Legend of Ransera

It was summer, and it should have been warmer. At least in his little kingdom, though, the growing things were green as they ought to be, and many other colors out of nature as some things still flowered and others bore fruit. Flower had gone back to sleep in the Living Grave, that tree born of an ancient enchantment found in the archives. Everything had been curated, a conversation between him, the living things, and the wild elemental spirits he befriended. And for half a year now, there was also a crystal that beamed with Arcas' light set in an altar, and a seedling Destyn had brought from Ecith.

Their joint venture back to Ecith hadn't yielded anything in the way of wisdom with regard to the seedling, nor had the reborn god come to explain his gift. Sivan didn't know whether prayers were expected, and of course he hadn't seen the god-prince in almost two years so it didn't seem like a requirement. Their adventure to Ecith had yielded other things, though, and he flushed with remembered pleasure even as he carefully swung down from the tree with the day's excess honey collected. Even if it wasn't so warm as the southron continent, Sivan tended to work barefoot and shirtless in his garden, and the same when practicing with his blade through the moon gate into Laurevere's yard.

His neighbor had seen him in less now.

Sivan still didn't know exactly how cautiously tip-toeing around Destyn's feelings had turned into that, but he was glad at the dragonfae's manipulations, intended or instinctual. And if Urs ever came back... well, he would see if Destyn's fascination with the man was in a similar vein.

The golden hour was fast approaching, and he could hear the susurration of edible insects in the plants of his more recent husbandry. Having a steady supply of delicious snacks made Destyn more likely to idle at his home, and he liked it more when one or more of his friends were around. He could sense him now, though he didn't narrow his focus to find out exactly where.

"Destyn! These buggies aren't going to eat themselves!" Thankfully, he knew to leave the bees in peace.

"Oh?"

When Twygg clutched at his ankle, he reached down to pick him up like a baby. At least, that was how he had been taught to hold his siblings when they were born, but that had been a long time ago. He offered the little elemental some of the honey fresh poured from the nest. He spoke to him in the nature of spirits, and they seemed to be able to communicate well enough.

Sivan nodded seriously at the memory of Destyn's shared vision, and his eyebrows slowly rose as comprehension dawned. He nodded again and set the honey pot in Destyn's hands as he moved toward the door that led into the tower. The elf would hold Twygg until the cute sapling decided it wanted Destyn back or other freedom.

It wasn't difficult to find a spare pare of boots and extra stockings.

"If they are too big, you can wear more stockings," he advised. He couldn't actually recall if he had ever seen Destyn wearing boots. Strange. "Should I see if Laurevere is available?" he asked.

As soon as he asked, he remembered what had happened the last time Laurevere had accompanied them to Ecith and began to blush - not because he was ashamed of what had happened (far from it!) but because he didn't want Destyn to think that was why he suggested it, or that it was assumed he would want that too. Perhaps he needn't have worried because none of them were aroused by the idea of dragon manure - at least as far as he knew (and hoped).

"To guard us, not... never mind..."

He sat down and pulled stockings on his dirty feet. Stockings were easier to wash and he didn't want to slow Destyn down. The Fae asked so little of him, he liked to make good on those few requests when he could. He looked over to see how Destyn was faring with the boots.

"Well..."

Sivan hadn't thought of that. Sometimes it surprised him to remember that they were of a height; Destyn had the air about him of someone who needed care, so perhaps that was why he seemed smaller in Sivan's mind's eye. Perhaps he oughtn't to infantilize him, though, considering he had survived this long and - well - they had done rather adult things together. He coughed and nodded. Laurevere would be invited along, then.

"I never know how much time and effort it takes to change things," he offered, then wondered if that was why he sometimes thought of Destyn as shorter. In any event, he did look positively radiant smiling up from the grass, squinting in the sunlight, or hair slicked down like an otter's in the river.

"Bidh mil an-còmhnaidh a’ sruthadh," he promised in his limited Valasren.

After the impromptu lesson in the wearing of boots, he gave Destyn's leather-shod ankle a squeeze and deemed them a good enough fit.

"I will be right back." He stood up, and disappeared through the moon gate. A few minutes later, Laurevere's footsteps sounded in time with Sivan's against the flagstone steps.

"I suppose it will be a nice change from the everwinter of Kalzasi," he said with apparent boredom. "Destynrael. Twygg." He nodded to them. Then he stared at Sivan, whose smile eventually slipped away.

"Oh, of course...!" He ran inside and returned with his sheathed blade in hand, but he had forgotten any sort of shirt. "Are we ready then?"

Laurevere sighed. He was always ready; when one stayed ready, one didn't have to get ready, he always said.

"Rumor has it a green dragon stalks the wilds near Kalzasi," he offered, "though I have little information beyond that." He considered. "Pray if you wish. I will wait. Perhaps we ought to pack for an extended foray into the benighted continent... and perhaps it would behoove you to dress appropriately, my dear Sivan. I am certain the air will be sweltering, and yet you leave yourself open to dire-mosquitos."

There might have been the hint of a smirk upon his fine features. He picked an invisible speck of lint from his sleeve and flicked it away.

Sivan flushed, and went back into the tower for a shirt, though perhaps Laurevere was right and they would have to pack, or perhaps plan, for something more extensive. Here he was flying by the seat of his trousers - and forgetting his shirt.

With Sivan out of earshot, Laurevere looked Destyn up and down critically. A platinum brow rose archly.

"What fetching boots, Destynrael. Fear a 'bhaile."

How much Valasren he knew was anyone's guess, but his accent was impeccable.

When Sivan returned, he had a shirt and a pack with some foodstuffs and such, the same pack he had brought with him to Ecith the last time. Blue eyes darted between the men, hoping Laurevere was being kind to Destyn. It seemed that way, at least.

"So... reconnaissance via divinity?" Sivan didn't know what had been decided in his brief absence either. But Destyn wasn't crying, and everything seemed fine so he supposed that was good enough for now. But the elf was a terrible adventurer; he didn't need Laurevere to tell him that. But Laurevere did. Ah, well, he showed his kindness in other ways.

Twygg's wail changed the feel of the garden; it disrupted the placid patterns of aether, caused birds to chirp in agitation in the branches, the hive to drone in confusion. But Destyn knew how to soothe the little creature, and soon enough, all was well. Sivan couldn't catch all of the Fae speech, but he gathered enough that he wasn't completely surprised when Destyn told them of an even nearer draconic resident of their fair city.

Laurevere looked thoughtful, if perhaps a touch vexed he didn't have the best intelligence of the three of them. Then again, he wasn't sure he believed that Destyn was correct.

"Bi mothachail air na seilleanan, Twygg," Sivan said thoughtfully. He was distracted now, but as long as Twygg didn't molest the bees, they were likely to share with him. That is, if he finished the pot and wanted more. The industrious hive knew it would not go hungry in Sivan's care, nor would any damage to their home take long to be restored. "Well, then I suppose we ought to investigate the hospital before launching ourselves across the world, hey?"

Laurevere nodded. "It will certainly require less in the way of provisions."

While they were unlikely to need his protection in the Tranquil Gardens, he didn't seem keen to quit their presence. For whatever reason, he had taken a shine to his common neighbor and even tolerated Destyn with a touch less hauteur these days.

"Shall we?" Sivan asked, a smile on his face. On his way through the tower, he plucked his magical cloak off the peg and pulled it around his shoulders. It swirled perfectly—probably part of the magic rather than any showiness on his part. He was immediately comfortable, neither overheated from his work, nor chilled by the continued cold in the air. In any case, his home was a haven against the elements even when they were in good working order. For a moment, he felt a pang that Urs was unlikely to be at the Tranquil Gardens, but he didn't let that distract him as he held the door for his friend and his neighbor to pass without.