Fitting In

[Hakon]

73rd Frost, 4622

It had been three days since his excursion to an inn had resulted in a Novus initiate for their Chapter. A Malformist, who was pregnant, and male. Guild Mages occasionally became pregnant, often from relations with other Guild Mages. They were not punished too severely -- in point of fact, they were barely punished at all, in Hakon's opinion, and could due to be punished more -- a slap on the wrist, really, unless it happened multiple times. Not that he really knew much about the gossip in the tower unless it was something everyone else already knew, or it was so obvious that it was hard not to spot, but pregnancy was one of those things. Pregnancy just proved that mages tended toward being intemperant, though, so in a way it provided further justification for their life under guard from the Scarlet Watch, and therefore the occasional lapse was to be expected. It was like being mad at a cat for scratching or a snake for biting. Mages made poor decision. It was their nature.

It was his nature, too, held in check only by the tower and his discipline.

Thoughts like these brought him to the training yard to spar. The Scarlet Watch was drilling, but he had not been invited to join this afternoon, so he had no intention of bugging them this time around. He unholstered his mace and began going through the basic movements: one handed swings, backhand swings, two-handed swings, overhead swings. Once he'd warmed up enough to work up a sweat, he began incorporating bends, lunges, jumpes, and side strafes to the basic move set. It was sweaty work, but it felt good to do it.

Once he was good and warmed up, he switched to his kite shield. He was less developed with the shield than with his mace, but he was excited to increase his facility with it. He wanted the kite shield to be incorporated into his Armory. A shield he could summon that could be used to deflect both physical and magical blows, that could also be used to bash someone's skull in sounded like a good addition to his repertoire. Before he did something so foolhardy as add the shield to the Armory, however, he had to improve on its movements.

He gripped the enarmes tighltly and began practicing with the shield, bringing it up to guard against imagined blows, side stepping imagined projectiles, or attempting to prevent an opponent from attacking his flank. It was a skill set quite different from working with his mace, but he found himself enjoying it. It lent itself to shoving attacks that he felt had potential against mages, in particular. Most raw magic practitioners were not known for their dexterity, and it was hard to maintain concentration after taking a ringing blow from a metal shield to the face.

He didn't stop until he was good and tired, sweat dripping down his forehead. His head felt clearer for it. He smiled and let out a great exhalation of breath. It was satisfying to drill, even when there was no one to drill against.

It was at that point that he noticed the Guild's newest Novus, Vivian. The man was cleaning the yard, or more precisely the man had been assigned to clean the yard and was doing his best to look as though he were cleaning it. In the spirit of being friendly and a good leader, something the First Warden urged him to be from time to time, Hakon went over.

"Ah, good afternoon, Mister Kreine. How does this day find you?"

[Vivian]

The three days had been kind to Vivian. His appetite has returned in full force and he was constantly either eating or attempting to filch things from the kitchen. He had washed, both his clothes and himself, and had taken every opportunity to bathe. He also took care of Bara, and the mule certainly seemed happier with the accommodations. Vivian was pleased to see that they hadn’t used the mule against him as far, and even went so far as to shift into an identical copy of Bara to go on a trot with his friend…albeit a more swollen version. It was his favorite form of exercise.

Of course, the Guild members wanted him to do chores. Cleaning the yard was something he couldn’t exactly shirk.

He certainly looked more put together even if his outfit wasn’t conducive to cleaning; he was wearing a simple coat with a ratty fur trim and no shirt. He had to let out his trousers as his body had swelled, and no shirt would fit him adequately. That said, he was clean, makeup done, and was settled on a bench in the yard.

He’d been assigned to help clean it but Vivian was less concerned about his chores and more about how he was going to hide the babe. He had taken stock of the insects in the Guild Tower, and aside from a few widows there wasn’t anything impressive. The place was kept painfully clean.

Vivian looked up as Hakon began practicing with mace and shield. What possessed a mage to hide himself away and betray his fellow mages? Maybe it was something like the Veirs; brainwashing. The Veirs kept their rule by fear and intimidation. The Guild seemed to practice the same. Vivian shook his head; at least he could work on other things.

He was working on a simple trap using a long string filched from the training yard and several arrowheads taken from other practitioners. It would be a simple tension trap that he could put near the door to his room.

Hakon had noticed him. The man greeted him warmly, and Vivian snorted. “Still a prisoner.” He replied.

[Hakon]

Hakon nodded at Vivian's rejoinder and adjusted his expectations for the conversation downward by several paces. He'd been heartened to see Vivian actually cleaning, albeit in the most half-assed manner imaginable, but the attitude was a slap in the face. Still, it was unrealistic to expect anyone to adjust to life within the Guild in seventy two hours.

"Ah, many feel that way, I think, when they join us here. I arrived quite young -- I was eight years old -- so perhaps that softened the blow a bit, for me. I mostly recall being happy that there was so much food and it was so warm in my bedroom. I'd also never had my own bed, before, so that was a nice surprise." He smiled at the memory.

Sure, it hadn't all been good. He'd had night terrors for years, off and on, and his coterie had not welcomed him with warmth. Or maybe they had tried, but he, so overwhelmed by being surrounded by the very mages he detested, had rejected them. There had been some good parts, too, though, and he tried to focus on those for the newcomer.

"My feeling is it might be easier if you are brought here younger. The older folks seem to have a longer adjustment period, at any rate. Hopefully, you are finding the accommodations for a Novus comfortable, and the others in your coterie are treating you well?"

So saying, he picked up a second broom leaning against the wall, sweeping the yard with Vivian. He could keep an eye on the shorter man and see that he did his work while also helping him, and it was not so far out of his way to do so. Sweeping the yard was second nature to him, anyhow. Hakon enjoyed keeping things tidy whenever possible.

[Vivian]

Vivian paused in his work, and looked up at Hakon. The man had been trapped here since he was eight? Gods, that meant he was initiated young. Perhaps even younger than Vivian himself. He couldn’t even imagine being told from such a young age that his magic was nothing more than blasphemy he needed to atone for; that sort of thing could shatter a young man. He laid the trap aside.

“You’ve been trapped here since you were a child…?” He asked, his voice gentling. Gods knew what monsters like this could have done to a young mage. Now wasn’t the time to press it, however. He watched Hakon sweep, glad to let the man take over his duties while he lounged. Let the beaten dog lick his masters’ fingers. Vivian wasn’t anyone’s maid.

“I grew up in a brothel, then on the streets in Daravin. I’m grateful for the bed and the food’s decent. Not as good as a Veir’s house but I think I’ve been a bit spoiled living there.” He smirked. “And I haven’t really gone out of my way to meet the others. They don’t understand. They don’t want to understand.”

Vivian tucked the trap in his pocket to work on later. He needed a few more things to make it viable anyway. He stood, slowly, wincing and putting his hand in the small of his back. “Kid’s been acting up.” He muttered. “Brat, like his father.” He missed Alistair dearly. He hoped the man was thinking of him, wherever he was. They had promised to wed before the child was born, but that was looking less and less likely. No matter. Vivian had been born a bastard and it didn’t make him any less of a man.

Vivian grabbed a broom and swept half-heartedly. “There aren’t many insects here. It’s too clean.” He said, sadly. “I used to go out into the yard of the Veir and sink my fingers into the soil. I’d pray to Azunath, God of the Malformists. I believe it’s him who granted me the blessings I have…and the ability to help create life.” He touched his belly briefly, and looked at Hakon. “Why do you hate my kind? I saw the disgust in your face, but that’s normal. People don’t understand Malformists when they choose pretty things like birds and big cats. Why should they accept someone who aligns with beetles and worms? But you. Yours was deeper.”

Vivian paused in his sweeping, waiting for Hakon to answer. People were disgusted by him and he knew it, but that had started at birth and wasn’t likely to change. People hated him for being a bastard, then being a prostitute, then a street hustler. Very little had changed when he’d begun listening to worms, fleas, and spiders. He hadn’t met a mage that hated magic.

He spotted a small spider on the ground. Just a garden spider, disturbed by their sweeping. Vivian thought to pick it up but the idea of squatting was…ill-advised. Instead, a little filament of flesh extended from the skin on his wrist and offered the spider a perch. He retracted it back to his hand, watching the little spider crawl around on his fingers. “Malformity is a magic of understanding. Everything in this world has a beating heart…has fears, and loves, and goals of its own. Even this little fellow.” Vivian said quietly.

[Hakon]

Was that...? It was. Pity. Vivian was pitying him? He met Vivian's statement about being "trapped" in the Guild with a confused look and no response. He wasn't trapped here, he lived here, for the protection of the Four Kingdoms lest he be tempted into wickedness. Was it, perhaps, unfair that he'd been involuntarily initiated and brought to a Guild? Sure, but Hakon did not suffer under the delusion that life was fair. It had not been fair to his mother when she had died giving birth to him, and it had not been fair to his father when he had died protecting him, and when Saryn's disinterested gaze had turned upon him, he had not been spared, either. In a way, the uncaring indifference of the God of Fate was the fairest thing that could be offered. No one was favored or unfavored. Some were merely fortunate.

"I am not a fan of Daravin," Hakon answered in fluent Gentavarese. When Vivian showed no sign of comprehension of the language, he switched back to Common, and repeated himself: "I am not a fan of Daravin. I have traveled there on several occasions, to track down iconoclasts-- that is, Guild Mages who break their vows and flee the Guild. I find the nation decadent, profligate. Everything we in the Four Kingdoms guard against, they celebrate. A confusing, miserable place."

Belatedly, he realized that he was badmouthing Vivian's homeland. While he did not regret any of his words, he did recognize that it was poor manners. "Um, my apologies, Mister Kreine. You did not ask for my opinion of your native country. I should have kept it to myself."

The pregnancy talk, Hakon worked through by doing his best to make sympathetic faces. He had no real frame of reference for pregnancy or children. He rarely interacted with anyone other than adults, and the only women he talked to with any regularity were Guilded Mages like him, and like most of his conversations with his Guildmates, the topics were usually factual, the speed expedient.

"It is not Malformity that disgusts me, Mister Kreine, nor the sort of creatures you have chosen to bond with. I recognize that all creatures, including spiders, worms, and the like, are noble and have their place in our grand world. The issue, Sir, is with magic. Malformity, like all magic, is an unnatural perversion that tempts us away from our place in the world, and encourages intemperate pride in defiance of the Path. And before you ask, yes, this includes my own facility with magic. I train out of necessity, and because it helps me further the objectives the Guild lays out for me in securing rogues and quelling iconoclasts. In a perfect world, neither of my marks would ever see any use."

"This does not make me popular among my peers here in the Guild, but that matters not. If they wish to believe themselves to be elevated or special, or to believe that magic is anything other than a curse, they may have the gift of their delusions and of one another's company. I am comforted by the truth."

The Scarlet Watch had left the yard. Hakon, noticing Vivian's difficulty with bending, surmised the other man may not wish to squat and retrieve a few errant training swords and boiled leather armor pieces that the men had left in their wake, and so broke from him, at a jog, retrieving all of the pieces of equipment and then securing them in their place before returning to resume assisting in sweeping.

"If my disgust seems personal or pointed, I apologize. I will admit I am disturbed by your current -- condition. It does not seem natural for a man to bear the load you are bearing, and to me is a visual demonstration of magic perverting the natural order intended by the Path. That being said, it is my hope that your child is healthy. They did not ask to be born, nor did they designate the circumstances of their birth. That is something all of us have in common, so to judge your child for its circumstances would be unfair."

[Vivian]

Vivian chuckled. “I hate Daravin too, at times.” He admitted. “The nobles there are cruel. They have no pity or remorse for the things that they do, but it isn’t Magic’s fault. They would be evil with or without their magic. It’s their fortunes that rot them from the inside out, and the pursuit of power and control. Control will make a man as feral as a starving animal.”

He turned his hand over and smiled at the spider. “Malformity just reminds me of my place in this world, Hakon. We’re all animals. We all eat, and shit, and fuck, and die. To think we’re above that just because we can outthink the occasional boar is asinine. After all, what makes what we’re doing different than ants dutifully cleaning their nests? Birds and beasts bathe as we do. Even insects farm, so carefully and beautifully and always with the impacts of the world in mind.” Vivian offered the spider a perch on the wall, and watched it scuttle up the stones. “My place is to defend and understand those people think incapable of understanding.”

Vivian watched Hakon run from him to pick up the armor and weapons. He found it rather sweet that the other man was sparing him the work of bending over. “Thank you.” He said with a nod.

The Malformist rested on his broom a moment, chuckling. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe this is my Path? I conceived in the natural way. Magic only afforded me the option. Azunath is a god of change, always shifting, never staying still. He’s like nature itself. One season a blizzard, the next a warm wind. Even some insects change their sexes without a mate around. This is the most natural thing in the world to me, Hakon. I can’t wait to meet him…to be the mother I didn’t have.”

[Hakon]

Hakon considered Vivian's words, but shook his head.

"If power corrupted, then the Nobles of Radenor would be little better than the Nobles of Daravin, but to me it is night and day. The Entente do nothing but scheme and indulge in their unnatural and depraved desires. This, in a roundabout way, brought me here, so I can speak to that personally. They are nothing like the nobles of Northradica or of Jorikford -- I have less familiarity with those in the other kingdoms, but I assume them to be similar. The nobles here do their duty for the good of their flock. They protect them, and aid them. The people of Daravin are largely either slaves, or slaves by a different name. While surely there are some here who fall prey to corrupt impulses, they seem far better than what transpires in our neighbor's borders."

"Our places are not so different, then, though mine is more circumscribed than you may be accustomed to. It is my duty to protect Jorikford from rogue mages and especially iconoclasts." Sworn to vows of secrecy, he did not mention his other duties within the Guild. Vivian was adjusting to life here, and burdening him with that knowledge may be more than the Malformist could bear.

He regarded Vivian carefully, before shaking his head again. "While I can see how you might reason yourself into that conclusion, no, I do not think I can agree to this. Your current condition is an outgrowth of your Mark. It is a mutation that provides you with the facility to bear the child of another man, and to do so without undue internal injury. I am thankful that you have not been harmed by this, but this is your magic corrupting you, nothing more. As an expert Malformist, you must be more on guard than most due to the shifting, pervasive nature of Malformity. It is a subtler kind than many, and subtlety can be persuasive. It seems it may have persuaded you of many things already."

[Vivian]

Vivian shook his head. “All my life I’ve been called perverted. Unwanted. Thrown out. I wasn’t even given the grace of an orphanage to call home.” He leaned his broom against the stone wall and walked up to Hakon. He calmly put his hands over the other man’s to stop him sweeping and cleaning. His touch was gentle. He pulled Hakon’s hand into his own, resting his fingers over Hakon’s wrist.

“Just…stop a moment.” Vivian said quietly. “Feel my hands. The warmth. The sound of my voice. My breathing. The wind in your own lungs. Reach down, through your feet into everything that is.” He stroked his thumb over the soft skin of Hakon’s wrist, if the man would permit him. There was nothing sexual about the touch. It was intimate, and warm, but unlike before Vivian wasn’t being aggressive or aiming to shock him.

“Even your own body changes, moment by moment, as tiny pieces of you die and are reborn.” Vivian said quietly. He ran his fingers up and down Hakon’s arm. He stood in silence for a moment, just providing touch. He sensed lingering too long would foul it, and pulled away after a few minutes. Just long enough for him to sink into the sensation.

“Next chore?” He asked, looking up at Hakon with bright blue eyes. The kohl he used around his eyes was dark, and made his natural color look lighter.

[Hakon]

Hakon registered Vivian's hand reaching toward him and instinctively checked with his Ethersight to see if this was some sort of Malformist trick, but no unusual ether pattern was detected, so he did not shrink back or refuse the touch. Instead, he watched Vivian's hand as it approached, ready for any trickery. Then, the other man's hand was in his and it was. It was.

He wasn't sure how to describe it, quite. He did as he was bade and listened to Vivian's voice, then to his own breath. This reminded him of praying. It felt peaceful, and right. He felt muscles in his back unclench.

He was also acutely aware of the stale sweat on him that had accumulated from training and assisting Vivian in the yard, which ultimately is what brought him back to himself after what felt like a pleasant eternity but in reality could not have been the span of more than forty breaths.

"Ah, forgive me. I should clean myself up and not subject you to my post-training stench, Mister Kreine," he said, breaking their touch. "This was, well, actually rather nice, though." He said, thinking about the experience. His chest felt oddly warm, like a fire had been lit in some small part of it that normally lay barren. "As for your next assignment, I believe you should check in with your Warden for that. I believe you have been placed on modified duty, yes, in deference to your current condition? If you haven't, or they have assigned you anything that is too hard for you to do, come find me, and I will help you. Many hands make for lighter work, and I am well accustomed to doing just about everything in the Guild from my time here. I am happy to assist as I am able."

[Vivian]

Vivian felt the other man relax. He was listening now. Vivian smiled at him. This was the way he would win Hakon over. He needed an ally here if he wanted to escape, and the tiny flustered way Hakon apologized for his smell was enough for Vivian to know he’d hooked a claw in. He would have felt bad for manipulating the poor thing if the life of his babe wasn’t at stake.

That, and as a prostitute he could spot a touch starved man from a mile away. Perhaps his motivations weren’t entirely selfish. He hated to see a mage languish in self hatred. The good thing was, Hakon had no idea he was a Master. He was about to ascend, as well, if all went well after he had the babe. Then he could truly disappear into any environment. He would become a Doppelgänger, a master of face changing.

“Of course. Where might I find the man?” He asked. “And please, call me Vivian. Mister Kreine sounds so formal.” Vivian chuckled and patted Hakon’s arm, “And that smell never bothered me. I actually prefer it. It means you’ve worked hard. There is no more natural scent in the world.”

Vivian winked at him, and strolled out of the exercise yard. He supposed someone would come grab him for chores. At the moment he was more than happy to try and find the library to continue his studies on biology and necromancy. He needed to find some way to make a functional cocoon.