Regnum Regis Regum, Ætherium
3rd of Frost, Year 123 of Steel
If it was strange to be wed outside time and space, it was stranger still to prepare for a wedding outside time and space. Finn had known Talon Novalys before he was Arcas reborn, Dæmon in Solunarium. He had known magic from a young age—the witchwork of his grandmother, the magic of Kalzasi, and even the omnipresent magic of the Jewel of Atraxia. He worked with the specific branch of the Vigilia that dealt with matters divine and beyond the ken of most mortals. Still and all, after politics and dragonfire, here he was in an opulent room with Vrædyn Princeps and Raithen Dux, the other favorites of his patron god, as well as servants that were decidedly neither human nor elven. He didn't even know if the room had existed before Deus Aværys thought it ought to exist or not.
Somewhere, perhaps in Varvara's own realm or another corner of her brother's, Arvælyn was similarly ensconced with—well, he presumed with Phocion and with his own spiritual slaves. He didn't know. He hadn't seen his amatus since the day before. Finn had fasted, bathed in medicinal waters, and been beaten by birch wood faggots to purify himself for what none could deny would be a holy sacrament. Food and rest had been sacrificed to Varvara, and he found himself surprisingly alert.
No doubt after the ceremony, the reception, and the consummation, he would fall into a bit of a restorative coma, but even if Solunarium was never truly cold, back home, this was the beginning of the season where animals hibernated, where things died in preparation of spring's rebirth.
Finn wasn't entirely sure what the ceremony would entail, what the hall would look like—he hadn't even seen himself in the mirror yet. He and Arvælyn were some of the Divine Twins' favorite pawns and it seemed they would have it their way. That was fine; once Aværys had offered the locale, any idea of planning had gone out of Finn's mortal mind. They had provided a guest list, though he wondered if their divine hosts wouldn't have made additions or deletions. It wasn't like the affianced couple could gainsay them.
Somewhere, he supposed, the guests were waiting. As far as he knew, he was the only mortal who could open a portal here—though Aværys could shut the door in his face—but he wasn't in charge of transportation. Family, friends, princes, and potentates—this was quite a bit more than the simple handfasting he had always imagined for himself.
"Well, so... how do I look?" he asked, turning for Vrædyn and Raithen. He half expected Aværys to demand the right of first night, but that would be something to worry about—or look forward to—after the festivities.
3rd of Frost, Year 123 of Steel
If it was strange to be wed outside time and space, it was stranger still to prepare for a wedding outside time and space. Finn had known Talon Novalys before he was Arcas reborn, Dæmon in Solunarium. He had known magic from a young age—the witchwork of his grandmother, the magic of Kalzasi, and even the omnipresent magic of the Jewel of Atraxia. He worked with the specific branch of the Vigilia that dealt with matters divine and beyond the ken of most mortals. Still and all, after politics and dragonfire, here he was in an opulent room with Vrædyn Princeps and Raithen Dux, the other favorites of his patron god, as well as servants that were decidedly neither human nor elven. He didn't even know if the room had existed before Deus Aværys thought it ought to exist or not.
Somewhere, perhaps in Varvara's own realm or another corner of her brother's, Arvælyn was similarly ensconced with—well, he presumed with Phocion and with his own spiritual slaves. He didn't know. He hadn't seen his amatus since the day before. Finn had fasted, bathed in medicinal waters, and been beaten by birch wood faggots to purify himself for what none could deny would be a holy sacrament. Food and rest had been sacrificed to Varvara, and he found himself surprisingly alert.
No doubt after the ceremony, the reception, and the consummation, he would fall into a bit of a restorative coma, but even if Solunarium was never truly cold, back home, this was the beginning of the season where animals hibernated, where things died in preparation of spring's rebirth.
Finn wasn't entirely sure what the ceremony would entail, what the hall would look like—he hadn't even seen himself in the mirror yet. He and Arvælyn were some of the Divine Twins' favorite pawns and it seemed they would have it their way. That was fine; once Aværys had offered the locale, any idea of planning had gone out of Finn's mortal mind. They had provided a guest list, though he wondered if their divine hosts wouldn't have made additions or deletions. It wasn't like the affianced couple could gainsay them.
Somewhere, he supposed, the guests were waiting. As far as he knew, he was the only mortal who could open a portal here—though Aværys could shut the door in his face—but he wasn't in charge of transportation. Family, friends, princes, and potentates—this was quite a bit more than the simple handfasting he had always imagined for himself.
"Well, so... how do I look?" he asked, turning for Vrædyn and Raithen. He half expected Aværys to demand the right of first night, but that would be something to worry about—or look forward to—after the festivities.
