[Couronne] Every Cloud

[Arkash]

18th of Glade, 4622

“Well, I love you,” Arkash spoke quite simply in return to the Veir’s confession. “It doesn’t matter if you say it back or not; that’s how I feel,” was what Arkash had to say on the matter, and he said so with a distinct resolve. That was how it was to the Rath, the rest was just background noise.

The morning had been pleasant; Arkash had awoken in a bed of comfort with the weight of his lover’s head upon his shoulder. For a moment, everything felt ass though it was as it should have been, but as both the young man and the older elf roused and fully awoke, explanations and sympathies were spoke ritualistically. Arkash had called out Degare’s inability to finish his sentence, and after some reassuring, Arkash spoke those words the Veir liked to hear again.

As the sleep began to wear off, Arkash untangled himself from the Veir and rose from the sheets. It didn’t take long to dress himself in the tattered green tunic he’d acquired while he was away, and soon after began to wrap his legs and bare feet with the bindings that had come loose when he changed form. “City…” he trailed in thought as he finished tying off his bindings.

There, at the edge of the bed, Arkash sighed through his nose and lowered his wrapped feet to the bedroom floor. “I didn’t see a city last night, but I was hallucinating briefly…” he explained. “I saw you as a dark lord of sorts, you were adorned with these regal looking robes and your visage was… The face of death,” Arkash explained in thought. “I wasn’t sure what was going on with all the colors and everything, but I chalked it up to something to do with your tethers.” A grin pulled at his lips while he briefly thought. “It was kinda… Exciting, to be honest. I’d… Really like to… You know… While you’re all dressed up like that sometime…” he trailed in confession with a bashful smile that barely masked his devilish intentions.

Though after that, Arkash went on to consider all that had transpired, and Degare’s apology for what had become of him. Neither of them had wanted what happened, but Degare had warned him; a voice in the background to his own fragile ego. “It’s hard,” Arkash admit, tone darker than it had been with his flirting.

“…He was stronger than I thought,” Arkash confessed with the Veir’s prodding. “I wanted to be right too, but he’d acted like such a weakling the entire time I was there that I really believed he was scared of me… It was all a farce.” A shake of his head followed, eyes watching the floor while he thought and relived. “I was badly wounded, but caught him in the neck on my way out… I figured I was too hopeful to hope he’d die from that, but…” He shrugged, dismissing his train of thought. “After I got away, I fled to the Badlands and regained my strength preying off the people there. As soon as I was strong enough, I went back to your tower, then returned here when I didn’t find you,” he reiterated that part of the story to connect all the events together.

“All the eating I did out there was actually enough to push me into evolution; I’m a Cardinal now,” he explained with a gesture of his open hand. “My actual appearance is… A bit monstrous, but I’m able to hide all my features. I’m a lot stronger too, but I know not to let that go to my head thanks to you,” he assured with a smile, then returned his gaze to the floor.

Every cloud had its silver lining, and though Arkash had lost a great deal as a result of his clash with the Veir of house Matthis, it wasn’t all for naught. After a moment of thought, he lifted his head. “…I’m going to get my revenge, but I need to get stronger before then,” Arkash explained. “I might be able to catch him off guard as I am now, but he’s wrapped in a military fortress filled with mages and soldiers… I’ll just end up caught again, maybe even killed. So, I really only see one option…” he paused again to let his words land, then turned to face the mage and crawled over to Degare’s side. There, he took both Degare’s hands and looked the elf in the eye with the delivery of his next words. “If you’re willing, my love… I’d like you to initiate me.”

Image source.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: Open me!

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Though the Veir was more than pleased to spend yet more lingering moments with his face nestled atop his lover's head, he eventually does pull away so he can press a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, and then his lips. After this, he holds the younger man's now clear gaze for a moment before Arkash spoke. There, he'd said it again. 'I love you.' Three words spoken rather matter-of-factly by the Rathor. Degare's face was suffused with vibrant red and pink hues at the words, unable to suppress the smile brought about from the pure, radiant joy that sentiment made him feel. "I…I'm so grateful you feel that way…your patience is appreciated. It really does mean a lot to me." It took the Sil'Norai a few seconds to regain his composure and speak, but when he did his words were heady and filled with his unspoken love and adoration for Arkash. When he finished speaking, he pressed a gentle, affectionate kiss against his lover's nose.

Ever since it clicked in his head that Arkash truly was back, that he intended to stay, that he still loved the pale elf, Degare had felt genuinely happy. As painful as their time apart had been, he allowed himself to hope that the future the two would share would be worth it.

When his lover untangled himself from his arms, the Veir sat up and followed his figure with his eyes for a moment as he redressed. Interesting choice of clothing, but he supposed that wherever the other had been must have been less than ideal. A soft exhale of a laugh escaped the elf and he smiled when he realized that what he'd said didn't really make sense to the Dranoch– he'd never quite explained the concept of one's Mural to him nor did he explain what to expect. "Oh…that's, ah…" he trailed off, somewhat embarrassed at the sentiment; he was kind of hoping Arkash wouldn't interpret the figures for what they were: two different versions of himself. The larger? Idealized. The smaller? Reality.

Although…from his words, it sounded like he'd only perceived one of them…? Just how distorted had his mural been in the other's perception? "I should've explained that to you earlier, before I did that…it's called a Mural. Everyone has one, it's…something of a representation of oneself that your mind creates on its own. I looked at yours through the Tether and then I reflected my own back to you." He swallowed a bit after these words, taking a moment to think about how he wanted to explain his own. "What you saw was…well, mine. A rather…distorted version of it, but mine all the same. I can…show you what it's supposed to look like if you'd like. The Mural can change based on a person's state of mind, how they're feeling…and also core ideological shifts or if their sense of self drastically changes…" he trailed off a bit, realizing he should probably get back to the point. "Anyways, I do have rather elaborate clothing back in Boghadar I could wear for…similar effect, if you wish. I'll be happy to indulge you," He says this with a soft laugh and a coquettish smile– noting how bashful Arkash had become when voicing this request. "The city I was referring to, however, was from yours. When I looked at your Mural, I saw what appeared to be a bridge leading to a city– frostbitten and blanketed in snow. It was night and a luminescent full moon hung high in the sky. Shadows twisted and drifted like smoke around the edges of everything, granting it an ethereal, otherworldly feel. The shadows coalesced to form two figures on the bridge, looking over the railing– though they had no features I could recognize. Does this description mean anything to you…?" The Veir does his best to describe what he saw, because while he was able to reflect his Mural to others, he was as yet unable to actually show them their own.

After talking of the Murals, Arkash does begin to extrapolate upon what had happened while he was away. He admits to underestimating the other Veir and that he'd only barely managed to escape where he then remained hidden in the badlands while he regained his strength. And regain he did, as apparently, he'd even pushed himself far enough to evolve. "I…would that I could have come with you. It's…doable to force diplomacy even in the most twisted of situations among nobles…" he sounds almost disappointed in himself that he hadn't thrown aside his calendar and gone along. "...but, you've evolved? That's exciting, at least. Even if your form is a bit monstrous, you'll have to show me sometime. I've an eye for monsters all the same– plus, it's still you. You'll be precious to me no matter your form." He spoke these words warmly, hints of curiosity and excitement having woven their way into his voice at the notion of the Dranoch having evolved. "Humility in Daravin is necessary…especially if you're alone. Much as I do expect your power to have grown immensely, people here are…hard to predict in terms of their own strength." The elven Veir sounds almost cautious as he speaks. He's trying to appreciate the fact that Arkash is very likely much stronger but at the same time, everyone here had wildly varying combat prowess.

At that, the next thing his lover said was a vow of revenge against the Veir of House Mathis. While the two had been talking, the Ferrier had stood up to dress himself as well. To most, all of his clothing was rather fine but to him, what he'd chosen was fairly simple. Pants of matte black satin, black silk socks, white silk shirt, and a black linen cape. His shoes were over near the front of the room and he planned on grabbing them later. For now, he sat on the edge of the bed, eyes of amber following his lover as he crawled back over to his side, took his hands, and delivered a simple, yet heavy, request.

"I…ah…my Bane mark…?" He seemed a bit taken aback at first, but after a moment of thinking, he gave the other a warm, openly loving smile. "I'd love to. Let me know when…and where you'd like it."

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

[Arkash]

That affectionate kiss did bring Arkash to smile despite his look at the moment Degare delivered his thanks. Briefly, Arkash rose a brow at the Veir, but dismissed his thoughts with a deep exhale. “No thanks needed,” Arkash said simply. “I’m actually… Very fond of how it feels to love you,” he spoke with a lower voice, as if to provoke, then kissed Degare on the lips once more before he rose and dressed in his discarded clothing.

Arkash relayed what he’d seen in the night, some image that he’d mistaken for reality in the heat of the moment. It was a mural according to the Veir; some image that was meant to represent the carrier of the mural, to portray their state of being and the core fundamentals of what made them… them. Arkash furrowed his brow at the explanation, but indulged the concept all the same. “…Everyone has one?” Arkash asked, unsure. At the offer, he smiled and bowed his head. “Sure, I’d love to get another look at it, my memory’s all hazy,” he spoke quite casually, despite the importance of the mural and its symbolism.

An impish grin pulled his lips into a smile that showed his teeth as Degare extended his second offer, and he returned with a wiggle to his brows.

At the description of his own mural, amusement bled to seriousness, and later, confusion and surprise. Both brows rose above his wide eyes, and he looked to the side for a moment while he thought. “…Sounds like Nivenhain,” Arkash answered. “But Nivenhain’s a shithole; I hate it there,” he added with a laugh.

“It’s not your fault,” Arkash told with a shake of his head once he was fully dressed. “I can’t expect you to drop everything for my… Ignorance,” he said with a remark of bitterness, though where that negativity was directed was unclear. “I think me and him were beyond diplomacy, anyway. It felt personal, like every strike was straight for the jugular.”

The tone of the conversation changed a little as Degare brought up his evolution, and Arkash smiled quite proudly. Though he’d said it wouldn’t go to his head, it might have been clear that it already had. “Maybe I will…” Arkash said with a grin. “It’s especially horrifying when I’m in my scales, but-” he paused, almost as though he’d caught himself.

“Right, yeah,” he agreed on the humility. Indeed, Raphael was hard to measure. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Arkash had taken him for prey without much consideration.

It was the subject of power that drew the mark of control to the forefront of Arkash’s mind, and drove him to ask. But before he did, he took the opportunity to watch as his lover dressed, to simply drink the contours of his form and enjoy him. His choice of clothing did bring a curl to his lips, however. “So fancy… Going somewhere?” Arkash asked with an almost playful tone before he continued his explanation of resolve, to get back at his foe.

For that, he needed Degare’s help, and he said so with his request. The purpose of acquiring more marks was just to become stronger, but the idea of learning from a mage as accomplished as Degare did excite him. It was obvious Degare also knew a lot about the flow of ether and its manipulation in general, the perspectives of different Marks surely granted that prowess.

When Degare agreed, Arkash breathed a sigh of relief from his nose. Despite his apparent relief, however, there was a notable degree of tension about him. His hands tightened a little around the elf’s, and his nostrils flared a little wider while he looked to the side in consideration. When his focus returned, he blinked, then looked up at the elf. “Bane… Yeah, I’d like that,” Arkash agreed with a smile that almost completely covered the sudden onset panic in his eyes. “I used to have a friend in Lorien that used Bane… No idea what happened to him though,” Arkash said with a brief forlorn look. “Ah, but thank you. That’s really nice of you, Degare.”

His heart ran rapid while he looked at the elf and considered his next question, when and where. “Sarynen,” he said quickly, three days from then. “Is Sarynen okay? It’s just- I want to hide it with Necromancy and three days is enough time to find a kit,” came his explanation, somewhat rushed.

Image source.

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: I put his mural in here for easier reference if needed.

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Arkash’s reply made his smile brighten even more. It was so very nice to have the Neoalt back. The Veir opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by his lover’s kiss. By the time the other pulled away, he’d forgotten what he wanted to say…he just felt genuine joy at the fact that loving him actually made the younger man happy.

After Degare explained what a Mural was to the Rathor, he appeared contemplative on the subject. “Yeah, everyone does…I like to look at them, honestly. Helps me gain an understanding of the person I’m speaking to, though not everyone is always willing to be tethered so sometimes one must be a little subtle about it,” he spoke with a playful tone and ended his last sentence with a soft laugh. “Honestly, though…Knowing what mine normally looks like versus what I recall from last night it’s…pretty dramatic in terms of changes? I’m curious about what you’d think,” with these words, he almost sounds sheepish.

The Mentalist did his best to recall what he’d seen last within his lover’s head the night before. Nivenhain, huh? Unless he’d lost his mind, that was the capitol of Lorien. He’d been there a few times for political business, but traveling across borders wasn’t something he made a habit of. “Funny…your mind made it look so pretty. I would’ve thought it to be a place you’d look back to fondly, to be honest. Though perhaps that’s because I like the cold? Either way, I’m curious to see if the two figures I saw will ever gain clarity or shift in form. Sometimes, things like that change over time…” His words are musing in tone as he wonders aloud about his lover’s Mural.

While what Arkash said next was a fair sentiment, it didn’t really make him feel any better. “I know…It just…hurt to be apart, really. Even if he chose to stay hostile I would’ve traded anything to have stayed with you.” This is more or less what he truly meant– even if he couldn’t have fixed the problem, he would’ve at least been able to do something along with the fact that he would’ve never had to mourn the other man.

The proud smile the little Rathor wore in regards to Degare’s comments about his evolution pulled a smile across his own face as well. “I’d love to see you as Cardinal in both of your forms, if you wouldn’t mind,” red-amber eyes are alight with fascination along with a few other emotions swimming underneath the surface.

Sufficiently distracted by dressing himself, he didn’t actually notice the other’s stare as he did so. When he spoke, though, the Veir laughed. “No…not today. Not unless somebody comes running to me with something urgent, at least. I’d like to give my day to you, provided you’ve no objections, of course,” he spoke warmly as he redirected his gaze to meet with that of his lover.

After offering the Dranoch his mark, “I do also have Mentalism to give– though I am a master of Bane, so I’d be better at teaching that one.” Regardless, sharing his lover's Blood mark and then one of his own with the Rathor was an idea that made the Ferrier genuinely happy. “It’s my pleasure to give a mark, really. I’m a little sentimental about them…but for you? I’m more than willing.” The Veir’s voice is warm and affectionate in its timbre.

Relative to the comment about an old friend of his who knows Bane, “Honestly, I don’t meet many other Ferriers. Even in Daravin– a lot of people aren’t the world’s biggest fans of it because of how it can…twist and corrupt your appearance. Rather vain, people here are. That isn’t even to say I’m not– it’s just that Averre and I would use necromancy to ‘fix’ anything that went wrong,” he spoke softly, hints of nostalgia in his voice, though his eyes do widen as if he’s said something he shouldn’t have by the time he stopped talking. “...and now, as far as I’m aware, my Blight renders me immune to those side effects as well.”

Once the question of when and where was posed and the Ferrier receives an answer, “I don’t think I’ve any plans on that day, so I’m happy to put aside time for you then. But why cover it? I wear my mage marks with pride– I only covered the one you gave me out of necessity or it’d be just as visible as the other two.” While he does well to mask most of it, he almost sounds offended at the notion of covering the mark. His Mentalism mark was harder to hide being on his right palm, but he’d made the deliberate choice of centering his Bane mark at the top of his sternum so it, too, was plainly visible depending on the neckline of what he wore.

One thing Degare did note through the conversation regarding marks was the palpable tension his lover held within. He could see remnants of it in his face, his posture, hear it in voice, feel it in the grip of his hands– his pulse also felt like it had risen as well. Yet…the Ferrier couldn’t parse out exactly why. It could be because initiations aren’t exactly pleasant, but knowing Arkash, that wouldn’t make sense; he was so very confident about so very many things, that would be…out of character.

After pondering this for a moment, Degare’s face brightens as if in sudden realization of something. “Oh, I said I’d show you what my Mural actually looks like…I almost forgot,” he punctuated this sentence with a small laugh. “Here, I’ll just show you now.”

At that, he used a pinch of ether to channel a Tether through his palm and into the skin of his lover. Once he could feel the two of them connect, he reflected the image in his head over. It would look quite different than before– cooler in both tone and hue, even the bright crimson of the reds was duller. In addition, both of the figures present would be clearly visible, neither taking precedence for the moment.

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

[Arkash]

“Hmm…” The rath pondered aloud at the explanation of Degare’s own mural. “I wonder what could have caused such a dramatic change…” He said with a sort of smug grin about his features. There really was no question about it; Arkash just seemed to take a great deal of pride in the fact that he affected Degare so.

“No idea…” He spoke briefly on Degare’s observations toward the mural of Nivenhain and the two figures that appeared on the bridge. The wickedness in his gaze withdrew at those rhetorical questions, replaced with something less comfortable, colder in nature.

The rath rolled his eyes to the side at Degare’s asked favor, and grinned a little bashfully in wake of his admittance. “…Perhaps,” The rath said as he crossed his arms, and maintained that smile with a softer edge. “Maybe I’ll show you when you put on those eccentric clothes, we’ll see.”

On the subject of receiving a mark, however, Arkash was more than happy to change the subject at any perceived opportunity – even though he was the one that had initiated said conversation. “…You’re really pretty sentimental, huh? You kept the blood from you initiation, and I’m sure the Thing is still doing well,” he continued to ramble for a moment before he explained his need to hide the mark, to which, his lover seemed to take offense.

Arkash hesitated and pursed his lips quite hard while he considered. “…I really don’t mind that you accepted my offer to put my Mark beneath your skin. If anything, I’m glad for it,” he explained vaguely. “Degare, have you ever been to Lorien?” He asked as he looked up at the Elf. As his lips pursed, he turned over the Veir’s right hand to show the Mark of mentalism in his palm. “If a Knight Argent saw this you’d be arrested or executed on the spot…” he stated quite firmly. “I’m sure it’s not just Lorien either; I’m sure lots of places all over Atharen ban magic… Like that one… Sort’a close to here, starts with a G… Ginsen…?” he trailed on. “Oh, and Sundering? Do you know what that is?” Arkash followed up. “I met a traveler in the Badlands, a Sunderer. She hunts mages, covets them, and turns them into powerful objects that are… Worth a lot of money, they’re called Relics.”

Arkash exhaled. In truth, the idea of freely showing a Mark of Control was uncomfortable to him; being raised in Lorien, such things were widely viewed as evil and worthy of shame. Arkash was conditioned away from Daravin’s pride, in the polar opposite direction. “…You asked me to exercise extra caution just a few minutes ago, Degare,” Arkash spoke with a deliberately accusatory tone. “That’s what this is; I’m just being cautious… For you. The less people know about my Marks, the better. That’s all.”

He paused for a moment and examined the mage with a considerate gaze. “…It’s not that I’m not proud or anything like that, I’ll tell anyone that sees me use it that the love of my life gave me that power, okay?”

Once that was settled, the Rath let go of the Veir’s hands, exhaled, and received that twinkling tether with only a flash of tension. Shortly after, his eyes closed, and he looked to his mind’s eye. “Oh…” He spoke aloud, and his brows seemed to raise. “…I thought that was a smudge, but it’s actually a person…” He spoke quietly. “Yeah… This is a far cry from what I saw last night,” Arkash said definitively. When he next opened his eyes, he smiled a little and nodded. “…I see why you like to look at them; yours is really quite pretty,” he spoke softly, despite the grilling he’d delivered not too long ago.

Image source.

[Degare]

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Catching the smug look on his lover’s face, Degare offered him a playful, sweet half-smile of his own in return. “Yes…I truly do wonder what drove me so very wild last night.” With a soft exhale through his nose, his gaze shifts down in a way that’s almost bashful as his smile evened out to something rather genuine and affectionate.

The mention of Nivenhain seemed to pull a certain coldness out of Arkash that he couldn’t quite understand. He was curious…but almost afraid to ask, as if he didn’t want to take the risk of upsetting him in doing so. The Veir would hazard a guess that the younger man must’ve either been from Nivenhain or the surrounding area– otherwise, why would it have left such a distinct imprint on his Mural if the memories weren’t even fond? The city had to have played some significant role in his formative years, at the very least.

The Ferrier was pulled from these thoughts as the conversation shifted back towards the Rathor’s Cardinal form. Their little back and forth on the subject genuinely did pull at his curiosity. Degare had never actually witnessed a Dranoch Cardinal in the flesh, for one, and for two, the strange and monstrous things for the world piqued his interest more so than anything else. Plus…there was an undeniable allure to the concept of his lover taking a shape like that. He could feel phantoms of the electric nature of last night’s encounter pulse through his spine at the thought– add on the Cardinal features and it would be all the more thrilling. “That’s a trade I’m definitely willing to make,” he spoke with amorous intent woven through his velvet voice, tone low and soft.

Upon being called out for his sentimentality, the Veir laughs. “Yes, you’re quite right. I still have both of those safely stored back in Boghadar. The little Thing helped me with Bloodshaping and so forth quite a bit, actually. I…deeply appreciate that gift.” A lot of the odd objects found throughout the silver elf’s tower could be tied back to specific memories; there were so many fragments of the past he’d held onto over the years.

When the subject pivoted towards hiding the marks, he had tried to hide his distaste at the notion but it was apparent that he failed to do so. To the first bout of queries, “Ah…I’ve been to Lorien a few times. However…my visits were isolated to politics and I was always in the company of others– all of us from Daravin were granted exemptions to that rule at the time for the sake of diplomacy, but…you do raise a good point. I don’t cross borders often enough to think about it that way, I suppose…” there’s a certain sadness to his voice that would be difficult to place exactly why he feels this way. In truth, it’s because he thinks the suppression of magic is incredibly tragic. “As for Sunderers…yes, I’m aware of them. There’s a Sunderer that just started in House Socorro, actually. He’s…eccentric…but definitely harmless to me. I do see how those native to the Badlands or less official Sunderers in general could look at me and see a prize, though…” One could almost swear there is fear in his voice at the expressed concept.

While his thoughts were shuffling through the concepts of Sundering and international politics regarding magic, his ears perked when Arkash spoke again– this time rather harsh in tone, words accusatory in nature. With a soft, almost embarrassed smile he closed his eyes and shook his head when his lover finished his admonishments. “...You’re right. It’s just that sentimentality of mine talking, I suppose,” he spoke with a soft sigh towards the end. “I would…hate for anything to happen to you, especially if it were due to taboos surrounding magic. But, I think you’re referring to the Grisic Empire, maybe? Personally, I’d just stay away from them entirely…” The Ferrier’s words are somewhat slow as he conceded to the Rathor’s points.

When Arkash paused, Degare caught his gaze– looking back with curious amber eyes. What his lover said next warmed him, diffusing hues of pink across his pale cheeks. “Love of your life, huh? You’re willing to call me that when I struggle to even express the sentiment to you…?” It’s clear from the look on his face that the idea makes him happy, but there’s guilt in his voice– he doesn’t think it's fair despite the joy his lover’s affection brings him.

The blush on his face crept across his cheeks onto his ears, deepening in color to something more red when he spotted the evident surprise on Arkash’s face at exactly how different his Mural was when compared to the night before. “Yes, there’s two figures present– have been for…honestly as long as I can remember. Their visibility and focus varies a lot, though. Depends on…a lot of things,” he’s vague with his words here because truthfully, he’s aware that the visibility changes based on how he views himself for the most part, but there have been times when the figures were altered for reasons he could not consciously come up with. “You think so…? I’m glad." It would appear that the compliment genuinely did warm him. "...whatever qualms you have with the city that makes up yours, I still quite like it. Although, I am biased purely because that’s your Mural,” he spoke with a soft, loving affection to his voice.

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

[Arkash]

At the expression that the Veir had indeed been to Lorien, Arkash nodded his head with wide eyes, as though Degare should have known exactly what point he was getting at. But as it happened, the nobility had different standards to peasants regardless of what nation they hailed from, or so Degare made it sound. Resentment strained his narrowed iris through his talk of the Argent’s arbitration, how they kill without thought.

“I’m sure,” Arkash said. “But I’m not Entente, Degare. What do you think would happen if a peasant was discovered with a Mark of control in territories where they’re illegal?” There’s something much darker there for a moment; a sort of bitter hatred that surrounds the concept of class, of Lorien, of the knighthood. “The same thing goes for Sunderers. If anyone goes for one of the Entente, they’re in for a world of hurt. I’m a foreigner; if a Sunderer decides to come after me I expect the Halamire to sit back and watch, maybe laugh about it in the barracks afterward.”

The passion in Arkash’s voice was abundant, woven with bitterness.

He stared for a moment, rage clear in the press of his brows above those razor-sharp eyes, only to buckle as he breathed and composed himself. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m not mad at you, honest, okay?” he assured a little more tender, then leaned up with a stretch and pressed a kiss to Degare’s chin.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he added. “Geography isn’t… My cup of tea,” he spoke with a brief grin. “Grisic Empire… Yeah, I bet it's even worse than Nivenhain.” A deep exhale preceded another kiss. “I appreciate that my love,” he said in response to Degare’s submission to Arkash’s stance.

In his attempt to assure the older man further, he spoke of his affection, which took the elf back some. Arkash grinned a little at the elf’s question and tilted his head a bit with a half-hearted shrug. “You think I’ve had anything like this with anyone else?” Arkash asked quite confidently in his lack of experience. “You’re so very special to me, Degare, and I know you feel the same whether you say so or not. It’s just a few words at the end of the day; the intent is already there.”

When the mural was shown, Arkash’s prior anger on the subject of the law’s ironic injustice was all but totally buried. His focus had shifted entirely to the vibrant and colorful expression of Degare’s true self, which Arkash took delight in. The expression of cool colors did well to further ease him into calmness. “Mmm… Like what?” he asked when Degare explained their visibility. “How come I couldn’t see the smaller guy last night?”

A flattered grin pulled at the corner of his lips with Degare’s compliment, but broke at the mention of his qualms with the city and finished with another soft smile. “You are biased,” Arkash declared somewhat bashfully and shook his head.

“...In the next few days, I’m going to try and get some better clothes and a Necromancy Kit. Do you know any good clothing stores?” He asked. “I’m going to make a new identity to go by too, Raphael knew my other alias. I think I’m a freelancing Necrodoctor, but what name do I go with?”

Image source.

[Degare]

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Great discomfort crawled through the Veir’s skin, through the flesh of his organs and clawed at his lungs as he realized that he had been speaking from a rather oblivious– and fairly ignorant– position of privilege. Guilt for this pulled at him like vines over the course of the next several moments while Arkash continued to explain the treatment he would be prone to. His points were all valid; Degare could outright avoid large swathes of terrible fates simply because he was born into the right household. While this was unchangeable, he could at least be more conscious of reality when speaking to somebody that doesn’t have the same tangible benefits.

With a small sigh, “I-...yes. You’re right. I will leverage my power as much as I can to protect you, though. In any way I can, I promise.” The sincerity in his voice is palpable along with the loving affection in his features. The Veir was entirely serious, Arkash held so much meaning to him that the only thing he wouldn’t throw away for the Rathor was his family. He wouldn’t be where he was now without his house and thus, that was the line he wouldn’t cross…but anything else? The pale elf would do it happily.

The passion in Arkash’s voice only increased the longer he spoke, anger bubbling to the surface as the subject continued. Degare genuinely felt bad for tripping up this conversation in the way that he did, but then his lover took a deep breath and it was he who ended up apologizing. Such a sentiment initially caught the Ferrier off guard, though it did serve to alleviate the stress that had been slowly building up in his stomach. The gentle kiss placed against his chin made him smile apologetically in return. “I’m glad you aren’t, though to be honest, even if you were I think you’d be justified. I was…insensitive, and for that I apologize as well,” there is notable relief laced into the velvet timbre of his voice along with a soft, loving tone.

When the subject shifted to the Grisic Empire, the Ferrier grimaced. “Yes…they have the hardest anti-magic stance I’ve encountered, personally. Can’t say I’m at all a fan. Understandable to not think about them if you’ve no reason to, though.” The brief expression of disgust towards the Grisic Empire faded when Arkash kissed him again– it really was easy to diffuse his negative emotions this way.

After the Veir questioned whether Arkash truly wanted to refer to him with words as strong as ‘love of my life,’ his answer made the pale elf blush even more. “To be fair…I don’t know your history, love. I am delighted you feel that way, nonetheless.” His tone is notably lighter, voice laced with his abundant adoration. The Dranoch had a point in that the intent was more important than the words, but at the same time, that was hard for him to internalize since he genuinely had trouble articulating his emotions into words sometimes. “You mean so much to me, too…I’m not even sure how to describe it.”

Once he offered some clarification on the visibility of the figures in his mural, Arkash did opt to ask for a more specific explanation. “Hmm..it depends. They alter when my sense of self is challenged, the current state of my ego, my sense of confidence and so on…There’s other reasons I’m sure, but I suppose I don’t pay enough attention to have tracked them all down. As for last night…? I don’t know, I’ve never even seen my Mural look that distorted before. I think the only reason the larger figure was even visible was because it is so big. Everything bloomed and spread into each other. The smaller figure probably just got overwhelmed in the chaos of everything else falling apart…” That was his theory, at least. As for why everything melted together? He didn’t have a full explanation, but the root cause for that one was definitely Arkash himself. “...and just because I’m biased, my statements aren’t any less true or genuine. I adore you,” with that, he presses his lips to the top of his lover’s head and lingers there for a few moments before pulling away again.

At the mention of acquiring new clothes and tools, the Veir tilts his head in consideration. “I do. I can come with or point you in the right direction, whichever you’d prefer.” Degare paused for a moment at the concept of coming up with another identity. “I suppose that depends. Would you be trying to blend in as somebody local to Daravin or a traveling Necrodoctor? I think I’d only be decent at coming up with names that suited Daravin.”

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

[Arkash]

Degare's submission to Arkash's onset rage didn't go unnoticed by the Rath. If anything, the younger man measured the Veir's reaction and took note; he would yield to Arkash's force, even claim fault when the younger man stepped blatantly out of line. Arkash merely shook his head and kissed the taller man's hand near the knuckle in response to Degare's apology while he swam through those thoughts, though the full extent of Degare's inaction took root somewhere deeper.

As it was revealed, the Grisic Empire wasn't Degare's favorite thing to talk about. The idea that magic could be demonized and hated by any people appeared to disturb him, which further intrigued the Rath. Degare's dislike of that nation extended to all but the complete emancipation of their existence from his thoughts, which oddly enough, brought Arkash to smile warmly, as though he was endeared by that.

That same endeared smile was maintained as Degare spoke of how little he knew about Arkash's history, though his lips did press a little hard harder with a slight raise of his brows. "You don't need to," he replied. "But you should know you're the only person I've ever been this close to... You know... Much more than anyone else does," he assured. That was except for Raphael, perhaps... But that was unintentional. Arkash had never dreamt that he'd ever share all his secrets with a noble, willingly.

When Degare spoke of his affection for the Rath, his smile grew once more, and his eyes rested lovingly on his partner's. Without a word, he expressed volumes of adoration in his gaze.

Degare's understanding of his own mural was apparently quite in-depth. Though he couldn't fully explain why it had been as muddled and jumbled as it had been in the night, Arkash was made to smile with a glimmer of pride at the fact. After all, they'd already determined he was the cause... Then it clicked. His eyes widened briefly, then quickly returned to their more relaxed state while he grinned wickedly. "Interesting," he said in reply to the veir's observation. His eyes briefly shut to the kiss at the top of his head, and he sighed in delight. "...Close," he said in regards to being adored, then wrapped his arms around the Veir. "I adore you too, Degare."

"Really?" he asked on the subject of going out to get clothes. "I'd... Actually love that" he said. "So long as you're not busy or something... And you don't mind being seen with... Well, what looks like some sort of desert raider," Arkash said with a gesture to his makeshift clothes and bandages. His brows raised then, and he turned to spy his rifle as it rested against the wall, the weapon of matte gray and polished brass. There really was a lot he hadn't told the noble, but all things would be revealed in time.

His gaze returned to Degare once they'd resolved to go shopping, then pondered on his new identity for a moment with a squint and a hum of thought. "...Local," he answered. " That way I don't have to worry about missing out on clients," he explained. "They don't need to know that I'm not actually from Daravin."

Arkash stepped back then, and stretched his arms overhead with an arch of his back. As his arms came down, he exhaled and took Degare by the hand. "...I really do love you, you know. And I'm really grateful for your help, protection, and everything," he swore. "Do you wanna go now? This is much less comfortable on skin than it is on scales, to be honest..." Arkash said in regards to the worn rags he dressed in.

Image source.

[Degare]

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Carefully watching his lover’s features as the elf voiced his apology, it did fill him with relief when he saw the anger drain away along with all of the gentle kisses placed against his skin. As they continued to talk, one thing did stand out to him. The slight press of his lips and the immediate dismissal of the Veir potentially learning more of his past came across as a little strange. Much as there could be a reason for this, he was rather curious. He’s always been a rather nosy individual…especially about people and topics that pique his interests– and Arkash fascinated him. It didn’t quite feel like now would be the most opportune time to ask, however.

Degare granted Arkash a soft, loving smile and spoke, “As curious as I am to know more about you and your story…I won’t pry if it makes you uncomfortable. Anything you do share will mean a lot to me, though. I’m honored you hold me as close as you do already…” his voice trailed off, warm and affectionate. The sheer volume of adoration in the Rathor’s eyes almost made the Veir feel embarrassed– he still didn’t quite feel like he deserved anybody’s love.

When the pale elf explained what he could about the changes to his Mural, he noted the younger man’s expression shift and ended with a fairly devious smile. He could tell that Arkash had internalized that bulk of the changes were due to him. Still, the Ferrier only expresses his affections and kisses the other’s head– he really couldn’t help how much of an impact the little Rathor had on him and there was no use denying it even if it did fluff up the other’s ego to a questionable degree.

To Degare’s offer to go out shopping with him, Arkash appeared to be interested if a bit concerned for how it would look for the two of them to be seen together in his current attire. “Eh…it shouldn’t really be a big deal considering once we get you new clothes people will immediately lose that reason to talk. My current schedule is pretty flexible and I don’t mind dedicating parts of it solely to you, love.” Really, the Veir was just trying to find excuses to stay by his lover’s side. Even if he had things to do, he’d make time for him.

After expressing this, the silver elf briefly followed Arkash’s gaze over towards the rifle leaning up against the wall. This was actually the first time he’d noticed it. It looked fairly fine in its craftsmanship and while the Veir was inclined to ask about it, his thoughts were pulled away when the subject of a new identity for his lover was brought up. “Local, huh? I suppose I could come up with something but if you want me to.” He pauses for a moment, as if in thought. Coming up with a first name was somewhat easy, sentimental as he was. It was the last name that had him sitting there for a good minute. "I think Caro Caedimire sounds fine...but I can come up with something else if you don't like it."

The pale elf watched as his lover got up and stepped back, stretching. When Arkash took his hand, he responded by giving it a gentle squeeze. The younger man’s next words brought back the vibrant shades of pink and red that had adorned the Veir’s face earlier in this conversation as well as a rather bashful smile. “I…feel the same about you. That’s why I’ve offered you all of those things. I’m glad to help you in any way that I can.” The Ferrier’s eyes glint with the reflection of his boundless affection for the other. “...but yes, we can go now if you’d like. I did promise you I’d do whatever you wanted today and your comfort is important.”

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