Hic Svnt Dracones [Talon]

[Aeros]

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The vibrations of the other’s Symphony faded just as fast as they had come when Æros opened himself up to them. Only, it was not through his own will that the magic faded. Rather, it was blocked. Such a thing was accomplished with magic of Daemon’s own and his only physical response was to set his cup down and don a defensive posture, closing himself off, figuratively now, by crossing his arms.

At first, Æros narrowed his eyes at the realization. Then his brows rose and eyes widened into something of a pout before he outright laughed.

“Oh, you’re no fun!” His exclamation was marked with a hyperbolic whine, but in truth he wasn’t that bothered.

Of course, should he have his way, he’d be able to dig through the other’s layers, peeling him like one would the skin of a fruit. Alas, maybe another day? Perhaps over an extended period of time…these things often required both patience and a certain level of decorum. Maybe he should just suck a little less at magic, but that was a war that could only be won with time.

Ever the taciturn fellow, he replied to Æros’ taunt with but a single line.

“To be fair, my memory since leaving the Luxium has been…” he trailed off, not sure what the right word would be. “...blurred? Obscured? Half-recorded? And then earlier…well, what I can recall is as if one took a flame to a painting,” words followed by a bit of a bashful laugh.

“With that in mind, I didn’t actually see what happened to the wyverns, only heard it– and what I saw with the scorpion? Why, it’s hard to believe it happened the way my memories paint it. That would be simply absurd for a lone mortal man, would it not?” Such a question was delivered pointedly, distinctly provocative in tone.

This was a joke about how out of sorts he was, implying his memories were embellished or hallucinatory in nature. The irony was that he’s actually just correct and is now flying a bit too close to the sun with that remark, but it’s not as if he knew this, and provoking the god beyond his intentions was just as welcome.

“Were you perhaps a soldier before? More of a mercenary, not a showman or something of the like? No matter– fighters with consummate skill in magic always find a way to make an impact, at least in my experience. Which, I take it you are, given that look I received for doubting you?” A question asked with a wide eyed, curious expression, exaggerated to obfuscate his precise intentions.

Though his words thus far had only drawn subtle responses, it was simply not within Æros’ nature to ever tone himself down. He sought reactions, wanting to evoke emotion in others, garnering attention for himself in this way and it didn’t matter how austere another person was. Sometimes, stirring just a little bit in a stony face was just as satisfying as making a more expressive individual squeal.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Talon]

D A E M O N

“I can be quite fun when the mood suits me.” He shrugged his shoulders but he did not uncross his arms nor did he lower the defenses he put in place around his mind. The man that would be his benefactor recounted what he could of the encounter. It was not much. That did not surprise him given the man had been half-alive when they had found him. The remark about the actions of a lone mortal man drew no outward reaction from him. He simply stared at the man unblinking as he spoke.

“Absurd for some. Not for me.” That was all he had to say about the matter. He would not openly invite any further discussion on the topic of men and mortals or the differences between them. That was a topic best steered clear of.

“I have fought for many causes in my time.” It was true. Across this life, in his prior lives, he had indeed fought for many causes and against many things. “I have not really fought for entertainment but how much different can it be?”

He had watched entertainment matches though he had never really participated in them. There was the vague memory of one that floated on the edges of his thoughts but whenever he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his mental fingers. He watched the ripple of emotions play across the other man’s aura. There was intent behind the questions he was asking, though he could not yet discern what. No matter, this was a path toward achieving his goal. At least, one of them. He would not look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You are within your rights to doubt. As you said, you were not in your right mind. If it is a demonstration that you require, I will provide one.” He sincerely doubted that there were many fighters that could keep up with him in the lesser arenas that likely dotted the underbelly of the city. However, he understood the necessity of having to prove himself. He had done it time and again. He would do just enough to make his skill as a fighter known but he would avoid needless displays of overwhelming force. He wanted to draw attention but not the kind of attention that made others suspicious of his real strength. By this man’s line of questioning, he had already planted a seed of intrigue in the man’s mind. It would be a dance, he supposed. He would have to exert enough of himself to defeat the challenges placed in his way without arousing too much scrutiny that would unmask his true nature.

The last thing he wanted was to be exposed as Arcas or Talon for that matter. There were likely people who would be able to draw the parallels between the two.

“I have given you my name. What is yours? To whom will I be lending my sword?”

[Aeros]

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As always and again, his new acquaintance's response was…not much. Æros squinted for a second, then winced as he tried to make the effort to finally sit up properly. Maybe he shouldn't have moved because that threw everything off balance and made him want to retch whatever bile was in his stomach. Squeezing both of his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and pressing a palm into his forehead as he swallowed his pain, he shook his head and then returned his attentions to Daemon as if he didn't just have the violent urge to vomit.

"I'm…beginning to doubt that's the case, but it's not as if I have any real point of reference." Though he tried to speak with light sarcasm, the words were a little harder to get out given the fact that his nausea hadn't faded much.

This remark was another soft jab, for he knew even the most stony individuals were warm sometimes. Actually, he knew this far too well– several key figures in his life were much the same way. He kind of hated it because of the association and the role they played, though he knew a bit better than to toss this stranger into that pile of all things.

However, being used to this behavior, he had become pretty decent at reading even the tiniest of expressions. There was meaning to be had in the lack thereof, too. Such as how Daemon was quick and firm to cut the subject of mortality by simply stating that he was capable of performing feats of strength considered absurd and nothing else. No explanation and no reaction to the suggestion of further depth. Disappointing, but there was no benefit in pursuing this line of questioning further because the predicted response would be for the stranger to stare at him silently or just walk out of the room…which was so far away from what he wanted that for now, he'd let the subject slide.

All of that aside, none of it meant he wasn't going to comment on the other's apparent strength.

"I've brushed shoulders with plenty of strong men in my line of work, but I can't say I've ever come across one of quite your calibre…or physique, for that matter." He let out a short laugh and then continued, "...but there's plenty of oddities to be found in this world, so far be it from me of all people to second guess you." Æros simply shrugged, voice light.

Further, the revelation that the other was a warrior motivated more by causes than by coin, was one he had seen coming. It made a lot more sense that he'd have risked himself to save him as he did. A lot of mercenaries would turn a blind eye to what was essentially charity, no matter how dire a situation was. If there was nothing in it for them, it wasn't their problem– such was a common philosophy.

"While I am no warrior, I am a performer myself and I can say that it's very different from fighting for one's life. But if you've got the latter figured out already, learning to embellish or add a little flair here and there should be easy, I'd think." He said this in a way that oddly resembled musing, as if he's not even speaking to the other man despite having directly addressed him.

Rolling his shoulders as the other spoke again, his expression twisted into a grimace as he realized his right side must've bore the bulk of the damage given every muscle in the region screamed in protest to movement. At least his skeleton was properly fixed or his existence would truly be agony at the moment. Leaning most of his weight onto his left arm to keep himself upright, the half-elf rolled his neck back and shifted his legs a bit to see if anything else was as badly damaged. Thankfully, that was the worst of it.

Æros tilted his head to look at his injured arm and visible displeasure appeared on his face. Normally, he had no qualms about showing skin but the discoloration from his injuries bothered him. When one is as vain as this particular fæ, any perceived flaw is magnetized.

Sighing, he cast his gaze back onto the other man and opened his mouth again to address what had been said. "For the record, I don't even know what my right mind is any more– because this certainly isn't it, either…" after a pause, "...but I can say I at least do look forward to seeing you slice others to ribbons. Perhaps then I'll get to see more range to your expressions," the latter comment being said as more of a complaint than anything else.

"As for a name, I thought my family's would do, but…"

He knew that Daemon had overheard it mentioned by the surviving caravaneers, thus it was obvious he was asking for something more specific. Æros took a second to decide between tossing the other his praenomen or cognomen, but really the decision was an easy one. One was shorter and very few referred to him by the other– it would be weird to hear it from the lips of a stranger. Briefly, he thought of giving an entirely made up moniker.

"Æros is my name. Alternatively, I am called one of a couple honorifics depending on context and from whose mouth."

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Talon]

D A E M O N

He offered nothing with regard to the commentary about his own oddities. The world was full of strange and unusual things. If his apparent strength and power was going to be chalked up to just another one of them, he would leave it at that.

“I would be open to advice. I am not a stage performer but I understand that fighting for a crowd in a grand arena for sport is different than fighting in pits for just money. I am certain that money plays a part but they come for entertainment as much as they come for their earnings.” It was not lost on him the lucrative flow of coin that went into auspicious fights. House Novalys did not oversee any part of the gambling that had taken place in Kalzasi but he knew from reports to the city’s combined coffers that House Veyl brought in a sizeable sum of wealth from its gambling houses. He knew for a fact that fighting rings were prominent in some of them. His own brother had hosted a reputable fighter’s ring in his own establishment. While Rien did not allow the bloodier events, he knew that they took place elsewhere in the city.

When it came to the bigger matches, he already knew that he would have to put on a good show to make people believe it was worth their coin. He would also have to garner enough of a reputation to catch the attention of the royals. It was going to be an uphill battle, almost literally, but he was ready for the challenge.

Mathias suddenly jolted awake, his eyes wide and wild. He exclaimed sharply. Talon moved immediately, catching the young man’s hand before he could inadvertently release a bolt of lightning from the ring that he had been gifted.

“Mathias.” He spoke the young man’s name firmly but gently. The young man flinched, still bleary eyed and pulling himself out of sleep. Talon tugged him close, wrapping his arms around his squire.

“Shh, Mathias. I am here. It is me. Hey, hey, look at me.” The young man stopped struggling and actually looked up at him. He blinked. There was a cold sweat on his brow. He blinked a few more times before letting out a relieved sigh. His squire slumped against him and Talon drew him close. This was not an unusual occurrence. Since the day that Talon had ushered him away from his life in Gesindelholm, Mathias had been visited by nightmares. It did not surprise him, given the harsh life the young man had lived up until that point. He whispered softly in Synskrit as his squire relaxed further against him. Gently, Talon picked the young man up, encouraging him to rest.

“We shall see each other in the morning then, Æros. If there are honorifics to exchange, you will have to share them with me come our next meeting.” He inclined his head as he rose to his feet. He shifted Mathias weight in his arms and opened the door. He shouldered it open.

“Rest well.” With that, Talon stepped out of the room and brought Mathias to a quieter room so that the young man could sleep undisturbed.

[Aeros]

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Open to advice, he says. In truth, Æros didn’t actually know how well his skills would translate to arena fighting, but provided Daemon had good control over his movement, he could likely come up with ways to choreograph traditional fighting styles with dance. Slightly lower the efficiency, maybe, but he’d sure look good. There’s also something crowds like about the arrogance of displaying complex but superfluous movements in combat, that Æros knew well.

“Mhmm, sure thing. If nothing else, I know how to get a rise out of an audience,” his voice was quieter than before. The longer he was conscious, the worse he felt.

Receding into himself as another wave of nausea overtook him, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, crossing his good arm over his abdomen and falling back onto the bed, pearl-toned white hair polling beneath him. In the same moment, his eyes snapped back open at the boy’s cry. Rolling his head to the side in confusion, his gaze narrowed at what he beheld.

For any normal person, what occurred should have been considered sweet. However, with the way Æros had been socialized since his youth regarding interpersonal relations and platonic affection, his gut reaction was most accurately described as disgust borne of envy. Of course, such a reaction was irrational, but when you’ve lived your whole life with only tertiary, hollow friendships and family who offered little to no succor when you needed it, these emotions were hard to suppress. He was, at least, self aware enough not to visibly react at all.

As Daemon and his collected companion moved to make their leave, he did stop to grant Æros a farewell.

With expression and voice being largely blank, “You as well.”

Once the other man had left, he found himself staring up at the ceiling as his head continued to spin. There was some comfort to be had in the thought that one nice thing he’d come to learn about himself as a Fæ is that he would at least heal from his injuries with swift speeds such that the bruises themselves wouldn’t be a nuisance for that long.

Then, it dawned on him that he was in an inn. Quickly, he bolted upright and moved to grab his bag that had been left at the foot of his bed. Perhaps a bit battered, but everything he’d put in it was all there– including his money. Perfect! He made himself look as presentable as he could manage with what he had, slowed because of how bad he felt, and then made his way out of the room and down to the inn proper, desperate for something to drink.

Now, for the other problem? That would take a bit of investigation since he’d never been in this city prior to that day.. Granted, if people behaved anything like in the Umbrium, hell, even Luxium proper– he’d have little trouble finding what he needed.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Talon]

R E W A R D S

Name: Aeros
XP: 10 XP, can be used for magic.
Requested Lore: +13 Lores

Name: Talon
XP: 10 XP, can be used for magic.
Requested Lore: +12 Lores

Note(s): And so our desert journey begins! Aeros is fun to interact with. Thank you for writing with me!