Legend of Ransera

Arry's very breath felt tentative as he left the Vigilia Argenti Prætorium after the most harrowing training session he'd had with Phocion or anyone else. It was, perhaps, the first time since arriving in Solunarium that he'd walked the streets without casting his eyes skyward in search of the Chiroptera Magna that roosted in the Umbrium, or the Dragons that so rarely soared the skies of the Luxium. Today, his eyes remained downcast. Ironically, he saw more fauna on the ground than he ever had in the sky- Lizards, scarabs and even a scorpion scuttled by on his commute from the Sub-Palatine District of the Umbrium to the Aurecine District of the Luxium.

Phocion had seemed pleased with how Arry handled his bloody test, but his delayed reaction to what he'd done seemed to make the Silver Elf uncomfortable. He ended their session far earlier than usual, which he'd never done before. Arvælyn had the sense that it was more out of an aversion to providing comfort, rather than genuine concern that he needed a break after what he'd just done. Phocion was cold comfort even when he tried, and he wasn't the one Arry wanted when he felt vulnerable.

Unfortunately, he and Finn were both being kept so busy in their different arenas. Arry had early mornings with trainers and tutors, while Finn spent late evenings entertaining the Umbrian elite in lounges and clubs he'd not have even been able to enter if not for Phocion's good word- Let alone perform in. Their schedules sometimes aligned enough that they could take their Vastian lessons together, or perhaps a spare hour or so to practise sparring between other obligations, but not as much quiet time alone as Arvælyn would have liked.

A servus opened the door as Arry dragged his feet up the path, and welcomed him home, but he didn't even glance up in response. Still wearing his training uniform, he merely marched over to the nearest longue and laid down to stare at the ceiling and try to push away the memory of what he'd done to those blameless humans.

As Finn's arms wrapped around him, Arry tugged them tighter. This had been just the sort of comfort he wanted. He didn't answer the questions right away, unsure of his own preference as to the answers. Part of him thought silence might be best, but then he shut his eyes and the images that flashed through his head were recent, bloody ones. The way the gore had gurgled forth from the mouth of his victim... His first...

"...sacrifice." He opened his eyes. "I don't think I really understood the Solunarian concept of sacrifice." Sighing, "I'm not being clear, I know. Detail makes it feel more real, but..." He pulled Finn's arms even tighter around his belly- So tightly he thought he might bruise. He deserved that and more.

"It is real, so... In my lesson today, Phocion brought in two slaves. They were... Convicts, or something- Subjects of Lex Agni. They were instructed that if they killed me, they would be granted freedom. I thought he was joking, but he pitted us against each other and I... Gods, I did that thing you hate but more. I used all of my magicks in concert, but my Mesmer is still..." He shivered,

"It was me or them. That was the premise he set forth." He lifted his head to look over his shoulder and find Finn's cherished eyes, "And I'm still here." He searched Finn's face for judgement.

"It was so bloody easy, Finn, with no restrictions on what Craft I could use, it was over in minutes. Phocion said he never would have done that if he wasn't certain of my victory, but I was genuinely scared and then... Afterwards, I just lost it. I couldn't stop crying. I've seen so much death, but it was always inflicted by others. In the arena, at the reception, it's... So, so different." He shivered, and repeated the word that had started the whole rant:

"Sacrifice." The word felt like a millstone round his neck. "For Deus et Domina." That was the only way of looking at this that felt like it offered any semblance of consolation. That the blood he'd split was not for naught.

Arry sighed deeply and welcomed Finn's consonant descant as it wove into his greater Symphony. The bard had balmed his blights in the past, and this was particularly affecting. It felt like a dark rite of passage. Perhaps that had been Phocion's intent.

"Mm..." He allowed Finn's Craft to colour his words in a way that made them easier to receive. Letting the work of their Runes entwine unguarded, it was impossible to question his candour. "You should not be cross with Phocion." He reflex was to counter in defence of his martial and magical pædagogus,

"This was an inevitable lesson. He tried to explain..." It had been impossible to process at the time, and Phocion was far from a consoling figure, but Arry had time to contemplate on the road between the Prætorium and here. He tried to recall the precise words the Silver Elf had used.

"He said, 'A savage education is an Atraxian inevitability. Better you should be blooded in a controlled environment, rather than an organic scenario where you might hesitate and come to your education too late.'" He understood the meaning, now that he'd had time to process it. Phocion had stacked the card in his favour with opponents ill-equipped to handle a mage of Arvælyn's prowess. He'd hesitated to deal mortal blows. More potent rivals might have seized upon that lapse and his own blood... his own life might have been the sacrifice for this education in that scenario.

"Have I done good things with my magic, though?" He knitted his brow, "I... protected us at the reception, but even then..." His memories of that night came in fits and starts, but he was aware that he'd prioritised Finn's life and his own over those of the people he'd drawn close to use as shields. "Entertaining people with a 'trick' is all well and good, but have I practised my Craft for aught positive enough that it balances out the weight of two human lives? What even is good? Most people are terrible, aren't they? Perhaps those men were pædophiles, or murderers themselves... They were convicts, I know..." He slipped smoothly from genuinely questioning his own morality, which he very rarely felt inclined to do, to seeking out a rationale that might help him more easily dismiss the guilt of his actions- A more tried and true technique for the urchin of Antiris.

He shifted his body, so he could cup Finn's fair face in his palm and look into his eyes.

"The protagonist?" His eyes grew glassy, "Oh, but Finn, I was ever more drawn to the tragedies..." He bit his lip, "Are you sure you wish to join?" He shook his head, "No, no. You are innocent. There is no need for another set of bloody hands between us." He kissed him, adoringly, then drew back after a beat.

"I want your hands to keep at the lute. I don't know if I'll be able to perform again, so I want that dream to stay alive in you. Stay innocent and light... and sing of beautiful things seen through bright, beautiful eyes. This is my sacrifice. It needn't be yours."

"I know that, amatus." Arry sat up, too much energy brimming in him to remain horizontal. "You've always been the strapping one between us, and I know you were training to fight even back in Kalzasi..." He needn't broach the wherefore, obvious as it was. Even if it was just beneath the surface, it was another matter to broach the minstrel's trauma outright.

He tilted his head at the mention of one of the two siblings he'd yet to officially meet. He had pieced together that in a literal sense he'd met Raithen on the day of the Mist Storm, but that had been one of the many odd coincidences that seemed to crop up in this strange land. Neither had known the identity of the other at the time, and when he'd inquired with Phocion he'd been given the impression that the other bastard had been off in the desert on some mercenary mission or another.

"I didn't realise he was back in the city. I still haven't even properly met him..." But that was neither here nor there, at the moment. He heard the vulnerability in Finn's voice and in his Symphony.

"Let me keep you?" He shook his head, and gathered Finn's hands in his. "No one will take you from me." He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip, "No one." His seemed to glint a brighter shade of gold at his emphasis.

"Let the mountain burst and fire devour this realm if ever it should fain sunder you from me, my sweet boy." He pressed a firm, feral kiss to Finn's lips, then rested his forehead against the human's. After lingering that way for a moment, he sighed and sat up- parting their faces enough that he might look him in the eye.

"I didn't mean to be dismissive. I was only trying to talk through what's going on in my head. Be my conscience, Finn- Please. Tell me how you see all this through your unclouded eyes. I don't know what's best for me, except you. The rest is... Everything is getting so fucking heady, now. It was fun to play at being a prince on stage. Wending my way through the highs and lows of a life in a matter of a few hours. Tragedy in small doses is rather enlivening, but this?" He stroked the top of Finn's hand with the pad of his thumb.

"I do think about what is best for us. All the time. And I'm anxious that you hate it here and long to leave. I don't want that to be your sacrifice to gods you disfavour..." He cracked a sad smile, "Even if they are my ancestors."