In the Balance

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Both brothers felt relieved when it appeared that Arkænyn princeps had accepted Æros' apology, but that relief only lasted seconds. Wheels began to turn within the head of the royal, and the result did not interest either. Æros had to actively calm Cicæro down at the notion of being used whilst aether sick; that was…certainly not what he'd had looked forward to through the flirtation. Æros could not quite tell how serious he was, or if he was simply being toyed with; it was possible the royal only wanted him to squirm…it was also equally possible he fully intended to force the spirit away.

"I…please. Anything else." At this point, he was very much begging.

He even went as far as to move from his seat; though he didn't dare approach Arkænyn, he was now on his knees. To grovel was not something he ever wanted to do, and it pained him to do it, but such was far less suffering than he would endure should he release his possession. Not to mention his kin.

Unfortunately, he also didn't know if telling him the full truth would even help– the other had already stated the problem being on Æros' end made it such that he did not care. He'd wanted to explain the tether to Arkænyn under different circumstances, when he'd actually have the time to explain what nuances about it he'd managed to figure out. He had hoped that Arkænyn wouldn't have been keen on an aether sick Cicæro, allowing him to save the subject for later.

"My new existence is…delicate. Cicæro would be sickened to the point of severe nausea, too, not just inertness, and I sincerely doubt he'd be enjoyable company like that.

Let me level with you– I'm bound to this world by a divine tether the gods did deign create. If I leave, I am snapped to the other end of that tether. I've…never done that at long distances." He'd been pulled to Hilana's side from shorter distances than this and it was far from pleasant. Æros imagined this would be much worse. "I don't know what will happen, genuinely, and I was hoping to explain the finer points of this to you when I'd have more time to give you details, but…"

He sounded desperate, because he was. "Please. Bend me, break me yourself, Your Serene Starlit Highness– I'll be as pliant as you wish; if you'd like me as a doll to be used, I can use my own Mesmer to give you exactly that, or any other headspace, for that matter." CicÆros' words were spoken into the floor, though loud enough to still be heard, and he couldn't physically get any lower to the ground than he already was. He hoped, desperately, that this would count as that 'something else' with which he could appease the other.

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"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

Arkænyn glowered at CicÆros in stony silence, as he pled. Perhaps now more than ever one could see the infamously icy Thalya Imperatrix in her only surviving son. He might have been a statue for how still he sat; an imperious monument edifying the Dynasty of Divinity from which he hailed. He may not have been raised in his family's midst, but it seemed nature brought him to the same place even bereft of being nurtured toward it.

When the begging concluded, he slowly turned his head to the left, lifted his hand and floated his goblet back to his grasp. His gaze remained fixed upon CicÆros as he brought it to his lips and tipped it back. His prominent adam's apple rose and fell with the several large gulps he took to down the contents of the nearly full cup. When it was empty, he held it out to the side and released it again, but this time his Kinetics did not engage to hold it in place. It tumbled to the tile and clattered loudly as it rolled away from his seat. A serva moved to collect it, but the Prince Regent rasped a forceful:

"Næ!" As a surge of ætheric energy burst forth from Arkænyn's body in all directions that sent the cup and the slave hurdling toward the walls, along with a few other pieces of priceless furniture. Although the surge did not reach CicÆros, he would feel the gust of wind it created as it dissipated inches from his face.

The serva, bleeding from her brow, scrambled to stand and resume her position, even as she winced through pain she knew it was pivotal to conceal. Arkænyn sighed, lifted his hand to his chest and splayed his fingers over his heart.

"I am wounded, Æros, truly. Is my repute so poor in your Umbrium that you would genuinely believe me to be someone who would take vantages upon the helpless body of this boy?" His free hand gestured toward their kneeling form.

"A true-blooded scion of Re'ha and a noble peer of the realm? Fie!" He shook his head, "I will suffer this slight unanswered, for we have only just met and I know not what calumnies my counterparts below have spit like venom into your ears. I know that my sense of humour can seem.." The hand at his chest danced through the air as he sought out the right word,

"...capricious. But no matter, the mood is soured." He stood, "Finish your wine and go." He padded around his chair to the back of the room, where a door opened for him. "Take your oaths in haste, return as my dutiful subjects and see that you deal with the issue of this 'tether'. It seems a grave inconvenience and I'll not have it compromising my Consilium." He called over his shoulder as he stalked out of the room. As soon as he was out of sight, the injured serva let out a pained sigh and slumped, sliding down the wall and checking her wounds.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Perhaps it was the more mortal terror of whatever ambiguously horrible unknowns lurked behind the notion of quitting his brother's body that had sapped his ability to see Arkænyn's jests for what they were. Perhaps it was, in part, the princeps' nebulous reputation. Perhaps it was just the sheer gravity of their power disparity– whatever the case, Æros had felt backed into a wall.

The whimsies of one Arkænyn princeps ran the gamut from delightful to dark to delightfully dark, but as with anyone of significantly high station, it was painfully unclear when they were truly kidding versus not. Æros had no doubt that some individuals would've said what he'd said stone serious, and those that would really wouldn't have appreciated not being believed. And until the spectre spent enough time with somebody to get a proper read on them, he had the unfortunate tendency to take them a bit too seriously. To know now that Arkænyn would not go that far was a relief to not only Æros, but Cicæro as well– he'd been mortified at the thought.

And further, he was relieved when the wave of kinetic energy had not extended far enough to harm him. It'd hit a serva, some furniture…but those were inconsequential to CicÆros in this moment. Poor girl– but oh well. He wasn't quite sure if it was calculated on part of the princeps that all he was met with was wind, but he was grateful of that all the same.

CicÆros stood, a bit dazed, and looked to Arkænyn. "My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding Your Serene Starlit Highness; I…will do my best to unlearn what misinformation I've been exposed to." His expression was, for once, solemn, though in actuality he was glad that Arkænyn's anger extended not unto him for this mistake.

And before the other left, "...the oaths will be sworn as soon as an audience can be obtained, and the tether will be dealt with, you've my word."

He would do as suggested and finish off the wine, for he felt after this day, he needed it. Then, he'd take his leave– and upon returning home, he'd inform his elders of what needed to be done, in particular about the tether and finding him a permanent host.

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"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Pharaoh]

R E V I E W

Æros

Experience Points: 15 (May be used for Possession)

Injuries/Ailments: N/A

Loot: Ill-starred promises

Notes: You survived his first encounter with Arky! Well done, you!