responsibility to a level he deemed acceptable. He had not been a bad student at all. But the zeal for knowledge had been late in blooming for him.

Passing through the dragon’s exhibit, Talon felt a strange stirring from his bondmate. He glanced back at his companion and bodyguard. Aoren looked briefly blank before shaking his head and sending a note of assurance to him across their bond. He followed along with Mae until they reached the dining area. The idle chatter from the other guests did not phase him. He brushed it off as he did most comments made about him that were not made toward him.

“Think nothing of it, Lady Eloeth. People talk. Sometimes with you. Sometimes at you. Often around you. If you believe this gossip bothersome, I invite you to attend a Council session some time.” He gave the woman a smile before accompanying her toward the Hall of Creation. As they walked, he took the opportunity to speak a little more amicably with the elegant Curator.

“How do you come by most of your artifacts? I have heard that the Antiquities Society has taken a more active role in the museum.”

[Mae Eloeth]

30th of Frost, 120xx

Mae stopped in her tracks with his request. Her lip twitched. But she pondered for a moment. While they were stopped multitudes of people passed by, some whispering just loudly enough for her to hear, while others were smarter and kept their language foreign. But her mind was not focused on their rumors. Instead, she peered up at the sword he so desired. It glimmered in the light from hanging chandeliers and though she was no longer touching it's parchment, remembered vividly the exact tale it told. Hell, she remembered when it had been unearthed one year ago nearly to the date. Out in the countryside, buried beneath nearly fifteen feet of frozen ground, skeletal bodies and old buildings that only came to the surface after a small earthquake had shaken the ground. It was not uncommon for Mae to visit the archeologists during their work, to learn of how it is done, where, why, so she would best instruct them and direct them in the future. But that day had been particularly heartbreaking, cold, and the discovery of the Shokazse's sword once pulled from the earth had sent shivers down her spine.

With a sigh she turned back to him. It wasn't information he needed to know, but it did mean she wasn't about to give up the piece easily.

"Prince Talon, I understand your position so let me make you aware of mine. You are perhaps the only person with actual familial ties to any single weapon here. Many of them were simply found buried in earth, or passed through generations as marital gifts until their families died out, leaving these swords as dusty relics in abandoned homes." She paused. "Which means, the entire collection here will have no where to go once this exhibit is finished and I haven't the room to keep them. However, I am prepared to make a deal with you. I will gladly give you your families sword back if you can find a more permanent way to honor the rest of them. We can discuss this more later, for now, let us move."

Without waiting for his reply she continued. It wasn't rare for someone to ask for a piece of history, nor would it be the last.

Their journey through the rest of the museum was quiet, save for her own explanations. It was how she preferred it, which unfortunately was interrupted by the gaggle of younger folk who seemed to think gossip was more interesting than history. Her brow furrowed, both at them and his suggestion.

"I would prefer not to, Your Highness. It is not the talk I mind so much as it is the placement of it. After all, their gossip brings more people here. Brings my museum success. However I wish they kept their thoughts to themselves until they were beyond my doors." His smile was welcoming, but she did not return any hint of appreciation for his words or gesture as they continued onwards. But the whispers continued.

"Oh my god I've got to tell Giselle! She's gonna flip!

"Do you think they'll wed?"

"Gods no, the woman's heart is cold as ice. Men flock to her until they actually meet her. I doubt anyone will marry her willingly, let alone the prince!"

"Right? She's awful!"

"I heard her parents left her here on purpose so they didn't have to deal with her. Stick her in a museum while they run off to explore the world."

"Ha ha, oh my god you're awful!"

Her back was now straighter, the air around her seemingly colder. Her hair had begun to take on a small ting of blue as annoyance and anger filled her chest. Tiny freckles of frost spread across her cheekbones and threatened to grip her eyes. Her jaw clenched, and though her chest had begun to feel .

'Ignore them. They're wrong. They're fucking wrong.'

More whispers, now louder, sounded from all around the pair as they passed through the hallways towards the Halls of Creation. This time, though, fingers also pointed. Eyes wide as they watched the frost take over the frame of her face and creep up her fingertips, and her eyes turn from pitch black to nearly ice blue, glowing like a glacier. There had been tales of the Rose freezing over. Few had see it and even fewer knew what the triggers had been. But she was used to it. It was a welcomed feeling at times, even, the slipping of her emotions, the slowing of her heart as anxiety threatened to take her over.
She took a deep breath and let her vision tunnel again.

'Nobody exists. Nobody. Just my guest, and the art.'

When she finally spoke again her breath was frosting over with each word. "I study history. We know where battles took place, and so by starting at their beginnings, we can trace them to their ends. Though, animals, fauna, and elemental relics are usually found by hunters. We often employ those desperate and hard working enough to find rarities, as most of the antiquities society and myself do not possess the time nor ability to travel to the more dangerous parts of the world."

"But, some of them were simply donated. Many of the books, in fact, came from the Antiquities society prior to them even joining our museum."

She couldn't see. Her eyes had frosted over nearly completely leaving nothing but eye-shaped ice staring ahead. But she knew the halls like the back of her hand and had felt the cold of hardening herself before, and without missing a single step brought them to stand in front of the first piece of art. Her lips parted, they had begun to frost over as well. Tiny, intricate tendrils of ice coated her rose-red lips as she gave explanation of Yi Min's Giant Picking Flowers painting. When she was a teen and the frost lineage of her father had first started to show, she had learned the art of disassociation. Though most might call it a symptom of something greater, something worse, she had learned to hone in on the feeling of nothingness and simply act. No feeling, no emotion, just doing her job as she'd been taught.

"Yi Min, one of Antiris' most famous painters, created this set of paintings just for our museum last year. Here, we see a stone giant. Normally these creatures in the wild would attack and kill anyone who came across them. But in his pieces, hopes to change the way we view normally dangerous creatures and bring beauty to that which is normally grotesque." She paused, stepping back to let Talon view the painting more fully. As he did, the giant picking dandelions would turn his head to Talon and a soft smile took over his hard, earthen face. He stood, then, the ground not shaking nor trembling as he extended the stem to Talon through the painting itself and let it's petals flutter about the mans body. They were carried around him as if wind were spinning all around him, and when they were done flowed back into the painting and joined a million other petals dancing in the sky, each one signifying someone else they'd met.

[Talon]

Talon already had a solution in mind before Mae turned her back on him and continued on her way into the interior of the museum. As they walked and Mae commented on her preference for people’s words, he had to wonder how accustomed the woman truly was to the life of a high profile aristocrat. He did not need to call upon the powers of Semblance to study the weave and weft of her aura in order to gauge her emotional state as they walked. The Memories in Blood exhibit had taken an emotional toll upon them both he imagined but the more distance that had been put between them and it, followed by the other areas, the easier he found it to sort his feelings. The stiffness in the woman’s back, the crispness to her words and the ice that had begun to form upon her being told Talon all he needed to know.

He had heard stories of her stiffness and formality. As soon as those things had happened upon Talon’s ears, he knew them for what they were. He had gone through a similar phase until his father had sat him down and spoken with him. The way House Novalys approached the public and the way House Eloeth approached it could not have been more different. He could still remember his father’s words. Perhaps he would share them with the woman. He held off to allow her to finish speaking on the painting. Where before there had been a passion to her explanation of her exhibits, a zeal that, while subdued, was still palpable, Mae was now as cold as the stones of the building in the Frost season. Seeing her covered in head to toe ice, Talon turned his attention to the painting as the stone giant showered him with petals. It was an impressive feat and beautiful to behold.

“Stone giants attack for fear of being harvested for their bones. The bones of a stone giant are much like their Moratallen cousins, strong, immovable, and unyielding. They have often been hunted to extinction in an entire area as cruel merchants seek to capitalize on the minerals that can be found inside of them.” Talon’s voice was plain. He was speaking a cold truth. A fact that was known among the community of crafters. More than once he had seen the bones of a stone giant for sale in some of the markets of even Kalzasi. They were remarkable in their strength but he lamented the manner in which the bones were collected. He could understand a people’s violence when such a people were so ruthlessly hunted. Were not his own people sought after in other parts of the world? To be slaves for the Gelerian Imperium or to harvest the wings from their backs. However, as the painting resumed its more mundane appearance, Talon regarded Mae.

“I think, perhaps, this conversation is best continued when you are not so distressed.” He eyed her from head to toe. As he moved to turn and perhaps depart the museum, he spoke a genuine bit of advice to the woman.

“You are a woman of high society, Lady Eloeth. You command attention simply by entering a room.” Talon gestured to those who continued to stare. He let his gaze settle upon some of the more bold gossipers. He did not glare. Nor did he make any sort of interruption to their conversation. He merely leveled them with the gaze of the Prince of Kalzasi. It took no longer than a breath before they blushed and bowed, shuffling away with murmured apologies. Talon nodded to them. He then returned his attention to Mae.

“Command the attention. Rule it. Do not be ruled by it.” With that, Talon offered her a slight bow. He turned and made to leave, lightly clasping his hands behind his back as he did so. He had no desire to speak with a statue made of ice and cold. He wanted to speak with the woman who so passionately pursued the wonders of history. He wanted to speak with Mae, not the Frozen Rose of Kalzasi.

“When you are ready, Lady Eloeth.” He gently reached out, touching a hand to his Companion’s forearm. The black winged Kathar bowed, wordlessly following him along with the rest of his entourage. As he began walking he turned his thoughts toward Mae’s suggestion; a means of housing the memento’s to their fallen in a more permanent way. He would make a point to visit the generals of the Sky Guard at Mistreach Keep. Perhaps there could be an addition made to the great fortress, a hall devoted to honoring those who had fallen.

[Mae Eloeth]

30th of Frost, 120 AoSxx

She was in her home. It was dark. The lights had all been snuffed out as the twin moons rose high in the sky to light the city but clouds had covered their pathway. And Mae sat in her fathers study, letter in hand.

”Mae,

By next Frost you will be wed. Your mother has brought to my attention that you have refused or offended every eligible suitor you’ve been matched with. I expect this to cease. Should it not, your position in our family will cease instead.

Do not dishonor yourself, nor us, any longer.”

It wasn’t signed. He never did sign his letters to family, a sort of unknown trademark in case someone tried forging his signature. Through a clenched jaw Mae crumpled the letter into a small ball and threw it into the hearth across the room. It crackled at first, but soon was no more than soot upon the ground.

That had been a week ago. Mae understood the implication; marry, or you will no longer be allowed the name of Eloeth. Which meant no more museum. No more art. No more history. And the shame to follow.

And so Mae stood there, nearly frozen in the piercing memory of the letter echoing unknowingly through guests lips. She could hear atop the whispers Talon’s own voice speaking tales of giant history. History she hadn’t known but piqued her interest all the same. And then, acting like a teacher. She turned to him with what might have been a glare if she’d let her face shift expressions. But instead she was still.

Because he was right. She had to control herself by controlling them. Rule the space you own. How had she forgotten.. Such simplicity in his direction that, as he turned to leave, began to melt the frost that bit her skin. Her voice came from ruby lips warmer. A slow build from the frozen tongue she’d used before, but it once more became commanding, devoted and reflective of the work she so treasured.

“I like to think that Min’s intent here was to perhaps stop people from hunting the creatures and those like it. To see the beauty and innocence they might have when us humanoids aren’t there to disturb their peace. It’s said you never truly know the nature of a thing until you can observe it when it is alone, without wanting anything from it. Because as mortals our own desire for a thing can distort our perception of it.”

Mae then turned to him. Her head bowed slightly with a twist to her chin. It was a bow of respect, acknowledgement, and she rose her eyes to meet his without hesitation. Those watching continued to whisper. Some pointed, awing at the spectacle of 'the prince melting the frozen Rose'. But she simply twisted her head and stared. Her gaze penetrated their rumors and sent them scurrying away with soft apologies left in their wake. After they had left, she turned to Talon.

“You are right, Your Highness. I have forgotten myself in the stresses of a newly approaching season. Shall we continue?” She placed her hands behind her back in a soft clasp. It wasn't a lie, nor was it the whole truth, but it was made to mask the unnecessary detail of her fathers letter. Such things the prince need not concern himself with.

[Talon]

R E W A R D S

Name: Talon
XP: 10 XP
Requested Lore: +8 Lore. You are not authorized for special or secret knowledge as a result of this thread.

Note(s): Review posted as Mae has been retired.