Fun Destruction

[Arvælyn]

"Fun Destruction"

11 Ash 122
Domus Sorokialis
Aurecine District

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With a score of years worth of catching up to do, Arry was being run ragged trying to acclimate himself to the strange structures and strictures of Solunarian culture. The laws, the language, the lineages and the list went on. It was mentally exhausting for the Master Mesmer. Even recreation was a lesson. The only times he felt as though he could take a mental break were the moments he could steal to be alone with Finn. They could catch up in their native tongue, or make music together- literally or figuratively.

This evening, however, Finn was practising his Craft in the Umbrium and Arry found himself with naught to keep him occupied. He recalled that Phocion had recommended at some point that he explore the popular Luxian pastime of a gladiatorial bout. He’d said the evening fights were considered to be the Luxium’s sole advantage over the Umbrium, when it came to eventide diversions.

The golden eyed Golden Elf donned a robe of burgundy trimmed with gold and a matching belt to complement his hair. The fabric was thin, but granted enough coverage to guard against the cool evening breezes- while offering the added benefit of flowing beautifully in the same. The robe had been tailored to hug his form and it’s golden hem fell to the soles of his soleæ, just above the floor without quite gracing it.

“Where are you going, Dominus?” One of the domus guards inquired, as Arry made his way to the door.

“The arena.” He replied, “Fortis Lacerta?”

“Allow me to arrange for an escort.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Cræxus.”

“Forgive my boldness in so saying, Dominus, but I assure you it is. The evening matches are wildly popular. You might not gain access at all at this hour- Let alone claim a respectable vantage. We can see that Your Lordship gains access to the lower podium to be amongst his social peers, rather than slavering rabble.”

Arry sighed.

“Very well.”

A short time later
Fortis Lacerta Arena
Border of Aurecine and Palatine Districts

Flanked by two strapping guards bronze of complexion and standing at matching formidable height, Arvælyn appeared at the grand Luxian coliseum. He arched an eyebrow at the large queue of snaking round the huge building like the tail of a Wyvern.

“This way, Dominus.” Cræxus gestured toward a separate entrance with more guards than guests, and they made their way over.

As they approached, the guards bowed and Cræxus spoke up on behalf of his charge:

“Dominus Arvælyn Sorokialis.” Coin was exchanged, “Aditum podium petit.”

The gate guard nodded, sternly and replied:

“Obvius concessus. Praelio fruere.” And stepped aside, as the Golden elf and his attending guardsmen stepped through the large archway toward steps leading up into the seating and standing areas of the lower podium.

As they crested the top of the stairway, Arry gaped at the air above the arena, which was awash in the silver light of two self-illuminating moons making slow revolutions as if in orbit of one another. The larger was silvery white and the smaller was bright red- a hunter’s moon, in his own culture. Though of course a fraction of the size of the true moons looming in the distance that they emulated, they were large enough to fill a great deal of airspace and fully wash the arena in their manufactured light.

Cræxus cleared his throat to break the foreign elf from his awes stupour before anyone else clocked it. He cast an apologetic smile over his shoulder, and made his way over to a sparsely occupied alcove that housed a row of marble benches. His guards moved to stand at the wall behind the seating area, as Arry sat down and scanned the arena before him with excited eyes of gold. The architecture was predictably grandiose- particularly the golden royal box, which was currently unoccupied. He took in a breath and felt awash in the sundry Symphonies surrounding him. So much anticipation was a heady, contagious thing.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Being a man only out to appease his own whimsy, Æros often found himself wandering through both Umbrium and Luxium having a go at varying forms of nightlife, wanting to get a taste for everything Solunarium had on offer until his vices, he assumed, would inevitably wash his soul away to the Ætherium. And while he spent the vast majority of his time in the lower city, Umbrium, there were some specific things that one could only really find in Luxium. In this case, one such example would be Fortis Lacerta, the largest arena held within the city’s walls. The fights were fascinating in their grandeur while the arena itself was an awe inspiring example of the mastery held by Solunarium’s architects. Beautiful and opulent, the building was a work of art in its own right.

With no entourage, Æros strode up to the guards. He wasn’t an unknown face; a man of stars, this Færie was, and he had no shortage of his own notoriety. On top of being a novel specimen capable of turning no shortage of heads, he was often a topic of gossip for his interesting behavior, Starborn and Winter Court blood, and for his house's name alone. That, and he’d been here several times, being quite the fan of fighters painting the arena red.

Countenance a combination of something haughty and fox-like, his interaction with the guards was brief– saying his name and paying, then on his way inside. Posture poised and possessing no small amount of grace, he strode into the arena head held high. For anyone that looked at him, he would radiate arrogance and vanity, adorned with fine, ethereal fabrics that complimented his form and no small amount of gold jewelry. On this eve included, he generally preferred to wear as little clothing as was considered socially acceptable to let his body speak for itself.

At the time he’d arrived, the alcove he’d chosen to sit had nobody else. It wasn’t necessarily that he wanted to be alone, nay, it was more that he wanted to be the first to arrive– being able to see others as they trickled in base his choice to interact on that. And though he intended to wait for more people to file in, he found the first stranger…intriguing.

The man was Hytori presenting, donning burgundy and gold, not a face that rang any bells in his head. What was interesting was that he gazed in wonder at the twin moons that lit the stadium, transfixed as if it were something he’d never laid eyes on before. His guards even appeared to tap him back to reality– a sheepish expression bubbling to the surface as he realized he’d been staring. Æros’ eyes narrowed. Had he…never been in here before? Even so, it’s not like grandiose uses of magic for aesthetics alone were uncommon here, especially if one had any modicum of status.

Curious, Æros stood and approached him, paying no mind to his guards whatsoever, pretty as they were. Standing half a foot or so taller than the other man, the Færie looked down on him with friendly demeanor, though he had an undeniable mix of something both haughty and impish in the way he carried himself.

"Never been here before?" A question asked with a smile.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Transfixed as Arvælyn had been with the stunning décor all around him, he didn't notice the approach of the stranger. The guards marked him, however, and both Arry and the stranger might note a shift in their Symphonies as one employed a Rune of Semblance to assess whether the interloper was a threat. Satisfied that he wasn't, they settled back against the wall and observed as the man addressed their charge.

"Hm?" Arry looked up, his eyes bright with the enthusiasm the accompanied a novel experience. "Oh, no. Never." The boy's Vastian was flawlessly pronounced. One would take him for a native speaker for how artfully he replicated the diction of a local.

"This is my very first time at a real blood fighting match." Then there was his syntax. 'Blood fighting match' was a weird way to word it, and rather redundant. Not the sort of thing people with greater fluency would say. "Have you been often here before?" Despite of the impeccable pronunciation, the Elf was also using such simple, basic language- It was like speaking to a child, except that he was clearly no simpleton.

His Mesmer sprung to life, as he found it helped him to communicate in his new environs and, sensing another who bore the same Rune, he masked elements of his own Symphony as he dipped in to explore that of the stranger.

"You are..." Arry tilted his head, eyes roaming over the form before him curiously. He'd never seen such a creature- Even in Kalzasi where the population was far, far more diverse. The closest thing he could imagine was: "Lysanrin?" He hadn't even met many people in the Forum who diverged from the Elven, Human majority, and he certainly hadn't expected to find any such person in one of the more elite sections of the stadium.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Æros tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly as he crossed arms over his chest. Odd. Most Solunarians had gone to at least one, and sometimes, the arenas themselves were used as stadiums for other events. Not all of which were even violent, so the appeal would be rather wide to the population at large. Yet…before him stood nobility that, based on his behavior and the answer to that question, hadn't ever been in here before…? Maybe he had memory loss?

Next was the strange syntax, Æros looking even more confused. In search of information of any sort, he opened himself up to the other man's Symphony. Lo and behold, he did hear a bit of wonder and bewilderment that one would expect from a total newcomer. There were melodies of awe, notes of unfamiliarity speckled throughout. Was this some kind of imposter? Or maybe…somebody who'd spent their childhood elsewhere? But then, if that's the case, why?

"Really? Huh. I suppose, despite the popularity, I guess these things aren't everyone's taste, per se." Æros regarded him with a benign comment, not necessarily wanting to give away his suspicions.

And then, nearly as fast as the stranger's Symphony rolled through him did it dissipate. Fuck. He hated interacting with other Mesmers, people with Negation, so on…and any trinket that would disrupt his attunement as well, for that matter. Sapped the fun out of the interaction, it did.

Æros did well to hide his annoyance on the outside and redirected his own magic inwards to disrupt his frequency, making it harder to read. However, he was not sure of the other man's skill, and therefore couldn't tell to what degree he'd have masked anything. Inside, a good chunk of the friendly curiosity he'd possessed just moments prior had dulled to the wax of annoyance alongside the wane of his interest.

While this conversation would certainly be much less fun with his magic prima facie blocked, Æros was still quite curious about the stranger's circumstances, whatever they may be.

Knocking him out of his thoughts, the other man regarded him with curiosity, almost like one would do a zoo animal. The different ways people reacted to him varied heavily from flattering to insulting, curious to objectifying. This was…halfway between the latter two. Æros didn't mind inherently, he liked the attention, and it would really be exhausting to get mad at people for being shocked regardless.

"Oh-! No. I can see why you'd think that, though. In actuality, I am a mixblood– Dryadalis Medium. My two halves are Dryadalis Platinum and Winter Court Fæ." Æros responded with pride in his voice, this being one of few things he was more than happy to share any time he got the chance.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

"Hm?" Arry tilted his head, confused as to whether he was misunderstanding some nuance of the language or whether this fellow was jumping to conclusions he wasn't following. He supposed he might have said something that bore implications or connotations of which he was unaware. He grimaced at his failure, and grudgingly admitted.

"I am new to the city."

The elf's frown deepened as he sensed the shift in the stranger's demeanour as he masked elements of his own Symphony. He was attuned enough to the other man's that he could glean the source of the annoyance. It felt like an emotion that was passing familiar to him. He shook his head, not wishing to dwell on it. He would dig no deeper that the stranger did. Finn had been emphatic that he should be more respectful of people's boundaries and, in this realm that bore fewer such restrictions, he tried to abide by his lover's wishes- Within reason.

His expression softened back to neutral, then even a faint smile painted his lips as he nodded in understanding.

"Ah, very interesting. I did not know that Platinum could present in mixed bloods!" Arry was not alone in that, and there were those who didn't believe it truly did. To the great vexation of the Race of Re'ha, Platinum blood was not predictable in its inheritability. Even when paired together, Platinum parents were no more likely to beget Platinum children than Moonborn and Sunborn parents. It occurred to Arry that a Fae... Particularly one of the so-called 'Winter Court' might bear features that evoke those of the Platinum elves. He'd even heard that Fae could shift their features and, in a land such as this, it might favour one to highlight that which was hallowed. Rather than judging the man poorly for this possibility, he rather hoped it was true. It would have been as daring a gambit as some he'd taken with his identity. Though he supposed with the preponderance of Semblers in Solunarium, it might have been difficult to uphold in the higher echelons that were granted access to their current environs.

"In any case, the combination, in you? It seems very, um..." He searched the air for the word, "Becoming." There it was. His eyes trailed back toward the moons orbiting above, as he'd caught a glimpse of them again while pondering Vastian vocabulary. After a moment his golden gaze turned toward the golden box, still empty of spectators.

"Do you believe that the royalty will today appear?" He mused aloud.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Ah, and so it was true. Well, true that he didn't inherently belong. Æros looked back at the man after that admittance with an expression of interest renewed.

"That so? And yet you look like you belong; our finery suits you, I think." There was a bit of mischief in his voice, though he mostly just sounded happy that the other man hadn't decided to be duplicitous. Æros so loved to be nosy.

After explaining what he knew about his blood, the stranger exclaimed that he didn't know platinum made manifest in mixed elves. Of course, Æros didn't understand it any more than he did. All he knew is that there'd been verification one way or another, regardless of what anyone dared to opine on the subject.

"That it can, apparently. It wouldn't be an acceptable claim to make so boldly if it were not true, of this I very much assure you," words spoken with warm enthusiasm…about himself.

Regarding the other's compliment, Æros features brightened notably. He did so love flattery. "You are too kind."

And then to his question, "I suppose it is possible. I am unaware if any announced their presence beforehand, however, I wouldn't be surprised. One or two have a penchant for bloodshed and many of them simply enjoy the entertainment as any other citizen may."

Æros only briefly followed his gaze to where the royals may appear, then eyes of black-gold drifted out to the arena itself. The moons were hypnotic, in truth. Given that this man wasn't from the city, he could easily see how one would find themselves spellbound by it.

"Say, if you're not from Luxium, mind sharing with me both your name and where you grew up? I promise…I just like hearing stories. I bear you no ill will." Æros' tone was amiable, woven with polite notes, words most sincere.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Arry's attention was drawn back by the compliment. He forsook the moon in favour of the stars that danced along the face of the stranger. After a beat he realised he was also forsaking eye-contact, and their golden gazes met once more.

"Oh, I am certain!" Arry replied promptly, hoping he hadn't blundered into offending the fellow. "I did not mean to cast auspices... er... aspersions?" He shook his head, "I did not intend to offend." He amended in terms on which he had a better grasp, inclining his head in a slight display of deference.

"Not at all. I am in sooth." The Elf offered, firmly. There was still a bit of excitement about being able to communicate in this new tongue. It was frustrating, at times, and he often wished he might just snap his fingers and be understood by all, but he failing that, he was at least improving markedly. He felt, every now and again, like he'd crossed some sort of linguistic threshold. It was promising that this man wasn't speaking slowly or loudly or offering other languages with which he might be better familiar. He knew that part of this was that his time as an actors and, preceding that, his time as a liar had instilled in him a fascination with and devoted focus upon accents and dialects. He'd become masterful at mimicking lilts and recreating sounds that were alien to his native tongue. That was why his 'elocutio' so exceeded his 'grammatica'.

"I was raised distant. North." He seemed to have no hesitation in responding to the questions posed, despite the man's disclaimers. "I am known as Len'Sorokys Arvælyn." He was starting to grow accustomed to the practise of announcing his bastardy along with his name. It had been some months of vexation, but the reception had confirmed what his hosts had said on the first day he took the name on- Bastardy was not the burden in Solunarium that it was elsewhere in the world. He was, after all, still seated in the podium alongside trueborn heirs of elven houses, whilst humans were crowded above him like livestock- fighting to peek over the heads of their neighbours for a better view.

"And what of you?" He gestured, hoping that the Platinum Winter Fae might share a bit about himself. "You are, I take it, Luxian?"

[Aeros]

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The other man appeared just a little taken aback by the compliment? Strange. He was a pretty thing, dressed well, good figure. Surely, people here had been kind to him in that regard. Many were…unabashed with their advances; Æros knew this well because he was very much a part of that group. However, the half-Starbon was a little wary of taking on yet more lovers at the moment. He had one that was taking up a lot of his time and others that yet still poked at him for attention, but light flirting would never hurt though, could it?

"Ah, no offense taken. You are a fascinating thing. So familiar, and yet at the same time, so distinctly foreign." He spoke with no attempt to hide his interest or curiosity.

‘Distant north.’ Hm. Æros wondered exactly what that actually meant. He’d seen maps, of course, of the continent northward across the sea, though he’d never really had the opportunity to travel distances that far. Maybe someday he’d want to see the world– the vague curiosity of finding more Winter Court Fæ had a tendency to drift to the forefront of his mind every once in a while.

The name he’d given, Len'Sorokys Arvælyn, did sound like it fit just as well into Solunarium as any other elf. Quite curious, Æros was, about the reason the other man had been ferried away from his homeland.

“Ah, yes. I am called Len’Sælyan Æros– my house has properties both in Luxium proper and below, in the Umbrium. Myself, I spend the majority of my time down there…but I do come up to the surface from time to time. There’s some things up here to which there is simply no mirror of and likewise for the underground.” He spoke smoothly, believing his own words to give the impression that there were no poisoned waters between him and his own house.

“Have you spent much time in the Umbrium, for that matter?” He wondered aloud, knowing some people lived a reversal of his life– spending nearly all of their time on the surface.


After a pause, he asked another question. “Do you know why you were raised so far from here? I take it you have family in Solunarium, then?”

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

A wan smiled painted the lips of the golden boy as he glanced down, considering the words. Arvælyn understood what the starry fellow had said well enough, but he needed to focus to compose his own thoughts on the matter and translate them into his latest tongue.

"This is, I hear, a happy, um... mélange?" He paused a beat, "People like a taste of exotic, but not often a whole meal of it." He knew that he hadn't imparted his thoughts in the most efficient way, but as they tumbled out he found that he actually appreciated the poetry his linguistic limitations had inadvertently fostered. He would have to remember the turn of phrase and bring it up with his pædagogus at their next lesson.

"I am sure that you are no stranger, yourself, to this notion..." The man beside him was even exotic by Kalzasern standards for his Fae lineage, but his Elven features were enough to ground him with something familiar so he could enjoy the best of both worlds- At least when he wasn't suffering the worst.

"Æros." He repeated, with an acknowledging nod, "Well met. Gens Val'Sorokys has, as well, homes in both halves of the city. My father is a Sentinel, as I am training to be. I was raised to speak Common and I am fluent, also, in Mythrasi, so it seemed meet that I should aid the Vigilia Argenti." They did, after all, represent the diplomatic wing of the government as well as serving as its intelligence agency.

"I have, yes. The Umbrium is lovely. My father lives, mostly, there and I go often to the Vigilia's Prætorium as demanded of my training." He winced, thinking that sounded wrong. "For my training." He amended, after a beat.

"My... parents were estranged. My mother hid from me much." He lowered his gaze, as if anguished by this. "I was unaware of this heritage. Of Solunarium... believeing I was Hytori all those years." He was marrying truth, half-truth and untruth- but it was well-trodden ground for a well-seasoned dissembler. Even had he not been masking his Symphony, it would have been difficult to read outward deception there with all the understandable self-deception that was also in play.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Of course, Æros was the stranger of the two in terms of appearance, but culturally he was as Solunarian as the next, aberrations of his personality aside. Arvælyn, on the other hand, was a man who looked picture perfect for a Solunarian Patrician and yet he was entirely new to the place. Their exotic aspects, while in opposite fields, were very likely both appreciated and shunned in equal measure beyond the control of either man.

"You are correct. To many, I am considered as lucky as a shooting star; rare, beautiful, and a boon for my family's bloodline. To others, I am something muddy and impure." He laughed, "Once, somebody told me my existence was a tragedy. Bearing starborn blood crossed with beast, he said, was a dark omen for my house."

It is true. Some lack an appreciation for Fæ blood, but their bad taste is their loss, to be frank. One could also make the argument that Æros is, in fact, an active hindrance to his family at this point.

"I am…all too familiar with people's appreciation and disdain, along with their fetishization, of that which is considered…exotic." He spoke lightly, as if unbothered. In truth, Æros did view himself as something ornamental.

"Well met to you, too, Arvælyn."

He paused to listen to the rest of what the other man had to say about his father.

"Ah, that makes sense. A noble endeavor, indeed. I speak Vastien, Vallenor, a bit of Valasren and then Common…though my pronunciation thereof is atrocious despite my generally strong understanding of the language itself. I'm quite clumsy with it," Æros shared this in an effort to seem relatable, though their struggles with foreign tongues were for opposite reasons.

"How goes your training for that, then, hm? I do hope you are afforded the respect Gens Sorokys is warranted, but I am well aware some would spurn you for your foreign upbringing." Such is life– people often search for any reason to disparage one another.

What he said about his past was a bit odd, though he got the idea that was meant to come across well enough.

"Oh, my parents were quite estranged, too. I was actually an accident; my father was a wanderer that my mother had a particular taste for, one could say. She knew they would part eventually, and the funny thing is that he left before he ever even knew she was with child." He told this story as if it were comedic, though there is ample curiosity about his father woven into the fabric of his voice. "However, my birth, at the time, was considered a blessing."

But is that the case anymore? Debatable. Highly suspect.

"I'm not bothered, at all, really, by the circumstances. I am quite pleased with the body I was given." That's an understatement! However, to be fair, he's not quite happy with anything else.

"However…I do find it kind of cruel to deliberately hide a child's heritage like that. Did she ever tell you why?"

Much as this could be construed as a pointed question, he would not be offended if Arvælyn declined to answer. Æros would often risk asking questions like this because sating his curiosity mattered more to him than another's feelings.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"