Matins

[Hakon]

73rd Frost, 4622
At Vivian's insistence, they were meeting to meditate, but not in the chapel, where Hakon normally found his daily peace. Instead, they were meeting in the Arcanery in the small hours of the morning. After nightly prayers but before the early morning service. Doing so made him feel a bit queasy, but nothing Vivian had requested was against the rules, and at this point, Hakon felt dutybound to help the other man settle in. He even found himself looking forward to it. Vivian was odd, and blasphemous, and foul-mouthed, but he was not insincere, and he listened when Hakon talked. Those were relative rarities in his life in the Guild.

If he were wiser, he may have considered that perhaps he was lonely, and that Vivian was extending something akin to a facsimile of friendship. Instead, though, he just found himself wondering why their evening meditation required the use of the Arcanery to begin with. He arrived a span of minutes before the appointed time and ensured the space was tidy and some candles were lit for Vivian's arrival. No sense in having the man overwork himself in his current state. He surveyed the Arcanery: an open, bare space with a few spartan chairs lined along the wall. The expectation was that if a mage needed any kind of prop or instrument, they were to bring it in and then clean the room upon their conclusion but he found that many didn't bother, just leaving the chairs strewn about and ashes or leaves all over the floor.

He knew he wasn't surrounded by idiots, because if he were, he would take pity on them and have compassion for them. Instead, he was surrounded by reckless, careless, self-centered mages, and that was far worse. He wasn't certain if Vivian was different, but the man had earned the benefit of the doubt.

[Vivian]

Vivian was looking forward to meditation. It was a chance to practice his magic, commune with himself and grow closer to Hakon. He needed the man. On some level their relationship was entirely self serving to Vivian. He wanted to escape and he wanted to keep his babe out of an orphanage. Hakon was such a stickler for the rules he didn’t know if he could pull it off, but he had to try.

He opened the door to find candles already lit. “Romantic.” He chuckled at Hakon, flashing him an amused smile. “Or is the fire necessary for your Brand?” Vivian sauntered toward the chairs and stacked them up neatly, shifting them awkwardly to a corner where they would be out of the way. No sense making things that were difficult to wipe down filthy. He shrugged out of his shirt, coat, pants and shoes, folding them and setting them on the topmost chair.

Vivian pulled a small box out of his coat, and walked to the middle of the floor. “I wanted to show you something.” He said, settling cross-legged on the stone. He set the box in front of him, settling his hand on top of it. “This was, once, the worst mistake of my life. A man named Degare, a Veir, took me in off of the street. He taught me magic and the ways of the Entente, but his price was too much for me. He wanted to be initiated into Malformity.”

Vivian smiled sadly at Hakon. “I had to deny him. Malformity needs empathy. You dedicate yourself to becoming something of change. Something that knows the world around you, or at least a small piece of it. He was twisted by the Entente into an evil, power hungry creature. He’d have never survived initiation…and I wouldn’t have wanted him to.”

The Malformist patted the area across from him. “Come, sit.” He bade Hakon. He opened the box. Inside, several fat caterpillars munched away on leaves and sticks. There were also two wasps, settled peacefully in the leaf litter. Vivian gathered one into his palm and shut the box.

“The ichneumon wasp.” He chuckled, opening his hand. It looked like a living flame; the legs were bright orange fading into yellow at the tips. The wasp was slightly built, a creature of speed, with a long striped abdomen. The stinger was long, like a filament of thread, and brushed against Vivian’s forearm. The wasp itself was giant; roughly the size of the mage’s palm. “The cold makes them sleepy.” Vivian chuckled, allowing the animal to buzz angrily and climb around his fingers. “She can’t hurt you.”

[Hakon]

Hakon wasn't sure why they were here, and he was less sure now than he had been before.

"You should have initiated him," He said, of Degare, perhaps to Vivian's surprise. Presumably that surprise would dull somewhat when he presented his logic for such a choice: "Malformist initiation leaves even powerful men vulnerable. You could have cut him down while he languished in his feral form, or the initiation may have done the job for you. The world wouldn't miss a Daravinic mage, so it would be no great loss."

He realized that technically, this described the man opposite him, as well. "Ah -- no offense meant, Vivian. I meant more the Entente and their hangers-on than -- than souls like you."

He wasn't sure how to articulate it further. Just as Vivian pitied him for his allegedly cruel confinement, so too did he pity Vivian. Made to look after himself as best he could, all alone. Doing unspeakable, degrading things to support himself, including with people who took advantage of him or mistreated him. Small wonder the man had his hackles up all the time, and viewed structure as suffocation and authority figures as fools to be circumvented or threats to be avoided.

He sat next to Vivian as he was bade, but drew back a bit when the other man drew out the bugs. Hakon wasn't scared of bugs, per se, but he didn't recognize these, and the wasp looked to have a nasty stinger. Vivian's reassurance that he was in no danger did not help much. A skilled Malformist may not have much to fear from an animal, but neither of his magical disciplines offered much defense against stings or bites.

"Its anatomy suggests otherwise," he replied at the reassurance that it could not harm him.

"Why did you bring these? Are they friends to you, like Bara?" He felt glad for Vivian that the man had companions, even if they weren't human. People needed people, as the First Warden was fond of saying to Hakon, and to a Malformist, perhaps animals were people, too.

[Vivian]

Vivian looked up in surprise. Initiate Degare? Just to destroy him? He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Not even the worst monster in the world deserves that sort of death, Hakon. If he had insisted, or if his abuse of me continued, I would have killed him myself and killed him honorably. I wouldn’t disrespect my magic initiating someone to fail on purpose.” He said firmly. “Even if he was a fucking asshole.”

He understood where Hakon’s hatred of Daravinic mages came from. Ironically, given where the man had been birthed it was likely he was describing himself as well. A lost Daravinic mage, taught to hate his own kind and his own skin. Sent to hunt down mages and either murder or imprison them. Vivian shuddered to think what Halon would have done to mages of gentler disciplines.

“That’s not a stinger.” Vivian chuckled as Hakon eyed the wasp. “Just an ovipositor. This one’s female.” He offered her to Hakon. “Gently. And no, they’re not friends. But they are a symbol of my magic. Something delicate, beautiful, birthed from transformation. I keep the box because one day I will initiate someone, and unless he or she has a strong connection with another animal…these wasps are my choice.”

Vivian let the wasp wander on Hakon’s fingers if he had taken her, or his own if she didn’t, for a few moments before putting her back in the box. He set it aside, and looked at his companion. “I wanted to ask you to join me in my meditation. It’s eh, possible on your own but easiest with another person.” He smirked. “And no, nothing sexual. I charge for that.”

He nodded to the ground. “Take off your shirt and lie down? Just on your stomach, if you need something between you and the tile we can grab my coat.”

[Hakon]

While Hakon felt reassured that it wasn't a stinger, he didn't know what an ovipositor was. He regarded the wasp with suspicion, and didn't pick it up. Again, just because it was safe for Vivian did not make it safe for him. He also checked with his Ethersight, just in case it was somehow etheric in nature. It wasn't -- it was just a bug. He knew there was no way it could be a secret Malformist in disguise; wasps were too small for even a Master Malformist to turn into. He wasn't sure why he'd done that, and felt a bit foolish.

"I should hope it isn't sexual," Hakon replied. "Because if it is, you have chosen the wrong companion." He felt no need to elaborate on that. Other mages made fun of him for it, told him he was missing out on one of the best aspects of being in the Guild. In this as in many things, he ignored his peers and let their opinions waft over him with all the force of a gust of wind: annoying to take to the face, but ultimately harmless.

So saying, he removed his shirt at Vivian's request, revealing the torso of a man who had spent decades doing hours of training, cleaning, praying, and meditating daily, and little else. Were Hakon more aware of himself and the world in general, he might know that his body was an appealing one to many. Instead, he just set his short aside and lay prone as directed. He scoffed a bit at Vivian's offer for a jacket. He'd had worse than a cold floor, and he needed no material comfort to meditate.

"I'm ready," he said, sounding more like he was psyching himself up for a combat exercise than for meditation. "What are we doing, anyway?"

[Vivian]

Vivian laughed. He had sensed that Hakon was a little bit of a virgin. He was shy about any contact, had not risen to his bait in the slightest, and seemed odd about any sort of inappropriate humor. Hakon was fussy, but then again Vivian was used to it. That was why people hired him. He didn’t give a whit what people thought.

“Relax…I’m not about to spar.” Vivian chuckled. “And there’s no shame in not wanting a sexual partner, especially here. I can’t imagine anything healthy going on.” He settled down on Hakon’s back, carefully balancing his weight so he didn’t bear down too harshly. Vivian was a slight figure, even this late in pregnancy, and he wanted his weight to be comforting. Not strenuous. He settled his hands on Hakon’s spine, applying pressure with his thumbs in a smooth, slow motion. He felt muscle, and skin under his fingers. He closed his eyes. Bone, all the way up to his tense shoulders. Vivian smoothed over the muscles, planted his hand between Hakon’s shoulders, and popped his back.

Vivian’s eyes were closed, focused on the body in front of him and his own. All the components that made a man, a man. Connective tissue he was rubbing the tension free from. The way Hakon breathed. His fingertips whispered over Hakon’s ribs, tracing that flexible cage of bone guarding his most precious possessions. Vivian aligned his breathing with Hakon’s, moving down slightly to pop the small of his back, and massage the base of his spine.

Slowly, he bled ether into his hands. Bone dissolved, shifting his fingers and arms into multitudinous branches of muscle and nerves. The pressure changed, sweeping over Hakon’s back from his neck to his rear. It was like being leisurely petted, caressed from head to toe. Vivian even reached through Hakon’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp and behind his ears. He reached down for his feet, a larger tentacle providing rolling, squeezing pressure. Vivian was lost in his magic, head bent and swaying slightly. He spread more of them under Hakon, resting him on a writhing, living mat that probed and explored. True to his word, Vivian kept his explorations to the trunk of Hakon’s body, and his arms and legs. The closest he came was a soft rub against Hakon’s hips as he popped the joints there and relieved any tension.

[Hakon]

This wasn't meditation, or at least not like Hakon practiced it. This was something else, and it was strange. Vivian was -- what -- touching him? It seemed a gentle sort of touch, like when they'd held hands, but on his back, this time. He still wasn't certain what this had to do with meditation or prayer, though. At least it didn't feel licentious or sensual, though. He wasn't certain if Vivian felt lust, still -- did pregnant people feel lust when they were this close to giving birth, or were those feelings suppressed? He wasn't sure -- but this did not appear to be a prelude to Vivian asking him to remove anything more, which he was thankful for.

Then, the hands seemed to melt into his body, and to spread out. The pressure from Vivian's slight form on top of his seemed to spread out, too, like a warm soothing blanket that kneaded and tugged at all the tension in his back. It felt incredible, and it was tempting to relax into it and let the warm mass knead away his tension.

Hakon was not one who gave in to temptation, though.

So instead, his eyes snapped open and his Ethersight turned on. Vivian was no longer in his human form, but was a mass of wriggling appendages and feelers, some kind of abomination made flesh. Hakon shook the smaller man off of him and sprang to his feet with a shout.

"You! You-- you tricked me!" He said, even though, as he said it, he felt childish and insipid. "This is not meditation," he stated, because he felt that was really the only thing Vivian had done that was not entirely above board.

The man had requested that they meet in an area of the Guild where they could practice magic. He had perhaps not explained to Hakon what he was going to do, but it didn't seem like he'd meant any harm, either. Hakon used his Huntersight to check on his own body, and while he saw etheric traces all around him, none where inside of him -- Vivian hadn't used this opportunity to put the wasp inside of his back or something untoward like that.

When he looked at Vivian's face, he expected to see someone who looked guilty or angry, mad at being found out. He didn't see that at all. Instead, he saw the same soft look the other man shot at him often. More pity, then.

"I don't need it," he snapped in response. He wasn't certain if he was talking about Vivian's attempt to soothe him or the fact that the man clearly felt bad for him. Both, perhaps.

[Vivian]

Vivian felt at peace. Calm. Absorbed in spreading himself against another body, much like the worm would. Those delicate, almost romantic touches of a creature without limbs or fingers sliding along a body to taste chemicals, and gain information. Malformity wasn't about losing oneself, but the meditation on how another creature thought through one's own ether was as intimate as one could get. Vivian was calm, moving slowly, wrapping Hakon in warmth and intimacy. Tasting sweat on his skin, and dirt from the yard.

Then it shattered. Hakon stood up, throwing Vivian off of his body. Several of the more delicate tendrils tore outright, causing Vivian to scream in pain. He collapsed to the floor, bleeding, pulling the affected limbs against his body to protect them. He heard Hakon yell about tricking him. Tricking him? What? Vivian felt tears spring to his eyes as pain bolted along the tendrils. He had to pull back the ether slowly, lest he overstep, and he spent the next few minutes slowly returning to himself. He focused on one limb at a time, though his nails were ripped and bleeding, and several spots along his arms and legs bled. Nothing horrible, not so much as cat scratches, but they still smarted.

Gods, he was lucky Hakon hadn't actually torn an arm off!

"What..." he panted, slowly pushing himself back up. He shook his head, retracting the last of his ether. "Why did you...? I wasn't harming you! I was communing with myself, through you! Through touch!" He winced and held up his fingers. His long fingernails were torn clean off, exposing red flesh where the quick had been ripped, and he looked at the tiny filaments of flesh on the ground where Hakon had torn them. "It was beautiful, and peaceful..." He blinked away tears. Emotion crashed down around his shoulders and he burst into tears, clutching his face with his injured hands. It was heartbreaking to be torn away from meditation like that. The callousness and fear had stained something intimate and loving.

[Hakon]

Hakon, now upright and able to think a bit clearer, was able to articulate himself. Vivian's hurt demanded an explanation, so he provided one:

"You didn't -- you didn't ask me if I wanted this. You said meditation -- you know what meditation means to me, and you didn't tell me you meant," he gestured at the tendrils and tentacles, still retreating into Vivian's body with a sneer, "this! That would have been good information to share, I think, because I would have told you I wasn't interested in whatever that was. I thought we'd be brought closer to the Path, not," he made an inarticulate noise of displeasure and waved his hands at the room between them.

The utter disgust that had been on display during their first meeting in the inn was back. Vivian wasn't trying to adjust to life here, and he wasn't lost. He, like most rogues and most Guildmages and all iconoclasts, cared nothing for the community around him, only for himself.

"You're a puppet to your Mark, just like the rest of them," Hakon said. "Good news: you'll fit in great with all assholes here! Talk about how misunderstood you are, how the peasants are stupid and don't get you -- how could they? How could anyone? You," his face fell as he looked at his own Mark of control, a diamond on his right wrist. "We," he corrected himself, "are not worthy of understanding. Only suspicion and fear, and rightly so. We can hurt them, Vivian. Easily. Without even trying. You could have killed me just now, as I lay prone and let you tend to me, and I willingly put myself in that position."

The thought turned his stomach. Were circumstances different, he'd offer to heal the mage of his injuries using Grave. He always had plenty of Vitescence left over from his missions, after all, so it was not great burden. Right now, he felt too betrayed and disgusted to be so inclined.

[Vivian]

Vivian struggled to get ahold of himself. He hurt, more emotionally than physically, and he slammed down on the backlash. He swallowed thickly. "I could have, yes...and if I were a slave to my mark as you claim I would have." he growled at Hakon. "Do you think worms know empathy? Do you think they know anything but meat and sex and sleep? No! It was me touching you like that. Not my mark. Not the mind of the animal I was using. Me. Connecting to you, getting you to relax for once so you could have a meditation of your own! All you had to do was let your mind go blank, and focus on your Path. Instead you hurled me off!"

Vivian raked his hair back angrily, looking down. "I'm a peasant, you idiot child. Or do you think I put these scars on my back, on my thighs, myself? Half of these are Degare's beatings!" He spat. "I was lower than what you and your father were. I was afforded no respect. A plaything the Veir kept around because I was smart and I intrigued him. At a moment's whim I could have been butchered like a cat! If he hadn't died, I would have!" He was losing his temper now, and he knew it. Being compared to the Entente had whipped him into a rage.

"Damn the Entente and their games, I hope they all burn! Not because of their marks, but because they've lost sight of what it means to be human, to be mage even!" Vivian tried to stand, and winced. He couldn't get up. His belly was too big. He drew in a shuddering breath. "I am worth more than what I started life as. You may want to think of your self as not worthy of understanding but I want nothing more than to understand and be understood! That is the core of my discipline! Nothing so tenuous as fire, nothing so stupid as mindwalking or sounds or plants. Understanding!"

Vivian sat there, shaking from a combination of the cold and a mixture of anger and sadness. He put his forehead to the floor, focusing on his breath. "I should have told you. I should have educated you more. That's my fault."