A Strange Education

Finn & Arry unpack Ash 122

The Umbrium is the lower half and secondary seat of the Solunarian Capital and one of the dual-cities that comprises Solunarium Proper. Before the rise of Aværys, mining revealed the site of a ruined, underground city which they dubbed Oblitium “The Forgotten City”, the foundations of which were incorporated into what is now The Umbrium. Warmed by the magma that churns just behind the walls, the Umbrium houses the Palatium Umbrarum (The Shadow Palace) which was constructed directly beneath its sunlit counterpart, the Blazing Palace. This palace serves as the primary seat of government when the sovereign is moonborn, and houses the headquarters of The Silver Sentinels.

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Arvælyn
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"Ha. I doubt I'd be the first Solunarian magnatus to indulge in exhibitionistic displays if I did..." Arvælyn trailed off, after a moment thinking to add: "But I shan't."

He grimaced slightly at the offer.

"Why carry my word when you can simply bring my whole self along with you? Your talents for Traversion make what would be an epic pilgrimage into a casual jaunt. I may not be able to spend weeks away from the court while things are getting situated, but we can spend a few hours here and there, I'm sure." His grimace turned into a smile, if a wan one.

"I hope that I can join you for at least some of your adventures. I fear both sides of my family, the Zalkyrian and Phædryn alike, intend for me to be heavily involved in the new Umbrian court. A great deal of time and attention will need to be paid. It will be a lot of work, but it will position me well to shift the cultural mores of our domain to better align with the morals of you, my conscience. I don't know how far we can push, or how it will be received, but perhaps the Umbrium might be a kinder realm to humans and other races aside from dragons and elves." In the standing social hierarchy of Solunarium, Arry's very existence represented an instance of the sovereign of the greater draconic race deigning to mate with a member the subordinate elven race, albeit one of divine pedigree.

"If you would prefer to withdraw from the Sentinels, I'm certain that's something we could arrange. I could patrnise you for your art alone, if that is how you wish to spend your days. It seems only meet. I'm sure you don't wish for me to get jealous that your supposed muse still awaits his symphony, when Talon's was completed over a year ago..." A wry, playful smile painted his face as he extended a wing to drape it over Finn's broad shoulders.
word count: 350
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Finn
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Finn pouted, but only for a moment before he was smiling again. If he thought the Solunarian public ought to be blessed with the glorious beauty of his amatus, he was at least content that he got an eyeful on the regular.

"If you want to come, then certainly!" The idea made him smile even wider. "I think I shall open portals from here to Tertium, thence to Cathena or Kaladon, thence to Kalzasi or... well, make the journey in manageable sections, with a bit of rest between. But once in Kalzasi and recovered, I think I should be able to open a portal directly here. So... perhaps once I can open the portal, you can join me. Your time will be precious now, I think."

Finn nodded slowly as Arvælyn worked through his thoughts.

"I think I rather like being a Sentinel. I get to help people. I get to be in rooms, a shadow, while important things happen. Perhaps I can get assigned to you as a bodyguard, as well. Then I can assist you in politics, or just lend moral support while you learn... statecraft. I'll be your bodyguard, your advisor, your bard... My music might help you shape public opinion, as well, preparing them for changes you deem important for Solunarium and its people. Your people.

"And I suppose... the dragons are also your people. I'm not certain how that will work out... how you will be required to safeguard the interests of the dragons, but... surely that will be an added wrinkle of complication to everything."

When Arvælyn covered him with his wing, Finn carefully took hold of it. Surely it was strong, durable. He didn't want to mistakenly harm him, though. The human shifted, luxuriating in the feel of his lover's new skin against his own.
word count: 324
we keep on churning and the lights inside the house turn on
and in our native language, we are chanting ancient songs
and when we quiet down, the house chants on without us
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Arvælyn
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"Could do..." Arvælyn granted, "Or you could have one of the Sentinel Traversers pop you to Kalzasi. A few travelled with Phocion during his visit, and they have a system to disseminate... Well, whatever it is you Traversers require to map your slip-streams. I think they pop each other over or something of the like. I've no idea how it all works." He shrugged one shoulder, acting as though it were a casual suggestion when it was, in fact, born of his aversion to too much time away from Finn. The protracted time apart whilst he was in the Dragon Chamber reminded him how much more pleasant life could be with an anchor like Finn to ease him through the rapidly shifting winds of this desert realm.

"It is rather a prime moment to be a Sentinel." Arry encouraged. He hadn't been particularly inclined toward Finn's remaining in the Order, but for whatever reason he was pleased that he was keen to remain. "From what I understand so far, it is like that the Vigilia Argenti will be expanded when the Umbrium is its own sovereignty. Gold above and silver below, so... lots of room for advancement, even if I weren't here to nepotise you amply." He grinned rakishly. It faded as he considered the fuller implications Finn presented.

"Changes I deem important..." He contemplated that for a long, silent moment. "I suppose I shall have to develop an ethos beyond merely survival and advancement." He wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Næ, I think I'd rather just adopt yours. You like people more than I do, I think... care for them. Perhaps you find more concord in their Symphonies than I do, or perhaps its just your sweet nature. I shall lead in this realm for my family, I shall improve it for you." He leaned over to kiss Finn's cheek.
word count: 319
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Finn
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The bard considered all this, hands still exploring the new bits that were his amatus as well as familiar skin. Finn was not a leader outside of the occasional attempts at conducting larger arrangements; he wondered whether Arvælyn had the will to power that seemed necessary for rule. Wanting power for reasons of security he understood. Finn had become adept at charming those who could harm him, and staying out of harm's way otherwise. But now that they were out of the Moment, he began to consider what all this might look like. Before, he had only worried about being close to Arvælyn, come infernum or high water.

Thalya was old, though not by elven standards. Eventually, Vrædyn was likely to succeed and then the elven court would move to the Umbrium. He supposed his sunborn lover would then move up to the Luxium, but Zalkyriax was nigh immortal. Perhaps Arvælyn might rule by proxy if the crownwyrm grew bored or distracted. But...

A look of horror crossed his face as his symphony went quiet and still.

Betwixt elven and dragon blood, Arvælyn could live for centuries and Finn...

His music returned, slow and melancholic. Finn's life would be short by comparison, and who would care for his love then? Or would he tire of Finn when his hair turned white and his eyes dimmed?

There was a song about a seeress of Galetira who blinded herself, and now he could empathize. Knowing the future was a bitter draught.

"I won't take any position that keeps me from you for long," he said. As for motives for improving Solunarium, perhaps it wasn't the best, but Arvælyn might learn to care for those who depended upon him given ample example and room to grow while wanting for nothing.
word count: 323
we keep on churning and the lights inside the house turn on
and in our native language, we are chanting ancient songs
and when we quiet down, the house chants on without us
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Arvælyn
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Arvælyn tipped his head back, and stretched his legs out in front of him- one of the wings twitched involuntarily as he did so, as if wanting to spread with the other, more seasoned limbs. It was strange. With the advancement of his Craft, he could read more into Finn's Symphony than ever before. These were the movements he knew better than any other... Many of the melodies he knew by heart, but now he could follow the wending ways of thoughts to a greater and more specific extent. He could focus on what Finn was focused upon, and know that he was working his way through the byzantine complexities of Solunarian politics.

Would Thalya IV ruled another century? Would Arkænyn succeed her or Vrædyn? Where was a Starborn sovereign expected to hold their court, and would a Moonborn monarch still occupy the Palatium Umbrarum in a world where the dragons claimed it as their seat? These, he supposed, would be the problems much of Frost was spent negotiating. And well did he know that he would be party to many of these conversations. It was why he couldn't take the longer trip with Finn that he wanted to. These musings halted sharply, with the shift in Finn's focus.

"Don't you dare worry about any of that, Farstrider." He shifted his body so he could face Finn more directly, leaning forward to kiss him adoringly. "There is no telling what fortune will bring for either of us. An early ending for me, or a delayed death for you. We're young and we're together. We can wage those battles when we're both better rested and less distracted. But know this, Finn. To keep you with me for as long as possible, I will do everything in my power..." Perhaps his eyes glowed a bit brighter as he emphasised,

"And my power is on the wax."
word count: 324
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Finn
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Finn offered a pained smile, and the pain melted away after a moment.

"I will endeavor to live forever if that is your desire, Princeps Draconis."

It was entirely possible Aværys might extend his life if he continued to be useful. Or Arvælyn's draconic kin might share some of their mysterious magics to bind him longer to life. Or the power of his song and magic might unite in some unforseen way. Finn was blind to what the future held, but he would cling to hope rather than fall to despair if he could help it.

"I imagine that if Vrædyn succeeds his grandmother, he will take the Umbrium and you and yours will take the Luxium. You are sunborn, after all. If Arkænyn succeeds her, he might take whichever is unoccupied, or perhaps build some new palace for future starborn monarchs..." Finn was quite adept at reading Arvælyn's mind, as well, unless his amatus actively chose to close it to him. "Either way, I suppose we will have to see which alternative works more in your favor. Arkænyn remains an unknown variable, but Vrædyn might be salty at this shift away from him. Or he might be content as Pontifex. I don't know. But he has invited me to spend time with him... given we are the only two in the world favored by Aværys, apparently. Perhaps I can make an ally out of him for you..."

Finn was definitely becoming a more active agent in politics for all that he had merely sought to weather the ebbs and flows, calms and storms, up until now.

"If not, I hope he will at least teach me how to control this power that comes with it. Doesn't respond at all the way my runes do."
word count: 323
we keep on churning and the lights inside the house turn on
and in our native language, we are chanting ancient songs
and when we quiet down, the house chants on without us
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Arvælyn
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"That is precisely what I wish, dilectus pulcher." Arvælyn replied, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss. It still amazed him how attracted he remained to Finn... How the sight of his fair flesh still stirred him so consummately. The set of his jaw, the fullness of his lips... those striking eyes and that delicate nose. He didn't feel exactly the same as he had when they'd first met, but there was no less passion behind the attraction. There was more. There was a sort of familiarity that could only be achieved via the common Craft they shared between them.

"I suspect Vrædyn is just that." Arry agreed. "I know that he and Phocion have grown closer of late." He pursed his lips, "He invited you to meet with him?" Fiery eyes narrowed slightly. At first he was a bit miffed that Finn would be invited without him, but he supposed it made practical sense given their common Emblem. From what he understood, Supremacy functioned differently from Majesty. It might be a good idea for him to meet with Phocion when Finn met with Vrædyn. Ultimately, his expression softened and he nodded.

"That all seems sound." He conceded. Then his lingering gaze took on a fresh edge as one wing closed slightly about the shoulders of his human amatus.

"Since we weren't able to spend my birthday together, I wonder whether we might treat ourselves to a bit of physical fun tonight? I think I might like to mix things up a bit. Now that I look more the predator, perchance you might be willing to portray the prey?" He smiled deviously as he ran his tongue over his top lip, an errant hand sliding under the taut cushion of Finn's rear to squeeze him where he sat.
word count: 304
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Finn
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"Then, I suppose, we should discuss how my emblem can help you," he reasoned aloud. "I suppose if I can strategically draw attention away from you, then your emblem might be even more effective. Or any of your runes." Finn hadn't sought out either of his, nor the emblem neither. Now he wondered whether he ought to seek more magical power, the better to aid and abet his amatus. But that was a discussion for another day. Certainly, Aværys would likely approve. Hunger. Ambition. Power. He shivered.

Of course, he knew Arvælyn inside and out, physically and emotionally. It never took more than a featherlight touch of passion to ignite the same in him. Their symphonies never strayed from harmony for long.

His curious, confused smile as he came out of his reverie was burned away in a blush. Then his flash of innocence was burned away by a fire of his own. He bit his lip and then, in a husky tone, "If I promise to run, will you promise to catch me?"

Finn didn't actually know how wild or creative they were in the boudoir. Arvælyn had been a courtesan, and Finn was good with his hands and silver-tongued. More than anything, though, was how they moved in concert, reacting to every unspoken impulse in themselves and in each other. Sometimes, at climax, he felt like they were one person and that such things weren't just the poor metaphors of bad minstrels' doggerel.

He smirked. "Of course, I've saddled wyverns. I'm sure I can ride you, my love."
word count: 285
we keep on churning and the lights inside the house turn on
and in our native language, we are chanting ancient songs
and when we quiet down, the house chants on without us
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Arvælyn
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Strategy was, indeed, a discussion for another day, it seemed, as Arvælyn's attentions shifted toward one of the many comforts he'd been denied over the past few weeks. Though he'd certainly been in no condition to pursue carnal relief for most of that time, that didn't make him feel any less pent up for having been deprived. To make matters worse, during the toughest times, he'd even seen reflections of Finn- harsher and more exacting than their source, but no less beautiful or tempting. There was even something particularly enticing about that variation on this theme, but at present his mind was turning toward another variation.

"Of course, love." Arry chuckled, pleased at Finn's easy assent. "I may not be able to work these wings yet, but I'm mightily hungry which is sure to lend me speed in my hunt." His teeth may not have grown sharper during his transition, but there was certainly a sharpness to the grin he wore as he devoured Finn with his eyes.

"Saddling wyverns is one thing..." The dragonborn elf conceded, as he used one wing to draw Finn even closer as he leaned over to close the distance between their faces, "For me, I hope you'll at least ride bareback." And with that he began to kiss that pale neck with unbridled fervour. Hands roaming down that familiar form that had been denied him as if this were their first foray. After a few minutes he paused abruptly, and withdrew, sliding from his seat and rising to his feet.

"Come." He crouched slightly and picked Finn up bodily, cradling him between his arms. The difference in their sizes made Finn an unwieldy bit of baggage, but his weight bore no part of the burden as Arry marched him across the threshold into their bedchamber proper and deposited him onto the lavish duvet of their huge, new bed.

"I shall do such things to you..." A quote came to his mind, and he misapplied it to their current situation wholly for their amusement, "The things I will do. What they are, yet I know not, but they will be the terrors of the earth."
word count: 369
“O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention...”


Phædryn Sol'Zalkyrion Arvælyn Princeps
['faɪd,ɹɪn solˌzæl'kiɹi,on ɑɹˌvɛɪˈlɪn]
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Finn
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Character Secrets: https://ransera.com/viewtopic.php?f=20&t=925

"Do we ride any other way, my love?" he asked.

Pregnancy was not a scare for them, and one of the benefits of monogamy was a freedom from fear of venereal disease, at least. Finn hadn't been hunted in quite some time, and he only hoped his body would oblige. But he could endure some pain for his love, as well.

"Yes, my love," he said, prepared to follow, but Arvælyn surprised him with his newfound strength and Finn's eyes widened, then drooped languidly downward. So much time and energy had been spent on the idea of protecting Arvælyn, the sudden realization that Arvælyn could protect him was new and alluring.

The bard sprawled upon their bed, arms and legs akimbo, then moved in a way he hoped would entice, if not enflame these new passions in his amatus. He rolled over onto his stomach, casting a lurid gaze over his broad shoulder. The Silver Sentinels had certainly doubled down on his martial regime; his physique was not merely decorative. He reached down between his legs to lay all that he had to offer up for his lover's viewing pleasure.

Reaching past, his fingers waved.

"A most mechanical and dirty hand," he promised, and then began to touch himself until Arvælyn would come and do it for him.


fin.
word count: 250
we keep on churning and the lights inside the house turn on
and in our native language, we are chanting ancient songs
and when we quiet down, the house chants on without us
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