The Crawl

[Taelian Edevane]

45th of Searing, Year 120 of the Sixth Age

In the night, he remembered overcoming terrible dreams. He was by a riverbed... no, by an ocean. A trail of pale, light beige-colored sand that went on endlessly stood before him, with the darkly colored sea wide and sprawling, filled with rage. He felt the wind passing him by with such furor, it whipped at him as he walked. What short hair he had flowed violently with it, and he had to stagger each step to ensure he kept his feet steadily upon the sand.

He finally stopped himself and stood against the wind. Taelian rooted his feet into the sand and gripped the grains within his clutched palms, holding tight as he began to crawl and squirm towards the sea. Compared to the wind it almost felt safer, more... hopeful, as the trail was never going to end. He could tell from how long he'd walked.

The ocean had dangers, but he could survive them. He was cold, but not cold enough to be afraid. The Beacon kept him from freezing.

He still shivered. His cheeks felt numb; all he felt was a cold, alien material as he touched his face, freeing one of his clutched hands.

Taelian crawled quicker towards the water. He dug his feet into the wet sand, then let them be overcome by the slow, meager waves.

He laid back, staring towards the sky. A cool grey was all above him; like clouds that had never gone, imbued into the reflected blues. The world... it felt so barren, so cold, and the ocean was coming closer and closer to consuming him an inch -- a limb -- at a time.

A tear fell across his cheek from his eye, slowly darting out from its corner. He heard a voice whisper to him from within the sands, straight beneath his ears.

I love you. More than anything in this world.

. . .

I think I'm going to die.

. . .

Before he awoke, he dreamt that he fell onto the balcony overlooking the valleys around Ard Sgiath. Only, the mountains, the rivers, the trees - they had become overcome by waves. Water crashed hard against the fortress, battering it, and with each wave more flooded in. It began to be consumed.

He realized he couldn't breathe. Water was filling his lungs -- he'd been taken here by the sea, but it had followed him. It was still inside of him. He was filled with it, choking him, drenched and in pain. Sometimes he forgot what terror magic truly wrought.

- - -

Taelian woke up late. By the time he had risen, he somehow felt as if it was already the early afternoon. The bed had been neatly re-made around him, though, with as many blankets as he might need. He'd felt so... cold after the initiation, and since then. A prevailing theme from all of those nightmares was that bitter cold, and it followed him into his waking hours. It was like he'd been drained of his blood, even of the Beacon's flame. Even in Searing beneath a cascade of blankets he felt frigid.

Luckily this morning he already began to feel warm, though the terrors of the night before stuck with him. The mage rose from the bed, first clutching the frame before rising steadily onto his feet, with significantly less strain than the day before. He stretched his form slightly, staring somewhat coldly at his complexion in the mirror. He looked better, but not entirely the same. The coloration in his face looked... drained.

He stepped away, running his hands through his hair to lessen the mess left through his sleeping. Already adorning a warm woolen outfit, the man stepped out towards the balcony once more, one that overlooked the valley below. He took his seat at its center and stared out, relieved to see the calm of the wind and the river sitting gentle and still. He wasn't dreaming, and what he had seen was no parallel to reality. The constant dreams had made him delirious, and he'd begun to question so many things. All throughout the endeavor Riven surely wondered why his recovery had been so stark -- Taelian nearly lost his life, and half-lost his mind. The Siltori knew why: it was all of the magic he'd been using in the prior days. Initiating Riven, portaling all across Atinaw, taking the Gelerian agent from Alfsos' square -- everything he'd done before the initiation. The strain had already compounded and the aether of the Rune's awakening set it all into motion.

If Taelian's aethereal ill wasn't 'heavy' by standard classification, it was at least grievous. It was... almost enough to take his life.

This was a moment for him, in his mind, to acknowledge his limits and to slow his progression. The rate at which he'd been acquiring new Runes and trying to master them had been unparalleled. But to that ambition he nearly lost it all. For a while, Elementalism was to be the last Rune he would gain, and he decided he would learn of it in a measured way.

The Knight's eyes scanned across the valley with quiet precision. He still looked like a hollow of his former self -- but there was a lot in there. Mostly thoughts. He remembered, then: today was Riven's birthday.

"Shit," he cursed beneath his breath. Taelian stood slowly from the chair, gripping its edges as he stood. He didn't really need that extra help anymore, but it didn't hurt him to be safe.

"Arlaed?" he called to his beloved. "Arlaed. I'm sorry," he apologized, frowning. "I woke so late."

[Riven]

Riven yawned; he was rather tired. He had barely slept, and he was terribly emotionally and mentally drained after taking care of Taelian during the initiation. The first moments had been, undoubtedly, the worst among them. Watching Taelian momentarily drown in front of him, too paralyzed to do anything about it; trying to calm him down as he clutched his chest in helplessness and told Riven he was going to die. He had only seen eyes like that, of certain death, twice in his life. And he would never forget them, but for very different reasons. He was still trying to shake the fear off; it was something that wouldn't hear that soon. Taelian's face had been added to his repertoire of horrors, the cycle of endless nightmares that attacked him every other night.

After that, he had spent the whole day and night awake, taking care of Taelian, making sure he drank enough water and periodically pulling out unnatural amounts of mucus that blocked his breathing. He was usually stable; he just had a high fever and mumbled in his asleep, but the peaks... at times, the fever turned into stone cold and Taelian's body started to shake uncontrollably; Riven made the mistake of ignoring it once, and he started to convulse. He was forced to create an improvised stone table in the middle of the room, which was complicated enough, place Taelian on it, and make currents of fire flow around him to heat up the air around him to the point of stabilizing his temperature. He left the table there and he didn't wait the following times; he just carried Taelian and engulfed him in flames again every time the shaking happened again. Whenever Taelian's pain expressions became harsher, he just grabbed a bucket of water from the well and refreshed him by making it flow around his head.

His boyfriend had lost his breath two times more; first, the night after the initiation, and the second the following morning. And Riven feared for his death again, and after getting him to breathe again, he just slammed his back on the wall and slowly slid until his rear end hit the floor, almost hyperventilating himself. Seeing Taelian in that state was extremely painful; he wondered about how the Tribune might had felt when dealing with him. He cried after each episode, alone against the wall, dreading the possibility of Taelian just not waking up at some point. He had spent the whole day awake, and he had only allowed himself to sleep in a bed next to his lover the morning of his birthday, the day he turned 23 years old. Taelian seemed to be relaxed and healthy; his fever was gone and he didn't show any other kind of symptoms at that point. He just slept for a few hours, before the noon in what was probably the hottest day in Searing ended waking him up; he was also horribly hungry. Taelian moving in his sleep, under the blankets; when Riven approached him, he realized the elf was crying. Heartbroken, he knelt next to him and kissed his cheek, whispering behind his ears "I love you. More than anything in this world."

He then walked out of the room and headed to the river. He had eaten their supplies of food already, since they were meant for a day trip, and he was still starving. He figured he would fetch any food he could find, and fishing was the easiest way. He managed to pull out three fish that looked similar to carps from the stream, by pulling them out of the water in a floating water bubble; he electrocuted them to grant them a quick death. He ended up picking up three pointy sticks and roasting them on his own fire in the courtyard, eating two of them and saving one for Taelian, if he woke up. The fish wasn't amazing, but it was edible and it didn't taste bad, which was more than he could ask for.

He was done by the time he heard noises coming from the room he had left Taelian in, and then his voice calling him. His head pounded fast; their Bond was as alive as ever, and he rushed upstairs, entering the room and running towards the balcony where Taelian stood, engulfing him in a really careless bearhug. "I'm here", he said, his voice cracking, as he held him closer; he had run out of tears already though. He didn't want to cry again. "You've really scared me, Tae. You almost..." He didn't finish the sentence, and just pulled him closer. At least it was over.

[Taelian Edevane]

I'm here, the man voiced, though he already knew -- he could feel him whenever he was coming closer, and always his approach came with an undeniable feeling of warmth.

"I'm so glad," he replied, smiling softly. The Elf still seemed... tired. There were bags under his eyes and his face still felt somewhat numb. In response his expressions were all muted, but they didn't need to be very animated. Riven would feel that warmth reflecting back -- it was all he needed in order to know, Taelian was happy. He felt safe again. Riven's embrace was really what he needed to feel okay, after the fear had so overwhelmed him. Things felt more normal.

The man pulled him closer, though after reminding Taelian of his almost-death. The mage's eyes narrowed.

"I know," he said, quietly. Taelian pulled away, then, and leaned back against the balcony. He flashed a smug grin at the other man, and pulled up his sleeve to trace his fingers along the fledgling Rune.

"But I didn't," he first said. A chill came from the wind, howling behind him for a moment as the silent breeze picked up. Taelian faced away from the current, and in a few seconds the sudden breeze subsided. The wind was particularly strong, almost like in his dream -- he wondered if the sound of its howling and whistling had been the source of that imagery in his sleep. Taelian breathed in through his nostrils, before breathing out. As always, his breath was still very warm.

"I woke up right on time, it looks like. Happy birthday, Riven. Maybe it sounds arrogant when I say it like this -- but I think my life can serve as something like a gift. I've really learned to excel in my timing; almost-dying right before your birthday was unintentional genius." He was teasing, of course. Taelian didn't intend for things to go badly as they did -- he was just glad that he was okay. That Riven stayed there with him and helped him hold out. He wouldn't have survived without him.

"I have another gift for you, too -- this place. I want you to know that everything I own, everything I have, is yours. Like our Runes show..." he gestured towards their symmetrical Runes of Elementalism, "...we're two halves of a whole. I don't think I'm going to take on another magic for a while, Riv. I've been... reckless. Each magic I take, I feel more compelled by their power. Intoxicated by what could be; the potential of becoming something like Aldrin. So... able to influence the world around me. But Aldrin lost himself in his power, and in his ideology. He's a shell of a man. I don't want that to be me."

Taelian approached his Arlaed, and caressed his waist. He kissed the other man's chest, before sinking his face into it. He let the other man hold him as he often did; it always brought him comfort and ease.

"Anyway, enough about... all that. Congratulations on another year in this world," he grinned. "Can you believe how much has changed since this time last year? You went from royal gardener to living in another castle, but -- one that's yours. In a different country. Though that's not the important bit. You're stronger, braver and -- and, even more handsome than the day I met you. And... the man that you've grown into since we met is one that I am so proud of. Not to mention your increasingly sexy beard," he teased.

"Do you want to do anything today? I'd like to. You deserve to have a good time after all that." It was obvious from the way he was staring at Riven -- almost pleading -- that he wouldn't accept any reluctance. He had rested enough; now he wanted to ensure that his Arlaed had a reprieve.

[Riven]

"No, you didn't. I had to do some really unorthodox stuff to keep you alive, though. I wish I had been better prepared; I hated feeling so lost and having to improvise all the time. But you're still here with me, and that's all that matters to me." He said, staring at Taelian's profile outlined by the stunning mountain landscape, the golden colors of Searing vegetation complimenting his skin and hair. Still, he looked exhausted and pale, and Riven could see the effects of the initiation in his body; he wasn't still fully recovered, but nobody would be after such an ordeal. Riven himself wasn't; he had rested as much as he could and yet he knew he would sleep soundly that night. If his nightmares left him alone, that was. His magic had ended up being at its limit, and he feared that had Taelian not improved when he did, he would have badly overstepped trying to save him. Sleeping the few hours he had allowed himself to had been very helpful, at least.

He smiled back when Taelian wished him a happy birthday, though. He had almost forgotten it himself; he turned 23 that day, but it didn't seem like the most relevant thing to mention. He was glad his lover did, though. He had always loved his birthdays, even if they could be a little lackluster; he took the chance to self-indulge, and he had always received some small tokens of affection from the people closest to him. He laughed when Taelian boasted to be a gift himself. Of course, he was right, but Riven wouldn't be the one to admit it. Even if his Arlaed already knew.

"Well, until I moved here I was receiving gifts from one of the richest families in all of Karnor each birthday. You might want to do a bit better than that." He said with a crooked smirk, before laughing and pulling Taelian closer for a kiss. He was his precious gift, and he didn't know which gods he had to thank for that, if any. Maybe the Eldhan Weald. He really didn't care as long as he stayed there, though. He admired the rune peeking under Taelian's clothes, glowing a slight red color; otherwise, it was identical to Riven's. It was a good job. Riven taught himself how to use his magic in very basic ways, but maybe Taelian didn't have to; he could teach him.

The next gift was breathtaking, though. He knew Taelian meant that; he didn't need a castle... but he did need his beloved. And that implied sharing as much as he could with him. He listened as the Knight talked about himself, and his lord, Aldrin. He had mentioned him a few times, with very mixed feelings apparently. He embraced Taelian tenderly when he came closer, letting his boyfriend seek shelter in his own heat. "You won't be that man. You already aren't, Taelian. Any mirror could tell you that, if you stared long enough.

And as they melded in a loving hug, Riven realized Taelian was right. Things had changed so much in a few months, but for some reason, he felt more at home than ever. "I'm still a rather decent gardener, though. I could help you turn the castle you have into the castle you deserve, love." He said, leaning in to put another kiss on Taelian's hair, as he had grown to love. He laughed at his compliments; he wasn't used to them still. "Shut up, you gorgeous man! I forgot my razor in Kalzasi and I make do with a knife. Not all of us can have those babyface Siltori ancestors." He joked, cupping Taelian's face with one hand.

Taelian's puppy face was about to kill him though. He was still weakened by the initiation, but he wouldn't take a no for an answer. Riven knew him well enough to know how stubborn he could get to be in that aspect. "Uh. I guess I could take us to Loregard from here, profiting the currents the sun creates; it'd be slower than usual. I don't think I can use the Jetstream continously for too long; I used quite a bit of magic while taking care of you." He said, biting his lower lip as he stared at the horizon. "But we could maybe get some food and a nice place to eat, next to the lake. If you want to." He said, kissing his Arlaed deeply, as he had wanted to for quite a bit of time already. He deepened the kiss, running a hand down his ribcage, his other hand holding his rear end as gallantly as he was capable of. "I do take suggestions, though. And I roasted a fish for you; it's in the courtyard. I guess you're hungry."

[Taelian Edevane]

The Siltori rolled his eyes: better than the richest families in Karnor, he couldn't do. Though he liked to think his existence was worth a fair bit more than a ruby encrusted chamberpot. "Ah, sorry," he began, his lip curving into a silly smirk. "I'll try to do better next time. Maybe instead of mucus I'll hack up a Skyship for you. Think I could fit that through my mouth?"

Riven laughed and the two kissed. Taelian was smiling like a dopey kid -- just happy the two of them were bantering like usual again. He knew it was a gift to Riven, but it was also one to him. He supposed, like everything else, they would share Riven's birthday present.

The conversation took a more serious turn then, and Taelian spoke of how he wouldn't ravenously seek after new magics as he had done in the last half-year. Riven seemed pleased by this, happy to know that Taelian would prioritize his life for once. The Siltori had to admit, he had often chosen the revolution over himself. Ideals given to him by others... they had become his purpose. Though he knew they had reason, shaped by his own experiences. He did want the Lord Elves to rule themselves again, and to be free, and to live in a prosperous realm. But he was one man... and if he died, he couldn't accomplish any of that.

He had begun to learn and mature, he felt. He thought he didn't have to do any more of that -- but such was the process of life. Of course, Riven's introduction to his life and the value that brought introduced new complications and... raised new questions. And that was a good thing.

Rather than responding audibly to Riven's rebuke of his Aldrin comparison, the Siltori replied with a soft smile and a nod. He was right, and that was that. No need to say anything else.

And then the conversation shifted to Riven -- how his life had changed, and even the state of his beard. He began to laugh as the other man spoke of the state of his beard, cupping the Siltori's face as he seemed to feign being flustered. "Hey, I said increasingly sexy, didn't I?" he replied, chuckling. "Seems I've struck a nerve. Is the handsome birdman perhaps insecure about the state of his beard? Would he like feathers to be growing from his mug instead?" The Elf turned up his nose at the other man as his face was cupped, and playfully licked the side of his palm. He was just being ridiculous. "I dunno -- I'm starting to see your point. If you can't trim your beard properly, how are you going to trim my garden? It might be better if I hire a cabal of local orphans or something. As a former orphan myself, I can tell you -- we're diligent for quality scraps," he teased. Of course he wanted Riven to spruce up his garden -- he was excited for it in fact. If it wasn't conveyed by his jokes, it was certainly conveyed by the Bond.

The subject of Riven's birthday was raised more distinctly, and Taelian grew slightly more serious as it did, suggesting they do something for the day. He always saw these days as the celebration of one's life, and Taelian himself had never really had one celebrated before, but... he wanted to. It would be fun, too. He swore most of their conversations recently were centered around magic of all things. That wouldn't do.

Riven proposed an idea and began to kiss the Knight -- deeply. Taelian happily responded in turn. Seconds into the kiss he teased the lips of the other man open, and the two began to make out for a time. He felt warmer again, and filled with energy. He gripped at Riven's collar tightly as they made out, feeling impassioned. He had to get a hold of himself to let that go -- it wasn't easy with Riven holding his body the way he was.

"Let's not do Loregard, love," Taelian asked of him, murmuring softly after their impassioned series of kisses. "I'm still not feeling well enough for a long trip through cold winds like that. And I don't want to have to open another portal to come back; I could get really ill again. Why don't we walk along the stream by the castle? It'll be just the two of us for miles. Remember the days we first met? How we laid nude in that hot spring together in the mountain? Well -- there's a spring around here in a sort of grove, off from the riverbed. I thought maybe we could recreate that first experience a bit, but... differently. Better, even. Back then I wished I could touch you, lay against your chest, kiss you like we just did -- now I can. And you can do the same."

Taelian's mind was so set on their spring journey -- the proposed one at least -- that his mind blanked at the mention of the fish. He just kept staring into Riven's azure eyes.

"I can't believe you're to be my husband before long." He gleamed. "Don't mess with your beard too much, alright? I think it's handsome. I'll be the babyface of our marriage."

[Riven]

Riven grunted at Taelian's mocking about his beard, but a treacherous half smile was crawling onto his lips. Staring aside, or rather upwards, he heavily snorted, using a finger to poke Taelian's chest repeatedly.

"The handsome birdman has his feathers where they have to be, unless you'd like one shoved up... And until now, I've taken care of your garden wonderfully. Either that or I've misinterpreted some screams." He retorted with a smirk. "And you're not the only orphan here, smartass. I'm doing fine with my beard and my own--" He paused, tapping Taelian's face with a condescending, cheeky grin "--quality scrap, right here." He hadn't noticed, but he just disclosed something he had never really talked about. The fact that he had and never had any parents, and one of the things from his past that Taelian didn't have image about.

He heard Taelian's reasoning about not heading to Loregard. Riven himself wasn't completely sure about making it to the city, so maybe it was a good decision. And the spring... well. It was a tempting idea. He wasn't sure if Taelian's body would appreciate the cold waters of a natural spring, but worst case scenario, he could heat it up. "I remember, yeah. I would have jumped on you if I wasn't too afraid to do so at the time, Tae. I'm sure I was shaking at some point." He said, picturing the moment in his mind. Looking back, it was fun; he had been terrified on the inside. Touching Taelian still scared him a little though, but for completely different reasons. Mainly related to self-control and being the owner of his own thoughts, among others. "Maybe I can. Maybe I don't wanna. Maybe I want to be spoiled for the anniversary of my birth, who knows. We might find out if we go there" he said, grinning widely.

He didn't respond to Taelian's comment, really. A part of himself wholeheartedly agreed. The other part was still wary of marriage as a whole; he was young and had seen his fair share of unhappy marriages, trapped by the pact. To Riven, love was one thing; marriage was different. He did want to marry Taelian at some point... but he didn't need to rush it. He wanted to become a man worth marrying first, probably. The idea was still confusing in so many ways; he knew he wanted it, but he didn't know how. Or why, exactly. The beard comment though... it did made him smile, even if he tried to keep a straight face. "Hm. I'll buy a razor in Alfsos as soon as I can."

"Well, let's go then. You have some food downstairs, in the courtyard." He said, grabbing his twin blades just in case, fastening them to his belt and walking out of the room with Taelian. On their way out, he grabbed the remaining fish and gave it to the Sil, with a shrug that clearly implied he made his best. He considered just flying both of them to the spring, but it couldn't be too far, and they wanted to enjoy the walk as well anyway. They just exited the front gate, the drawbridge being still down, and walked upstream along the riverbank, admiring the beauty of Atinorin nature.

"Hey, I love you. Immensely. Just wanted to say that." Riven said, smiling as he hugged Taelian from behind, leaning in to kiss his cheek. They had stopped in the middle of the way, on a soft grass patch, with no other reason than that. Riven didn't need any other. He eventually pulled back, allowing them to keep going, the Avialae having a permanent grin stamped on his face. "Wish I could make a boat using magic. But I can fetch us more food, if you're still hungry. And it's berry season, too." He said with an apologetic smile, as both kept walking. He grabbed Taelian's hand. He usually didn't like doing it, as it made walking harder for him, but this time he wanted to feel his boyfriend's warmth.

[Taelian Edevane]

Taelian's brow quirked as Riven mentioned taking care of his 'garden'. Considering what he'd just said about his feathers, he -- not an expert on colloquial ways of speech -- had good reason to assume that Riven meant something indecent. The Siltori began to stupidly laugh, far too flagrantly considering the joke wasn't... that good. He had just never heard of 'it' referred to that way, and as a man who had spent the last seventeen years of his life as a socially awkward recluse, he still had a soft spot for immature humor. There was something of a kid still in his heart.

"No no," he replied, giggling in-between his words. "You were interpreting those screams correctly. Don't do anything too wild with the feathers though -- we can stick them on arrows or something. Well, er... combat-useful arrows. Not cheek-splitting ones." He nearly did a double-take as he realized 'arrows' could add fuel to Riven's fire. Whatever fire he was cooking up. The Siltori still wasn't too sure, which only made him more embarrassed. He remained in good spirits though, and so did the other man. Though a particular comment made by him -- after Taelian's own remark that reminded the other of his life as an orphan -- immediately shifted the tone of the conversation. Taelian's brows rose again, though this time they remained there for a moment before his gaze settled almost... suspiciously. He couldn't believe what he had just heard, though he supposed he wasn't too surprised either. Why else would he go on such a harrowing journey from Lorien to Kalzasi? Why did Talon's family take him in? Why had he never discussed his family with Taelian, at all...

Suddenly, questions that had never been asked before began to brew in his thoughts and encircle his mind. His chest grew heavier and he began to worry -- was it wrong of him to not ask so much about Riven's past before? Taelian had always thought he would let the man bring these things forward himself. But now he wondered if he'd waited too long to ask things that were clearly important, and dire. It felt wrong as his fiance not to have even known that he was an orphan. And he realized that he really didn't know much about Riven at all; at least not the man he was before Taelian met him. The Riven of the past... he was so blanketed by fog, so obscure. Maybe the man had wanted him to ask -- maybe he should've regardless. It was Taelian's first relationship, so he didn't know... what to do. He realized, also: he did not even know if this was Riven's first as well. He knew he was his first lover, and the first he made love with, but -- not much besides that. Perhaps Riven had boyfriends in the past, or girlfriends, or something else. He was curious, and as if a doorway had opened before him and revealed its contents within, he wanted to investigate all of those plentiful things and truly understand.

He waited, though. Taelian decided he would keep those thoughts to himself until they were on their walk. So, he lightly if not falsely smiled at Riven's comment around being an orphan, after a pause that surely invoked its own suspicion.

Taelian let the conversation move on -- in fact he led it, and it didn't take long for it to move back into its flow. He was always enthusiastic when he spoke to Riven; some curiosity and subtle worry wouldn't change that. The two spoke of their experience in the springs -- Taelian only responded to Riven by stating how well he could relate.

"I found you so tantalizing," he said. The Siltori was already blushing -- a different sort of embarrassment was sprung forth. "I still do, obviously. But I was paralyzed by it back then; I'd never met anyone I found so handsome. And to be honest, Riv... some part of me knew you felt something similar. But I was afraid that whatever part that was, was wrong."

It obviously wasn't wrong. He emphasized that point with a grin, and a kiss upon the man's cheek. Riven teased him about the whole 'touching' thing -- Taelian just rolled his eyes. "Guess we'll see, then," he said.

The two began to leave. Riven informed him that food was ready for him, which... he should've suspected earlier. The Siltori nodded and kept that in mind, and once they descended to the courtyard, Riven handed him the item he'd prepared: a fish. Taelian almost reeled back. He ate seafood somewhat often living in Melitene, and with it being good for his diet and physique, but . . . rarely was it ever freshly murdered from a river and then cooked like that. The Elf began to poke at it curiously to examine its texture.

He didn't take a bite immediately. Instead, Taelian began to follow behind Riven initially as they left Ard Sgiath, taking off his first chunk shortly before exiting through the bridge. The fish was kept suspended by a lengthy skewer of sorts, allowing him to lean his face forward and bite it as they walked. Immediately, his expression contorted somewhat. It tasted... sort of odd. Not bad, but different. He felt he could get used to it, though it wasn't quite as procured as the salted royal Atinorin Hack-squat-nasal-footfish-whatever they served at the Covenant dinnertable. Again, though, it wasn't bad. He took a few more bites as they walked.

I love you. Immensely. Just wanted to say that.

Taelian smiled faintly, feeling a warming in his chest. He pulled the fish away from his mouth for a moment, awkwardly blinking his eyes as he attempted to hastily swallow the last chunk so that he could reply. Riven kissed his cheek right as he finished swallowing, Taelian softly grinning in reply. The two of them stopped.

"I love you too," he said. "Immensely, My Arlaed. Immensely."

The two of them just paused there for a while, and relaxed. They kissed some, kept close. When they kept going, Riven made a comment that Taelian found funny -- he wanted to make a... boat using magic. It was a unique ask. He proceeded to kindly offer Taelian more food, including berries. The mage squinted. "Don't they teach you in the nest not to eat random wildland berries? Though... I am sort of hungry. I haven't eaten much in the last few days," he admitted, frowning. Riven already knew that; he'd been the only one feeding him. Taelian supposed that was why he kept offering him food.

To be truthful, though, Taelian's mind was elsewhere. When Riven took his hand, the Ebon Knight stopped for a moment and took Riven's other, free hand in his own. He pressed into his chest once more and stood on his toes to kiss him, Riven leaning forward a bit to ensure their lips met.

"Hey, Riv..." Taelian started. It was perhaps obvious that he wanted to say something... important. "Were you really an orphan like me?" he finally asked. "You... never told me. To be honest, Riv... growing up as an orphan was difficult for me. The loneliness and pain that I felt was so incredibly deep, and... confusing, even after I became Famished. It's really lived with me for all my life, even now. So to know that you were, too? It... makes me feel sorrow. I wish I'd known before. I feel as if your story hasn't been shared. But if there's anyone in this world that should listen, and know -- it's me. And I want to know."

He paused, looking down for a moment. The Knight sighed.

"Riven, I want to ask: what happened to them? And... why did you go to Kalzasi?"

[Riven]

Riven grimaced as he saw Taelian poke the fish he had cooked from the corner of his eye. Okay, no, it wasn't excellent. And he had no seasoning whatsoever, but once one got past that, it was still decent... was it? Taelian reeling back had been the first hint he wasn't really convinced of eating that. And when he took a bite... Gods and spirits. Riven couldn't help but visibly wince, his pride suffering a small blow. But Taelian kept eating, and he guessed that was good enough for him. He half smiled; he should have gotten better at cooking, but survival food wasn't meant to be tasty. And that was what he was decent at.

He had stopped midway to hug Taelian and tell him how he loved him, surprising the Siltori. He smelled a bit like fish. Well, it was Riven's fish anyway; he was happy to see him actually keep eating after that initial reaction. He knew it wasn't enough food though; they needed something else. "They're not random! Just so you know, I've spent long times in forests, and if any berries are any like the ones in the Forge, I'll most likely recognize an edible one or two. Blackberries practically grow everywhere, you smug half-noble" He said, shoving his lover's chest softly with an elbow, playfully responding to his teasing.

However, as Taelian grabbed his hand he stopped to pull Riven in front of him, grabbing his other hand all of a sudden. He seemed absent-minded... no. Concerned. Taelian kissed him with concern, and Riven reciprocated it, starting to grow wary of the stop and the kiss. Maybe it was something he had said that had upset Taelian, or...

It was very different though. As Taelian kept talking, Riven's facial expression kept hardening, the light in his naturally vivid eyes dimming. He was hard to read, but the Bond gave Taelian all the information he needed, which wasn't much. Riven didn't like the question, at all. Part of the anger and resentment he kept harboring, like a heavy burden, floated to his mind's surface, but Riven realized he couldn't be a complete stranger to Taelian either. He had never asked though, and he thought it was fine; that he didn't need or want to know. Taelian clearly wanted to, though. Riven reeled back, abruptly pulling his hands to both sides of his body without thinking. He knew Taelian's story; how he lost his parents at a young age, and how the Remedy took him in. And probably he missed them; Riven didn't have anyone to miss. And still, it was a deeply ingrained issue, a sense of abandonment that was primary to him. The helplessness he had felt during his childhood years, being a tool. He felt forced to give some answers, but they felt like bile to him. Words he had to vomit instead of pronouncing.

"Nothing. I never had parents like you did; I was raised by a religious man in a church." He said, shooting a look at Taelian that felt more like a tired glare. He then just looked forward, upstream again, and began walking. He wasn't going to stop; he needed an excuse to avoid looking at Taelian's face, even if he wouldn't acknowledge it. "I know nothing about them, only what I was told, and I have no way of knowing if it was true anyway." He said, grunting. The Curate had never lied to him, but he could have been lied to. His walk was slowly turning into strides, his long legs covering a good deal of a distance with each step. "My mother was most likely a Jastai; she abandoned me a few months after I was born. The only thing she left was a baby blanket with my birthday and my name--" He stopped there; his harsh tone made clear he didn't want to talk about it, but he kept going. "--my other name, Kyon, is supposedly my birthname; they named me Riven after I was taken in."

He kept walking forward; he could hear Taelian following him. He wasn't being fair to the elf, but he couldn't help it; he wanted to get the answering over with. And he had asked too many questions. "My father... " He stopped there; the stomping on the ground was getting his boots wet, the humid mud of the riverside splatting with every stride. His throat was suddenly dry, and as he walked, droplets of water from the river were slowly rising, suspended on air unwillingly. "I have no father. I left Lorien because I had to flee; I was a prisoner there. I just went west because I would have been executed in Daravin, just because I was a Rien and an Avialae. I had to keep going west until I literally fell on Kalzasi; I crashed a birthday party" He said, the memory drawing a bitter grin on his face. He was starting to feel dizzy; his head felt hazy, and he stopped on the spot.

He saw a large boulder next to him and hastily walked towards it; he leaned back against it, sitting on it as he stared at Taelian with a somber look on his face; he really didn't seem happy, at all.

"Happy now?"

[Taelian Edevane]

There was a part of Taelian -- perhaps within him, crawling to overcome his better judgment -- that he would describe as... underdeveloped. A section of him that did not understand the social cues of others, and a part of him that worried always of how others felt for him and about him. Though he trusted Riven, there were times -- scarcely -- where that worry fell onto him. It wasn't intentional, but it was there. And Taelian felt it coming when it did come. He felt exposed in some way; only Riven really had the power to do that to him. Only Riven meant enough to make Taelian want to apologize and forget about whatever he'd just asked, or said -- desperately -- and also, only Riven made him want to twist the knife even more because in his confused worry he didn't understand why the other man reacted the way he did.

These moments came so rarely. The first was when Taelian first told him that he loved him... and there had been perhaps one time, perhaps none, in-between. Each time it came when he was being loving, and when he wanted to know more. When he wanted to share more with him. He supposed that perhaps the emotions presented were overbearing; he got that. But it felt so... wrong to be cut out from Riven like this, all of these snips along his story and identity that had been carefully excised, ones Taelian weren't allowed to see.

He remembered that the man's vague history wasn't something purely by accident. Taelian had tried to probe in a lighter way in the past, but the other man never let him. And now that he asked directly... it was with something of a glare that he responded. His emotions immediately went negative, which fed into Taelian through the Bond. The warmth from before was displaced by a hollow, bitter feeling, a bile rising in his own chest. Riven had the power to influence him without even trying, and as the broken half-man that he was in some respects, his Famished soul liked to prey on that negativity. That moment of weakness and doubt.

Riven stopped looking at him and kept walking, after offering a curt response. At first he felt relieved to no longer have the glare upon him -- but then he felt even worse. Riven didn't want to look at him; he did not know why. He was being empathetic, and he wanted to understand his lover more. They were Arlaed, set to spend their lives -- their eternities -- with one another. He couldn't feel any guilt for simply asking about his past. Riven had never made it clear that it was a sore spot. He only acted like it didn't really matter, which in some way was what he was doing now.

Nothing was his first word. He told Taelian how he'd never had them, but the words that came after spoke of his true woes. Abandoned. No father. Prisoner.

He quickly understood what was wrong. It wasn't him upsetting Riven. But it also... wasn't right. Taelian felt a tightening in his chest. His features were pulled down by a grimace, and he stared at the other man with confusion and sorrow. He did not understand why the other man was suddenly treating him with such disdain when he had done nothing. Even if he felt negativity like he did, Taelian didn't feel that he deserved to be the receiver of it. That confusion fed into a sort of shock, and the shock cemented into a feeling of... in some way, betrayal.

Kyon. That was his birth name. If he hadn't made that so clear, Taelian might've missed it -- or forgotten -- due to the plethora of other emotions cycling through him.

Riven finally told the Knight the remainder of his brief story, though his emotions clearly flared as he did so -- physically and aethereally. At the end, he seated himself against a boulder with an unhappy expression plastered across his complexion. Happy now?

His grimace returned. That meager pair of words stung.

"Let's just drop it, okay?" he asked. It was almost... pleading, his tone. It took him everything to ask that instead of fighting it -- instead of arguing, confusedly lashing out. He knew this was the better pick. "I was just trying to be loving to you. To provide you support if you needed it. I know it happened a while ago, but... these things, sometimes they only really become clear when you share them with people you trust; people you love. I didn't mean to pressure you, and..."

He frowned. Taelian shook his head; this felt wrong. He'd only just gotten up, after Riven had watched over him for days. It was his birthday. They were on a trip they meant to be fun. He didn't want everything to be derailed.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, Riv. I'm sorry... I'm sorry. Now you won't even want to go to the springs with me I bet, or you won't have fun. I didn't want to ruin your day." He frowned. Taelian paused for a while and seated himself against the bark of a tree, staring woefully at the other man. He looked... wounded, one could easily call it. His mind was clearly processing things to say, as if he were trying to get out of the rut he'd thrown himself into. To say something that might help things and salvage their journey. He didn't want things to be ruined -- Taelian wanted Riven to be happy, after everything he'd gone through. Now it was all ash in his mouth.

[Taelian Edevane]

This was not the last time the two spoke in the season of Searing, though it was something that had certainly left a mark on them throughout the season. New boundaries -- or perhaps unspoken old ones -- were put into place, and curiosities arose, particularly on the part of Taelian who began to wonder of Riven's past, his parentage, the place of his birth; where he was raised, what his life was like. The young Sil'norai began to speak more and more to Regis, learning about Lorien and its people and politics. It was from these discussions that he learned of a project underway, one very near completion: the birth of the Aether Cannon.

For all he had achieved in Atinaw, there had always been in him a sort of longing for the old: a longing for Mornoth, for home. It held within it so many dark perils, the disgusting black-coated grime of the Darklands, the rot-festered birds that he learned more and more about through each passing day. Most of all, Taelian worried for the Court of Dusk and their influence, as they had already begun to seep into other Kingdoms, other realms.

Yet he found himself powerless to stop them, all the same. The more Taelian's heart opened to emotion -- so much of that due to the strength of the Companion Bond -- the more he felt a sort of sorrow, or guilt, for his absence in serving his people. Yet conventional methods had failed them, and one after another they died. Perhaps Eleanor had found refuge within Melitene, but the rest of their cohorts -- dear friends of old -- had died. The people he'd left behind in Karnor might have already met the same fate.

The more news he heard from the revolution, the more he worried for its inevitable failure. And so as the proposition came to bring him forth to the Kingdom of Lorien, to scale the peaks of Graaf-Reinet in the north and cull the Kindred -- and in doing so to seek favors and acquire institutional power -- the young man took upon the offer gleefully, if with some cold reservations on what all that meant. He doubted Riven would want to follow him there: not to the cold lands of frost. But he had the Lychgate, and could forge permanent ones, tending to them with the specters filtered throughout the Dead Realm.

Taelian was certain he could keep his Arlaed company, but as he would say later on in an almost foreshadowing way, he was married too to an ideal. Of a better Mornoth, and of a restored Sil-Elaine.

The young Elf met with Wylen in the dark of the night, very later on. He had been given a suitable name by Regis, a suitable story, and even the conception of a worthy face. A handsome man -- like he believed himself to be now -- but with human-like features, with duller ears and a dulled glamour to his silver sheen. He would breathe his last few breaths as the intake of screams, at least bearing the face he had grown to. Wylen kept a detailed series of sketches even down to dimensions in one of his books, ensuring the young man that he could restore him exactly as he was. It was a relief. At first, the man he saw when he looked into the mirror was that of a total stranger, worryingly unique. Somehow he had been changed down to the color of his hair, the pigment of his skin. Multiple therapies were performed across days, the very make-up of his biology shifting to something entirely else.

The first journey to Lorien was one of bloodletting. It was painful and at first, confusing. Having a new name he was meant to call himself by -- and be called -- was strange. Stephan Lange, an Argent of Branderbren, with a mother and father both deceased like his own. At least, that part, he could relate to. The young Elf even sorrowfully smiled as he recounted his tale, practicing the glamourie with Eloise. The deception.

He was truly made a new man before long. He even begun to feel that his personality had changed: some of the light, the silliness of youth, within him... he felt that it had died. In some ways he was more stoic, in others -- perhaps more Lord-like, or more masculine. Taelian -- Stephan, at times -- frequently worried that Riven would not like, or love, the man that he was becoming, the one so eager to abandon his identity for political purpose and power. Further, to change his sense of self, though not intentionally. Taelian had changed a lot since they'd first met -- often with time. As the emotions within him began to normalize, he found himself swaying all manner of directions, becoming more and more distinct from the aloof, scornful Sil'norai he once was.

On the same night he and Riven argued, Taelian -- before all of that -- began to gather the deathly souls and form them together within one of the rooms of Ard Sgiath. He considered it his Nexus of sorts; a place to connect all doors to one another, reaching out through Atharen like tendrils. Within each empty stone archway stood a door, and as he looked to the specters with Searing -- the Dead Realm's miasmic layers peeling back and allowing him view -- he heard their moans and cries almost like songs. He wondered if Malek would frown upon him, if he knew what he was doing. If anything, he thought, he was only keeping those souls safe while they withered naturally, shedding their miasma and slowly dying. At least they fulfilled a purpose to him, he would continue to think.

Long before assuming the moniker of Stephan Lange, and before changing his face and directive, Taelian went to bed that night and kept his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He recoiled in memory of the initiation, only a few days prior, which had nearly claimed his life.

He had terrible dreams again, of the ocean. Of the chill of the grey sands and the cold winds that blew over them, and the nearly white-covered sea, so drowned of deep color. He laid again into the sand and began to shake his head and mourn. The dream became a nightmare, yet one of sorrow rather than fear. He thought of how he had almost joined his parents, only some nights ago. How a part of him was ready to meet them again -- wherever they were. Then he thought of how they might have become ghosts, evaporated within the Dead Realm, with no place to go. A true end, their souls returning to the Carrion Hole to be washed clean.

There was much left for him in this life, he knew. To have died on the floor of this place would have been an early, and bitter end.