Unmade

[Taelian Edevane]

1st of Frost, Year 4622

Maybe he just wasn't ready to acknowledge it all, or maybe he just really didn't know the answer... but as Ford asked him whether he was in good enough condition to fight the Beast of Leiden, the man looked at him almost confused, as if he had not the faintest idea what he meant. He responded simply with a soft yes, thanked him over and again for how kind and supportive he was, and spent the next moments together with their foreheads pressed together, and then their lips. As they embraced, Taelian wanted to tell Ford all about just how miserable he felt, and how much he really needed him, but somehow the right moment never seemed to come.

Before he knew it, he was equipped for the show: the Knight wore nothing but what almost looked like a belted harness and some trousers with boots, wanting to give the Kyng a show after all. He wanted to show him that he was unbothered by the cold, and that he needed no armor to be a threat: only his blade. Ard Fuil sat sheathed on his back, a silver claymore that he had not wielded in what felt like years. Ford was encouraged to dress well, but Taelian was to be a warrior that night, and did not care for the austere decorum he was acquainted with these days. He knew how to be a grunt, a soldier -- how to toil and claw in the fucking mud, desperate only to live. There was no need for a gilded satin vest for anything so desperate.

Time passed by quickly. Before he knew it, he was standing at the bottom of a long series of steps, the Kyng seated on the balcony above, beckoning him near. Ford was at his side, of course, the man tightly clutching his hand as if somehow it would alleviate his burden. In some way, it did.

"Come, son of Venadr!" Kyng Uldred howled. He had medium-length wavy brown hair, and wore green and black attire. Uldred's crown was made of the horn of elks, with emeralds imbued into the material. As far as Kings and Lords went, he wasn't atypical for someone from Radenor or Tyrclaid -- un-industrialized, still clinging to the aesthetics and traditions of the past. Industrialism, to them, was even gauche: his silks were beautiful, contrarily.

"He didn't take long to let out that secret," Taelian muttered to Ford as they ascended the stairs, his features visibly displeased. "Everyone's looking at us. This is disgusting -- there won't be anywhere left I can go, after this, where people won't know once they hear my name. Gods... we need to find out who told him." It was possible that it wasn't Eloise. Miranda knew, Regis knew... all of the Thespians knew, really, and that meant that plenty of other souls could learn. It didn't make sense for it to be Eloise -- she had just warned Ford so thoroughly not to tell anyone. It was a secret she wasn't yet prepared to wield.

They met the apex of the steps, and the Knight stood before his Kyng, Ford's arm locked around his. Uldred reached out and slapped Taelian's bare pectoral, laughing as he did. His arms expanded out to show off the variety of fine foods prepared at their table, which overlooked the grand Hippodrome. Glancing down, Taelian saw thousands staring back at him, and those who weren't were throwing rose petals onto the Hippodrome's sandy-colored dirt floor. There was shouting, and cheering... it was all so overwhelming.

Glancing back, Taelian's eyes immediately met a woman, who curtsied before him and wore a bright smile. She was, like Uldred, brown-haired with bright green eyes, and she wore a circlet with emeralds not dissimilar from his, but smaller.

"I am oðling Synnove, Heir of Jorikford," the woman introduced herself. Stepping back, she clasped her hands before her, and stood straight and tall. "My father is about to make a speech. Why don't you and your male confidant sit down and observe while we ready the stage for you? The Beast is almost finished being prepared."

[Ford Edevane]

Nerves were on fire for Ford. He hadn’t expected things to progress so quickly. He had been thankful for those private moments left with his husband. The simplest of touches of their foreheads pressing to one another was something that Ford cherished beyond everything else. It was romantic, intimate, and almost erotic in how close he felt to his husband when those moments happened. Before long, though, they had to prepare, to be ready for what was about to happen.

Ford’s heart had been beating rapidly ever since they had left. Not a moment had passed them that he did not feel the need to pause and take deep breaths, to take one step at a time. He had faith in Taelian, his Arlaed. He knew he could overcome this diversity regardless of the situation.

Hand-in-hand, step by step, Ford matched Taelian’s motions. Their hands clasped together tightly, Ford’s squeezing Taelian’s just as intently. Their steps were in sync, their motions in sync, down to the atmosphere around the pair. Taelian seemed to have an air reminiscent of the calm before the storm about him, whereas Ford’s nerves had quickly bled to a dull twinge as his heartbeat had lessened. The closer they got, the more calm Ford’s heart became. How he perceived the difference in his body was almost eerie. It was also not lost upon him the showmanship going into this event. Not even five minutes within their vicinity, the Kyng was spouting his Arlaed’s personal business for ears that had no right, nor were they fit even to say the words. Regardless, as they approached, Ford did nothing in terms of a response to Taelian’s comments, aside from the smallest strokes of his thumb to his lover’s hand.

Ford had dressed to the T for the occasion. There was not a single button, lace, or piece of fabric out of line. A dark, navy blue suit, pants clinging just right against the man’s more muscular hips and thighs, ending in a pair of light brown leathered oxfords, shined to perfection. To his torso was a single collared crisply white button-down tucked into the pants with a silver vest buttoned over the abdomen. Over this was a matching navy blue jacket with a similar silver tie-like garment tucked into the vest. His hair had been styled, and his facial hair trimmed.

As the Kyng greeted Taelian with a clap to his pectoral, Ford did take the opportunity to speak. The Griscian accent was thick, and his words' lilt aimed at disarming rather than raising inquiry. A polite bow of his head was given as his husband was man-handled. “He is a prime specimen of the heavens, is he not?”

As the woman introduced herself, a polite smile was offered to her along with a respectful bowed nod of his head, eyes closing for the briefest of moments as he greeted oðling Synnove.

“It is our pleasure, and please accept our gratitude for being allowed to be in both the heir's and Kyng’s presences. Our appreciation for the invitation to a seat.”

Clenching his husband’s hand as if it were a lifeline, he almost pulled away too fast to take a seat so that the pair of them could at least look respectful while the Kyng was having his speech.

[Taelian Edevane]

He was surprised to see Ford react so calmly to the Kyng's unwanted grope, but simultaneously he wasn't. He had asked Ford to sit by him and even gain his confidence, which meant making a good first impression. In Taelian's view, his husband had done just that, and he was glad he kept his composure. Seeing how he interacted with others -- particularly others with power -- only further solidified to him, his choice of binding the man to him.

Taelian kept tight his grip on Ford's hand, and pulled him to sit on his lap as he seated himself on one of the spectator gallery's chairs. "He is my husband," Taelian said to Synnove, his voice firm. "But he is male, and my confidant, so I cannot say your description was inaccurate." A simple smile graced his lips, and as the woman sat down beside them, she smiled faintly as well.

"I see. Well, a pleasure to meet you both, regardless. A shame for me, to be sure, as I've been seeking a man worthy of my marital hand for perhaps a decade... but I will have to do with this knowledge. Perhaps I can just marry you both?" she grinned, a little twinkle flickering in her eye.

Taelian rolled his eyes. The people in Radenor were... forward, that was a certain thing. Forward, and lustful. "I get all that I need presently, thank you," he said. It was only then that Taelian noticed Kyng Uldred staring at him and Ford from behind Synnove's shoulder, though the man said nothing. Instead, he quickly stood, stepping towards the edge of the balcony and lifting his hands towards the sky, presenting himself like a prize bull to the amassed crowds below.

"People of Jorikford!" Uldred yelled, his voice billowing out like a general, drumming for war. "As you have seen, the Gods have returned from Muiden to guide us back towards the righteous path. As if a message from those Divines... one of their own has been brought to me, a soul uplifted from the dregs of Sil-Elanya! Taelian Ela'Rannoch... son of Venadr!"

The man almost gasped. Ela'Rannoch. Uldred knew his birth name -- he didn't go by that anymore, not to anyone. If anyone from Lorien heard that name... so much of what he built would be diminished. Whoever ratted to him had to know a great deal, and that meant it had to be someone close to him, or someone who knew him for a long time. This was all very dire, and Taelian was starting to feel... sick. Sick to his stomach, ill, and cold.

He was supposed to stand up... he knew it. That was his cue. He stood, rising to his feet and peering out, lifting one arm high to wave at the crowds. He had an excellent grasp on deceit -- the Covenant and its Customs had taught him well. He looked powerful, enthusiastic, and utterly virile and in good health. His grin was wide.

"Norunn!" he yelled, the Knight's voice breaking out into a powerful, echoing boom at the behest of his Argent vocal chords, and an undulating warp from Resonance. His yell was like a thunderclap, brimming out so mightily that even those outside of the Hippodrome would hear him clear. "At the behest of the mighty Kyng Uldred, I have come to deliver you the blood and fury of the Gods!"

The man lifted his leg, climbing onto the edge of the stone balcony, his arms spread open at his sides. As the masses looked up towards him, two chiropteran wings sprung from his back, spreading outward until their span nearly obscured the entire watchers' gallery. Taelian took flight, descending onto the stage of the Hippodrome to the screeching cries of the crowd, who he had fired up to the point of delirium. Uldred, he hoped, would be pleased.

"Eager, he is," the Kyng laughed, bringing his hands together to clap once, as Synnove stood to take his side. "Very well. Let the Beast of Leiden rise."

Near the center of the ovular field, a grate opened, and a chittering wail echoed from within. Not long after, a pair of red claws gripped the edges of the opened grate, with two long trunk-like tendrils rising and bearing down on the edges around the metal. Lifting itself out, the beast -- which stood well over twelve feet tall -- moved down into a lurching, hunched position, its incredible tail swaying around as it eyed the man who would be its prey. The creature was fleshy in color and appearance, and appeared to have a mixture of biological apparatus' for creating echolocation. Just when Taelian thought the battle might be a free victory, given Resonance's ability to fool echolocative tools, the mouths at its forehead opened to reveal a singular large eye, with the holes wrapped around its face chittering and radiating sounds in a sheer, malleable frequency.

And then, it moved down into an almost hound-like position, and suddenly pounced. It leaped at Taelian unimaginably quickly; the beast soared through a hundred meters in a mere moment, and Taelian was forced to Sonic Blink away, only for the creature to unleash a shrieking pitch that disrupted his Blink partway through, forcing him out of the arcane leap.

Taelian grunted, and quickly unsheathed and swung Ard Fuil as the creature lunged at him. His sheer force utterly cleaved through the creature's arms and ripped off a chunk of its neck, though those injuries quickly began to wither, the lost tissue regenerating in moments.

Taelian brought his blade back defensively, and quickly light began to reflect from its surface, letting out a searing ray of heat from the blinding edge of the blade. The creature shrieked, tunneling into the sand in moments, while Taelian recovered his stance. The Knight quickly entered the sky, his wings flapping as he stared down at the barren field, the creature still yet to resurface.

[Ford Edevane]

For the briefest moments, Ford’s façade vanished when he was pulled into his beloved’s lap. When the retort was given, Ford’s blue eyes nearly iced over as he looked from the corner of his eyes toward the woman. He was not going to be rude; his husband had said everything that needed saying. And Taelian was most definitely, once everything was over, going to get what he deserved from Ford, in every sense of the meaning. However, the woman continued about marrying the pair, and that gaze came from the pair of blue orbs. Again, Taelian had said enough, but Ford had to tack on something amiable, at the very least.

“My apologies that the guest of honor and I are not currently up for marriage. But you have an immense commonwealth and lords in the realm. Surely one of those beneath us could do more for you in wedded bliss than either of us could do for you. I would be honored to help facilitate some social gatherings for you as the guest of honor to meet with them?” A polite smile to her and Ford’s backside pressed right back into Taelian, unafraid to claim what belonged to him in front of those present. Ford’s gaze had met the Kyng’s glance… Glare? Perhaps that was a leer, Ford was not quite certain, but he was already moving to speak to the masses.

Ford could play the socialite game, but he was not above hindering it, just a bit for the sake of his husband. When he heard the name, even Ford’s head turned to look directly at Uldred, that calmed heartbeat skipping a beat or two. Instead of reacting outward towards that, he turned slightly and slid a muscular arm around his husband’s shoulders, turning partially to the side. The body heat from his jacket escaped as he opened his side to Taelian’s chest, and he squeezed him against his frame while not removing eye contact from Uldred. You’ll be okay… We’ll be okay… For whatever it was worth, Ford was chanting that in his mind and channeling that as deep into his soul as he could. Information had gotten out, and Taelian was becoming more and more vulnerable.

Once more, his eyes faltered, but his body did not. Nearly closing when it was time for Taelian to stand, reluctantly, he stood and allowed his husband to take the stance he did and was quite proud of him, to say the least. How he commanded the people… How the people responded to him… As the Kyng and Synnove stood to watch the fight, a single dark thought entered his mind.

How easy it would be to push them over the edge, watch them die. Leave it for Taelian to take up and dominate the insignificance they all were.

Some parts of his Grisic upbringing still clung true to him, parts that he did not particularly know were still present until that moment. As darkened eyes slipped from their reverie, Uldred’s words brought him to the present, and he took steps to stand behind Uldred and to the side so he could watch.

“He is very eager. When the son of Vendr is called by Kyng Uldred and given a chance to show the glory of the kingdom of Jorikford, of Radenor… It is difficult not to feel pride in serving his majesty.”

Once more, the blonde fell silent as he watched the combat happening below. Rather than leaving his arms at his side idly or crossing them over his chest, he clasped them behind his back, placing a single foot slightly forward and partially sideways while the other remained straight, close to the hell of the other.

“This is a mighty fine event… We are indebted to whoever offered him to you to allow him this opportunity to prove how brightly his star can shine as your Draedan. It is quite the honor.”

It was not an honor; it was a nightmare. A bell had been rung that could not be undone.

[Taelian Edevane]

Kyng Uldred chuckled as Ford praised the event. He gestured Synnove out of her seat, taking residence beside the tall, blond-haired man and digging into his food: a large chicken drum, which he unceremoniously plowed through, toothy bite-by-bite.

"Whoever offered him to me, hm?" Uldred raised, grinning. "So, you mean to say you do not know who it was? Ah, you play your weak hand too easily. Now I will have to make that information cost something... hm..."

Synnove cleared her throat. "Fealty," she said. "That is what it will cost. Taelian will move onto one knee, and in exchange he will know. Isn't that correct, father?"

"You speak out of fucking turn, Synnove," he spat, not even bothering to glance to the woman beside him. The Kyng hummed. "Your husband will swear devotion to me in the form of a... Knightly sort of vow, and in exchange you will know who your rat is," he said with a nod. Uldred effectively repeated Synnove's idea word-for-word, though somehow in his mind the rewording was enough to make his idea distinct. "You'll be surprised who it was, I think. Or maybe you won't be. Sometimes you spend all of these hours worrying about the knife you can see -- the knife that's already tasted your blood -- when it's the knife you never imagined to color itself with your guts that gets you."

The creature did not emerge from the sand, but its tendril did. Like a coil, it extended almost infinitely, stretching until it was an elongated spike that bulleted through the air to Taelian in flight. The tendril ripped through his deltoid, forcing the man to scream out in agony as the high-velocity strike caught him by surprise. In a mere instant, it prepared its barbed tendril for a lateral slice, hoping to cleave the Draedan in half with a quick two-step maneuver.

The man struck first instead, flinging his sword towards the tendril as it swiped away; Ard Fuil began to spin, and quickly it dismembered the elongated tail as it flew outward towards the stands. Taelian grimaced, blinking towards his blade and capturing it, only to stop mid-air as red, ethereal cannons began to appear across the span of his shoulders. Six small cannons all appeared simultaneously, and with the rattling of his Divinity they began to devastate the ground of the Hippodrome with an echoing, explosive volley; each impact ripped through the ground, causing chittering screams to wail from below as the thousands of spectators rushed to cover their ears.

With the floor of the Hippodrome demolished, Taelian extended out his hand, a fiery plume forming from the center of his palm. He could see the damaged, broken, battered form of the regenerating creature from below, and decided that now was his moment to execute it. The flame spurred outward in a vast torrent of flame, the fire hitting the pit left behind by his cannon volley and blazing outward, all while the undead monstrosity screamed... and then leaped, gaining traction against the ground before flinging itself towards Taelian. The Knight slashed off the tendril that quickly came to impale him, only for a second to grip his arm and squeeze around it, wrapping around his forearm and twisting it in an attempt to crush his bones with its sheer weight and force.

He grit his teeth, kicking the creature as it converged upon him. His blade swiped off its right arm, only for its left to claw forward, the man catching the hand with his own and struggling with it. Through it all, he lost his flight, the two quickly barreling for the ground and crashing. Taelian kicked, wrestled and bit the creature, his shoulders suddenly erupting with an array of spine-like blades that cut the abomination's tendrils whenever they neared him; he was whittling at the creature, but it continuously and continuously regrew.

Somewhere in the flurry, he had dropped Ard Fuil, and Taelian's torso was covered in scratches and gashes from the creature's claws. Desperation took over--he had to kill the beast now.

The Mark of Vengeance appeared on the skull of the creature, seared into its flesh. Taelian's eyes lit a deep, piercing gold, and he roared as the creature wrestled him. The man gripped harder, adrenaline filling his veins as he slowly pushed the beast off of him, lifting it and tossing it onto the ground. Immediately, he appeared above it, plunging his boot into its abdomen with a brutal stomp that saw blood and guts fill the stage, as Taelian's own blood poured down his shoulder and his chest. The man's face, dirtied and covered with innards, glared down at the writhing creature; he forged a deep red fire from behind his maw, his cheeks lighting with a brimming orange-red as flame began to spew out from his lips, melting the creature below him. As it burned, Taelian kicked it again and again, before colliding onto it and beginning to pummel and rip away at its flesh, his hands utterly annihilating the creature piece-by-piece until finally he pulled its head clean off of its shoulders, clutching its mangled flesh within his closed fist and tossing it onto the sand.

It wasn't glamorous, but nothing about it was. Nothing about the Adac was glamorous, nothing about the Corrupted Ones, nothing about the arcane or the Divine. It was all sinew and metal and raw, entropic filth coming together to form a creature that could disintegrate other creatures made of sinew, metal and raw entropic filth.

By the time it was over, he was utterly soaked with blood; he was bathed in the beast's guts, covered head-to-toe with red splatter or the pink or pallored remnants of the dead creature.

Despite how filthy he was, and how utterly beaten and cut up he looked, Taelian felt fine. He could survive much more than that.

"Easy," he said, spitting out the creature's blood.

There was a pause, the Kyng lifting a brow and glancing towards his daughter beside him, only to clear his throat -- hesitantly -- allowing for his voice to echo. "Speak louder, Son of Venadr!" Kyng Uldred commanded.

"I said... EASY!" Taelian's voice boomed. "Surely there must be a second one? Was this the preliminary match?"

The crowd paused -- dead silent, at first -- before erupting into a bellowing cheer. Uldred seemed... either agitated, or transfixed; it was always impossible to tell.

"He teases!" the Kyng declared, laughing aloud. Uldred slowly made his way down the steps, the crowd duly observing him as he descended to the floor of the Hippodrome. At the end of it all, he extended Taelian a hand, though not quite to take. It was to kiss.

Taelian's chest rose and fell, and through it all he still felt himself in that bloody haze; the one that always consumed him in the face of a raw, gritty, violent battle. Some wild, irrational part of him wanted to lop Uldred's head from his shoulders, but he did not. He bent the knee, and he kissed the hand offered until it was smeared with putrid, undead blood.

"I heard you, on the balcony. Through Resonance," Taelian said, quietly, as he peered into Uldred's eyes. "You told my husband you would tell me who gave you my information if I swore fealty to you. So... tell me, and I will swear."

The Kyng narrowed his eyes. "Narin," he muttered. The name meant nothing to Taelian -- he could only look up at him and stare, one brow lifting and curling. "A Sil-Norai girl, younger than my daughter. Black clothes, crude. The name is lost on you, I see?"

Taelian bit his lower lip. He lowered his face, mumbling fake words to make it seem to the crowd like he was swearing some Knightly vow, only to clutch the Kyng's hand and stand. He presented himself to the crowd with a raise of his arms, laughing and grinning like a bloodied gladiator pleased with his kill. In truth, he did not care.

"I would have my husband celebrate this moment with me!" he exclaimed, beckoning Ford from the balcony. "I'm certain he does not wish to ruin his fine state of dress," Taelian let out with a chuckle, to the laughter of the audience. "He will have to make do, though. There is nothing a warrior wants more than his beloved when a battle is done."

Uldred was grimacing, now. Taelian had intercepted his strategy, intentionally or not: he intended to offer Synnove to him as the spoils of his victory, and now that was wholly quashed.

[Ford Edevane]

Ford’s face had not changed. He had not acted as if he had made a blunder in wording his praise the way he had. Ford was normally intentional with his words, something many people would come to learn about him. He was a human, a lowly, non-magical, non-divine human… Not even a half-blood of anything more interesting. Humans had existed alongside Lords and other races for some time. The hubris of those with power always led to underestimating those without.

Upon hearing his hand had been played and the weakness of it more blatantly obvious, he bowed his head in an attempted apology for any insult. “You cannot fault me for trying.” The façade had been present when his heartbeat had lessened and touched the first of those steps. The Griscian Empire taught him how to steer through the murky waters of those he wished to rub elbows with and move up within society. It was also part of his Sociological education. Those who achieve power often forget they are not always the most intelligent and feel money and titles protect them. It is when those below revolt against, unified, that things begin to change. Taelian and Ford had gone into it unified, personifying their bond as Arlaed and marriage in an exemplary fashion.

There was apparent tension, even as Uldred turned his harsh words upon the daughter. Very clearly, the arrogance of the daughter and father clashed to the point of one trying to prove their worth and the other putting them in their place. Ford did not miss it, and he did not miss the hierarchy of social structures such as this, especially back home. One thing stood out with Uldred’s words, though. The repetition of a word had him looking from the Kyng to the scene before them.

As the fight continued, the scratches, the impaling, the wounds… They were enough to fall any ordinary person, but his husband continued. He had never seen him in battle, unlike what he was witnessing. It was artwork, and it was beautiful. It was… Well, his thoughts could not delve down that path at that moment; he could not yet risk losing his edge. “Swearing fealty to your crown….” Ford spoke softly as if repeating the words, mostly for his own benefit. “A knight…”

The sheer destructive display of his Arlaed’s divinity had those blues growing wider in sheer awe. Was it wrong that Ford found some form of artistry in the destructiveness that was Taelian? Something drew him to it, something Ford had not quite felt before. It was intriguing, and when Uldred descended the steps to offer his hand for Taelian to swear service, Ford remained at his place. He was relieved, for now, it had gone well.

It was a risky move Ford had made. There were many more drawn-out, elegant ways to get information from someone. Taelian had not asked Ford to find out who was behind it, although it would have been amazing in and of itself to come out so boldly at the time. Ford had banked on playing it so that Uldred would think him inept enough to openly claim what he wanted, what he demanded for such a piece of information. That was how Ford had wanted to maneuver the conversation into the Kyng admitting that, and luckily, he had done just that.

With his husband calling for him, measured steps were taken down the stairs, listening to the crowd in their appraisal of his husband. He was both thankful and proud of him, and as he came to the same leveled step as Uldred, he offered a single sentiment.

“This really was a fine event, your majesty. Perhaps we can try again in another season?”

It was said quietly and measuredly as his steps took him down to his husband. Ford did not care, and suits could be purchased. He did not care if there were blood, viscera, and otherwise unknown remnants that transferred onto his clothes. Ford did not care if he had blood, organic fluids, or bone smeared across his face. In a display, which seemed to be the theme of this event, unless Taelian stopped him, Ford grabbed the back of his husband’s head and pulled him into a fiercely passionate kiss. He was not subtle as he tended to be when in the presence of others. The kiss would not last too long, it was Taelian’s moment to shine, but before Ford did pull back, he pressed his forehead against Taelian’s and spoke just loud enough for him to hear.

“My Arlaed…You have done amazing…”

And then, to allow Taelian his celebration, he took up his love’s free hand and slid his hand into it, grasping it and holding it, wearing perhaps the widest, most pride-filled smile Ford had ever had.

[Taelian Edevane]

Taelian and Ford

Lores
8 Generic Lores for both characters.

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A

Points: 8

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