7th of Searing, Year 120, Sundered Rise.
It was another nice morning. He awoke in his bed within Melitene, light shining through the window. If he looked outside, he could see Grimholdt to the north, the ocean to the west, and the mountains to the east. South: his drawers. With their many pantaloons.
Taelian was largely undressed, his arms and upper chest exposed. Whatever else he had was veiled by the thin blanket, as he had often gotten quite warm throughout the night. Atinaw was clearly better in that regard than Sil-Elaine, with its muggy summer heat, though neither bothered him too profoundly. Lately, the progression of his Rune had largely kept him away from the concerns of heat and cold. Warmth radiated from his beacon in the frost, and that same internal warmth kept external heat relatively neutralized. Taelian was always very warm; people who made contact with him commented on it frequently. Just as many referred to it as a dull, comforting warmth. That same feeling had often been given to him by his Beacon, and it now expanded to coat his skin, his flesh, his bones.
It was undeniable that in the last few years he'd become a changed man. Even the last few months. From Rime until now, his mind and body had been subjected to constant evolution. He was stronger, deeply entrenched into a relationship that had changed his perspectives and even his emotions. He was politically involved, far more motivated . . . he was a powerful mage now. Last evening proved that. And he could just... feel it. It was like power was brimming out from him. He wasn't the same person he used to be.
Sometimes, that change scared him. He didn't feel quite the way he used to. He felt a leaning desire towards power; a progressive need to expand his capabilities beyond their current form and that desire did not abate. The more he gained, the more he wanted to gain. These desires tied into more than just arcane might, but wealth, political influence, even prestige. He wanted to influence the way other people saw him. In some ways, he wanted to influence the way he saw himself.
Eloise told him to be dressed by... around now, this morning. She had something important she wanted to tell him in Melitene's common hall, located by the vestibule. She told him that Iridith would be present as well, and so a part of him worried that the woman had complained of his compassion towards Destian, or some other matter. They hadn't gotten along particularly well during their hunt, though not particularly poorly either. Considering most people who he met tended to dislike him, Taelian considered it a victory enough.
He stood up and got dressed, putting on a simple puffed coat but with long sleeves and soft fabric. It was lined with silver buttons. His pants were essentially tights -- quintessential noble wear, following into simple suede shoes colored a tan brown. He looked something like an aristocrat, though at court in Loregard he dressed more fancifully than this, often wearing black silks and slimmer clothes that complimented his form. His goal was to be handsome, mysterious, and ultimately seen. And lately, he'd even been able to speak.
