[Amoren] Solace’s Dénouement

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: 30th Solace, Glade 4622
NOTES: Open me!

► Show Spoiler

playing the piano bit of this when Arkash enters

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It was the end of Solace, the first month of Glade. He’d walked into this season feeling lower than he had in a very, very long time but as the month was drawing its curtains closed, he was more at peace than he’d been in a very long time. It had only been just over a week since his beloved little Rathor had returned to him and the pair of them had spent that time adjusting to living alongside one another.

The two of them spent precious little time apart, though they did separate when Arkash went out to hunt since two people are much less subtle than one when prowling the streets. Whenever he did this, the Veir was left to his own devices. Which…was fine. He had things that he actually needed to do relative to bookkeeping, business, politics, family matters and the like…such things he usually handled alongside his Valran because the two elves found that when working together, they made much larger strides forward.

Today, however, all of his more official matters had been handled and as the day ebbed into evening, he found himself alone. Walking through the halls of his Amoren estate with slow yet graceful strides, the man ended up wandering into the room that held the lovingly maintained grand piano. Music was his favorite hobby outside of practicing magic and he’d been itching to play something over the past few days anyways.

Having now taken a seat on the bench before it, the Veir gently runs his fingers over the claw marks that had been etched into the surface of the wood. Much as the damage should bother him, his sentimental nature only made him look upon these marks with fondness as the memory of that day floated to the surface of his mind.

After he allowed himself to linger in that reverie for a few more precious moments, the silver elf lifted the wooden cover off of the keyboard and set his hands upon the ivory keys. Having spent most of his life playing this instrument, Degare had a catalogue of songs in his head that he could recall and play mostly by muscle memory. Really, it was just a matter of spinning the wheel and selecting something. In the end, he went with songs more upbeat in nature– jazzy and light.

It didn’t take long for the pale elf to lose himself as nimble fingers danced across the ivories. Very much an emotional musician, the man would often close his eyes while he played and let himself drift off on the sound; his mind was alight with the feelings, memories, colors and ideas pulled forth. This time, the sound he picked was bright and bubbly– light as air and as active as a windy day in spring.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Arkash]

It was late at night that Arkash returned to the estate. There really was no hope to recover his injuries before Degare next saw him, he resolved as he sat at the darkened study's table, and brought the swollen mess of his arm to rest on the surface.

Leg bound together with a splint, Arkash pressed his jaw tight as he pulled up on the tattered sleeve of his shirt and unveiled the site of what he believed to be the breakage. Suddenly, it was obvious why he was unable to rotate his wrist or close a fist, as the arm bent a little partway through the forearm, at the site of the immense swelling.

The shock and horror of seeing his arm in such a state were quickly buried beneath the forced onslaught of observations and diagnostics that came with his experienced medicinal knowledge. The swelling was the body's way of protecting a broken bone, his inability to move his fingers properly indicated that the tendon was damaged somewhere in the depths of his forearm. It was possible that both his radius and ulna were broken in the attack, but he wouldn't know for sure unless he felt it.

Trembling, he reached for the site of the swelling with his intact hand and gently tested the lower half of his arm. A burst of numbness drowned his skin below the breaking point of all sensation, and a piercing, lightning-stark pain shot through his whole body as he severed the nerve with the shards of broken bone beneath the skin.

His breathing quickened as his tormented eyes flooded with anguish.

No force of will could bring his arm to so much as twitch below the site of the swelling. No matter how hard he tried, his extremities wouldn't move.

Was it beyond saving? Did he just have to make a new one? The pain was too great, Arkash was unable to think clearly.

He took his scalpel and split the skin with a swift, thoughtless slash to his forearm, lengthwise across the traumatized flesh. Before the wound could close, Arkash fought through the bleeding to suture the wound in a way that the site stayed open with a mundane needle from his doctor's kit. The inflamed tissue didn't cooperate as well as he would have liked, but he managed to make it stay by the time most of the bleeding had slowed or stopped entirely.

Woozy, he reached for the Necromancer's kit with weak fingers and pulled it over as the music of a piano began to play in the background. The slow beat of his heart was audible in his ears as his dry tongue swelled beneath the unbearable pressure in his head.

The kit fell over, and a select few tools showed themselves to him. Clumsily, he seized the embalmer's tongs and dragged them across the desk. He leaned his good elbow into the woodwork for stability while he wobbled, then reached into the wound. Delerium overcame him as he began to force the bone back together with the Embalmer's Tong's stapling function, and kept them in place. He managed to extract the shard of bone from the site of his nerves and gently rebuilt the area of the fracture.

When the bone was in place, he reached over the table with an uncontrolled lean of his weight and took his needle. The Grafting Needle was then used to rejoin the severed tendon beneath all the muscle he had to pull apart and extracted to reach the scene.

From there, he began to rebuild the muscle with Sinew Foam and smoothed it over with the Carving Sickle. Finally, he reconnected the nerve and breathed a sharp, sudden gasp as sensation returned, and his fingers curled and pressed as blood flow returned to his once ruined arm. Numbness radiated from his fingers as sensation began to return, but he paid it no mind as he cut the suture thread, and allowed his natural regeneration to close his wound once more.

He took a moment to breathe before he plucked the stitches from his skin, and kept his arm still as he began to wrap a splint and a brace around the length of his forearm; a cast of wood and bandage cloth.

It was done, he believed. He'd just have to rest until his body could repair the bones.

A sigh left him as he curled his fingers, and lifted a hand to hold his head as his broken ribs strained at the exertion. There was no way he could hide what happened from Degare. What was more, his attacker wasn't dealt with. it was possible that he would just be hunted again and killed. What would become of Degare if he was seen in Arkash's company?

With his arm and thigh a bloody mess as they soaked the blood of his operations, Arkash rose from the chair and briefly glanced over the blood that had poured from the incision of his arm. He gagged as his stomach turned and the room span, and he shakily breathed as he clutched the table until his environment stabilized. he trembled quite severely as he pushed his way from the table and clung to the chair for support before he threw himself to the wall with an audible thump. He clung to the surface as he limped his way to the door, then leaned into his grip on the door handle before he struggled out of the way and let the light of the piano room illuminate him.

The Rath was covered from head to toe in sweat, dried blood, dirt, flour, and various scuffs and tears on his once-fine clothes. Lazily, he leaned the shoulder of his injured arm into the doorframe that he lingered within while he watched Degare while he played his music. He stayed there for a moment and shut his eyes as he leaned his head against the doorframe, and just basked in the sound of the elf's song. he tested his leg while he was there and found that the linear fracture in his femur was much better just hours after the encounter, but still painful. He imagined he'd be completely recovered in a day or two, depending on how much he rested.

Image source.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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The Veir was never in the most observant or perceptive headspaces while he played either of his instruments…but when one is naturally perceptive, one cannot mute everything out. It wasn’t what he heard that was strange, no– that much was shut out by the sound of the large instrument before him. Rather, it was what he felt. With both of his feet flat to the floor, Degare was able to detect dissonant vibrations to that of piano if somebody or something hit the floor, or a wall, or just the building in general hard enough nearby.

The thing that initially grabbed his attention was a dull thump as if something had hit a wall in a room nearby. Then there were odd, uneven footfalls. Was Vivian doing something weird with Malformity? No…he was told not to come to this side of the house unaccompanied. Couldn’t be. He’d felt similarly odd movements earlier but had managed to pay them no mind…yet here the sound was again, and now that his song was ending, the seed of worry that had been planted was beginning to germinate. The pale elf’s curiosity compelled him to go at least check on whatever was causing these strange vibrations through the house.

When hands finally stopped moving and the last few notes of his music began to fade out, Degare opened his eyes and didn’t see anything; the prop of the piano’s lid blocked the entrance of the room from his line of sight. With a soft sigh, he rose from the bench and stepped away from the instrument. As his head turned and his amber gaze met with the frame of the room’s entrance, the elf’s breath caught on the inhale.

At first, he thought he was seeing things. The figure in the threshold was one he recognized– Arkash…but he looked like he could barely stand, like he had been utterly destroyed and had only just begun to heal. The few seconds it took him to internalize the sight before his eyes felt like time had stopped, eternal.

Once the shock of the sight wore off, the Veir managed to compel himself to move forward, steps rapidly increasing in pace after just a few. His heart began to pound during his approach with eyes wide, wild, and terrified– face twisted overall with the weight of his concern. Having stopped just short of the smaller man, he hesitated…any sort of embrace or touch would hurt him, wouldn’t it? With only a moment’s pause while he rapidly flit through his thoughts, he rested the shaking palm of his dominant hand on the nape of his lover’s neck.

With a pulse of ether, the Ferrier had cast Pallor; given his consummate skill with the Mark, he didn’t need to be incredibly precise in terms of knowing the locations of the other’s wounds. The skill would radiate in a gentle wave throughout the entirety of the Dranoch’s injured form and attach a fairly thick coating of cool Ashes to any site of injury or presence of Pathos within. Without any delay, he followed this up with a cast of Allay– it would flow through him in turn and dissipate any Pathos that had remained within. The result of these actions would be a massive reduction in pain as his injuries were stabilized and held together by the Ashes then cleansed by Allay; instead of pain, he would feel cold at the sites of his wounds.

Spells having been cast, Degare pulled his lover into his arms, embrace tight but trembling. The Veir’s heart thrummed in his chest like a hummingbird’s as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of the other’s head, breathing panicked and uneven. He was fully aware of the combat prowess of a Dranoch Cardinal as well as their regenerative properties so for him to be in a state like this…his initial injuries must have been exponentially worse. “Wh…what happened? How could this happen?” his voice was shaking as he struggled to force words from his dry, terrified throat.

“I…you…don’t have to explain right away. If there’s anything I can do for you, for your comfort…please tell me. I’ll do anything. Get you anything..,go anywhere, I…” the elf choked at this point, the grasp on his partner tightening, “...I can’t bear to be without you, to lose you...”

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Arkash]

As the music played, Arkash let his body relax a little more. As his eyes closed, his head came to rest on the doorframe, and he exhaled deeply. The Veir really was a fantastic musician, but his music alone wouldn't have been enough to put the wounded Rath at ease that night.

More than that, Degare's presence offered a great deal of comfort and safety. With any other, Arkash would fail to fall into such a state of vulnerability, but Degare was different.

By the time the music had stopped, Arkash had begun to fade. Few muscles propped his broken body against the doorframe while his conscious mind receded. His shoulder fell limp and his bloodied fingers turned dormant against the natural tension of his tendons while he oh-so-briefly slept.

It was as his wounds stirred with the cast of Allay that his eyes opened a crack, and he peered at the elf, who held a hand to his shoulder.

A half-smile pulled at his features as the pain receded, and his one working lung breathed a contented sigh. Before he could bring himself to stand upright, Degare had already seized him. A throaty "NNnn-" Rumbled as Arkash felt his broken ribs shift, but with pain so far reduced that it wasn't nearly as bothersome as it should have been.

"It's okay," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Degare, it's fine... I already feel much better," he assured, perhaps unaware that his condition's improvement was a result of the elf's bane mark.

As the elf's grip tightened, he spoke of how he couldn't bear to lose him. Arkash laughed a little, though it trailed with an exhausted wheeze. "Well if you might break my spine if you squeeze any tighter-!" He spoke with an obvious rise to his tone in what was meant to be a joke but only began to cough toward the end, which might have given merit to his warning.

"I bled a bit while fixing my arm," he said with a gesture of his head to the splint. "The Valrans might... Think you're up to mischief if they see it," came his warning before his head fell limp against Degare.

There, he took a moment to breathe, then hummed peacefully. "...Water might be nice," he spoke softly. "Sitting would be nice, too. Thank you, my love."

Image source.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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Having his beloved in his arms was usually something that brought the Veir great comfort. He'd been freely enjoying the little Rath's company for the past two or so weeks and was just beginning to get comfortable again, just beginning to feel secure in the disguise Arkash had newly begun to adapt to. And then…this…? Had whomever Raphael hired caught up to him? It…had to be. Who else would have a reason to hire somebody strong enough to even be able to fight the Cardinal, strong enough to nearly kill him? It had to be Halamire and in that case…their peaceful pocket of time was gone. However, this time, they still had one another.

The sound his lover made when embraced made the Ferrier grimace a bit, though he did remind himself that he'd secured all the wounds beforehand…he hadn't hurt the man, thankfully. "Yeah…? You do feel better? I'm glad…I used one of Bane's skills to stabilize you– I'm happy it was enough." His voice was soft, almost somber, but that didn't do much to hide his worry or his affection for the younger man.

The Ferrier lingered there for a bit, just holding onto his lover as he attempted in vain to slow the pace of his rising panic. When Arkash joked about breaking him, Degare did laugh just a bit, though it did sound notably saddened. The elf was fairly weak– for the other to be so injured that his embrace was causing any strain at all was concerning in and of itself.

Regarding the other's comment about his bleeding, "I'll…get rid of that later. Although they're more likely to side eye it than anything else. They're…aware of my interests. I've had strange tastes since long before I could ever manipulate blood with magic, after all," he admitted this with somewhat sheepish laughter as he gently placed a few more kisses against the top of his lover's head.

After Arkash voiced his desires, the Veir paused for a moment to consider where would be most comfortable for him. Then, the soot black shadows of a Corvo's Shaper engulfed his right arm as he bent down to lift his lover into his arms. Making him walk right now didn't come across as…ideal. The pale elf carried his injured partner back to their bedchambers; while he walked, he did use a little bit of Blood Magic to dissipate what was left of the other's wounds on his clothes and skin.

When the two made it to their destination, Degare put the Rathor down in their bed and helped him out of his shoes. "I'll…be right back with the water, my love." He tried to smile, but the weight of his anxieties muted the expression. Despite how much concern lurked behind eyes of amber, the most distinct emotion reflected within was his love for the other.

Given how late it was, nobody else was awake as the Ferrier made his way through the estate to both collect and return with his lover's request. Normally, moving about the house at night was not something that brought about any form of concern, but now? The atmosphere felt heavy with tension when apart from the Dranoch for any period of time, however small.

He was right, though— it took a negligible amount of time, probably a few minutes, for him to leave and return with a reasonably large jug of water and a corresponding glass. "Here, however much you need; I can get you more if necessary." As he spoke, he set the water down on the nightstand beside the bed and then crawled in to lay beside his injured partner.

Wanting to allow the smaller man the ability to move around, he only loosely draped an arm over him before he spoke. "I…can't imagine you're safe here anymore? Was it Halamire? E-Even…if that's the case I'll…go with you," his voice started to shake more noticeably in his second sentence. "I'll track down the one Veir in my house with Resonance— that way I can create portals between myself and…wherever is safest for you. Although I've…no idea where he is at the moment…he left for some…expedition? A few weeks ago…but if not him I have no idea who would be willing to pass on that mark." At first his tone is a mix of desperation and concern, though there are small strands of hope woven into the frayed velvet of his voice. Even so, the longer he spoke, he sounded distinctly more panicked as he came to realize he has absolutely zero clue where he can get Resonance on such short notice.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Arkash]

The spell of Allay really did bring such comfort to the injured Rath. If it weren't for the amount of blood he'd lost in operating on himself, he'd almost think himself able to walk unassisted. He nodded a little to the Veir's rhetorical question, though it was evident that he was still exhausted despite the alleviated pain and numbing cold in his injuries.

Delirious in the haze of his shot nerves and blood loss, Arkash was only able to partially use reason and explored the consequences of his actions through a warped lens. The mess he'd made in the study didn't totally occur to him as something that the Veir's Valran wouldn't think too deeply upon, especially given the circumstances in which he first tangled with Degare on the operating table. "Okay," he agreed effortlessly and nodded against the taller man while he basked in those few kisses atop his head with lidded eyes.

When Degare lifted him from the ground, there was no stirring of resistance, no sudden bout of tension in his form. Easily, his dense frame was lifted from the ground; it was almost as though Arkash didn't realize he was floating. The younger man was still in Degare's hold and fell into silence all the way through their trip to the bed chambers.

Again, he stirred awake the moment he was brought to sit at the edge, and his weary eyes stared at the floor while he propped himself up against the mattress with one hand for support while his injured arm laid at rest in his lap. Briefly, his eyes met Degare's while his thoughts seemed to stir, and he nodded in apparent understanding, but it was perhaps unclear what exactly the young Rath was thinking in those moments. "Thank you.," he spoke in appreciation. "Don't rush or anything," he assured

...

Arkash's eyes were fixed on the hand of his braced arm when Degare returned. Slowly, he flexed his fingers and closed a fist, only to unfurl it. He tried one finger at a time and tested the tendons of each joint as though he was performing some sort of routine diagnostic. He startled a little when the elf approached with the jug; a short, sharp breath drawn through his nose. "That's plenty," Arkash said with a nod. "You're very kind, Degare,"

The young Rath had regained enough blood to at least think coherently while the taller man sat beside him; such an injury wasn't taxing on his healing factor, which was burdened with much more important repairs.

He breathed out deeply before he reached around with his good arm and took the filled glass, then knocked back its contents without hesitation and drank the entire thing without pause.

As he set the glass down, "I don't know." he spoke in regards to being safe. He didn't look at the Veir and instead seemed to process his thoughts while he stared at the carpeted floor. His lips pulled a little as the older man continued and he shook his head. "Degare..." he paused and breathed a deep exhale. Everything was moving so quickly.

"...You're right. Honestly, I shouldn't have come back here... I... Wasn't thinking straight." In his concussion, he'd drunkenly wobbled to the Veir's estate, trudged his way through the front door, and sequestered himself away in the study. He'd made no effort to cover his tracks, but he couldn't recall if he was bleeding as he crawled through the night. How significant of a trail was there? "I've... I think I've put you in danger, Degare... I don't know."

"He was trying to Sunder me with his hammer, it had a spike on the end, a Sunderstrike. I think he called me a Vandikar at some point too... So he somehow knows..." Arkash sorted his muddled thoughts aloud.

"Human, tall, dark hair, stubble... Huge suit of armor with a coffin shield, and some sort of spiked pole hammer. I think it was a Relic because everything it hit just blew up... And he was able to copy it, made it fly, and fight without his hand to guide it. I managed to snatch it off of him for a second and thought I'd won, but... It disappeared from my claws and reappeared in his hands. I don't know if Relics are really that strong, but I think he was using magic," Arkash recollected.

"He was following me in my human form at first, so he must know pretty much everything about me and how I hide," Arkash explained, then cleared his throat. With one hand, he collected the jug of water and began to drink from the lip. The amount he drank was utterly inhuman in its speed and volume; instantly taken on by his metabolism before his stomach could so much as swell. Once the jug was clear, he set it down and smiled a little in gratitude. "That's better... Thank you, my dear."

"I don't know if this guy will be able to link you to me very easily... But if he comes knocking, Degare..." Arkash paused and breathed a sigh of disappointment. "...I know... This is the second time I've lost a fight since we met, but I swear I'm actually really good at fighting. I'm so fast and I hit so hard... But this guy... Degare, I couldn't even touch him. Even if I had your help, I..." The younger man's expression said it all; the might that knight wielded was the stuff of nightmares, lethal potential like he'd not seen before.

"...You're better off just cooperating... So I can't stay here, you're right. Neither of us are safe if I stay here," Arkash explained in full.

"Resonance is... The mark that allows you to create your own Hallway, right?" He spoke in reference to the portal nexus the Entente used to travel. "That would work... I did find a safe space in The Badlands I can use for shelter," he declared.

But despite the convenience of the solution, Degare did not, in fact, have a method of acquiring Resonance. He breathed a low exhale, a little frustrated while he considered their options. Then it clicked. "...Well, I know two Resonance Mages," Arkash began. "Taelian... Who you've met. I'm not sure if that's an option, but the second is... Well, in Lorien. But I know her well and I could find her easily if we went there." In his hesitance, there was a lot unspoken. it was almost as though the Rath was deliberately obscuring information regarding the latter mage.

"I think I'll be good to travel in a day or two... But I'm not sure if we have that kind of time," Arkash said with a glance to the window. He appeared to stare longingly for a moment, then returned his gaze to the elf. "...I might recover faster if... You don't mind sparing a little blood?" he asked, eyes hopeful above his battered form.

Image source.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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Upon his arrival back into the room, the pale elf noticed the way that Arkash was moving his hand around. That arm must have bore quite a bit of damage and had to have been repaired– the movements reminded him of the way he had acted right after the other had finished repairing his hand. A pang of guilt crossed with something that resembled longing pulled at him; why hadn't his lover come to him before he'd gone through with his triage? Bane's Pallor and Allay were both very efficient for treating wounds and relieving pain…it hurt his heart that the Rathor hadn't felt comfortable enough to go to him right away.

These thoughts rapidly shifted through his mind as he approached his beloved, and when Arkash thanked him, "It's the very least I can do for you, love. You have my heart– of course that entitles you to my kindness." The elf spoke barely above a whisper as he settled beside the injured man. His tone was laced with worry as much as it was with affection; his anxiety about the situation was continuing to build, ensnaring him further with each passing second.

Once he'd settled himself beside his lover, he draped an arm around the other's waist and rested that hand on his thigh; then, he spoke again as Arkash leaned forward to drink the water he'd brought. The Veir's words probably came across as nervous rambling, but the point he made stood. He had no intention to leave the Rathor's side and the easiest way to facilitate this would be by obtaining a Resonance mark.

When his lover replied, he felt like the organs in his abdomen were compressing at the concept of Arkash having chosen to not return to him. "I-...even so, if we vanish fast enough and I spin a good enough excuse, I'd rather spend some time in danger than not get you back. I really…it broke me the first time…so I don't think..." He failed to complete this sentence; partially, this would be because it felt like his throat was closing, but also he just…didn't have the words. The Ferrier had no idea precisely what reaction he'd have had if the Dranoch didn't return, he just knew he'd be utterly crushed. With a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak again, "You'd…be surprised at how good my House is at crafting political lies. We, ah…all are...heretical to some degree. Even if I don't come up with it, Lucia and another Veir– older than me– will happily fabricate something that'll placate rumors on my end. Don't worry about suspicion being cast on me…I'm very used to it. My whole family is; as a consequence, we're very good at bending out of tight situations without breaking." After he spoke, the elf gave his partner's leg a reassuring squeeze. He had also managed to stabilize his tone and sound genuinely confident with his words. House Socorro's members were great musicians and craftspeople on the surface, but underneath that they were all very adept players at Daravin's Candor.

At that, the younger man began to describe the nature of the hunter that had been dispatched to eliminate him. The more his lover spoke, the more his fear and anxiety rose. This description sounded exactly like who he'd hoped it wasn't. He was, unfortunately, well aware of this particular member of Daravin's much praised Halamire. Degare was frozen into silence as his head sorted through panicked thoughts in regards to this particular hunter.

He barely noticed when Arkash had moved to drink the rest of the water, but he did snap back to reality when the other spoke again, venting his worries about being tracked and the sheer strength of the man. "I very much believe you when you speak of your combat prowess. Especially given the circumstance of when Raphael chose to strike and the fact that…that the man after you…I know him. I've met him. Many times, actually. His name is Valentin– a very notorious general of the Halamire," he paused and sighed deeply before continuing, "Raphael must have sought him out directly and commissioned him for your head. That's why he knew you were a Blood Mage. He's a rather potent mage as well as a Sunderer and sometimes, if the target you want dead has a valuable enough Mark of Control, you don't even have to pay him. He'll just do it for the mark…and the thrill of it. Raphael likely picked him out not only because of his consummate skills but because of that, too. The only silver lining is that he's…selfish. He doesn't like competing for marks. What I mean is…the only two people that are aware of your secrets are them. Cut them down and there'll be no more loose ends." Again, he pauses, this time shaking his head. "The problem is, as you stated, fighting him…isn't a good idea. As powerful as Bane's master abilities are, I'm too slow and too fragile to confront somebody like that. I'd need something like Resonance on top of pushing the boundaries of my current skills with the Weave to even be able to keep myself safe while I cast anything else." He doesn't sound too defeated, though– if he does manage to get the Resonance mark he wanted, he was confident he could hone his talents with it quite cleanly…even if the resulting mageblight hurt.

When Arkash inquired about the mark, "Yes, although I don't think the Hallway and Resonance use the same method to transport people, they are functionally similar. Hiding in the Badlands is probably the only option. Valentin would be able to track you anywhere civilized, that much is certain. Badlands are always difficult to navigate for anyone…even him, especially since the Entente are not exactly welcome." This plan was great, there was just one problem: Degare knew four Resonance mages and none of them were good options. One was simply not strong enough to be able to do the initiation without killing him, another was either lost in a ruin or holed up in his cave, the third could not stand him, and the fourth? Well, he'd only met the man once and had no way of contacting him on his own.

Arkash appeared to be equally as frustrated as he was at this revelation, but then his features suddenly brightened and he spoke. As it turns out, he knew two Resoners. "I'd ask Taelian but I've no way of getting in contact with him. He said he'd run across me again but didn't actually mention how…or under what circumstance." He spoke with a soft laugh and an expression that shifted to something rather confused as he had really no idea how Taelian intended to ever find him, either. Regardless, the second option sounded promising. "The woman in Lorien is definitely the only option that works, as far as I can tell. I'll speak to Lucia as soon as I can about weaving a careful web of a justification for my going to Lorien. We'll travel by boat to Nivenhain from Genteven– a ship directly from Amoren would take too long and we can use the Hallway to get there." There was some small modicum of comfort in at least having some sort of plan, however loose it was.

"I'm…not sure waiting more than a day is a good idea either…but my blood is yours to take." Truthfully, Degare would happily let Arkash bite him whether or not he actually needed the blood. "If I explain our plight to Lucia…she can orchestrate my cover and we can leave as early as tomorrow, depending on your recovery. She might…be upset at my choice to leave, but I can't…be apart from you." His tone would audibly waver as he neared the last few words of that sentence.
"I need you, I love you, Arkash."

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Arkash]

Arkash began to smile warmly beneath his spacy eyes, which shut as the elf set the water down. His arm gently lowered as to not strain it too much as it came to rest. “I’m grateful all the same, I’d be much worse off if not for you,”

Degare’s hand around him was the most comforting sensation, even as it came to rest on his splinted thigh, Arkash didn’t stir much due to the immaculate job he’d done of putting Arkash back together. Softly, he leaned into Degare and brought his head to rest on the Veir’s shoulder with a breathy exhale. “I know, love…” he said with his eyes shut. “I don’t want to do that to you again; I think its best we stick together.”

His eyes opened then, and an amused smile began to creep across his lips as Degare began to describe his house’s heretical values. A slight smirk yielded a chuckle at the thought; the nobles were just as defiant of the system as he was, Arkash surmised. “That’s good,” he spoke with a gentle nod that rubbed his cheek against the Veir’s shoulder. “I’d hate to be of trouble to your house, Lord Socorro,” he spoke with a playful smile and leaned up to kiss the man on the jaw with some strain. Of course, the Rath was confident the house of Socorro could handle itself, his focus was on Degare’s immediate safety when he confessed that he might have brought him into the mess.

The mess, of course, was revealed in greater detailed as Arkash went on to describe the competency of his opponent. Degare apparently knew the Knight, a man by the name of Valentin.

Arkash frowned.

Raphael had sent a general to kill him? A man who commanded armies, a masterful tactician in Daravin’s military?

Arkash’s eyes widened a little and his breathing picked up a bit in pace, but Degare’s methodical analysis seemed to stabilize him. As it turned out, he was right. Neither of them were of the strength or capacity to face off the General, even combined the man would wipe the floor with them. Arkash grimaced. His opponent was really that well known?

It seemed as though their only advantage in the situation was Valentin’s greed. If a master’s Sunderscrap was that coveted, he doubted he’d let Raphael tell anyone else… But if the Hunter was to die, then Raphael’s silence would be forfeit.

“We need to kill Raphael first,” Arkash said. “If Valentin dies, he’ll know I did it. Gods only know who else he’d send if we pulled off such a thing. But if Raphael… Kicks the bucket, I don’t know if this guy will think much of it.”

Arkash brought his hand to Degare’s thigh and looked up at him as the man spoke of how fragile he was. “I can protect you,” Arkash said. “While you get ready, I’ll… I don’t know, I’ll pick up a shield, maybe get some armor… Or make some armor…” he spoke in thought to his years in the steel mill. “…What if-“ he began, and paused. “…What if I became a Sunderer? I could use Relics against him,” Arkash explained. “And I think I can evolve again; I can feel it; I get stronger with every feeding. I don’t know what I’ll become, but it’s there… Like a light at the end of the tunnel.”

The young Rath smiled a little with hope lining his gaze as it pointed up at the elf. Their plans for the future sounded feasible, especially with the Derelict as a base of operations. “My thoughts exactly,” Arkash had struggled with tracking people in the Badlands before. In fact, he’d completely lost Asphodel there.

So the only thing left to solve was Resonance for Degare so that they could stay in touch while the elf continued his life as a noble. Asking him to give up on that was too much, even for the level of control Arkash enjoyed having over the man. It was obvious from Degare’s concern about his family that his house mattered more to him than accolades too; he was a family man; it would be wrong to take him from such a thing.

“I actually have a-” he paused, thought, then sighed. “Nevermind, Raphael has that,” Arkash said with a sigh. “Taelian gave me a resonator so that I could talk with him, but I had it in my drawer at fort Valrazan when I was attacked… Didn’t have time to grab it,” Arkash explained, somewhat sullen. “It’s worth going back for some day, but I don’t know what Raphael would have done with it,” he pondered aloud.

“…Lorien.” His great beast. Arkash shivered subtly after saying it with the weight of his contemplation. “Well, make sure you pack some blankets and a thick coat… It didn’t once get that cold here through all of Frost,” he explained, paused, then rose his brows. “Oh wait, you’ve been there before,” he recalled. “Ah.. Never mind.”

He exhaled a little and squeezed the Veir’s thigh gently when it was decided they’d venture to Lorien, Nivenhain, too. “Right, yeah… That should be fine,” he nodded a little while he considered Fayeth, and how she might react to seeing him again… Without the features of a Botchling.

His eyes widened a little at the suggested route they’d apparently be taking, and he looked up at the Elf once more. “…Is that safe?” Was his first thought. “…To be seen with me in the Hallway, with all the Halamire there…” he continued. “I guess if I wear a mask… Don’t you also have to wear a mask in public as an Entente?” he reasoned.

Everything looked as though it would work out with their current plan; Arkash’s only concern was whether or not Fayeth would be so cooperative after the conditions of their parting. She’d explicitly told him not to go, and yet, he left her and Asmodei in the dead of night.

With the elf’s permission, Arkash scooted over a little, then carefully climbed into the lap of the Veir with his legs straddling the man. A warm, grateful smile radiated through his eyes as he set his hungry gaze upon his lover. “With your fourth Mark… I might even be road-ready in a few hours, love,” Arkash said softly as he tilted the Veir’s neck up with the edge of his finger. “I love you too, Degare… So very much.”

He paused for a moment, and lowered Degare’s chin with a pinch of his thumb, then pressed a kiss to his lips. “…Tap me twice if you need me to stop, okay?” The Rath told as he broke the kiss. It was abundantly clear by the race of his own heart and the ragged breath that left his lungs that Arkash was not prepared to wait to feed.

The promise of an end to the damage, the promise of fleeting satisfaction, and the raw warmth and flavor of his partner’s lifeblood were all so very… Coveted by the young Cardinal. It was there that his skin turned several shades lighter and appeared sickly in its tone, and the rings of his eyes darkened as his irises deepened to blood red. Featherless quills grew from the back of his neck and hands as long black claws pushed from the tips of his fingers. A maw of jagged teeth, burning with black flames revealed itself as Arkash opened his horrific, warped jaws.

He was there for a just a second before the full weight of his form crashed into the noble and threw his upper body flat to the bedding. His jaws seized the Veir’s neck with teeth that effortlessly tore through skin and muscle to skillfully pierced his arteries while the cold flames licked at Degare’s skin. His jaws seemed to lock, held back by restraint and urged on by sheer voracious need. His once frail form was suddenly like steel while he remained perched atop the Veir, trembling in boundless tension and drinking whatever touched his palette without pause or overflow.

Arkash reveled in the sensation, the strength of Degare’s blood, the smell, the flavor, the volume. Everything within him cried out for more, to devour the mage in his entirety… But still, he stayed his jaws as they were, and closed his eyes while he immersed himself in the unbridled euphoria of bliss.

Image source.

[Degare]

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Despite finding it overall unnecessary, Degare did find Arkash’s gratefulness towards his kindness to be rather heartwarming, kissing the younger man’s cheek in response to the last thing he said in that regard.

Much as the Ferrier was a tense ball of worry, being able to hold his partner like this, having him rest against his shoulder in these moments did help him hold his emotions at least somewhat stable. When the elf heard him speak, he sighed in relief. “I’m glad you think so, too…plus I just…want to spend time with you in general,” the elf paused with an audible exhale, expression shifting to something of a cross between bashful and embarrassed. “We’ve…not actually known one another very long. So I just…want to stay with you. Enjoy you, your presence, your mind, your body…all of you.” Internally, this did draw questions posed at himself relative to the amount of time it took him to fall so completely for the other…however, his voice reflected nothing but his genuine desire to become ever closer to his lover.

As their conversation continued and Degare admitted that his House was mostly composed of heretics of one variety or another, the Veir noted that this revelation appeared to please Arkash. It also never failed to make him blush when the younger man used honorifics to refer to him in a playful or sarcastic way. In return for the kiss pressed against his chin, Degare did the same to his lover’s forehead. In contrast to their circumstances, it was nice to share sweet moments of affection like this.

Arkash seemed to be caught off guard that Raphael would have commissioned somebody so high of station to go after him. For a second, Degare didn’t understand why. After all, the Rathor was known to Raphael as a master Vandikar if nothing else– to a Sunderer, that’s a brilliant bargaining chip to play at their motivation to hunt the younger man without much of a fee. Although Raphael was a noble, people don’t stand to keep their wealth if they just haphazardly spend it in situations where they can covet it instead. That, and he could assume Raphael really wanted him dead– the more skilled the assassin, the better chance of their success. So to the Veir, picking Valentin made perfect sense.

As the silver elf proceeded to offer more information to Arkash about his pursuer, he also spoke of his own unfortunate weaknesses in regards to his defense. Could Banefog, Malediction, or Venge take the man down? Very much yes, but it was also very much possible that in the time it took him to disperse the diseased ashes, Valentin would utterly obliterate him and both parties would fall. What use is success in that scenario if he wouldn’t even live to see the next dawn? In some ways, it made the older elf feel very inadequate about his combat prowess that compared to people less than half his age he had…so many gaps in his defenses.

When Arkash spoke again, his words pulled him from the circular ruminations of his own inadequacies back to the much more pressing subject of disposing of Raphael. As much as Degare had his sights on Valentin because of the threat he inherently posed to…well, himself and pretty much everyone he loved, Arkash was right that if he died first, Raphael would just hire somebody else. That ‘somebody else’ might not be so secretive about the nature of their hunt. That, and if Raphael did die, he doubted Valentin would even bat an eye. The man very much meant nothing to him– the only thing he likely cared about was getting his hands on the Sunderscrap he could harvest from the Dranoch.

It took the Sil’Norai a second to process this and by the time he did, Arkash spoke in an attempt to reassure him– claiming that in the time it took for Degare to train his magics, he’d gladly protect him. His words pulled a soft smile to the Ferrier’s features. The Rath continued to muse about a couple different methods that he could go about doing this until he landed on two: Sundering, and the potential to evolve again. The pale elf knew of Dranoch’s apex– the Huntsman. They were spoken of with as much legend and folklore-esque nature to their stories as ascended mages, liches, Draedan and the like were. Rare, but definitely real.

“Sundering requires…specific facilities that…I’m not sure you’ll be able to acquire on your own? I could probably help with that in some way if necessary, though– I would love to get my hands on Relics one way or another. I’ll always be happy to help you down whatever path you choose to walk, just tell me what you need,” he spoke with a rather warm, encouraging tone. Much as he thought of Sundering as fairly barbaric in nature, he wouldn’t deny the power it could provide the two of them.

With a slight pause, the Ferrier spoke again, “As for…a further evolution…I have no idea how it works, really. Dranoch are something of an enigma to me, but Lucia and some specific texts enlightened me to the fact that there’s three major stages and that Cardinal is the second. The third is called Huntsman, although I’m not sure what’s required of somebody to get there– such a thing is spoken of with either the reverence one would have towards a god or absolute horror and revulsion. Never seen one, but…” The beginning of his explanation was fairly matter-of-fact, but as he continued, his personal fascination began to seep into the words. By the time he trailed off, there was a flicker of desire laced into his voice. In the end, he breathed out a soft exhale and shook his head; apparently, he didn’t actually want to finish that sentence. At least, not yet.

“Oh…I do appreciate your desire to protect me. Much as it hurts my ego that I need such a thing,” while the Ferrier spoke sincerely, the sentence was still punctuated with an embarrassed, almost ashamed sounding laugh.

When their conversation shifted to where his lover should hide, the mention of the Badlands appeared to sound good to him. He apparently already has somewhere in mind, too. That meant that the next step for the two of them was getting him Resonance. Such a shame that they’d apparently have to travel all the way to Lorien to accomplish this– Daravin was absolutely full of mages of all stripes, but that didn’t mean all were willing to share their marks…especially on very short notice. A shame that Arkash has lost the only feasible way to contact Taelian, too. From the way the Draedan spoke, he came across as perfectly willing to share whatever power he could command should the Veir request it for…whatever the hell he wanted out of him.

As Degare spoke about the method by which the two would travel to Lorien, Arkash would question it at first– but there was no real way to predict that, for one, Arkash was with Degare and that for two, the two of them would immediately leave specifically for Genteven the next day. As good of a tracker as Valentin was, he had no supernatural skills of Divination and it would take some modicum of time to figure any of that out. Plus, Lucia and his family would do their best to twist, bend and obscure their trail. It’s likely he’d never find out the two of them left together. Sharp as he was, the Rathor who’d been hiding in plain sight for over one-hundred and fifty years was simply better at hiding things than he was at finding things. Invaluable, she was– and paired with Lucia, they’d kept all of Daravin’s various methods of sniffing out heretics at bay for a rather long time.

Degare knew nothing about the Resoner they were going to meet…but he wasn’t really asking, either. He trusted that if Arkash said it was an option, that it would work out in the end. He did wonder about who she was, though. They must be close– else she wouldn’t be willing to just give a mark to a complete stranger because Arkash said so.

However, next was to acknowledge the question the Rath posed about the safety of Degare’s chosen method of travel. “Yes, it’s safe. You’re right about that– we’ll both be covered, identities obscured. If we leave tomorrow, even Valentin won’t have had the time to track us, much less figure out which portal we’ve taken in the first place. Given my status, I can likely get us on the next ship that leaves Genteven for Nivenhain once we get there as well. Nobility and a bit of bribery can get you whatever you want, oftentimes– and all that I have is yours to use, too.” The Lord spoke with confidence in this regard, for he knew it all to be true. Part of what made Valentin an effective hunter was his ability to easily navigate Daravin’s society as a man of great repute, but Degare could take advantage of all of these things, too, creating a relatively even cat and mouse playing field between the two of them.

Ignorant to the potential pitfalls of asking Fayeth specifically for the mark, Degare was actually feeling rather relieved by the end of this conversation To him, their plan came across as far more likely to work out than not.

In some ways, Degare might be a little too eager to give his blood to his lover. Safety concerns and so forth don’t really appear to ever be at the forefront of his mind…though he did one day want to find a way to push his Blood Magic that would allow him to perhaps alleviate some of this problem. And as much as Arkash loved him and cared for his safety, being a Dranoch made the offering of blood– especially his– something he’d be loath to ever deny.

Such a thing was highlighted with the way his face lit up upon being granted permission, then underscored by his choice of words. Now that the young Cardinal was straddling him, the Ferrier met his eyes with a look of warm affection; he really was delighted to share. “Is that how it works? What will happen when I get a fifth mark? Or when I ascend?” These questions were asked playfully, almost coquettish in their nature along with his teasing tone of voice. Resonance would be the fifth and he fully planned to ascend at some point, likely in the next year, might as well plant the seeds of temptation in the younger man’s head.

The Ferrier’s expression shifted to something much more demure with currents of his own desire stirring beneath the surface when his lover tipped his face upwards. A soft, genuinely joyful smile pulled at his lips when Arkash told him he loved him back. He’d completely submitted himself to the other’s will by this point, melting into the kiss pressed against him– he just wished it could have lasted a few moments longer.

His lover’s building hunger was something the elf could feel and it filled him with a sort of thrilling anticipation of his own, simply nodding when the stronger man told him how to get him to stop, if necessary.

Arkash’s Cardinal features were a galvanizing sight. Perhaps rather terrifying in nature, the elf adored them. With his hands resting against the lower portion of the other’s serratus anterior, he just watched his lover’s form shift with open adoration and abundant desire of his own.

Dull nails dug into the Dranoch’s back as the Veir was forcefully pressed into the bedding behind him. A loud, stifled cry of a gasp escaped his lips as monstrously sharp teeth rent through the soft tissues of his neck. The pain was white hot in its intensity yet cold in nature– a wholly unique experience that surprisingly, he didn’t hate given that he’d not thought to use anything to reduce it. Maybe he’d finally lost his mind.

The fourfold mage shuddered as he felt his blood drain out of him and he made no attempt to stop his lover…not because he couldn’t. He simply didn’t want to– at least, not yet. He could tell how much Arkash enjoyed this and didn’t want to make him stop. So for now, he just ran his fingers weakly over the other’s back to curiously poke at the base of the spines. These features were both fascinating and new to him, but he couldn’t sit there and explore them for long; he could feel a cold sensation begin to ride through his body in tandem with something akin to disappointment.

Once the realization hit him that he was nearing his limit, the pale elf weakly folded his fingers and tapped twice against the nape of his lover’s neck with his knuckles. Hopefully, he’d stop.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
"Silvain Tongue/Speech"

[Arkash]

Though Degare’s reactions to the prospect of evolving again were interesting, Arkash could seldom focus on decoding the mysteries of his expression at the time. He was all very flattering in his bashfulness to the idea of being protected; Arkash enjoyed such a mental image, a world in which he’d act as the close-ranged guard to the powerful mage’s casting. If Arkash could build a defense as powerful as the General’s offense, they’d be unstoppable, he imagined. Degare’s shame didn’t seem to click at that moment, as Arkash gave him a simple smug grin after the offer.

Huntsman, the third stage was called. Arkash’s eyes widened; that was the beast that Taelian was hunting when he was killed so long ago… He could only imagine the power such a creature possessed. Arkash longed for that power, the ability to devastate even the strongest mages, but unknown to him was the journey’s length. The only Dranoch on Atharen to have evolved into the Huntsman were the court of dusk, six in total. “I have to feed,” Arkash explained. “The stronger my prey, the further I’m pushed to evolution.”

And that was exactly what he wanted at that moment, to climb atop Degare, hold him down, and open his neck like a tap. As it turned out, Degare was eager to offer his lifeblood to the wounded monster.

While he sat upon the Veir, Arkash wearily focused on his meal as his heart began to increase at the prospect of feeding. Degare was the feast that never ceased to bore him, as it seemed he became stronger with every round. What was more, Arkash had come to associate his smell, taste, and texture with love. The gift of his blood wasn’t only something he cherished for its value, but something he was blessed to receive as a result of their bond; a gesture of affection.

He did little more than smile at the Veir’s question while he sat there. It barely even occurred to him to answer as the forefront of his mind vacated thoughts of restraint for his own wounds, his own wellbeing, for the sake of feeding. Such was the self-destructive hunger of the Dranoch.

So, he seized the man and forced him to the bedding before he bit through layers of skin and muscle to access his rich blood vessels, and freely drank from the source with eager anticipation. Arkash was monstrous in his exertion at the time, in that he could have very easily snapped bone and torn through the skin like paper, but so was his restraint. He did little more than hold the Veir down with an uncomfortable degree of strength while his whole body trembled in cathartic satisfaction. He hummed deeply, only to catch when he felt the tap against him. The flow of blood had slowed he realized, though it still came.

Carefully, he swallowed and released his jaws to allow the Veir’s blood to pour free of the gaping wound with a few spurts that accompanied his beating heart.

Panting, a mess of coppery red, Arkash pressed the wound on the Veir’s neck until he could harden the site, then ferociously began to lap at whatever had bled through before the man had sealed the wound. “Fuck I love you…” Arkash hummed in delight while he continued to tremble and pant above the freshly bled Veir.

Quickly, his Degare’s offering began to undo the damage to his body, and with the aid of Degare’s Pallor and the Allay, he was well enough to stand and walk. “Stay still my love,” he instructed. “I’ll be back with my Needle in just a minute.”

With that, he lifted himself from the freshly wounded Noble, then moved to the far end of the room, looked over his shoulder, and grinned before he proceeded headlong into the darkened halls.

When he returned with his kit in tow, Degare had long since fallen asleep. With relative ease, Arkash repaired the damage to his neck and completely restored his skin. A portion of his blood was restored with some difficulty, which would allow the Veir to function properly in the morning. A stretch of his leg saw the damage to his femur had already recovered… Indeed, he’d be well by the morning, he imagined. Carefully, he pulled the sleeping Veir beneath the covers, quietly wrapped around him under the low lamplight of the night, and gradually relaxed before falling asleep beside the other man.

Image source.