Talking to Walls

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: Earth's Rest 1, 123 Annus Ferro
NOTES: -

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Learning Elementalism alongside Palæmon was something that Æros had been doing since his cousin had given him the Craft, and Æros had always joked about teaching his cousin to dance…but never did either man think that in a few short months, they’d be doing so with souls housed within the same flesh. And though they were now bound together, there was something isolating to them both about this experience, as everyone treated them differently now. Could either man blame kith, kin, and stranger alike for doing this? Næ. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. That didn’t make the myriad reactions from cautious and sympathetic looks to flurries of questions grow any less old as days continue to flit by.

It was evening, and if one looked closely behind the glare of the Sceptre, one could tell from the purplish hues veiled by its radiance. And on this evening, the two of them wanted to truly be alone, so they’d leave the walls of the Luxium entirely and walk to the banks of the River Vasta. Æros, prone to his bouts of melancholy even when he had his Mesmer to help, was in one of those phases. Palæmon encouraged the younger soul to try something to distract him, using his own Craft of Summoning to pull forth a minor air spirit, feeding the little thing a bit of his aether to have it become a zephyr at their feet, making them functionally much lighter.

In turn, Æros would take control again, using his much inferior Elementalism to manipulate the water of the river beneath his feet as gingerly stepped away from the shore. Once he was sure he wasn’t about to fall in, his movements would quicken, and he would begin to perform an older dance he knew well for an audience of none. It wasn’t an exceptionally complex piece, because he did still have to focus on his Elemental Craft and Palæmon still wasn’t quite as flexible as Æros wanted him to be, but it was an elegant, slow piece with flowing movements that complimented the tall, lissome figure his cousin possessed.

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"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Mirza]

.

Mirza hid in foliage near the River Vasta. Bird perched on a tree branch above her, ready to fetch what she killed — bow at the ready. A crocodile was laying in the mud next to her, but showed no hostility to the green dragonborn, even in her guise. She had fed her the last bird she shot down as a thanks for her companionship. She was ready to shoot a crane that walked along the riverbank, but the arrival of a strange man scared many of the birds away.

She stayed crouched in the reeds for some time watching him dance with magic over the river. She also saw that a red-breasted goose swam a short distance around him, in the space the resident crocodiles seemed to ignore around this graceful blue dancer. The quality and heft of his clothing seemed nice, and he was clearly an elf, not a human. He must have been quite wealthy, as the elves all seemed to be.

Mirza's gaze fell to the goose once more. Perhaps, from where she hid, she could kill the goose. It swam in lazy circles, and soon was nearly directly behind the dancer. With a bit too much confidence, Mirza took aim in the brush and let loose an arrow. It shot perfectly between the movements of the dancer, dangerously close to hitting him if she did not know exactly what she was doing, and shot through the neck of the goose. The creature floated on the surface for a moment before Bird snatched the creature into her talons and returned to Mirza, her hiding place surely revealed now that.

She stood up, dressed in well-made Solunarian clothing in neutral colors that matched the green and browns of their environ, the shot goose held up in display with one hand. She said nothing.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Palæros had not been enough of a fool to wander too far away from the confines of the Solunarium capital, and when Æros was in control, the man was actively open to every Symphony around them, the radius of which, due to his mastery, was incredibly generous; any aggression or malice would alert him immediately. And for now, there really wasn’t a soul in his vicinity that concerned him. There was also the fact that he was aware that Silver Sentinels wandered the desert sands slicked in magic, so he very much doubted that somebody with malintent would be anywhere near him. With these things in mind, his focus was on his movements and magic alone, entirely on himself, rather than his surroundings.

So when an arrow whisked by, dangerously close to piercing his abdomen, Palæmon reacted reflexively by conjuring a gale of wind that, alongside the zephyr at his feet, blew him to shore with haste. Æros took control back, causing them to land with a gazelle’s grace, and simultaneously, he pulled an ætheric khopesh from a rune drawn on his solar plexus– the rune, shining in vibrant, colorful magic, would fade from view as soon as the blade was drawn. Wind continued to whip around Palæros, the intent of which was to ward off projectiles.

His posture was incredibly defensive, like a serpent coiled to strike against a threat, but all he saw was a strange elven woman, equipped with a falconer’s glove– falcon in tow– and holding a goose. She stared at them wordlessly. He couldn't detect her with magic, but given the fact that she stood still as stone and had yet to ready another arrow, he figured she hadn't meant him harm.

The wind would stop blowing. His blade would flicker and then dissolve into small, shimmering motes before vanishing. He would stare back at her for a moment, confused. Why was an elf hunting like this? Both Æros and Palæmon were familiar with sport hunting, but this wasn’t the format that they’d expect for that.

There was something off about her, yes, but that actually drew Palæros to her more; perhaps she was a foreign elf? They actually hoped she was as strange as he was at this point, exhausted as both souls were from being consistently othered.

And so he would close this distance between the two of them, his Symphony reaching out to hers to get across that his intent was friendly, but he'd immediately note that it was unreachable. “And here I thought I’d be the only one out here,” he began.

“Do you prefer to hunt alone? I can’t imagine you’re hurting for food,” his tone was light, curious and even a bit playful. Re’hyæan elves needing to hunt would be ridiculous to him.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Mirza]

.

Mirza watched the inexplicable defensiveness, the use of myriad runes she recognized but did not possess, exactly what she was warned of by Phocion. But she was not attacked, and after a moment, everything was calm. He spoke to her first. Bird rested upon her fist, and she held the goose up still, awkwardly attempting a response, but nothing came out of her mouth. She wasn't sure what she expected.

"I'm not hunting alone," She responded in her still Ork-tinted accent, and raised the fist with Bird on it. She was never alone with Bird, even if they frequently did not speak. Mirza had the power of Animus to do so, but Bird preferred silence, or Ecitharese commands if they were even necessary, when they were out hunting, and Mirza did not mind this. Bird was named as such because she did not like or understand the concept of a name, as she was simply herself, and there were others, and Bird was the only acceptable option. Bird chirped her affirmation, a strange, almost delicate sound coming from such a large eagle.

"I have plenty of food," She answered, the second question, though without giving herself enough time to fully consider what it meant. Most of the time she just took what she caught to an Umbrian butcher if she did not attempt to butcher and cook it herself. She kept or gave away pelts to be tanned or feathers. It oft felt like the only thing that was keeping her sane in this city, even if she did not need to hunt.

"Do you prefer to dance alone?" She mimicked, though not in a way that indicated malice or teasing.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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When the stranger was first attempting to reply, Palæros would bring slender arms ‘cross his chest, and when she finally did speak, subtle surprise was drawn over his features. She was strange, wasn’t she? An elf with an ork’s accent– how novel. Neither Palæmon nor Æros were ones to respond with hate or disdain to this, because while they did tend to believe their own kin above the Orkhan, this woman was an elf. And, in general, both of them tended to react with curiosity before hostility when encountering foreign oddities.

“So I see– but your falcon is more of a partner to you. I more meant alone as in…” he trailed off briefly, finding the right word. “...as in without other elves and the like.”

Clearly the woman considered the bird to be an equal hunter to her, and he chose his words carefully with the intent to respect that. He was also right that this was not done out of necessity. The accent of Ecitharese gave him something of a clue as for why, too– if that was where she was from, she probably did hunt alone…for fun.

Her mirrored question at the end made him smile, exhaling a bit of a laugh. “Sometimes,” he’d say, lifting a single, slender hand to his lips in thought. The question was simple, but the answer was not.

“Out here? Yes– that was the point; I didn’t want others to distract me. But you…you’re interesting,” he’d comment with a smile that likely held more enthusiasm towards her than most people she’d have met thus far.

“I’m sure many have commented on your accent, and I’m sure you’re tired of this question– what was a Re’hyæan elf doing in Ecith? Here– I’ll let you know something of myself, first. I am called Endymion Len’Sælyan Æros,” and as he said this, his whole affect would shift.

He would still look curious, though less confident, less slick. “...and I am Faunus Val’Sælyan Palæmon. We are two people,” he’d say, his voice notably softer this time.

In the same breath, the moonborn would reach back and unclasp the pendant he wore, floating it into the air beside him with Elementalism. Of course, neither man knew what runes this woman possessed, but as he did this, he relaxed the wards on their Symphonies as well.

“If you have either Semblance or Mesmer, look now,” he’d tell her.

And after giving her just long enough to check but not long enough to glean anything important, he’d re-establish his Mesmer and float the pendant back to his palm before clasping it again ‘round his neck.

“Now you– who are you?” He’d ask her, that playful confidence returning to his features.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Mirza]

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Mirza had never thought of Bird as an entity disimilar to herself, without her own thoughts, feelings. She would have never faulted the eagle if she decided to fly off, but they remained constant companions still. Mirza tilted her head to the side. "I have not found any elves to hunt with." She replied, finding it a curious question. Most of the elves in Solunarium did not hunt, unless it was for sport, maybe. The Vastian humans did, and often, but they also kept herds and fished, too.

"I'm interesting..." She murmured to herself, but she was listening to the rest of his explanation. And then the most curious occurance happened — the man had two names, and revealed himself to be two men. With Semblance she was able to glean, in that moment, that there were two souls inside of him, growing and receding with such tides of control over the body. One was a bastard. One was not. That much she could tell from their names, and what she had learned — but it was the ethereal aura that possessed the body that was the bastard. In her looking, she forgot to inform Aeros and Palaemon that she was even looking.

"My father was a deserter from the Golden Guard. I am the last of his line, returned. I have no family here for his treachery." It was not an answer she often used, but it was truth, and better than the whole truth. "I am Lamyris Len’Florævir Mirza. I too am a bastard, but I was allowed here, even though I wasn't born here." She was not particularly good at being vague or secretive, another folly in Solunarian society.

"Which one of you is the dancer?" She asked in earnest. "Or do you both dance...?"

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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She didn’t admit outwardly whether or not she’d verified that his body truly housed two souls or not, but Æros was capable of reasonable guesswork in this regard. For one, she didn’t call him a liar or act if she didn’t believe him outwardly. She must’ve done so with Semblance, or he would’ve been able to feel the interference within his own Symphony if she’d read them that way.

Neither soul was surprised at the fact she lacked other elves to hunt with when she openly admitted her name. Palæros’ eyes went wide, and for a moment, he’d stand still in silent surprise– this would last longer than one would expect, but from the subtle ways his face moved, an observer might think he was deep in thought.

“Florævir, huh? I– that is, Palæmon– was alive when that happened. I…” he shook his head solemnly. That was a grim affair and a shining example of the type of justice that occurred on Solunarian sands.

“That whole affair was a travesty to behold, but I am glad to hear your bloodline didn’t truly perish,” he’d say with a wan smile.

His affect shifted, “...are you fully Re’hyæan? Palæmon told me briefly what happened. I can’t imagine your father found another of our ilk out in the Ecithean jungles. I’m a half-blood, too, if it means anything to you.

“My father, Fæ-ethalan of the Winter Court, vanished shortly after sleeping with my mother; didn’t even get to hear she was with child. I’ve never met him. In life, I was an odd sight; if you’re curious, I can show you what I looked like with Masquerade, too,” he’d explain. Someone with a keen ear might hear the bitter undertones when he spoke of his father's apparent disappearance.

But then as quick as that bitterness came, his more vibrant confidence would return. “Only one of us is a dancer– me– Æros. This body is Palæmon’s– I’ve had to relearn quite a bit of what I knew, but it’s been a lot easier to retrace my steps than it was to build my skills the first time ‘round. I can’t say why, but I certainly won’t complain.”

An expression of subtle exasperation would take over his visage, “...and Æros is quite cavalier with his training regime. I found our body was constantly exhausted and sore at the outset of his attempts to do so,” he’d sigh and shake his head.

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"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Mirza]

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Mirza stared blankly as they expressed their condolences. She did not know such family and did not have much reason to seek them out, even if they did exist. She shook her head at the question of "fully Re'hyaen", though no small rising panic took her as she again realized she answered the question without fully contemplating her answer.

"My mother is..." There was a short pause, but long enough for an observant one to notice she had to think further on the question. "Siltori, which seems to be different than Re'hyaen Moonborn, though I am not quite sure to what extent. I think the Moonborn tend to be slightly more subtle in appearance than Siltori." Her skin was slightly more grey than the tanned that the Moonborn of this region took on, and while she had seen a mix of light and dark hair among them, light hair seemed to be in the minority.

"She sent me here, to see the land of my father, and to learn if she could live here. Though she is worried about being Peregrinus, I'm not sure if that will...be the case...? I'm not sure..." Mirza trailed off, contemplating the caste system that was both complicated and straightforward at once; she did not know where she fit in, aside from Peregrinus in Luxium. Phocion did not say where she stood in the Umbrium.

And outside, here, in neutral Atraxia, she was just Mirza.

"My brothers and sister, too, want to come here, though they have different fathers, they all are." She paused, much longer this time. Her siblings that she was referring to all took Siltori forms as well, after their mother. Of the wider ecosystem of her mother's draconic children, she did not know. But these three were especially loyal to Lisymidris. "They're all full Siltori, I believe."

At the explanation of dancing, Mirza looked more casually contemplative than stressed. "I've been a hunter for all of my life. I am good with a bow. And I would have great difficulty having to teach a new body everything I am capable of, a body without the muscle memory and strength that I have spent building." Dragonborn were also inherently stronger than most mortals of a similar race; she would have a much harder time trying to train a body that did not have this gift.

The crocodile next to her growled somewhat, inadvertently revealing itself to the newcomer, and then slipped into the water, unbothered by the fact Mirza had been standing only a foot away from it. She did not acknowledge this fact as odd, and continued talking.

"It's hard to remember how lightly you must take training to begin with... Don't push your cousin's body too hard, Æros. But I'm sure you understand that. Your dancing now is beautiful. Many species of bird in the Commonwealth's environs dance to attract a mate, with bright, flashy feathers, but many birds here are more subdued." The bird in her hand, though she had dropped her hand to her side now, had a bright red neck and chest. "More colorful than my goose."

"The food is more colorful, too... Bright fruits in a rainbow of colors. But the sun does not set here. How do your crops and gardens not wither and die? Magic? Dragons?" Her train of thought was rapid and tangential, though a part of her hoped that at least one of them could follow it.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Both men were aware that there were differences between Re'hyæan elves and their Hytori or Siltori counterparts. Perhaps, then, that the stranger's explanation would've been believable if her body language and general affect didn't clearly proclaim her discomfort and nerves. Growing up among Solunarian nobility where most Symphonies held some degree of warding had compelled Æros to, over time, put quite a bit of effort into learning how to read people even without his arcane gifts. He knew she was lying, and she was blunt, direct; he hoped such an approach, in kind, would work from him.

Palæros would look at her incredulously. "I don't believe you," he'd say flatly, voice briefly serious.

But just as quickly as that expression and that tone came, he'd immediately flip back to something much more amiable. "But…'tis your prerogative to share or no, so I won't press. All I can tell you is that I don't ask after your origins with any ulterior motives, nor will I use such information against you. I've–" he'd pause, then sigh.

"I'm…not unfamiliar with the consequences of sensitive information being shared with the wrong audience," and this time, his laugh was darkly sardonic compared to before.

But on the subject of her caste, he'd look at her thoughtfully. "I suppose that depends…depends on more things now than it would've in the very recent past, even. The rules differ based on which crown gets your loyalty, for one, and then each would also afford different privileges based on…myriad things. Whatever the weight of your mother's heritage being paramount among them in both cases, I'd say.

"Blood is valued here, but do you know what else is? Power. Your father's blood ties you to our Founders, but gives you no power from his disgrace. Does your mother's give you power? Know you how to use it?" These questions were baiting on purpose.

Palæros would listen when she spoke of hunting, muscle memory, and training. He'd smile and look away for a moment, exhaling a soft sigh of a laugh, expression leaning towards bashful before turning his gaze back to Mirza.

"You're right– harming this body harms us both, I've just…never been a particularly patient man," he'd say, arms folded again across his chest, fingertips of one tapping the forearm of the other. "...but I will say it's not as hard as you'd think. My soul has given me something akin to 'muscle memory' when it comes to relearning what I knew in life– just don't ask me how that works. Trust that I have no idea," and to this, he'd laugh.

"Being a ghost does not give me any knowledge on the subject," and to this, he'd lightly shrug.

And to her final query regarding the false sun, the softer voice of the two would answer. "Ah…that. It was made to combat the Eclipse– I'm sure you're familiar with that, at least, since to our understanding, that phenomenon blanketed the world. The sun up there, we call it 'The Sceptre of Aværys,' and it is a construct woven by our magic.

"While it has combated the Eclipse's more nefarious effects, you're right that it's also affected the desert ecosystems. We try to maintain harmony with nature and the spirits thereof through employing many a Summoner or Elementalist to try and repair any damage caused by its endless radiance. I myself have assisted with these endeavors," he'd explain, though his words would carry a sort of weariness to them. It was clear enough this arrangement troubled him.

- - -

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Mirza]

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Mirza squinted at his disbelief, her brow furrowed. As much as she was not lying, she was not being honest either. She did not know how to respond to the verbal trap she had caught herself in, and the barest of fight or flight was beginning to take hold. Nothing bad would happen if she simply turned into a bird and flew away, no? Unless they decided to capture or attack her with magic, if they could tell she had some secret buried.

Maybe it had been a trap all along, and he had always known she was there. He knew her secret, which did not necessarily have to be a secret, but she was told to wander in her Moonborn guise regardless... Mirza's thoughts raced for a moment, and then her face relaxed. Perhaps it was more like a game.

"You revealed yourself to me, Palaemon, Aeros. You allowed me to semble your souls stuck in one body. What magic do you perceive me with?" She took a step towards him, "I've been told by the Sentinels that my heritage is not well-liked by family Sol'Zalkyrian, but it is he whom my mother wishes to pledge." She took another step forward, though there was still some distance between them.

"But my mother is powerful in magic, and she could help the fields, the crops, the gardens that grow along the River Vasta and along oases. And yet the Umbrian ruling house, which is watching me for now, does not see such utility. My father convinced her to come to these lands, and she sent me so as to secure us a place now that the dragons are awake."

"Can you guess? I'm tired... if you are correct, maybe I will even show you myself." She whispered, and then tossed the goose in front of the crocodile that had been some companionship, where it feasted on the bird. "Which house do you pledge to?" She followed, a bit louder now.