Legend of Ransera

Sivan was only too happy to physically and sexually exhaust his nerves so they could get some good sleep before the morrow. And on that morrow, Sivan was more careful about his clothing than Torin had ever seen him, and made several adjustments to how Torin wore his own clothes that seemed to make no noticeable change at all.

At the workshop of his former master, he regressed to a former version of himself, unfailingly polite and demure, not like a kicked dog, but certainly someone in the presence of their betters. Torin was greeted politely as Lord Torin, but as soon as the apprenticeship structure was explained, he was merely apprentice. Mythrasi or the workshop had several titles denoting different levels of apprenticeship and it was explained to him that he would begin at the beginning and that they would go over fundamentals with him no matter how good a showing he gave of his current skills.

His apprentice carried connotations of the one who sees or the one who watches, but also carried a modicum of respect for all that it was also the bottom rung of a ladder. It presumed that he was wise enough to see things that others couldn't.

Sivan's apprentice carried connotations the one who speaks or the one who knows the Names of things, and even Names in this context made Torin think of his Bronze Fox and other such Names that were not those chosen by a parent. That had been his title when he had left Sol'Valen with their erstwhile master, but after his own showing, proving to have accumulated delightful lore from his draconic professor of alchemy, was given another apprentice whose connotations were mysterious.

When the day was done, Sivan was exhausted, but he lingered to help Torin clean and tidy the runeforging workshop. At his rank, it was not his duty to do the cleaning, but it was his duty to ensure the newer apprentice knew how to do so properly. Being an apprentice here also prepared one slowly to teach apprentices of one's own so that the lineage of the craft would be a chain reaching forward and backward in time rather than a mere shining link that connected nothing beyond itself.

"It's not quite animism," he was saying, sniffing at an alchemical solution before dribbling some into a soft cloth and using it to buff the metal of a hammer. "But you know how the aether is alive and sometimes seems to have a mind of its own, even if that mind isn't in the same shape as our minds... Well, we work the aether with our tools, and even our tools are meant to be ever more perfect examples of their Form. We give them as perfect a Form as we can, then use them to shape aether. It changes their aetheric patterns subtly. Our tools are our partners in the Great Work. The same way Laurevere apologizes to a blade if he is disarmed and drops it, we treat our tools with respect."

"I was the lowest of apprentices when Master Tavári'nar chose me," he admitted. "Before he chose me, it felt like... hm... sort of like how you describe your last master. So I had a similar change, only in reverse. He was a mentor and a friend, back when I had neither. But while I learned much of the basics here, the bulk of my apprenticeship was working one-on-one with him. So I am still sort of an outsider here. There are those who resent me for being chosen, but there are some who think I ought to be on your level once more. I suppose they wonder at the choices he made at the end of his life. Me. Travel abroad. He could have remained and spent his last years being petted and fawned over, but that wasn't want he wanted... He said he wanted to go out where the magic was wilder... And I suppose he chose me because I had fewer preconceived notions of magic than many of the more experienced apprentices..."

He smiled and shrugged; try though he might, he could never quite believe that he was deserving of his good fortune, whether that be his apprenticeships, his friends, his loves, or his successes.

"It's better already, though, with you here." His smile widened, though it remained soft. Sivan was a soft sort, which made it all the stranger when he came out of one of his animal forms, primal and sure. As an elf, he was soft, as a wolf, he was not. As a bear, he was not. As a dragonfly, well, he often behaved much more akin to Destyn after that.

"I have often wondered what it would have been like if we met as boys, grew up together, whether I would have been... better. But I suppose this is as close to that as could ever be barring a sudden apprenticeship in chronomancy." He laughed. Stranger things had happened. After all, they were subjects of the Dream King here. "You've already impressed them. They are reserved and sparing in praise, but I could tell."

He paused, glanced over his shoulder furtively, then ducked close to whisper in his ear: "When we get home, will you undress me and run your hands over my skin? I need to remember what's real."

They had taken a lunch break with the other apprentices in a canteen on the premises and supper was on offer, but Sivan was happy to go home instead. They would have an entire season to eat there, after all.

Elf and human walked to the nearest trolley, which floated from the inner Amforéon to the Enclave, and then they hopped off and walked the rest of the way to their home, which crowned the confectionery and bakery. The old Vastian woman waved, and Sivan smiled and waved back.

Inside, he let Torin undress him, and reciprocated. He let Torin bathe him, and reciprocated. He let Torin do other things, and reciprocated. Eventually, regretfully, he let Torin dress him, and reciprocated. But he was hungry too and they hadn't stocked the larder.

Outside, the air felt especially delicious on his skin. It was warm and balmy with the breezes from the sea that worked their way up the valleys to the city. Kalzasi sometimes felt like this, on its hottest days when the lake offered similar breezes.

"Let's say hello to our neighbor and see what she has that we can eat while we walk?" he offered. "She might even know where to start looking for clothes. Probably best to window shop at first. We can look like tourists for a few days until we find out where we want to spend our money."

There was a pause before he squeezed Torin's hand. He might be less incline to give and receive affection outside the Enclave, but quite a few half-elven folks lived in the Enclave even if they could legally abide outside its bounds as citizens of the kingdom. There was more cultural diversity here, even though there was quite a bit of diversity within Hytori culture, and here there was less worry about cultures bleeding into each other, mixing, blending into new things.

The pure-blooded Hytori were so focused on preserving the past, which was not an ignoble pursuit in itself, that they sometimes failed to live in the moment and think of a future that wasn't an extrapolation from what they had managed to salvage from before the subjugation of Lys, let alone the Age of Dreams.

He felt a thrill as he pulled Torin's hand up to kiss the back and offer him another smile.

"Anyway, I will probably look near the workshop since they will carry what will be most appropriate for our work."

He wanted to make a joke about whether Belem's buns could possibly be as hot as Torin's, but then he just imagined melting butter on them and he entirely lost his train of thought, shutting his mouth closed with a click of his teeth.

Sivan didn't rightly know if he ever would have come back had Torin not expressed an ardent desire to see his fatherland. It was strangely better than he expected it to be and he attributed that to the wonder and awe with which Torin saw it all. It made him feel wonderful that Torin saw all of that in him.

In the inner Amforéon, he considered.

"When I was accepted as an apprentice, I was given a cell, yes. A cell... hm, like a monk... not a prisoner." He smiled softly. "It was sufficient to my needs and it was free. They want apprentices to feel as though they are supported, but also want them to live without many distractions, the better to fully focus on their apprenticeship." He didn't say that they probably could have had cells there now, but it would have required convincing the masters and a great deal of paperwork to give a human temporary housing outside the Enclave and anyway, Sivan was used to having his own space now and didn't want to feel cramped.

"It wasn't bad, no. I didn't have friends among the apprentices, but perhaps I might have. I don't know. In the end, I wasn't there long enough to find out. The bad feelings stem from... earlier." He considered for a moment, then sighed. "When it became clear that whatever love they initially bore for each other wasn't enough, my mother told my father that she intended to return to Dalquor with me. I was just beginning to understand that I was different from the other Hytori children, and so perhaps it was not the best time to see him accept this ultimatum without fighting for my mother or for me.

"Then I was uprooted from the only home I knew in order to go to a place I only knew from my mother's stories. Here, I look Hytori but my tantrums were more Dratori. In Dalquor, I just looked Hytori and so... assumptions were made about me. It was the beginning of realizing I was different from everyone and not just different as all individuals are different, but different within my family, different within my motherland and my fatherland. I had a strong innate ability to spiritwalk, which was a virtue according to the Dratori, but perhaps I played that incorrectly. Instead of using that to build bridges with the other Dratori children, I went out into the wild places to play with the spirits...

"All of which only served to make me more fey, more different, more strange."

He smiled.

"I returned to Silfanore as an adult. Sought out my father, tried to reconnect with him and with the people I looked like. It wasn't terrible, but it wasn't good either. It wasn't truly until my Master plucked me out of the stable of apprentices that I felt... hm... seen, known, and accepted. Celebrated even." He paused. He flushed. "And you make me feel that way, too."

It wasn't cold, but he enjoyed the weight and the warmth of Torin's arm around him. He leaned in to sneak a kiss on his jawline, dangerously close to his throat.

"As am I," he replied, "and I feel the same about you."

They drew stares out here, but he didn't care. Not in that moment.