As If By Fate

[Torin Kilvin]

Searing 14 121

Torin Kilvin was walking through one of the city parks, it was one of the better-kept ones near the Jeweled Arches. Now that he had new clothes that were neither ill-fitted nor stained from his work he didn't feel as shy about venturing into the finer parts of the city. He'd been to several of the nicer taverns in the area and was beginning to know his way around the whole city quarter that housed his master's shop. He doubted he would be establishing his own first business anywhere near the Arches but since most of his custom would come from those living or visiting the wealthy district being familiar with it still felt like a good idea.

It was beginning to become truly hot but the trees in the park offered their shade freely and the breezes through them reminded him of the sound the forest made back in his village. His mind was straying through memories without really settling on anyone. Images, conversations, the few brief friendships he'd made with traveling merchants' children or wandering tribes. For once only pleasant moments passed under his mind's eye as he wandered with no real destination through the well-manicured underbrush.

He leaned back against a tree for a few moments and let himself sink deeper. There had been a boy once, at least, Torin thought it had been a boy. The child had been Fae and he wasn't entirely sure that gender was a thing for that race as it was for the others he knew. They had played together in his forest for the week or so the boy's tribe had stayed near the village to trade. Years later the tried had wandered by again and the friendship had resumed, again briefly but immediately comfortable for them both. He was trying to remember what Destynrael had looked like. Oddly he remembered what he had looked like when they were both pre-pubescent but his mind was struggling to render him as he'd been on their second meeting.

Frowning he pushed his mind harder, able to clearly remember what they had done and talked about but not the face of his once-in-a-while friend. His eyes wandered the paths of the green space as he thought, taking in the sights and sounds of flora and the occasional fauna, until they alighted on the very thing his mind was attempting to conjure. He was elated that he had recalled so clearly what he'd been attempting until it caught up to his brain that he was seeing, not remembering.

Startling up from his comfortable lean he stared, then blinked and stared again. The person he was seeing was a few yards away looking at a bed of tall, orange, and black striped summer lilies. It looked like his friend but the clothing was very different and the man was clutching a crutch. Walking over with carefully slow steps so as not to startle he approached.

"Destynrael?" He kept his tone low and friendly but it was definitely a question.

[Destyn]

As if by Fate

14 Searing, 121

It would be a long time before Destyn was ever comfortable in this city. It would be a long time before he was comfortable anywhere, truly- even in his own skin and bark. Though he was still oppressed by the weight of his sorrow and guilt, things were not as they had been upon his arrival. His leg still ached, but he was accustomed to the pain now. His heart was still broken, but he'd spent weeks brokenhearted now. He couldn't tell if the pain was diminished or just... familiar.

He'd found a few things that helped keep his mind in the present. One was a minor charm given unto him by the elf Sivan Sunrunner. It was a polished gem of some kind that had been imbued with a calming essence. It wasn't potent enough to do much, but it did something. He wore it around his neck constantly, and often idly fidgeted with the stone where it hung above his sternum.

Another thing that helped Destyn was nature. He'd spent his whole life in its midst, and he relished spending time in the little pockets of nature city folk called parks and gardens. The plants were so abundant in such places, and so rarely in the presence of their Fae cousins that they were boisterous in their chatter. It was hard to let his mind slip to dark places, when it was being photosynthesised alongside so much flora.

He limped up to a patch of summer lilies who sang a familiar melody. Cocking his head he regarded them and wracked his mind for where he might have heard it. He couldn't recall... Then he heard his name spoken aloud and turned to find himself looking up at a large human. His body tensed and he stumbled back slightly, as his reflexes failed to take his injury into account and started stepping back to put weight on his wounded leg. He winced and let out a whimper, as he lifted anxious eyes to look at the face of his presumed assailant. He froze their for a moment and the lilies went silent. Then he remembered where he'd heard that song... Outside a little village East of here, the summer he'd met:

"Torin." For Destyn it was a statement, not a question, but the statement was grave. They'd parted on favourable terms, but that had been before people who looked a lot like Torin orphaned him out of sheer spite over what amounted to a few paltry coins.

He lowered his eyes and the arm that didn't have a crutch tucked under it, was lifted as his fingers closed around the stone that lay against his chest from a simple, leather cord. The clothes that had been donated for his use were of Kalzasern design and, from the look of them, were probably crafted for an Avialae adolescent who'd yet to reach their final growth spurt. He wore a jacket of light fabric that hung open, revealing the bare, sunkissed skin of a trim, defined torso. There were slits in the back of the jacket that would part if he unfurled his wings, but for now they were draped flush to his back relatively well hidden under the garment. His trousers were taut to his toned legs and stopped just above the knee, so the one splinted leg was clearly visible with the bright white of the bandaging stark against his bronzed complexion. He was wearing shoes of simple canvas that seemed to have spend ample time treading through soil and mud. The shoe on the foot of his bad leg wasn't as dirty, which seemed to suggest Destyn had been the one to dirty them not their previous owners.

The Fae eyed the human suspiciously, but didn't speak anything beyond his name.

As If By Fate

[Torin Kilvin]

It took a great deal of effort for the large human not to step forward and catch the injured Fae when he stumbled and even more when sounds of pain came from him. The look of fear etched into fine features was enough to convince him to stay back and still though.

He just stood, hands held at his sides, clearly visible and empty. Knowing how he rendered fear into the hearts of others was not new enough to surprise him but it still hurt sometimes. More so on the face of someone he had fond memories of. It was the first time since leaving home he'd seen anything from his childhood and his initial delight had been exuberant. He tempered it now, adjusting his stance so he wasn't leaning forward, resting his weight on his back foot to show that he would leave if it was requested.

"Hello," He ventured, trying to keep his expression calmly friendly instead of either excited or worried, "It is good to see you."

It had been years. Torin had already started his growth spurts the last time they'd seen each other but he certainly had not held the weight of muscle his body now did.

"Are... I don't mean to be rude but, are you alright?" He was referencing the obvious wound but also something less specific as well. He realized then that it was very odd for Destyn to be in a city this large, especially so deep inside it. The tribes might come to the gates to trade if they were in great need or wanted something you couldn't get in a small village but actually entering wasn't something he'd ever seen or heard of. Also, the clothing he was wearing was a Kalzasian fashion, not at all similar to what his people typically wore. Confusion showed easily on his open face.

"Where are your people?" He said, thoughtlessly in his concern, not a thought for the reason his old friend might be there alone.

[Destyn]

As if by Fate

14 Searing, 121

"Hello." Destyn parroted the greeting after a long beat. His tone was cool and his physicality broadcast anxiety. His wings had gone erect and were now protruding from the flaps on the back side of his jacket. They remained pointing downwards, not unfurled such that he looked as though he was about to take off. The appeared, rather, as though he was poised to do so at a moment's notice.

He narrowed his eyes slightly at the first question posed, and bared clenched teeth at the second.

"Where are my people?" He repeated through gritting incisors. "Slain by yours." He replied in an intense, rasped whisper. Destyn's Common was still accented and lilted in the sing-song way of his mothertongue, but it was a vast improvement over their first meeting. As a boy Destyn hadn't learnt any Common at all, and it was only later when a member of their clan who had spent time amongst humans returned and was seized upon by a curious youth demanding to learn more of humanity. He'd eagerly studied and eventually achieved fluency, though none would mistake him for a native speaker when he never used voiced S sounds, his V sounded like an F and he practically sung his vowels.

"So, no." He clarified, coolly. "I am not all right." He pushed himself up with his crutch so he wasn't hunched as he'd been Torin approached. Straightened out with his weight on the good leg, Destyn could see that Torin wasn't that much taller albeit much broader than he was. The last time they'd crossed paths, Torin had towered over Destyn who had been, as the lilies might say, 'a late bloomer'. There was still something very childlike about Destyn and, for a Fae'ethalan, he was quite young indeed, but he was so haunted by recent events, that his whilom buoyancy was nowhere to be seen. His eyes welled with emotion and there were many swirling within him, though anger and sorrow were clearly at the forefront.

"I am the last Feithidí Leanaí an Uisce."

As If By Fate

[Torin Kilvin]

The large human took an actual step back as though struck by the vehemence of anguish that was spit at him. His mind, made for solving problems, tried to run through why anyone from Kalzasi would attack the peaceful tribe he had known. But maybe his once-friend had meant more specifically Torin's own people. The Village? Awful images of a village wary from having been attached driving the Fae away. He was horrified for a moment, the feeling showing plainly on his face before it was partly overtaken by confusion. Even if what he imagined was correct there was no chance the villagers would pursue and kill every member of the tribe except Destyn.

"I'm sorry!" Was his immediate response, a phrase he knew in Valasren, then slower, with his hands held out in the near-universal sign of appeasement, "I'm sorry." The grief in his tone was real, although soft from fear of seeming to mock a pain so much deeper than he understood.

"I don't understand." Another phrase he knew in nearly every language he had encountered but used differently than he typically had to employ it. Keeping himself still and not offer assistance remained difficult. But some pains went far deeper than what could be done to the body and him attempting to help felt like it would cause more damage than good at that moment. The tears were even harder to endure from a distance but he kept it.

"I will leave you, if that is what you wish." He did not have enough of the Fae'ethalan language to say this, but it seemed Destyn had expanded his vocabulary significantly. He still spoke with careful deliberateness but it was less worry that he wouldn't be understood and more worry that he would startle the inured boy in other ways. He let his hands fall to his sides, kept his weight shifted away. "I was so surprised to see you after all this time, and in this place. I am apprenticed to a new smith. After..." Explaining about having been sent away seemed complicated and hard so he just said, "After my master died." He gave simple directions to his new home, it was not a difficult shop to find.

"If you have need of anything, I am there most days and I..." He wasn't sure an offer of help would be taken well but he couldn't help it, "If you want or need anything I still think of you as a friend." As his first friend, and the only peer he'd thought of that way until he'd come to the city, the Fae'ethalan was likely to hold that place in the human for the rest of his life.

[Destyn]

As if by Fate

14 Searing, 121

At Torin's first approach, Destyn had reared back like a cornered animal, which was very much how he felt- Teeth bared and looking as though he might hiss. However, Torin's response to his venom was appropriately dramatic. A fact that seemed to appease Destyn somewhat. The apologies in his mothertongue helped to further soften the aggrieved Fae's figurative hackles as his literal wings fell against his back to be swallowed by the fabric of his jacket.

"Humans." He clarified, in the common tongue. "To the South." He looked off in that general direction, and turned to properly face Torin, leaning most of his less than formidable weight onto his crutch in a lean.

"Children of Industry." He nearly spat that word, as if it were an archnemesis. He didn't respond to Torin's offer to leave him alone. Instead he took a seat in the grass nigh of the lilies, which was a bit of a struggle given the state of one leg. He crouched first and sort of gracelessly plopped the rest of the way, and just looked up at Torin expectantly.

"Not your people..." He conceded, "But humans..." His mind wandered back to the day they first met, when it was Torin himself who was under siege by his fellow Man...

A Forest Clearing
Glade, 109 Steel

It was an unseasonably warm day for Glade, and the Clann na Feithidí Uisce took the welcome opportunity to bask in the life-giving sun, setting up camp beside a waterfall that fed a clean, clear stream. The nine-year-old Destynrael revealed more of his Everwild heritage in those days, with green sprouts mingling amongst the straight strands of his hair, which was honey blond but for the bright grass-like green at its roots. His eyes were the same shade of blue, but in childhood the blue occupied the entirety of the eye not just the iris and his lips were naturally darker- brownish in hue. The child's ears had cartilage at the base, but transitioned seamlessly into green, pointed leaves with deep purple veins that formed the helix. In torn trousers and a little vest with no buttons to keep it shut, he slipped away from his folk to flutter about their surroundings exploring and engaging with the woods.

His mother had bade him not to flit too far afield of their camp, but curiosity got the better of him and he lost track of time. He never had trouble finding his way back from a spot once he knew where it was, so there was no concern from parent or child about his getting lost.

After a while, Destynrael heard the sound of shouting children and fluttered up to the end of the forest canopy from which he could glean a better view of his surroundings. He found that the voices were emanating from a clearing, and he flew down to alight on a tree branch overlooking the area, where he found several human children. Most were standing about laughing, while another was on the ground crying at their feet. He tilted his head and perked his pointed ears to listen in...

As If By Fate

[Torin Kilvin]

Being attacked by humans was really the only kind of attacked Torin had ever been. The concept was so normal in his head, that humans do damage that it was never even a thought, just a knowledge somewhere near his core.

The day they'd met had been no exception.

Glade, 109

Torin had always been small, even now that he'd been eating good meals every day for three years. There were other children who grew slowly in the village he now lived in (he wasn't sure if it was his home, though the memories of the place he'd been born were fading, he wasn't sure that had been his home either). But they had siblings, fathers, friends to rely on. The waifish runesmith's apprentice had none of those things. Perhaps the runesmith would have stepped in if he'd known the constant torment that the other children inflicted on his ward, Torin was beginning to believe that the man wanted good things for him. But he wouldn't ask, he couldn't put any additional burden on the family that had been kind to him. He wasn't even a proper apprentice yet, still a novice barely to be trusted alone in the forge.

So he lay still, curled in a ball, his arms wrapped around his head as the circle of Other's threw stones at him. It wasn't so bad, they weren't particularly good at aiming, nor strong enough to toss stones that would break parts of him. They weren't angry today, not throwing fists and feet into his body, they were just looking for some fun. Childish laughter and giggles rang out whenever someone managed to hit him so he flinched. He tried not to cry, he really did. His mother had told him he was a big boy, to be good and not cry.

It was probably the memory of his mother more than the bite of hurled forest stones that caused him to fail her admonition. Thankfully, children grew bored easily and it wasn't much longer after he started to cry that one of them mentioned that they'd heard some of the adults talking about a caravan passing by not far from the town. The general consensus was that they could torment the silent orphan boy anytime, if other entertainment was in the offing they should take it while they could.

The clearing cleared out quickly enough, stones still in hands being thrown half-heartedly or just dropped at their feet.

When he was sure he was alone the little blond body uncurled slowly and began to inspect the damage. Bruises, mostly, a few minor cuts, none on his face, nothing he need mention to anyone. Taking a few deep, wet snuffles through his nose he wiped his face with the backs of his hands. Dirt from the forest floor mixed with the remnants of his tears leaving his face a mess unknown to him. His ears, trained to listen for the sound of someone nearby or approaching warned him first. Something was watching him. Bears and wolves weren't common so close to the village but he was wary regardless, freezing and carefully scanning first the surrounding area and then the trees. What he saw, when he did see the figure very high up in the bramches, made him blink.

Unknown to the other children he wasn't entirely silent anymore, he did speak, mostly to the runesmith. He didn't use many words at a time, and he didn't speak much above a whisper, but he was trying. He wanted to try for the man who provided everything he had and hadn't ever raised a hand to him in anger, even when Torin hadn't understood how to do his work.

This wasn't anyone he'd seen before, but it was obviously another child, though a boy or a girl he didn't know. Tilting his head to one side to try and see without the glare of afternoon sun in his eyes he said, tentatively,

"Hello?" It was a question.

[Destyn]

As if by Fate

14 Searing, 121

Destynrael narrowed his luminescent eyes when he realised what was happening. The Fae child had been well and oft warned by his mother that many humans had a penchant for cruelty that even extended to their own kinfolk at times. Despite of the dangers, his impulse was to put a stop to the violence. To use his natural advantages to even the playing field between victim and assailant, by raining down rocks from above upon those who peppered this poor boy with so much of the same. He hesitated, hearing his mother's voice in his mind biding him not to engage. But no- He couldn't merely stand by. He squatted down, preparing to leap when the lead bully called off his minions and the children began to withdraw. He settled back, though remaining crouched with both feet and one hand on the branch, the other arm hung over his knee as he watched the little ball of victim unfurl himself into a small human.

Destynrael was a bit startled when the human child's eyes paused their scan of the tree line to meet his own gaze. He tilted his head sharply, in a birdlike gesture. After a pregnant pause, he replied to the greeting:

"Déithe duit." He considered for a moment, and straightened his posture to peer off in the direction the bullies had departed. Seeing no sign of them, he stood upright and walked along the branch, from the sturdy thick part near the trunk where he'd been standing, to the slender part where leafy twigs sprouted and the bough began to bend under his weight. He walked right off the branch and started to plummet towards the earth, until about halfway down four translucent wings seemed to sprout from behind him. Their blurry rapid beating caught Destynrael about three feet off the ground, and he began to slowly hover toward the strange boy, pausing in the air about ten feet from the human child. He was low enough that the force of the gusts produced by his flight flattened out the grass below him. He placed a hand on his chest.

"Destynrael is ainm dom." He had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of his wings. He moved the hand from his chest and gestured toward the other boy. "Cad is ainm duit?"

As If By Fate

[Torin Kilvin]

Torin watched, his little head tilted still to one side and increasingly so as the angle of the movement of the child high in the canopy took them farther toward the sun. He leaped forward, not thought in his head as to what he intended to do, when the little body plummeted groundward. His arms came out as though he might catch his watcher but then fell to his sides, limp, as wings seemed to sprout from the slender back. Leaves and branches swung wildly and the human had to throw an arm up over his eyes at first to keep dirty for getting into his eyes.

When the ground around him was swept clean of all but the well-rooted grass he blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Before him, about ten feet away and not quite touching the ground was...

He didn't know what it was. He had heard tales of several different types of flying sentient creatures, Avialae and Fae’ethalan, and many more. Some were said to be dangerous, some protectors.

When the piping voice spoke at first he thought it was singing but between the words and the gestures, his keen mind caught hold of the idea. He hoped it did anyway.

Pointing to himself he said his name throaty and a little choked between the crying and the dust that had been kicked up.

"Torin." He pointed to himself also, then realizing he hadn't been heard he repeated the name. After a moment he pointed at himself again and said, "Human."

Pointing at Destynreal he guessed, "Avielae? Fae'ethalan?"

The information he'd had about other races had been gleaned from listening when either no one cared or didn't know he was nearby. Sometimes he would sit near the hearth and listen while the runesmith's wife told stories to her own two children but one was a baby and the other still toddling so they were just story-rhymes. He thought he'd heard that Avielae had feathered wings but maybe there was more than one kind. He'd also heard stories about living mental men and he knew those couldn't be true. He worked with metal and if any of it was alive, he'd know by now.

[Destyn]

As if by Fate

14 Searing, 121

The boy in the air appraised his latest acquaintance from the safe distance he maintained. He was quite agile in flight and could dart away lightning quick if the human proved to be dangerous, as his mother has warned and as the other child's assailants seemed to confirm. But his instincts told him that the boy, who identified himself as Torin, posed no immediate threat. Moreover, he had cuts and scrapes from the stoning he'd endured that needed balming.

"Tá a fhios agam gur... Heumonn thú!" Destynrael replied with a slight shade of umbrage. Everyone knew what humans looked like! They were everywhere. But his offence was short lived and promptly replaced with amusement. He giggled a bit, "Avialae? Níl, níl!" He shook his head emphatically, "Is mise Fae'ethalan. Páiste samhraidh." He pointed toward the sun, thinking it might help to clarify his meaning. But it probably wouldn't, he realised in an afterthought. If he didn't even know the difference between Avialae and Fae, it was doubtful that he'd be aware of the distinct courts of his people.

By and by, he slowed the beating of his wings until his feet touched the grass and his heels alighted. Now that he was standing, it was clear that they were about the same height. His wings slowly folded and draped over his back like a thick, heavy cape. He took a few cautious steps closer and gestured toward one of the open cuts on Torin's arm,

"Is féidir liom cabhrú leis sin. Tar liom." He beckoned with one delicate hand, and turned back toward the woods from whence he'd come. With his back to Torin, the human would see that his spine seemed to protrude, appearing like an oaken branch that was somehow meshed with the tissue of his flesh. The middle of his spine was dark like wood, but the shade lightened the farther from the middle one got until it blended out to the sunkissed shade of his skin. He looked over his shoulder to make sure Torin was following, as he began to head toward the tree line.

"Ná bí ag luí, Heumonn."

As If By Fate