Illuminating the Path [Finn]

In which Hilana and Finn head out for a peaceful picnic.

The Luxium represents the upper half and primary seat of the Solunarian Capital and one of the dual-cities that comprises Solunarium Proper. Situated between the foot of the volcanic Mount Sorokyn and the wide River Vasta, this above-ground metropolis boasts five thriving districts beneath the shadow of the glorious Palatium Furiarum (The Blazing Palace) from which the Solar Court rules in splendour. This bustling metropolis is by far the most populous region in the realm and, along with its shadowy sister-city the Umbrium, houses upwards of eighty percent of the Solunarian population at any given time. During the reign of a Solar Court, every major government agency in the kingdom is headquartered in the Luxium, with the notable exception of The Silver Sentinels, the covert intelligence agency run by the House of Phaedryn-Sol’Aværys.

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Hilana Chenzira
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"We are new, yes, but they're not bored," she smiled back at him, still in her posture. She was relaxed, despite the frame that she held, and clearly didn't see the need to move out of it just then. For that moment, she was comfortable, even as the butterfly's wings wafted gently where it was perched upon her ebon tresses, but it was moving itself up further towards her face, and Hilana didn't seem remotely bothered. "You've a few hanging around near you they aren't forming up right now, but I can hear them," there were gold flecks in her eyes in this land of light, and she was content to listen to him.

He was an Empyreal Lord, and that alone demanded respect and admiration. But those were already feelings that she had for him, but her attention was fully on him. He might not see why Avaerys had chosen him, but Hilana thought that maybe she might see a bit. That as Varvara had claimed Arvaelyn, Finn was his partner, and it was fitting that he would face His Divine Radiance's scrutiny, and clearly, he was not found wanting. Ambition, Hunger, Power. Finn desired the power and means to protect his Amatus, and he had the ambition and hunger to work for it. It may not have been so prominent, but to someone raised in the Varvaeryn faith, those tenets were clear to her, having known Finn as she had, and having spent that time with him.

"Two sides of the same coin. Light and Shadow, Shadow and Light. Lux and Umbra. The brighter the light, the deeper the shadow, but one can't exist without the other. Your desire for fame counted. That's hunger. That's ambition. It may not seem so grand as some of the dreams of others... but what you had is the potential. All of that, and you've got the strength of character to follow it through. Power isn't given to people, Finn. It's for those that will lower themselves in order to pick it up." She did consider his last questions. Was it something that Avaerys had strengthened in him? Or was that Finn's own subconscious?

"Majesty means that hunger can never be sated. Eased, maybe... but never truly sated," she said slowly, remembering her education. It had been an unorthodox one; being abroad of the city except for the tutors and priests that came out every so often meant that she lacked some of what her cohort had studied, but Hilana had been reading. Her studying of the Horn for her quest meant learning more about His Divine Radiance and Her Argent Luminescence, and even she had read the Chronicle. Granted, she'd only really picked it up when she was a teenager, but it was something she could read at night when she was on watch duty and all was quiet. "That is His gift. But I think, perhaps, that once He was freed from the depths of Kaladon, He would have found you somehow. It might not have been right then, but I think that He would have. He chose well with you." It wasn't idle flattery in her voice; Hilana knew how to be reverent and respectful without crossing that line into obsequiousness that might have came across as overdone and on the cusp of rudeness. It was a tightrope that she walked in a caste system as rigid as her homeland's, and they all had their part to play. "You just happened to be in the right place at the right time. And he sees in you someone that can start making things happen for yourself, and for Him in turn."


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Finn
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Finn nodded slowly, fingers plucking out a more ponderous, thoughtful song that didn't seem to diminish the interest of the spirits. Hilana had been the person he most connected to in Solunarium, especially early on. Knowing she was a good person had helped him digest the tenets of her religion, and he still respected her perspective at least as much as any priest, save perhaps Vrædyn Princeps, who was both Pontifex Maximus and an Empyreal Lord in his own right. Finn, common as dirt, a foreigner, plucked out of obscurity when his lover's royal identity was revealed, then under the scrutiny of an imprisoned God. Strange times, indeed.

"It makes more sense in Vastian than in Common," he said, a roundabout response to what she said. "Ambition has poor connotations in Common. Vastian public virtues, though: auctoritas, dignitas, gravitas, pietas. They have translations in Common, but those lack so much... I think in Vastian now, most of the time. I dream in Vastian. Solunarium has changed me. You can hear it in my music sometimes... cadences and themes."

He smiled and shook his head.

"This place makes one want to shine a light into dark corners, doesn't it?" His own posture was comfortable, as well. He could play like that for hours, and had. "I suppose Deus Aværys will be sated—eased—with my hunger for the means to spread my music and protect those I care about, not just power for its own sake. If I am wrong, I am certain He will let me know it."

Then, he set his lute down beside him so he could play with the wisps of light that were souls or celestial spirits or something else entirely. There were so many symphonies here blending into the chorus of light that it was difficult to distinguish one from the other, except for Hilana's as hers was familiar as any to him now.
word count: 325
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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Hilana Chenzira
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Hilana was no Mesmer, nor was she ever likely to obtain the Rune, but where Finn heard their Symphonies, she was hearing the whispers, emotions, and even words of the spirits that had gathered around him. One curious one even formed a finger, nearly out of nowhere in front of him, and lightly plucked the lute string just as it had observed Finn do for the last however many hours they had been here. Once, and only once, but the spirit seemed satisfied as the finger seemed to dissolve into countless specks of light, floating around him and resting on his skin, like he was dusted in powdered gold.

"I can understand that," she nodded at his explanation, thoughtful as the large butterfly of light shifted on her hair, its wings fluttering gently. "I guess it's a matter of perspective. But it also keeps people in their place by discouraging it, doesn't it? If they have no ambition, then they have little reason to effect change in their lives. What potential they have is squandered. No guts, no glory. But you... you've grown into this Kingdom of the Sand that is so far south of your homeland. You're a part of it too now. They will tell your tales here." Long after either of them were gone, she had no doubt that the Magnatus would reach the status of legend.

She rather thought Solunarium suited him. She'd wondered a bit, originally, from that first day... but with his determination to understand and learn about her homeland over countless visits and trips and lessons, he'd more than proven his mettle. They had learned a lot from each other. He was easily one of her best friends, and the more time they spent together, she found that they learned from each other. She was grateful for his friendship, even after everything that had happened. Especially after everything that had happened. Had he dropped her like a hot potato, she wouldn't have blamed him. But she was thankful that he didn't begrudge her the ordeal.

"Hunger is hunger," she pointed out. "And as your power and potential grows, so too will it. The goalposts will always keep moving as you go to the next step, whatever it is. The next stage, the next country. But He will be sure to express His preferences with you and your work. Of that, I have no doubt."There was some disappointment from the spirits when he stopped playing, but Hilana only smiled at them. He would continue later, surely, and they could enjoy their concert. She didn't know how many came here and serenaded them, but clearly, it wasn't too many. They were enjoying his skills, just as she had, and the easy mastery that came through so effortlessly. And as she looked at him, opening himself up to the spirits around them, she had a sudden realization: it was tragic how two people could be perfect for each other... but not in that lifetime.


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Finn
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In Solunarium, he often forgot he was a Mesmer. So many of the people he interacted with, at least in the political milieu, carried protections against it, what, in Vastian, was called the Rune of Command. It was more utile in his work as a Silver Sentinel, but he was growing more accustomed to relying upon his natural, mundane empathy most of the time. That was likely for the best. In any case, he knew Hilana well by now and she him.

Her lingering gaze made him flush slightly, whether she was thinking what he imagined or not. There were hungers that they had tacitly agreed were too dangerous to sate. Most of the time, it was out of thought and out of mind. That didn't mean it never came up.

He smiled and looked away, down at the living light dusting him with gold. Another hunger pang he felt here was a desire to let Aværys' grace flow into him; it made him glow with an inner light, but invoking it here might anger their absent host or the Rex Regum himself.

"Well," he said after a while, "is there time to stay or is it time to go?"

She was always so busy with her business, her pets, her own divine marching orders, and while he had cleared his schedule to ensure this journey into the light was successful, there were always things for him to do as well, whether for the Custodes Deorum, the Crown Prince, or his Divine Muse.

Even amid his hustle in Kalzasi, there had been time to just exist. Now that felt like a luxury denied him most of the time.
word count: 280
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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Hilana Chenzira
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When he looked away from her, Hilana found herself a little warmer than she should have been. She shook that wistfulness from her, and reminded herself that Finn was very firmly off-limits. It was fine to feel. But not fine to act upon it. It was one of those things that had to be let go. Had his partner been anyone else, perhaps they might have had some fun. Perhaps they might have enjoyed a deeper connection and ties. But Arvaelyn's wishes were Arvaelyn's wishes, and Hilana respected and cared for him, for both of them, far too much to ever consider crossing that line.

And she wasn't particularly suicidal.

She looked instead at the beings of light around them, keeping him in her peripheral vision, with the way the light dusted his features. At his words, her attention returned to him and she grinned at him. "I'd like to stay awhile, if you've time. I packed us lunch." Because of course she did - she usually had a snack or something for him to try almost every time they'd met up, going back to the first day in which they'd met in the mastic grove. But she pulled container after container, jar after jar out of the picnic basket, which may as well have been a featherlight satchel with all that she had neatly organized within it, laying the spread between them and offering him a plate. As she opened the containers, the scent of spices and lamb, the different cheeses, figs, dates, and other vegetables wafted around the pair of them. There was, of course, a familiar painted tin, which promised baked goodies, and it was full of pistachio cookies. She had a few bottles of differently flavoured meads and another one of cold hibiscus tea.

They were often so busy with their lives that finding time to relax and just be was something that fell to the wayside. Finn had his work with the Custodes Deorum, his duties to Avaerys, and his life with Arvaelyn. Hilana had lessons everywhere she looked, worked two jobs, and a dual-life between the city and the Citadel, and being out in the sands. But she cherished every minute that she had with him. She’d let him help himself first, and encouraged him to take the first choice of the drinks. “Bibe multis annis,” she’d raise her own cup to his in a toast before taking a drink. To health and happiness, to good friends and good company.

"Do you have plans for the rest of the afternoon?" she asked him, ready to take up her pita.

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Finn
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"Normally, I charge quite a bit for a private performance," he said with comically fake hauteur and a toss of his head. He laughed, and played for her while she produced her plethora of victuals and libations. The strangeness of the place had tricked his mind out of acknowledging his body, perhaps, because as soon as she mentioned lunch, his stomach began to growl. If only he could get it to harmonize with his voice.

"Life is a banquet," he sang, "and most poor suckers are starving..."

But soon enough, he set his lute aside and they were sharing a toast. "Ad lucem," he added. It seemed appropriate given where they were. Dæmon hadn't made an appearance, but Finn was quite sure he could have blocked their passage to the realm had he wished. And Aværys wasn't the God of Light, but the faith that had sprung up around him certainly treated him as a solar deity.

Religion was strange. Finn just tried to be respectful while focusing his efforts upon the personal relationship he had with his own divine patron.

"Thank you for this. Nobody has been so keen to see me fed since I was young and my father was in charge of the kitchen." He laughed as they enjoyed their repast. While he hadn't followed in his mother's footsteps and become a smith, he had some training in it and now he was as much a warrior as he was a bard. There were quite a few muscles to keep fed.

"I wasn't sure how long it would take so I cleared the day," he assured her. "You did give me an estimate, but you never know with magic. 'Tis as much art as it is science. And I am glad we have time to relax in a place like this. I wonder what the afterlife will look for those of us sworn to the Divine Twins."

Perhaps their souls would go to Wrædan for eventual rebirth, but it was entirely possible that they would be claimed by the jealous gods of the desert even after death.
word count: 358
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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Hilana Chenzira
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"Name your price," Hilana returned in jest, her tone quite solemn as her eyes sparkled. She had enjoyed her many concerts with him over the seasons when they had lessons in the desert, or the villas or apartment, and whatever he charged others, well worth it. The Vastiana knew from experience.

"But you're very welcome," she took had a sip of her drink, setting the cup down. It was the least she could do, really, his bringing her here and sitting with her, standing Sentinel while she attuned to a new Element... Besides, she just liked spending time with him. "I like to feed people. My first paedagoga didn't think I'd be very good at it when she first started teaching me, mind you. I made scones that were so hard the camels wouldn't eat them," she remembered, taking a bite of the pita and shaking her head, holding it with both hands. Part of why she liked to feed people was the Rite of Hospitality, as she had introduced him to, as her family had shown him and Arvaelyn when they had come to the festival some seasons ago.

Resources in the desert could be scarce. If you were unlucky, they were. But even if you played your cards right, you could find yourself with nothing at all. So for Hilana, providing for those she cared for wasn't just a hobby, it was an act of love. The array and availability of food in the cities was nothing short of incredible to those that were used to rationing and living off of the land, and while it made her feel like a turncoat to admit it... she did love what she had such easy access to.

"She was the mother of one of his employees, the tutor who came out a few times a week for lessons, and she was willing to come out to the herding grounds about a day's ride from Tertium with her son to teach me for the amount of money he was willing to pay to get something he approved of in my head. My father felt I should learn something of a woman's work while I was out there, and cooking and baking was a good start," she didn't seem to have minded that, though.

She knew it had taken some hours, though she wasn't sure as to how many and probably wouldn't until they returned home and she got to have a look at a clock. Meditation in these realms tended to warp her own sense of time - at least, it had in the Shadowlands, and so it was now in the Plane of Light. As she ate, she considered his thoughts with regards to religion. "I would think you would go to His Divine Radiance's realm, and Arvaelyn to Her Argent Luminescence." She had no Emblem herself, and while she might some day earn one, she had no way of knowing how it would all pan out. They were reserved for those who earned them, and the Founders had their own expectations. Hilana would not be so bold as to get ahead of herself like that. "I think the best I can hope for for myself is to return to the sands, following the paths with my ancestors, until the time comes to be reborn in Atraxia once again."


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Finn
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A flippant, but good-hearted part of him wanted to reply with some reassurances that their picnics would continue in the afterlife, but he didn't know that. He couldn't know that. As personal a deity as Aværys had proven, as much a person as he still was, Finn was also now certain that he truly was more than that. The God understood the nature of things better then he ever would. If he was to spend eternity in Aværys' realm and Arvælyn in Varvara's, he could only hope they were conjoined realms. If Hilana's soul was meant to tread spiritual sands with her family until she was ready to ascend, then there must be a reason for that.

He glanced at a soul that had perched upon his knee much akin to how a butterfly might if this were a picnic in a meadow near where he had grown up. They were soul, but they weren't mind, not in the same way. Finn didn't know if he would lose his identity when he lost his body, whether he would evolve into something more purely spiritual.

Perhaps he ought to ask Aværys. There were sacraments the God himself was going to perform for him: marriage being one. It felt quite strange to have normal, albeit important, milestones of his life presided over by a foreign deity, but that was his reality now. He just hadn't had the time yet to consider all of the ramifications.

In order to make their afternoon (?) last, he ate slowly, pausing from time to time to brush off his hands and play a bit, idly. His fingers found simple things, then made them seem simple while becoming incredibly complex.

"And if I die today I'll be the happy phantom
And I'll go chasing the nuns out in the yard
And I'll run naked through the streets without my mask on
And I will never need umbrellas in the rain
I'll wake up in strawberry fields every day
And the atrocities of school I can forgive
The happy phantom has no right to bitch
..."

The last was sung to the phantom on his knee, but then he smiled up at Hilana.

"I suppose we will have to compare notes when we finally kick it. Unless we find a way to live forever. Or as long as dragons and elves, anyway."
word count: 408
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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Hilana Chenzira
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As they enjoyed their lunch, Hilana was relaxed and content. Not just from the hours of meditation in the comfortable surroundings, but from being with Finn and hearing him play. There was something deeply relaxing about his presence, not to mention his skill. The Vastiana always enjoyed his company, and while she knew he was busy and had so much going on - and so did she - she couldn't very easily claim his time as much anymore. He was no longer a novitiate Sentinel; he had full-rank. He had duties to the Custodes Deorum, and she had hers to Athalia and to Lykos.

There were lessons and work and endless amounts of things to do - and truthfully, that was how Hilana liked it. She loved to be busy, she loved to be on the go. She loved to be constantly moving and doing, exploring and learning, making and testing... And that made downtime mean so much more. She couldn't steal Finn away on the regular for their lessons and trips to the sands or Tertium or anywhere else anymore; not quite so easily. She couldn't whisk him away to Tertium for a camel ride and tea and snacks with her Great Aunt. But this trip was special, and she was thankful not just that he had taken her, but that she got to share this place and time with him.

When he finished his song and commented about finding a way to live forever, the Vastiana leaned forward towards him, her eyes quite serious, but her tone was hushed, as if she did not want them to be overheard. In any event, she switched to Vastian simply to try to safeguard the subject. "Become one. Take up godhood. Or a dragon's investiture - we know where to find one: Melindranovion. Where we went, you remember? The Sophos said that he was a brown dragon... brass, bronze, or rust... but if we went back with another Sembler... we could likely figure out what Flight from which he was. And if he was Brass or Bronze... what's to say that they wouldn't help you take up that investiture for yourself? If House Phaedryn would help anyone with that... it would be you."

That might have been something she had thought of for further down the road... But if it could help Finn, then so much the better.


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Finn
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Hilana did have some inspired ideas!

Finn played as he considered. He didn't know whether Aværys would appreciate the Hunger and Ambition it might take to become a god, if Finn had the first idea how to do so, or whether he would see it as overstepping the natural order of things. As for draconic investiture, he would have to quietly look into that. He knew the legends, and he supposed the archives of the Custodes Deorum would provide more details, but again, Aværys had complicated views of dragons and he might also tempt the ire of Zalkyriax, who would be not only his father-in-law, but king. The platinum dragonflight embodied hierarchy, and he didn't know how they would feel about a brief-lived human seeking to climb that hierarchy with power inherently their own.

"I can't tell whether you are brilliant or brilliantly trying to get me killed," he said with a light laugh. Lest she take offense at that—he knew she still feared Arvælyn's estimation of her involvement in Finn's mortal danger—he winked. For a bard, he could sometimes put his foot directly in his mouth.

The afternoon continued with food, music, talk, laughter, and trying to decide what color scales they would look best in—blue or sapphire for Finn's eyes; either black or multicolored fairy scales for Hilana. The both of them enjoyed the respite in the realm of light, as well as the lightheartedness.

And as for what Hilana would do with that Light, only time would tell.

fin.
word count: 267
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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