All the Lovers [Finn & Arvalyn]

[Arvælyn]

"All the Lovers"
12 Searing, 121
The Velvet Cabaret, Kalzasi

After a successful Glade Season, which had kicked off with an impromptu solo premiere that had earned him the confidence of management, Arvalyn was keen to make Searing even better. And, with Aurin's revelations of the prior week, he was increasingly encouraged that his days behind the beaded curtain were on the wane, and soon his native environs would be framed between the velvet curtain of the stage. He'd stopped taking on new clients for his private services, so he could focus on his public persona and further honing the skills that were starting to build him notoriety for his voice.

Apart from Aurin, the person Arvalyn most associated with his recent advancements was the strapping young bard known as Finn. After their chance encounter on the street during one brisk Frost afternoon, they'd been working together on music. Finn had been helping the Hytori blonde to work on his vocal talents, and they'd been collaborating on a song. Arvalyn had helped out with the lyrics, whilst Finn plied his formidable musical talents and his increasingly intimate knowledge of Arry's voice to compose the music.

Their song had gone through several drafts. In the beginning, Arry grilled Finn about his love life and attempted to translate the relatively lonely tale into verse. In rehearsal, Finn found Arvalyn's performance had a certain detachment and suggested he pursue a lyric more personal to himself, rather than borrowing Finn's story. The secretive Elf struggled through quite a few attempts, with a few early attempts that were too vague and cryptic to stick the landing. After one booze fueled evening, when Arry finally opened up somewhat about his relationship with Aurin and the vulnerabilities it highlighted, Finn suggested he do a pass of the lyric with that in mind.

It was better, and Arry performed it in the last-minute solo gig he took on just after the New Year. It had gone well enough, but there was still something missing. By and by, Finn suggested that they try the number as a duet. Arry unearthed the first draft of his lyric, when the song had been about Finn's experiences, and married it with the latest version that was about his own. Finn got the first verse and chorus, Arry joined on the second and they united for the bridge and beyond.

It was this version that they performed on the main stage at The Velvet Cabaret tonight. It was their first public performance together, and it was rife with emotion for Arry. His first performance had been such a whirlwind, he couldn't even properly remember the experience, but he'd been alone on stage. It was him and the audience which was somehow isolating, in spite of the large crowd of people who sat before him. He didn't interact with them, he barely even looked at them. There was an invisible wall between them- a 'fourth wall' as Finn called it.

Tonight was different. Finn stepped onto the stage before him, and Arvalyn was able to watch him from the wings ere it was his time to stand before the footlights. He watched, admiringly, as Finn sang about his doubts and longings. His eyes trailed down to the rapt crowd, then back to the boy who had them wrapped about his finger. Arry nearly forgot to join him when it was time for his verse, but he managed not to miss his entrance as he delivered his verse to Finn's striking profile.

Seeing Finn's face as he felt the eyes of the house upon both of them, he felt overcome with emotion. He'd connected with the song in rehearsal, but there was something about this moment- Performing it with his teacher and collaborator, his friend and confidante who was laying so much vulnerability out in front of these strangers. It made Arvalyn feel the tragedy at the heart of the lyrics more than he ever had. More even than when he'd written them. By the end, he found himself in tears, surprised he'd been able to hold off sobs long enough to phonate the soaring final notes of Finn's glorious melody.

As the crowd broke into applause, Arry stepped over to Finn and put his arms around him, squeezing his eyes shut as he squeezed the handsome human withal, whispering "Thank you..." into the shell of his rounded ear, though it was doubtful he'd hear it over the din of approval pouring out of the house. Still and all, he'd have felt it on his breath.

[Finn]

There hadn't been a great deal of time for collaboration before now. He had poured his efforts into learning his craft so his family would support his decision not to become a smith, but instead a minstrel. Singing for his supper was a full-time employment, and it wasn't until the Shinsei spake a future at the Academy, prophesying before him in his brother's bar, that dreams of becoming a true bard became more than mere dreams. But his instructors at the Academy often spoke about creative collaboration and he had nodded along as if he really knew what that entailed.

Of course, he had improvised with other musicians before, but his ivory tower instructors were talking about the careful process of composition with intention as a collaborative experience, and to that, he was entirely new. And so the bulk of spring was spent with him pulling every trick he could think of out of his hat to help Arvalyn be more aware of what he was doing with his voice so he could be more expressive with it, and every trick of composition and improvisation that he knew to make this work both for himself and for Arvalyn, who seemed to trust and look up to him. It was an uncomfortable pedestal to pose on, but he was doing his best.

Now they were on stage and it felt right that it was a duet considering how many versions of it they had worked on, how much time they had spent writing about their own experiences. Arvalyn had even been brave and showed a fair amount of soul in the process, and Finn knew how hard that could be. He had often received more praise for some bawdy song that took no true skill to play than he had for singing his heart out to an indifferent audience. As a duet, it felt as much like they were singing to each other than to the audience, and they were comfortable singing to each other by now. Finn had even gotten Arvalyn to the point where he wasn't embarrassed making awful sounds in front of him in order to loosen up, explore, and find out how to make the beautiful ones too. Finn had led by example on that, warming up from nothing, trying to stay on pitch during a late winter cold, and the like.

He had sung a few times on this very stage and he was a practiced performer, so his nerves didn't show. But he wanted to be at his best for this, so he did like one of Lyra's Leh'anafel before him and poured his heart through his Rune of Mesmer, weaving a Concerto into his song. There was no guile or malice in it, no attempt to sway or influence. He only wanted people to understand his experience with sex and with love, with disconnect and loneliness, and then, when Arvalyn came out, gold as any sun dragon, he flipped his small magic into listening, listening to all the heart that Arvalyn poured into his verses. The genius of their song was having two distinct voices with two distinct experiences, and finding the commonalities and the complements.

Hearing more than the average ear, he was able to react with a truer emotion, and he let his magic project again as they began to sing together, layering and harmonizing.

In the end, they were a success, and he felt that exhilaration that was greater than any drug the Cabaret had on sale. He made to bow to his companion, only too happy to be the country minstrel paying homage to an elven noble, but Arvalyn caught him up in a hug. His lute wasn't crushed between them, thankfully, and if he froze, it was only for a moment before he softened and embraced his friend back. Arvalyn said something, but it was lost in the din. A hand came up carefully to the nape of his neck — it wouldn't do to muss his hair — and he kissed his cheek with true affection. When they finally pulled away enough to smile at each other, he swept a theatrically grand hand out toward the crowd.

"Your audience beckons," he said, definitely loud enough to be heard, at least by Arvalyn.

When the elf went to collect his due, Finn too began to applaud. There was pride in the work, pride in his own performance, but he was also proud of Arvalyn, who had worked so hard for months to get to this point. He had earned it.

[Arvælyn]

Arvalyn took in his share of praise, but not without relinquishing the lion's share to his duetting partner.

"Really!" He informed the swarm, "I can't overemphasise how much of the credit is due him. He's a masterful melodist, isn't he?" This was typically Arry's favourite part- basking in the praise of strangers and accepting their various and sundry compliments- but on this occasion, he felt a bit differently. In this instance, there'd been that connection on stage and he almost resented having to pause it. He'd never experienced anything like it. He'd performed in ensembles, but he hadn't really been the focus, and he certainly hadn't poured his heart out in this way. He'd just invoked borrowed experiences sung with other people's words. He hadn't felt the electric connection to another performer that seemed to galvanise the audience even as it coursed like lightning through him.

Finn and he had created a whole little world that only they inhabited, and let their truths flow out through the music. But there was something else... Something that had never come through in their rehearsals. It was both alien and familiar. Alien insofar as it had, at first, derived from Finn and familiar that, once it reached him, Arry felt the tendrils creep against his own and weave into him until some deep part of him felt like a conduit... an amplifier for Finn's energies. It was, in a word, intense and unexpected. He was eager to discuss it in private.

"Thank you all so much!" Arvalyn lifted his hands and placed his palms together as he bowed his head, begging off, "Now, if you'll please excuse us..." He tucked his arm under Finn's and guided him through the crowd and out toward the main bar.

"Finn!" He exclaimed, when they were in the clear, "We needs must celebrate our triumph." He said with a squeeze to his arm, as he led them to the bar. For once, the barkeep was instantly attentive to him.

"Something sparkly, but potent." He ordered, "I've got a little spot where I thought we might enjoy this and take in the evening... It's... Well, I hope you aren't afraid of heights." A bottle was slammed down on the bar before them, which Arry grabbed by the neck, before leading them out into the side alley and gesturing toward a scaffold.

"Lovely night to drink on a rooftop, wouldn't you say?"

[Finn]

Finn accepted the praise with aplomb, but there was something truly humble in the way he took in the cheering and Arvalyn's words, as though he were grateful for the opportunity to share more than anything else. He shifted his lute around and let Arvalyn swan him through the crowd, this being his domain, after all.

"Not particularly afraid of heights," he said. "Sometimes exceptionally high notes, though." His jesting amendment aside, he let Arvalyn lead the way.

"A little air would be nice. Leave your audience wanting more. Brace yourself to return to their glowing admiration." If someone else had said it, it might have sounded like a criticism, but Finn's manner made it clear he understood the game and believed Arvalyn deserved the crowd's approbation. "That run... you really nailed it this time. Of course, I knew you would."

He knew the back end of the Cabaret a bit from having played a few sets there and from the occasion when they had only had rehearsal space here, but the route to the roof was new to him. And he was glad to escape the crowd for a little while, at least. The use of Mesmer had left him particularly open and some of the melodies in his own symphony were Arvalyn's now. It would take a little time and space to separate them out again. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, and he knew Arvalyn well enough now that he could delineate between what was Arvalyn and what was Finn, but it was strange enough that he appreciated a bit of a buffer between him and the rest of the world.

"Oh, this is nice," he said, agreeing with what had only been a proposition before. The early summer breezes were warm rather than searing, and the sparkling darkness of the skybowl overhead was enough to inspire music. "Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you."

[Arvælyn]

Arry let Finn hold onto the bottle when he climbed up the scaffold, then extended his hands down to collect the bottle and the lute as Finn followed suit. There were a few levels to climb and so the exchange was repeated level after level until they'd reached the roof and Arry started as a frightened bird took to the air at the sight of invaders to the roost. He steadied himself and chuckled, as he stepped onto a flat area and collected the articles from Finn below, so the human could join him.

"What?" Arvalyn held his splayed fingers over his chest in mock indignation, "Did you think I was going to take you somewhere lacklustre?" He grinned and nudged Finn with his shoulder, "You can't trick me. I know that's a song lyric." He took a few paces, lit by the moon and stars, toward a couple of crates and plopped himself down to sitting upon one, as he tugged the cork from the bottle with his teeth and spat it over the ledge onto the street below.

"I hope you don't mind drinking out of the same bottle, but they don't like us bringing cups outside." He waited for Finn to sit, and shifted his face toward him.

"I want you to know..." He said, pausing as a flutter of nerves woke in his belly. "That I-... I appreciate you, Finn." He felt his eyes welling, as if some emotional aftershock from their recent heights was shaking him form within. "I'm so, so grateful for all you've done for me and the time we've spent together? I've really grown to..." He shook his head,

"I'm sorry. I'm a bit overstimulated, I think." He offered the bottle across to Finn so he could claim the first swig.

[Finn]

Finn laughed at the first quip, and then, "Well, for a would-be bard, sometimes I find other poets have said things better than I could and the lyrics just best represent what I'm feeling."

He wasn't embarrassed, not in front of Arvalyn. At first, the elf's nobility had been a bit offputting; not his fault, but because Finn felt like he should always defer, which wasn't helpful when trying to coach or to collaborate. And so he had stopped.

The human sat as his friend bade him do, and their knees touched when Arvalyn turned toward him to speak. He smiled, perhaps a bit too in tune with Arvalyn, though he had let go of the magic before the applause started. But magic was mystical; perhaps it lingered between them. He took the bottle when it was put into his hands.

"Same," he said simply, and patted Arvalyn's knee near where it touched his own. He took a measured sip, knowing bubbles could cause a bit of chaotic mischief, then a longer one, and then held the bottle out to share.

"As soon as we parted that first time, I was excited, but part of me expected never to hear from you again. There are so many things going on for so many people, you never know, you know? And then there was the scheduling and the hiccoughs and worrying I wasn't moving fast enough for you, not producing the desired results... But I'm glad we made it through. It was... a new experience for two experienced performers. Creating something together, not just in the spontaneity of the moment, but crafting it. And performing, separate, but together...

"It was... something." Words could fail him, too.

[Arvælyn]

"Be careful with all that humility, Finn..." Arvalyn began, with a good-natured grin, "On one so talented it can come off poorly." He bit his lip, his eyes darting down to where their knees met and consciously choosing not to adjust his position to part them. His eyes rose as Finn echoed his sentiment, albeit far more succinctly and with markedly less stammering. He accepted the bottle, and kissed it on the mouth as his eyes remained locked with Finn's.

He listened intently, as the human expressed his initial doubts and uncertainties- espoused his relief at surmounting them, and then spoke of the work itself.

"We made a music baby together." Arry posited, taking a less lingering swig, before handing the bottle back across. "But tonight was different. I... think I sensed there was something about you, but I couldn't put my finger on it until a little while ago." The elf turned one palm up and unfastened one of the braces he always wore on both wrists. Pulling it free, he showed his Rune to Finn- the white light reflected from the moon casting a pale canvas of sunkissed skin against which the dark red symbol was set.

"I felt your Craft mingling with mine." He was nervous at broaching this. It wasn't something he ever talked about- Not even with Aurin. "It felt like you were singing through me at times when we harmonised... I've never felt anything akin to it, Finn, and it was..." He let out a breath, and looked down- at a loss for words for a pregnant moment. By and by, he shifted to a less pointed form of candour.

"It felt like Fate brought us together to do something special... Like we share a bond beyond the doldrums of this world that touches upon something greater." He bit his lip, blushing slightly, though it didn't show up plainly between his complexion and the moonlight, "...At least that's how it felt to me."

[Finn]

Finn laughed at the birth announcement. He would never birth an actual baby, so he couldn't say whether the metaphor was apt, but it had certainly been the painstaking work of months to bring this song to the light. And he couldn't imagine writing a song with someone without at least imagining what it might be like to love them, though he had tried not to let flights of fancy settle.

Then Arvalyn began to undress, though the reveal was less prurient and more to the point. He blushed all the same, though perhaps even golden eyes wouldn't be able to see it in the moonlight.

"Oh, ah..." His hand came up to the back of his head, moving up against the grain of the shorter hair of his undercut. Even if noontide sunlight, Arvalyn would have to dig through his dark hair to find the bits and pieces of the lines that made up his own rune. "Mine's hidden. I... I'm sorry. I mostly use it to listen. I did a few times when we were having trouble communicating something or another. Either to listen to you with more... context... or to communicate more clearly when I couldn't think of another way to say it. I just hide it because... well, because it can be used unethically... and there will be people who won't believe that I wouldn't do that... but in the archives, I read about this order of musicians who used it to use it to enhance their music... the Singers... the Leh'anafel." Their name in ancient Vallenor sounded almost prayerful on his lips.

"I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time... to try. I wasn't trying to influence anyone... I just wanted to communicate more clearly, and then listen to you more empathetically... And I don't think the song or our performance was any less skillful or heartfelt..."

He paused when the rest of Arvalyn's words caught up with him. His smile was a bit goofy.

"Fate?"

[Arvælyn]

"I hide mine, too!" Arry was quick to return to the common ground as promptly as possible, "That's why I always wear cuffs, no matter the outfit." He rubbed his wrist, and took the opportunity to remove the other cuff to let that arm breathe as well.

"It's kind of a long, weird story for another time, but... This was supposed to be a gift for me, I think. To protect me as I embarked upon a new chapter in my life, when... the people who always took care of me weren't around anymore. But I never really learnt how to use it beyond what I've figured out on my own over the years. Nobody taught me, or anything and it's not like I'm some academy scholar like some people..." He noted, bumping Finn's knee gently with his own.

"Leh'anafel." He repeated the name and, though he didn't speak the language, he pronounced it flawlessly on the first attempt. It even sounded as though some of Finn's reverence may have rubbed off on Arvalyn, who was fascinated at the notion. "I've thought about trying to ply it that way myself, but I've had bad experiences. One time I was in kind of an argument with Aurin? And I got riled up and said something I oughtn't have, and he was really upset. So, I... I don't think I was even doing it consciously, but I started to soothe him. And it was working and things were better, but then he realised what I was doing and it all went to shite." He looked down, ashamed and reached for the bottle.

"I just remember I wished I'd had someone there at the time to do to me what I was doing to Aurin." He took a hefty swallow of the sparkling wine, which seemed to be the best approximation of Mesmer to handle that memory just then.

"Yes!" Finn's dopey grin yielded a bashful smile in return from Arry, "I actually met you just a bit before that incident with Aurin, and it felt really good to have someone in my life who wasn't part of the little Velvet Cabaret bubble that I sometimes feel I'm drowning in." He glanced down at their feet and chuckled, "Well, at least up here on the roof I've got my head above water." He placed the bottle down on the ground between them.

"Hey, Finn?" He began cautiously, "Do you think of me as a friend?"

[Finn]

There were points where he might have interjected, but he just let Arvalyn go for a bit, gathering his thoughts to respond. Sometimes their minds raced along in tandem and they chattered back and forth as merrily as birds, but up on the roof in the moonlight seemed like the time for a slower tempo. He smiled, took a sip of the bubbles and answered.

"Mine was a gift, as well," he admitted. "My Nan died. She was the village witch." He chuckled. "But I suppose I was her favorite. I spent time with her, had a relationship. Anyway, she left me a name in the city. It was a man who gave me the rune to repay some debt or favor, I suppose. I don't know if she had any actual magic or was just wise and knew herbalism and healing... I never asked and she never told me. But I suppose it felt like fate when I read about the Singers. Anyway, they don't really teach magic at the Academy. Perhaps there are some theoretical, philosophical classes around the edges of the topic. But I wouldn't want to sign my life away to the Circle, either.

"But I know a few things. I'd be happy to swap what we know on the subject. I think..." He paused. "I think it's just power. It can be used for good or for ill, but I don't think you are a bad person. Perhaps it was a mistake to use it in an argument. I can't be the judge of that. I wasn't there. I don't know Aurin, really, but I think you are, as things go, a good person. But it's something to think about, no? Which uses of the gift are good uses and which aren't. Self-defense, of course. Empathy. I've made mistakes, too, even with a bit more training. But all we can do is apologize to whomever we might have misused it on and try to do better in the future. Anyway, he's still your friend, isn't he? So he must have understood in the end. Forgiven you."

He reached out and carefully rested his lutestring-callused hand upon Arvalyn's rune.

"See? It's safe." He grinned, dopey again.

"Anyway, yes. I think it's safe to say that if you consider me a friend, then we are friends. I think we were open and honest with each other in digging into material for the song. That implies a certain level of trust and intimacy. I mean... not, like, intimacy, but..." He laughed and squeezed Arvalyn's wrist. "I'd be proud to call you friend and happy to collaborate artistically with you in the future. We might even be faster at it now that we know each other better."