69 Searing 121
Ale'Ephirium
Whatever he had found in the Archives, it had excited Lyra and she hadn't seen fit to explain why. She bade him sit at the front desk while she disappeared downstairs into her laboratory and left him gaping like a foolish fish. So he sat. In any case, it didn't look as though the place needed dusting, so he went through the drawers of the desk, not touching, but noting where things were. He didn't necessarily think Lyra was up to no good, but he knew she dealt with things far beyond his ken and so caution was the better part of valor when in her shop. After all, she had warned him about certain shelves when he first ambled into the place. And perhaps she had something akin to a crossbow under the desk should someone knock her door down to loot her shop of its valuable wares.
He grinned as he imagined some black-robed magus kicking the door down and Lyra, calm as you please, pulling a wand of blasting out from under the desk and annihilating him. Having been in the Warrens with the likes of her, Hyoga, and Talon Shinsei, he was glad to have powerful friends in case his own modest talent with the blade and a silver tongue to avoid fights couldn't protect him. But his grin turned thoughtful as he wondered whether he couldn't make a song out of that flight of fancy. But it fizzled out, perhaps because he was so overworked these days. He didn't mind working for Lyra. It helped him pay off his grimoire and stylus, and a lot of what he did for her dovetailed his research in the Archives. And even when it didn't, being around her meant learning new things, and that was exciting. Between her as a font of knowledge and his studies, he was discovering an academic curiosity within himself that he hadn't known before.
But while he kept glancing hopefully at the door, nobody walked through. Normally, with enforced idleness, he would be working on his music, but for now, just sitting there was rather nice. But it was enforced idleness, and he needed something to fixate on, so he pulled his rucksack up into his lap and began rifling through his things. His face brightened when his eyes alighted on the grimoire that Lyra had made for him. It seemed appropriate that he pull it out now.
It was simple in design, the cover of a faint blue leather embedded with an aetherite shard and embossed with glyphs and stylized harps and other musical motifs. At the center was a large eye that formed the base of a musical note—a touch macabre, perhaps, but he had grown to enjoy it. And at the base of the spine, an eyeless serpent coiled. For all that it looked fine—indeed, it was fine—it was quite durable and Lyra had assured him it was resistant to fire and water, so his investment felt more secure. All the same, he wasn't about to toss it into the hearth or Lake Udori as a party trick. It wasn't impervious to the elements, only resistant. Even the stylus was magical, made of wood with a small aetherite shard at one end, and a fine metal tip at the other. She had even managed to etch various pictographs onto it: fingertips near the tip turning into a brick-like design in the center, as well as more notes and even drops of what he presumed was ink. He pulled it out and felt doubts he hadn't even registered abate. That was part of its magic, but he didn't think Lyra was able to use Mesmer. There must have been other ways to magically create a similar effect, but she kept many of her secrets close to the chest. It was a small trick, perhaps, but it meant the world to him when he was worried that his work wasn't worth anything. The other minor magic that came in handy was that when he touched the little dragonshard to ink, it would soak it up. He could fix mistakes without throwing out the whole page, which was so very helpful to him.
He felt a tingle as he opened the cover to the blue cover page, and then beyond. From what Lyra said, only he and she could open it, or someone holding the stylus. He hadn't yet tested it out with anyone else, but he trusted Lyra to know her business.
While he didn't feel creative, he felt like perhaps he could at least write down some of what he was experiencing with Arry. It was a grimoire, after all, and he had discovered the half-elf also bore the Rune of Mesmer and while they had come to it differently, they were both experimenting with it musically. So much of the language surrounding it was musical language, though he supposed that was just the nearest sense to what the aether was doing and so that was the shorthand they used. Arry had borne it longer, and proved more powerful, though Finn had finer control, in large part due to having a red-robed tutor who didn't want him causing problems with it and getting him into trouble for giving it to the minstrel. His grandmother's bequest had been that favor from the old man, and it finally felt like it was a gift.
He wrote about how it felt to twine their symphonies together, juxtaposing themselves and blurring the lines between them. It was a delicate, tremulous thing, and he supposed they probably ought to have waited to try it. He couldn't see himself doing it with someone he didn't trust because it would be so easy to cause problems, damage even. Whereas he had been taught that it was a magic best worked subtly, when they brought down so many natural walls and allowed each other in, it would be so easy to be a bull in a china shop and just make a mess of each other's emotions. And there was danger—at least, Arry had come out of it with a nosebleed.
Finn glanced nervously at the entrance, then back to see if Lyra or one of her assistants was approaching, but no; he remained alone.
There had been sex and it had been mind-altering, literally and figuratively. He wrote about that as well, including doubts that had crept in afterward. But they had survived and they had repeated the process to equally orgasmic results. In the morning, Arry had left, pretending to be chipper, but Finn could tell that he was recuperating. It wasn't that Finn hadn't felt some of the hangover effects, but it seemed much worse for Arry, perhaps because of his lack of training. But he didn't think his largesse with his tutor would extend to lessons for Arry as well, so all he could do was try to recall his earliest lessons to try to give him some framework to protect himself from his own magic.
It seemed Finn wasn't much of a teacher, or perhaps these things just took time, especially given Arry had years of intuitive understanding that had to be uprooted so a firmer foundation could be planted. Perhaps self-experimentation wasn't the wisest course, but he was certainly learning. Perhaps he ought to visit his tutor to ask some pointed, perhaps embarrassing questions. He didn't know whether the old man had sexual partners or had aged out of such things. Their relationship was more perfunctory than anything else, but perhaps he ought to throw himself into tutoring again so that he would have more knowledge that he could share with Arry to help protect him.
Or perhaps he should suggest they just couple like normal people and save the Mesmer kink for when they were better equipped to do it without harming each other and themselves. He wasn't even certain whether it was harmful or just overstepping. But he really ought to ask even if it was embarrassing. He didn't want to come to find out that their sex life was wearing away at their sanity or something awful like that. It felt good, but there were other ways to feel good. And he sort of worried he wouldn't be good enough without the Mesmer to charm the courtesan. He just had to be responsible and see to it.
And he could also follow up on something he had heard: that a master of Mesmer and a master scrivener could write unbreakable contracts. That was something he found quite interesting, and something he might eventually be able to do in conjunction with Lyra. He figured their relationship was utilitarian in nature, so if he remained useful to her, she would remain open to him and he would learn more about Vallenor, about history, and about magic in general.
His writing fell off and he began to consider lyrics for a song about two young wizards having magical sex; such things might play over well at the Velvet Cabaret if nothing else, though he supposed he ought to wait until Arry was firmly ensconced in the Golden Peacock before he trotted such a thing out in public. And they were both still quite closeted about their magical powers, anyway. Best not.
But the door creaked open and he looked up eagerly. Finally, something to do!
Ale'Ephirium
Whatever he had found in the Archives, it had excited Lyra and she hadn't seen fit to explain why. She bade him sit at the front desk while she disappeared downstairs into her laboratory and left him gaping like a foolish fish. So he sat. In any case, it didn't look as though the place needed dusting, so he went through the drawers of the desk, not touching, but noting where things were. He didn't necessarily think Lyra was up to no good, but he knew she dealt with things far beyond his ken and so caution was the better part of valor when in her shop. After all, she had warned him about certain shelves when he first ambled into the place. And perhaps she had something akin to a crossbow under the desk should someone knock her door down to loot her shop of its valuable wares.
He grinned as he imagined some black-robed magus kicking the door down and Lyra, calm as you please, pulling a wand of blasting out from under the desk and annihilating him. Having been in the Warrens with the likes of her, Hyoga, and Talon Shinsei, he was glad to have powerful friends in case his own modest talent with the blade and a silver tongue to avoid fights couldn't protect him. But his grin turned thoughtful as he wondered whether he couldn't make a song out of that flight of fancy. But it fizzled out, perhaps because he was so overworked these days. He didn't mind working for Lyra. It helped him pay off his grimoire and stylus, and a lot of what he did for her dovetailed his research in the Archives. And even when it didn't, being around her meant learning new things, and that was exciting. Between her as a font of knowledge and his studies, he was discovering an academic curiosity within himself that he hadn't known before.
But while he kept glancing hopefully at the door, nobody walked through. Normally, with enforced idleness, he would be working on his music, but for now, just sitting there was rather nice. But it was enforced idleness, and he needed something to fixate on, so he pulled his rucksack up into his lap and began rifling through his things. His face brightened when his eyes alighted on the grimoire that Lyra had made for him. It seemed appropriate that he pull it out now.
It was simple in design, the cover of a faint blue leather embedded with an aetherite shard and embossed with glyphs and stylized harps and other musical motifs. At the center was a large eye that formed the base of a musical note—a touch macabre, perhaps, but he had grown to enjoy it. And at the base of the spine, an eyeless serpent coiled. For all that it looked fine—indeed, it was fine—it was quite durable and Lyra had assured him it was resistant to fire and water, so his investment felt more secure. All the same, he wasn't about to toss it into the hearth or Lake Udori as a party trick. It wasn't impervious to the elements, only resistant. Even the stylus was magical, made of wood with a small aetherite shard at one end, and a fine metal tip at the other. She had even managed to etch various pictographs onto it: fingertips near the tip turning into a brick-like design in the center, as well as more notes and even drops of what he presumed was ink. He pulled it out and felt doubts he hadn't even registered abate. That was part of its magic, but he didn't think Lyra was able to use Mesmer. There must have been other ways to magically create a similar effect, but she kept many of her secrets close to the chest. It was a small trick, perhaps, but it meant the world to him when he was worried that his work wasn't worth anything. The other minor magic that came in handy was that when he touched the little dragonshard to ink, it would soak it up. He could fix mistakes without throwing out the whole page, which was so very helpful to him.
He felt a tingle as he opened the cover to the blue cover page, and then beyond. From what Lyra said, only he and she could open it, or someone holding the stylus. He hadn't yet tested it out with anyone else, but he trusted Lyra to know her business.
While he didn't feel creative, he felt like perhaps he could at least write down some of what he was experiencing with Arry. It was a grimoire, after all, and he had discovered the half-elf also bore the Rune of Mesmer and while they had come to it differently, they were both experimenting with it musically. So much of the language surrounding it was musical language, though he supposed that was just the nearest sense to what the aether was doing and so that was the shorthand they used. Arry had borne it longer, and proved more powerful, though Finn had finer control, in large part due to having a red-robed tutor who didn't want him causing problems with it and getting him into trouble for giving it to the minstrel. His grandmother's bequest had been that favor from the old man, and it finally felt like it was a gift.
He wrote about how it felt to twine their symphonies together, juxtaposing themselves and blurring the lines between them. It was a delicate, tremulous thing, and he supposed they probably ought to have waited to try it. He couldn't see himself doing it with someone he didn't trust because it would be so easy to cause problems, damage even. Whereas he had been taught that it was a magic best worked subtly, when they brought down so many natural walls and allowed each other in, it would be so easy to be a bull in a china shop and just make a mess of each other's emotions. And there was danger—at least, Arry had come out of it with a nosebleed.
Finn glanced nervously at the entrance, then back to see if Lyra or one of her assistants was approaching, but no; he remained alone.
There had been sex and it had been mind-altering, literally and figuratively. He wrote about that as well, including doubts that had crept in afterward. But they had survived and they had repeated the process to equally orgasmic results. In the morning, Arry had left, pretending to be chipper, but Finn could tell that he was recuperating. It wasn't that Finn hadn't felt some of the hangover effects, but it seemed much worse for Arry, perhaps because of his lack of training. But he didn't think his largesse with his tutor would extend to lessons for Arry as well, so all he could do was try to recall his earliest lessons to try to give him some framework to protect himself from his own magic.
It seemed Finn wasn't much of a teacher, or perhaps these things just took time, especially given Arry had years of intuitive understanding that had to be uprooted so a firmer foundation could be planted. Perhaps self-experimentation wasn't the wisest course, but he was certainly learning. Perhaps he ought to visit his tutor to ask some pointed, perhaps embarrassing questions. He didn't know whether the old man had sexual partners or had aged out of such things. Their relationship was more perfunctory than anything else, but perhaps he ought to throw himself into tutoring again so that he would have more knowledge that he could share with Arry to help protect him.
Or perhaps he should suggest they just couple like normal people and save the Mesmer kink for when they were better equipped to do it without harming each other and themselves. He wasn't even certain whether it was harmful or just overstepping. But he really ought to ask even if it was embarrassing. He didn't want to come to find out that their sex life was wearing away at their sanity or something awful like that. It felt good, but there were other ways to feel good. And he sort of worried he wouldn't be good enough without the Mesmer to charm the courtesan. He just had to be responsible and see to it.
And he could also follow up on something he had heard: that a master of Mesmer and a master scrivener could write unbreakable contracts. That was something he found quite interesting, and something he might eventually be able to do in conjunction with Lyra. He figured their relationship was utilitarian in nature, so if he remained useful to her, she would remain open to him and he would learn more about Vallenor, about history, and about magic in general.
His writing fell off and he began to consider lyrics for a song about two young wizards having magical sex; such things might play over well at the Velvet Cabaret if nothing else, though he supposed he ought to wait until Arry was firmly ensconced in the Golden Peacock before he trotted such a thing out in public. And they were both still quite closeted about their magical powers, anyway. Best not.
But the door creaked open and he looked up eagerly. Finally, something to do!
