Legend of Ransera

Khyan had never been wounded as grievously as he had at Melindranovispont, so he hadn't been prepared for a protracted recovery process. He knew of Solunarium's great healers and the miraculous work they could do. He hadn't realised, however that, though the arcane medici could have done their work more quickly, to do so would have been risky. He might have been a pristine corpse in a matter of days but, having been impaled by a mysterious shadow wraith, there were many measures to be taken into account. The High Sentinel herself had demanded to assess him for residual traces of the void before he would be permitted provisional residence so close to the seat of Umbrian power. Ultimately, he was cleared to convalesce in style.

It was an understandably complex position in which to place his legally acknowledge master, but not one without benefit for the young senator. Æros enjoyed regular access to the palace for visits with his servus, and Khyan's budding friendship with the Crown Prince's amatus had potential for political boons, even if it was a tad risky. Prince Arvælyn was, after all, known to be prone to bouts of draconic jealousy. Still, he seemed content with his initial ominous warning and the knowledge that, if Khyan strayed from his strictures, he would know.

As Finn approached his door, Khyan was in the midst of enjoying a saga portrayed via the artful illusions of a Masquerade Player. With his bedspread for a stage, detailed miniatures of the characters played out the tragedy of some ancient Aværyan scion named Cænth, whose exploits ended in a mystery the resolution to which would have to wait, it seemed. Khyan waved the mage away, and lifted his head to regard Finn as he approached.

"Good morrow!" He said in Common, "I practise my Common. Is better, no?" He chuckled and shook his head, returning to Vastian.

"Anyway. How are you keeping occupied today, my Brother in Boredom?"

Khyan giggled at the punny compliment and nodded.

"Of course! Sit, sit..." His smile didn't fade as Finn pulled up a chair. The bard tended to favour the chair over joining him in the bed as his dominus was wont to do when he visited. He'd never inquired nor attempted to assess the reasoning, but he suspected it had to do with the princep's notorious jealous streak or perhaps out of respect to Senator Len'Sælyan. He didn't relish the distance, but he understood it.

It was strange to look upon Finn anymore. He'd always been handsome, but having seen him bathed in the breadth of divine Majesty, he couldn't erase the image from his mind's eye. Even without seeking to find the Mark, he felt its presence now- even though he'd been wholly unwitting to it before he cast his light upon that foreign field just before disaster struck. He flushed at the memory, as he did every time, and felt closer to the Founders for being close to Finn.

"My wound is healing nicely as well..." Khyan had progressed enough at this point that he was long beyond needing to be bandaged up. His flesh looked perhaps more pristine than it had prior to the attack. The medics of Solunarium were no less æsthetically-minded than the artists or the priests, and so they made sure to smooth not just the wounded flesh but everything surrounding it for consistency's sake. Thanks to their ministrations his skin was clearer than he could ever remember- No pimple nor blemish interrupted the smooth sea of his dusky skin.

"Thankfully the senator never put me to such vile work!" Khyan wrinkled his nose, "I imagine the notion of his bedmate scrubbing at filth is as unattractive to him as it is to me. That being said, I fair well enough... I'm glad of your visit. Even with all the diversions of the Palatium at my disposal, it is still a monotonous thing to spend all day abed. Will you sing for me today, or would you rather play a game?"

Khyan sat up properly in bed and rested on his left hip, knees and face shifting toward Finn as he began to percuss and then sing. The Mesmeric influence eased the acknowledgement of many emotions: Uncertainty, anxiety, obviously attraction, but the emotion ultimately brought to the fore most mightily was awe. Again, unbidden, his thoughts returned to Finn in all his Majestic glory. Not the mere human singing sentimental ballads, but the agent of Aværys Imperator Rex Regnum et Pulcherrimi.

As the song concluded, bashfulness sang loudest in his Symphony as he glanced down to fidgeting hands.

"The game I was going to suggest is Veritatem vel Provocatio, so... Whether or not we get into trouble is more in how we play it." He bit his bottom lip and rolled onto his back once more, sliding his hands behind his head and lacing his fingers together.

Khyan had gotten to know Finn better during their shared convalescence, but he didn't feel like he knew him well. He was at the social disadvantage, even if Finn was a foreigner, and so he'd been more deferential than might have been the case under prior circumstances. Even so, Finn's relationship to the royal family would have made things complex and challenging to navigate. At least with a game like "Veritatem vel Provocatio" he could feel things out as they went along and see how bold or bashful he wanted to be.

Arching his back, Khyan tilted his head back toward Finn,

"But I'm open to whatever if you have an alternate suggestion. You've just clearly led a peculiar life, which makes you a better competitor in this sort of game than the house staff. I don't know if you've noticed this, but the more estimable the household, the more boring the staff."

"Ugh!" Khyan flushed and covered his face at Finn's overt reply to his covert thoughts... Or what would have been covert in different company. His Symphony rankled as his desire to protect his own secrets swelled alongside the frustration at his inability to do so. Finn would read that this was not a novel annoyance, but one very much lived-in. His confoundment was not directed at Finn alone, by any means. If Æros didn't actively quell Khyan's vexation at being probed, this concern would be more present and less deeply set, but such as things were his embarrassment at Finn's giving voice to his internal thoughts was enough to stoke that particular fire.

"I am not without self-control, Fi-... Dominus." He corrected himself, archly. "A person can bear an attraction and elect not to act upon it. In other realms, such feelings might even pass unnoticed and remain unremarked upon, but alas this is Solunarium: Where the nicer the neighbourhood, the more wards one requires to sustain any modicum of privacy. And there aren't many nicer neighbourhoods than the palace, I'll be bound." He rolled unceremoniously onto his other hip, so he could more easily access the flagon of wine the servi kept filled at his bedside. It would be clear from his Symphony that this was not his first sip of the day, even if his oratory remained smooth and unslurred.

When he turned back round, Finn was seating himself on the mattress. He nodded approvingly, before clearing his throat to reply to the question.

"I do not know the rules you know from home..." He replied, somewhat amused that Finn would expect greater knowledge of the customs of Kalzasern border villages when he barely even spoke their Common Tongue.

"Tut! I would not put it past our mages to make such advances over biology, but in any event the rules here are simple. We each take turns offering a choice to the other. If you pick 'Veritatem' I get to ask you a question to which you must respond truthfully. If you pick 'Provocatio' I get to give you a little task, which you must carry out. Don't worry- I won't make you do anything your gaoler would gut you over."

"You keep your pæans to yourself, or you'll get both of us in trouble." Khyan suggested, through a chortle, handing the wine over as he was bade.

"Dominus." He bowed his head in jovial subservience, as if he was even expected to play the role of servus from his sickbed. In truth, a true Solunarian magnatus would probably expect as much and more of a wounded slave, but he'd spend enough time in the company of this peregrinus to know how soft-hearted and obliging he was.

"Ah, so you'd be the one doing the childbearing?" Khyan arched a brow, smirking, "That's one of my Veritatem questions off the table before we've even begun..." His amusement was deferred by the talk of mindreading.

"I do not practise my Semblance upon my betters without explicit permission, Dominus." He said through clenched teeth, "That would be both unseemly and illegal." Also impossible if Finn were in his Sentinel blacks, but such as things were one had to rely upon a bit of decorum.

"Veritatem..." Khyan repeated Finn's selection aloud, both to confirm and to stall for time as he pondered what to ask. He truly might have inquired about Finn and His Exalted Highness' sexual positions and preferences, if Finn hadn't seemed to answer the question already.

"Your Emblem..." Khyan began, pausing and glancing to the place at Finn's brow where he'd seen it glow on the day of their mutual misfortune. "The Radiant mark is the stuff of legends. It hasn't been known to the world in ages, and yet... You bear it. Tell me, in veritate, what is your favourite of its endowments?" Khyan had read accounts of the powers proferred by Aværys' favour, but no one alive truly knew what they were or how they operated. There were sundry second-hand accounts of how people responded in the presence of the Radiant, a few essays written in the hands of Majesty's wielders, but the texts were archaic and poetical. Here he was, a lowly slave, in the palace of the dragons asking questions the loftiest theologians would kill to have answered... all whilst in the context of a silly drinking game. Even at its most abject, Khyan's was a charmed life.