Shy Away [Sivan]

[Destyn]

Shy Away (Continued from "Time Has No Friends")

11 Searing, 121

A clock struck midnight somewhere in the distance as Destyn wrinkled his nose, seeming more perplexed than enlightened by Sivan's description of an Awoken. To be fair, the Elf had disclaimed that it got complicated, so the young Fae would simply smile, shrug and leave it at that.

"Industry is the god of Zaichaer and it is fearsome. Alive and lifeless, like hate made manifest." He clarified with apparent scorn in his voice and painted plainly on his face. He was happy to move on from the subject of his trauma's origin point- Well, perhaps 'happy' wasn't the word, but rather 'relieved'. And the offer of help with his Summoning skills was welcome indeed, and so he eagerly accepted the offer of a walk- even with his current handicap to that particular activity. He nodded effusively, and withdrew his hand to clutch his crutch and use it to push himself up from his seat on the fountain's edge.

"I would truly be grateful for any such instruction." He bent the knee of his wounded leg to hold it aloft as he rested his weight between the good one and the crutch he had tucked under the opposing shoulder. The night robes he donned were long enough that they concealed both legs from view when he was standing. His borrowed garment was clearly of Avialae make, though probably intended for an adolescent of that statuesque race. Fortunately it was constructed to allow for his similarly situated appendages and, under the flaps of a cowl piece that rounded his shoulders, Sivan would be able to see two rows of translucent wings hanging over part of the fabric like some heavy, over-starched cape.

"My mother was a master Summoner, but I..." He trailed off. His mother might have decimated their attackers, if the clan hadn't been ambushed. If only Destyn had been honest about his mischief in the human village of Grauschweig, they might have been better prepared and come out victorious. But he hadn't been honest. His face twitched as he consciously forced those unbidden thoughts back down.

"'At my leisure.'" He offered glancing up and contriving to smile encouragingly. "One of our elders spent decades living as a healer in a human village." He explained, "He returned to us before I was born and when I was a boy he taught me this language and told me fascinating stories about his time amongst the race of Men. I learned well, so we could share secrets together and he would help me sometimes to play little tricks on my cousins. I can read it, as well." He elaborated, as he began to limp in the direction Sivan led.

"To be honest, I am glad your Common is imperfect." He confessed with an apologetic smile, "It is a relief to my heart that you have flaws and are not better than me at every single thing ever."

Shy Away

[Sivan]

"I am not a religious," he said carefully, not wanting to offend, "but I do not understand their... hubris," he said first in Mythrasi and then in Rivach, hoping between the two of them, the Fae'ethalan might catch his complex meaning, "when the Gods are evident. Also, I wonder how they do not see their own... hypocrisy," he tried again, having not had conversations with anyone here about such things, showing holes in his mastery of the vocabulary, "how they have, deified," one more time with feeling, "an idea. An Idea that gives them some right to be terrible..."

But he let it go as he stood up and stretched a little after his meditations. Sivan let Destynrael set the pace, then took a gentle lead toward the entrance to the hospital as it also had the stairs that would lead them back to the road whereby they could walk to the Plaza of Jeweled Arches. Seeing how different Destynrael's morphology was from Flower's, he wondered why his own two peoples couldn't accept him for what he was. Perhaps some would have better than others, but it had been too exhausting as a child to seek them out, to weather the disdain of those who would never be convinced that he was worth their time.

"She must have been very wise," he said with all sincerity. Clever could get a summoner so far, but eventually, one was going to deal with entities much more clever by far. Even the more "good-aligned" species were not intelligences quite like the sentient races of this plane. Their ethics and their being were strange to consider. Most summoners, it seemed, plateaued in power or bit off more than they could chew and were never heard from again or became warnings for new summoners. That she had survived to become a Master was something to be admired.

Sivan laughed.

"I am very imperfect. You will see." Uncomfortable with compliments, he asked after their shared area of expertise. "I suppose you work most with natural spirits and elementals?" It made sense that a Fae'ethalan would, though there was any number of reasons why a summoner of any species might go against type. He supposed his first responsibility would be to ensure that Destynrael's grief didn't become a lust for revenge or he might bond an infernal or eldritch aidolon."

[Destyn]

Shy Away

11 Searing, 121

Destyn shrugged with nonchalance at Sivan's secular declaration. There were different ways to define piety and dealing with the kinds of life and aetherial beings that he did gave him no dearth of reverence for that which dwelt beyond his ken.

"I am religious." He said, as if realising it for the first time, "But we may feel the same way and call it something different." He rather suspected that was the case with Sivan. The Men of the South called themselves atheists, but worshipped almighty Industry and Destyn called himself religious without having sworn his soul to any particular deity. These were all new concepts for the young Fae, in truth. Even when he'd been in their midst, Destyn knew quite little of the Zaichaeri people. It was only during his trip here and his time in the city that he'd had his tragedy answered with new information, but rarely surprise. It seemed the Southron city was known for its cruelty. In retrospect, he understood his mother's bidings, when had felt so abstract at the time, but so starkly personal now.

Although he had many feelings about what Sivan said of the Zaichaeri, he didn't respond verbally.

"She was." He agreed, his face twitching as the memory of her face as he last saw it flashed into his mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to put that thought away. Fortunately, Sivan posed a question for him to focus upon instead.

"Yes. I can invoke simple spirits of nature. They are mostly silly and single-minded, accepting my invitation but then doing whatever they fancy. I am no more than a novice, truly."

Shy Away

[Sivan]

Sivan nodded thoughtfully to all that Destynrael said. It did seem as though they were in agreement about things in general, if the words they used were different — and in different languages. When they came to the stairs, he paused.

"Would you like to put some of your weight on me?" he asked diffidently. "Or would you rather fly?" He wasn't sure the best way to ask these things, not being knowledgeable in communicating with Fae'ethalan. He had spoken to some in passing over the years, but this was still a first. Whatever course Destyn chose, Sivan proceeded to try to distract him with the minutiae of summoning. It might be mother-adjacent in his mind if she had been his primary instructor, but it would lead toward a future.

"So you are proficient in the summon, the concordant, and the interdiction?" He had made certain to learn these words in Common, thinking he would have to communicate more often about magic than about Zaichaeri culture. "Do you think you will spherebind to the Wild or did you have other thoughts on specialization? Apologies. I should let you answer."

Later, perhaps, he would ask if there were spirits that his mother worked with, spirits who might work with him because of his lineage. That was something he had decided against himself. He would always have the ear of wild spirits due to his blood, so he thought he would bind to the celestials and seek an aidolon among them. Perhaps it felt like a nod to his Hytori heritage, or just something that he would do for himself, to define himself. Head in heaven, fingers in the mire, as the poem went. Perhaps he could bring it up when he knew Destyn better, when he knew that it might have some positive effect in his grieving.

[Destyn]

Shy Away

11 Searing, 121

The bereaved Fae placed his free hand on the adjacent wall when they reached the edge of the steps.

"Would you mind just walking my crutch down?" He inquired delicately, making no gesture toward Sivan until he had assented to the request. Once it was out of his hands, Destyn slightly bent his good leg while still holding the other aloft and balancing against the wall. With a grunt of exertion from the extra effort demanded of the unwounded leg, he launched up into the air. It looked like he was just jumping and that he was bound to plummet down the steps, but as soon as he reached the zenith of his leap, seemingly out of nowhere, his hitherto dormant wings sprung to action- beating so fast they looked more like an outline of wings than anything corporeal. A blurry silhouette that created a wind that sent dust flying away on either side, as he took a slow, lazy path down to the bottom of the stairs, where he spun around and hovered in place until Sivan made his way down and offered up the crutch.

He alighted, once again, on his good leg and nodded gratefully to the elf as his crutch clicked against the cobblestone and he resumed their stroll.

"Just so." He replied in agreement with Sivan's suppositions about his abilities to date. "I know it is rather cliché, but yes. I have a natural affinity for the Wild Sphere, and I am inclined to let my inherent advantages be a strength rather than bucking against expectation." He continued clicking along the street at Sivan's side and just a little behind, so the elf could remain in the lead.

"Tell me of your Master? Do you apprentice to him in all of your disciplines, or does he specialise in one or two in particular?" In his own clan, he'd had different instructors to help with different areas of focus, but he didn't know how these city folk lived.

Shy Away

[Sivan]

Sivan obliged the Fae'ethalan by taking up his crutch and traversing the stairs while watching him fly. If he looked a touch wistful when returning the implement, it was just that he was remembering past dreams of flying, wondering how long it had been since he had dreamed thus, and wondered if he might form a bond with a celestial aidolon who might eventually grant him wings when they were Unified, at least.

"Elegant," he noted quietly. He thought that was the correct term, or carried the correct connotations. It would be natural to Destynrael, of course, which likely accounted for it.

"'Tis probably wise... The wildings have been good to me, and I can only imagine they would be keener to help you, who are almost their cousin." He smiled. "Sometimes bucking expectation is wise. Sometimes 'tis just more work. As for my master... Master Jacun teaches me alchemy. My former master was teaching me artificing and clockwork so that I would be able to look after his clockwork friend when he was gone, I think. He was not a summoner, but he did teach me a great deal about seeing. About Semblance. My learning has slowed while I focus on alchemy, but my learning wasn't complete. I teach myself in my spare time. I hope when I have achieved some small mastery of alchemy, I will have caught up with the rest also."

They made their careful way back to the Plaza of Jeweled Arches, talking or in silence, and Sivan was solicitous about asking if Destynrael needed to pause for a rest from time to time.

"This is the shop," he said when they stood in front of Master Jacun's apothecary and alchemical works store. "I spend most of my days here." He glanced thoughtfully at Destynrael, then pulled out his key. "Actually, I think I might have a little thing or two to ease you." His key turned in the lock, also informing whatever magical security was present that he belonged there, and opened the door for his new friend. Close as they were to his house, he called to Khal, his little fire sprite, who came zipping over and led the way into the foyer. At Sivan's silent request, he tamped down his heat, but turned up his incandescence, lending enough light to see by.

[Destyn]

Shy Away

11 Searing, 121

Destyn chortled.

"It would have been less elegant if I was holding the crutch." He offered with a little, bashful nod. "So thank you for that." He said, as he clicked along the street beneath the moonlight at the Sunrunner's side.

"Fae'ethalan are almost cousins to many things." Destyn noted, gently nudging Sivan's shoulder with his own, "Yourself included."

He furrowed his brow,

"Cuh-lockwork?" He repeated the word, which felt heavy on his tongue. "C'lock...work..." He tried it again. "I do not know this term." He admitted, though such was probably apparent by how poorly he pronounced it. It felt like such a harsh, heavy word overladen with consonants on a tongue more accustomed to the legato of long vowels.

"Is Master Jacun an elf, too?" Destyn wondered aloud, declining the offer of a respite from the walk. He felt somehow recharged after spending a bit of time in the garden, even though he hadn't been sleeping well since the incident to the South. By and by, they'd reached their destination and Destyn regarded the shop with wide-eyed interest.

"I am permitted within?" Destyn checked in before stepping through the door, crutch first, and looking around the curious little spot. "Anything you have to help would be most welcome, Sivan Sunrunner." He said with whispered enthusiasm. He'd gathered from Sivan's earlier sentiments that Master Jacun would not want visitors at this hour and he wasn't sure whether the man kept rooms here and might be roused by a thoughtless Fae's excitement.

Shy Away

[Sivan]

"All right, cousin," he said, smiling faintly. Family clearly meant more to Destynrael than it ever had to him, but he took the compliment in the spirit with which it was given. He promised to show him clockwork later, but added, "Master Jacun is a human as far as I can tell. It seems there is much mixing of the races here." Which ought to have made him more comfortable, but alas, it did not. Perhaps it would in time. "My old master was Hytori. Jacun does speak Mythrasi. Possibly even your tongue as well."

Sivan locked the door behind them and tried to smile soothingly, though the warm flicker of Khal's light might have made him look infernal for all he knew.

"Sometimes I open the shop in the morning," he said, though he did speak more quietly. "And lock up in the evening. He doesn't seem to be working so there will be no questions." All the truly dangerous things weren't out front, anyway, and he just kept an eye on Destynrael to make sure he didn't knock over dragonshards or anything.

"I keep a ledger of what I use for my work," he explained. "Just so his inventory is kept current. I think we could both use some valerian, and I have another idea."

He mumbled to himself a bit as he collected things, then led the way into the back where his own little workstation was. He fired up the dragonshard-powered alembic, adding various reagents at different times. "Powdered aetherite..." Also, "Mm, tincture of mnemonosyte..."

When everything was cooking, he measured a bit of a dirt-looking substance into two vials. He handed one to Destynrael.

"This is powdered valerian root," he explained, "enhanced with magic leached from a dragonshard. Put a pinch in your tea or water before bed. Within half an hour of finishing it, you should be asleep. Often, it pulls me down quickly until I'm sleeping too deeply even to dream." His smile was an attempt at kindness. "I'm taking some too." That said, he glanced at the alembic to make sure nothing was going awry.

[Destyn]

Shy Away

11 Searing, 121

A frown coloured Destyn's lips, and he scanned the room more anxiously than appraisingly now. His frown flattened out as he regarded Khal and blinked. Then waved. He even managed a little smile, before Sivan's voice drew his attention back elf-ward.

"Much responsibility." He noted, before turning to peruse the shop's shelves. Khal's light flickered against glass jars and polished stone trinkets, which Destyn scanned curiously. Where there were labels, he read the words but recognised none. He knew the letters, but not the combinations thereof. Whatever the contents of the vessels he reviewed, they weren't aught he'd read or heard of.

"Ah!" He smiled with recognition, "Valerian. I know that one!" Of course Sivan hadn't been party to the line of thought that led him to that reaction, but he certainly seemed enthusiastic about his familiarity with this particular root. But Sivan's was now operating some strange apparatus. Destyn recognised the dragonshard that presumably powered the device, but its function was a complete mystery to the Fae. He turned to limp toward Sivan, so he could watch what was being done by the elf whom he was now certain was some sort of polymath genius. Even before he elaborated on what he was executing.

Destyn accepted the proffered vial and held it up to his light blue eyes, staring at the substance behind the glass with awe and fascination.

"Just a pinch?" He checked in to confirm the suggestion, "How many doses do you think this is?" He furrowed his brow, "I shouldn't take it until I'm back home, right?" He was eager to try it straight away, but the way Sivan had described it made it sound as though he might fall asleep mid-flight and fall out of the sky en route to Cloudhaven. But wouldn't that be a way to go, some dark part of his mind wondered idly...

Shy Away

[Sivan]

A flicker of a smile answered the Fae'ethalan's recognition. Sivan wasn't a master herbalist by any stretch of the imagination, but he knew a few go-to remedies and he knew now how to augment nature with alchemy to some extent. Sometimes, too, he could petition nearby nature spirits for guidance when it came to such things, or speak to the plant's own spirit if it was still living.

"A week or so," he surmised. "Perhaps a dash rather than a pinch. In a vial like that. You should get home, take it, and then get settled. It won't make you sleep against your will, but it would make getting home like a chore."

He kept an eye on the alembic and an eye on the Fae'ethalan's hands, though he didn't seem mischief-prone, which was good. At least when it came to an alchemist's workshop. Peering at the piece of polished hematite that he had initially placed in the alembic, he poured a bit of himself into his Rune of Semblance so he could observe the change. He hadn't done this exact thing before, but he had executed several similar trials and everything seemed to be going right.

Eventually, there was a pronounced red glow, visible even to the uninitiated, that quickly disappeared. He dialed down the heat and watched as the hematite sucked a great deal of it into itself as the change crystalized within its structure. As such, he only waited a few moments before carefully removing the little gem with tongs and dropping it onto his open palm. It was heavy and cool in his hand and he eyed it quite critically. Everything seemed to be in order, and he knew he would have to fashion a much more powerful version — and much more expensive — if he were to be able to find any negative side-effects. If there were any, they were too weak to really show in this first incarnation.

Sivan held it out solemnly to Destynrael.

"This won't make you to forget." He said it almost apologetically. "Keep it in your hand, though. Like worry stone. Or put it in a pendant and wear it against your skin. Hematite draws out negativity. Mnemonosyte keys it to memories. It is not strong... that would take time and more expensive. But it will gently pull away some of the pain from them. Not cure, but salve? So now you can sleep and you will feel a little bit better."

He shifted from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling like it was a paltry thing to offer in the face of the Fae'ethalan's titanic grief but it was what he could manage on short notice and in short time.