The Back of Beyond

[Raithen]

Raithen complimented the cook, shared a few easy jokes with the other soldiers and generally let it be known that he wasn't going to look down his nose at anyone. He was balancing three bowls of whatever had been in the pot when he approached Finn and Arvælyn with his question, handing them over without ceremony.

The first answer was unexpected but still quite useful and he nodded his appreciation. When Finn concurred with the assessment he nodded, taking a seat at a sort of angle between the two other men and beginning to eat. His head cocked, birdlike when he, in turn, was asked a question. His own lips pursed as he considered how to answer but only very briefly before he popped out with,

"I don't think so." His tone laughed a little without showing disrespect to either the brother he was speaking to or the one he was speaking about. "At least, not by the time I came along. I was raised more under the dictation of our mother to my caretakers than by any of our family. Mother praised and punished me as I earned it, so about equally."

His eyes shown with untold stories of the mischief he had gotten into, inviting others to ask if they were interested.

"Our sister I saw almost nothing of, I don't actually remember her ever speaking to me as a child. Phocion though, he spoke to me often, all of it instruction. I'm afraid I might have found him quite boring when I wasn't terrified of him. If he ever was a child I can't imagine it, so I'm going to have to assume your boulder theory is correct. Mother must have formed him from clay as a golem and has your father bake him to life."

This was not entirely fair, Phocion had emotions, they were just not to be spoken of, or acknowledged, or felt. That was fair, he could decide for himself how he wanted to feel, or not, as the case might be. Growing up without a father, Raithen had idolized Phocion, but he wouldn't have known how to say that. Even as he teased his appreciation and adoration for his elder brother came through.

He went to take another bite of dinner only to realize his bowl was empty. Food always went fast with him now. It was a risk to poke at the past but the subject had been broached so he tried,

"He probably took the spot in my head where a father would have gone. But I don't have anything to compare to. Was that what it was like, growing up with one? Wanting his attention but being afraid at the same time?" He opened the question to both of his companions by directing it half to one and half to the other. Both had been born with their paternal parent in the picture, he was pretty sure.

[Arvælyn]

“You are enjoying this captaincy far too much, amatus…” Arvælyn replied to his playful demerit with an amused smirk, “I shall remember this when I am restored to my usual place on the pyramid.” He teased playacting a little snarl that was meant to be much too cute to be genuinely threatening.

Arvælyn’s shoulders visibly relaxed on the frame of inward-arcing wings when Raithen replied favourably. He knew he was trying too hard and sometimes that made his delivery come off poorly— the nerves showing through.

“Aye, our sister might be carved from the same dragonshards that now occupy her eye sockets… and I don’t think she’d be a mite offended at my saying so.” He added, lest he seem overly keen to gossip about their loved ones in common.

The characterisation of Phocion certainly felt aligned with his own observations.

“I know I vex him sometimes… I suspect my prioritising this mission was one such occasion. I hope he has someone in his life to whom he can vent his… seemingly sundry frustrations.” He glanced to Finn, smiling slightly. He was aware of what the bard was playing at— contributing in his own fashion, even if he was leaving the brothers to do the bulk of the talking. Supporting via the medium of musical accompaniment… et al.

“Were you a handful, then?” He smirked, taking a bite of his stew and sitting back.

“I rather expect it was the last inverse of your own experience. Having a father, I was obsessed with the idea of my absent mother. My circumstances having been humble and my diversions few, I had a great deal of time to brood and… Well, I will say I regret the lack of appreciation I had for his Sacrifices. I truly hope that, in death, he has found succour for his burdens brooked under the eye of The Domina Divina.” He glanced to Finn,

“He’s the only well adjusted one amongst us. Two loving parents, comfortable but not wealthy… As far as I can tell he never got broken before adulthood. But then, perhaps that makes it that much harder to endure…” He trailed off, in case Finn wanted to make any of his own observations about his background.

[Finn]

Finn was pleased rather than smug—he hoped—that he was able to help build a bridge between the half-brothers. He did set aside his instrument for a moment when questions were turned toward him, and took up the bowl Raithen had set down for him.

"Not wanting to leave anyone out... As for Valæra, I believe she tolerates me with all of her heart." He smiled and ruminated over a bite of his supper before swallowing. It had occurred to him that having made a good impression on a certain prince who might become her prince might shift things, but he was content to be her ally if not her friend.

"And Phocion, I think, lives for his duty. There are passions there, and I think he has his outlets." Finn hadn't broken the elf's wards, but he could intuit a fair amount from all the time they spent together in various circumstances. "He has made efforts to make me feel welcome to the family; his efforts are merely different from what one might expect.

"As for families, mine was boring, I suppose. No dragons, no princesses. Mother tended the forge. Father tended the home. They both tended to each other and to the children. They were a team before I was born, so everything about them seems terribly normal. The strangest thing about our family was my grandmother the witch... who... I don't know that she had any runes, but she was wise when it came to people, to animals, and to herbs. Perhaps she had a bit of alchemy or necromancy about her. The wizard she sent me to in Kalzasi was, I believe, my grandfather. Certainly, his magic was runic so she must have had some true Craft about her. I may never know.

"But the purpose of my family..." He shrugged. Somehow he had managed to inhale his supper without speaking with his mouth full. He picked up his instrument once more and plucked contemplatively at it, which was to say, he improvised more than a simple melody.

"Their goal was to raise children who could be self-sufficient, but also, well, they always said they just wanted us to be happy. So when I said I didn't want to become a smith, they supported me. Of course, I knew enough that I could have supported myself at a smithy if I had to... And they wanted us to be responsible enough to care for them when they could no longer care for themselves or each other. I could do that without the generosity of your family, but I am happy that even the dread Crownwyrm extended some generosity toward them. Now, they are distracted by grandchildren. Mostly they want Ciáran to find someone or someones to settle down with. And I think they worry about me being happy because they certainly didn't know how to prepare me for a life in a foreign court, nor for the attention of foreign gods." He shrugged. "But I am happy, and so they are happy."

He wondered if they were bonding too closely to Syrena because they feared he might not have children of his own. If he didn't want them, that was fine, but if he did, they didn't want him to miss out.

"They worry about Arvælyn's happiness too, probably because the cannot ken how a prince's happiness works compared to that of a peasant. Or perhaps they just pick up on it when I worry that I cannot ken a prince's happiness." He smiled at Arvælyn, clearly not worrying about that at the moment.

"Anyway. My parents want a legacy, too, even if we don't even have a Name. And I used to be horrified at how your mother treated you, but she was raising a family, carrying on a legacy, in circumstances I didn't understand. As different as our families are, I consider Phocion and Raithen my brothers. With or without in-law attached."

[Raithen]

The Avialae shook his head at the dragonic with a smile that was almost a laugh, fully agreeing that their single feminine sibling might be the hardest of them all and then chuckling at the musician's joke.

Raithen worked not to vex his elder brother, but it had been hit or miss most of his life. It had been better of late, but they had also spent very little time with each other, which was likely the best way to ensure continued harmony. Even so, it wasn't ideal, not for Raithen. No matter how worried he might grow about displeasing Phocion, Raithen also craved his attention. This was a fact that was surely obvious to the two master Mesmers, even if he did his best not to project it in his body language.

"I've been vexing him since I was born. At least he'll never remember you throwing a temper tantrum" He laughed out right in answer to the question as to his childhood.

"I was... a curious child." Perhaps the description didn't hold the same negative connotations for Finn and Arvælyn as it did in for Raithen, but hopefully his tone and feelings would fill in the blanks.

"Hmm," He mused, realizing the kinship of them both feeling like they were missing a parent, being desperate to please as a response to that hole in their lives. He made a gesture of honoring the dead and murmured a request for the blessings of the Divine Twins on the soul of the man who had raised his half-sibling. Family was an odd thing. He had seen Arvælyn take pride in and honor his real father, but that did not mean he didn't also honor the one he had known as a child.

Grey eyes moved to watch Finn as his childhood was brought into the conversation. Both the brothers had struggled in many ways but also been privileged in many ways, Finn was like a smooth stone parting a river. No rough, no tumble; steady and dependable. The tale the bard wove didn't fully make sense to Raithen. Self-sufficiency was a worthy trait when it was needed, but strong connections to strong allies was what would keep you safe. What 'happy' meant, he wasn't sure, particularly in this context. Raithen was content, and he indulged in enjoyment often, he was proud of what he could offer and of his family. Maybe that was happy, it sounded like the things that Finn was describing and he didn't want to ask.

There were parts of the conversation going on that he didn't understand but it was still nice to be a part of it. Nice enough that he didn't let himself bristle at the implication that their mother might ever have done anything less than worthy, particularly in relation to her children.

Hopping up, he refilled his bowl and offered the same to the other two. When he returned, as he settled himself back down, he said,

"Once, when I was about twelve, I ran away from my instructor to play with the other palace children. It was high Searing and hot as dragon's fire, so they ended up all running to one of the deep cistern pools to swim. I had a crush on this one boy so, even though I didn't know how to swim, I jumped right in." His mood was still one of amusement, laughing at his own follies.

"Of course, I started flailing, and then my wings got waterlogged. They pulled me under and I truly thought I was going to die, as if Mother would ever have allowed that. My minders found me and got me out in plenty of time but I was so embarrassed. Let us say that my adolescent appreciate of the other boy remained unrequited. I'm still not great with deep water."

Sharing the embarrassing and personal tale felt inline with the mood they were creating and maybe it would earn him tales of their childhoods to learn from.

[Arvælyn]

► Show Spoiler

"There's something to be said for boring, then, if you're the result." Arvælyn mused, nudging a shoulder to Finn's.

"Heh... I wish that were true." The prince chuckled a bit bashfully. Phocion had, indeed, borne witness to a bit of a tantrum back at the Phædryn Villa in Tertium, when they'd first arrived. It was far from his proudest moment, but it felt like a lifetime ago, now. He could try to excuse it by thinking of it as its own sort of childhood, though that was likely over-kind.

"I would say, generally, I'm content. Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I'm frustrated or angry or... Any number of other things, but my baseline is content, and that's better than most people in the world can say, I should think. I don't know if that helps you, or your parents, ken a prince's happiness, but there 'tis." He shrugged.

When Raithen spoke in memoriam, Arvælyn would bow his head and whisper affirming quotations from the Radiant Chronicle. When he offered another helping of food, he would accept, and when he gave voice to an anecdote from youth, he listened attentively. It was strange that this bizarre mission into an alien frontier should serve as backdrop to their most casual cordial exchange perhaps ever.

The tenor of the tale, seemed to lend itself to reciprocation, Arvælyn realised as Raithen concluded it. He pursed his lips, pondering his own past, before piping up.

"We didn't have much money in Antiris. I don't know what, if anything, Solunarium provided my da-... provided Ruslan, in the way of an allowance, but times were hard. We lived in a human-dominated slum with a resentful population. You'd have thought it was Zaichaer for how they looked at elves. Founders know what the Hytori of Sol'Valen did to their ancestors that lingered so long after, but whatever the case, we tended to hide my ears when I went out. That... isn't important to the story, just to set the stage, and that...

"Anyway, there was this shoppe we used to pass... more of a stall, really, in the local market, which sold these little wooden toys. Little airships, and animals... dragons with articulated tails and wings that you could flap with your fingers. Nobody in them parts-..." He started, realising he'd slipped into the accent with which he'd spoken at the time.

"No one in those parts, rather, had Kinetics to spend on making toys move. I used to love that stall. I was fair obsessed. I would watch other parents buy their children toys we couldn't afford and it stirred such jealousy in me, my Gods. The day I saw a red-haired boy being handed the dragon toy I'd wanted for months is the first I ever remember feeling envy. Anyway, I begged and I begged, but nothing doing. We couldn't afford it. Ruslan said he needed the money for food. I said I'd go without meals for a week, just to have one of those toys.

"Then came my name day and, sure enough, I had my own little articulated dragon... But it wasn't like the ones at the stall. It was far finer. Masterful. You couldn't even see the moving parts for how intricately it was constructed and painted. It looked like a living thing. I knew it wasn't from the stall, and he wouldn't tell me where he'd gotten it or how he'd afforded it.

"It was years later when he told me he'd crafted it himself. I was aghast that he had such a skill. When I asked him why he'd hidden that for all those years, he just said: 'If you give a squealmouse a cookie, he'll want a glass of milk, innit?'" Arvælyn chuckled at the memory, his eyes glistening a bit more than they had when he began his story.

"He was right. I would have begged him for more and more, if I'd known it wasn't such a hardship to get them. It was more special for seeming like a hardship to attain." He shook his head,

"Anyway..."

[Finn]

Finn accepted more food; waste not, want not, especially in the field. It was good, he thought, that the brothers shared, and he was glad they wanted him to share as well.

"When we get back, I will teach you to swim," he promised Raithen, and wondered if he could help him get a little requitement from that unrequited love. And he smiled fondly at his husband, though he didn't make a big deal of the wobble of emotion in his shared story. They had spoken of Ruslan before and likely would again, but he knew it was important for him to seem unassailable by the other Sentinels.

The other Sentinels, however, had gone to sleep per his orders and so he ordered the brothers to find their bedrolls while they might. He stood vigil, and then passed that torch to the next watch, taking his own rest.

Nothing of note was brought to his attention when "morning" came, and so they set out. He opened a portal for them to the next safe junction and they continued as before, exploring by the book, using those skills Finn had at his disposal with the team he had selected.

His flyboys came in handy except when they didn't, and then they all trudged through the tighter spaces on foot. Decius, of course, had the keenest sense for the aether around them and how it was "wrong" in certain places.

None of this was normal, but even so, they continued until the relative peace of this new normal was broken.

[Raithen]

Raithen nodded along when his brother spoke of contentment, it was almost exactly how he would have described his own mental state if someone had asked.

Listening as the story of the Princeps' childhood unfolded caused a whole new sense of the other man to bloom inside the Avialae. He had known next to nothing about Arvælyn's life before he had appeared under their mother's metaphorical wing. Raithen walked the streets, had spent time in almost every part of several cities, knew of the type of lifestyle being described. He just hadn't ever imagined that the proud and glamorous prince he had been introduced to would also know, and with significantly greater intimacy.

The winged maned shivered at the idea of even learning to swim. He trusted Finn but the human didn't have massive, heavy wings attached to his back that grew more than twice as heavy when waterlogged. Kinetics was now available to him, as it had not been when he'd nearly drowned as a child, so he was willing to try, firm in the knowledge that he could lift himself to safety if needed.

His eyes drifted from the human to the draconian with wings of his own and a question popped out.

"Have you tried to swim since you got your wings? Did you swim before that?" The scaled version of wings, Raithen imagined, would make swimming so much easier and not absorb water at all. Fish and lizards swam easily.

Before the answer came, Finn was ordering them to sleep. It was sensible but Raithen had a rare moment of wanting to disobey an order, stay up late talking with his family. The pair he'd been chatting with probably felt this tiny spoke of rebellion, but he didn't act on it, instead sand-scrubbing their bowls out before tucking himself into his bedroll.

The next day went similarly, except when they hit the first major null area and he'd had to fight his way to landing safely without properly working rune or wings. Thankfully, his childhood teacher had forced him to practice landing while under a Negation anti-magic field and he hadn't been hurt. While he was forced to talk he asked Finn and Arvælyn if they knew any of the missing students. Raithen had known of them more than knowing them, had seen them at parties or knew their families.

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn parted his lips to impart that Raithen's wings might complicate the swimming lesson, but he hesitated lest it be taken for dissuasion. He didn't altogether fancy the notion of such scantily clad intimacy between brother and spouse, but he inferred that those close to him preferred he bury his envious inklings behind the dark shroud of his Mark's masking, so bury it he did. In the void of his hesitation, Raithen replied along the same lines he'd been thinking. It made him realise he hadn't attempted swimming since acquiring his own pair of wings, although there was something about flying that felt akin to it. He smiled to Raithen and unlocked his jaw to elaborate on this point, but his brother was quick to comply when Finn ordered them to bed down.

► Show Spoiler

The next stretch of magic-dampening tunnels wasn't so much of a curious cakewalk as the first. If there had been hostile creatures on the first leg of their journey, they hadn't troubled this party. Perhaps they'd been slain or intimidated by the students who'd preceded them. The flying beasts that haunted the next stretch, which resembled a cross between a bat and a stingray, were not so bashful, and Arvælyn found himself glad of the practical combat training he'd received as a subsentinel. It was strange applying those skills to an altered body and using them in flight. Were they anywhere else, he might have urged the creatures to seek out other quarry with his Mesmer or to attack one another. Instead, he was sweeping through the air, trying to keep them off the grounded members of the party with a blade, until the moment he realised he had another weapon at his disposal.

"Clear the path, frater!" He called to Raithen, as he began to gather heat to his ignis gland. Black smoke began to stream from his nostrils as he inhaled, before a streak of white flame illuminated the cavern. The creatures that weren't incinerated outright, were blinded and many collapsed to the ground or struck against the walls making easy prey to those dispatching them below.

As camp was set up and conversation struck up, Arvælyn would explain that he'd spoken at an Academia function celebrating the studios and met a few of the students there, but didn't really know them beyond a brief exchange of pleasantries. It didn't sound like he could have put a face to a name without their briefing report.

At Arvælyn's urging, Decius ascertained that the creatures were comestible and those willing to sample the unfamiliar meat had a surplus of rations for their boldness and would find the flesh oily and soft, akin to catfish, but with a slight tinge of ammonia that wanted for more offsetting spice than they had available to them on their expedition. The local insects seemed to have no aversion to the meat, and anything that was dropped would soon be collected by small, harvesting scarabs that seemed to work in tandem with one another, dragging the scraps back to cracks in the walls, presumably housing their colony. They didn't seem interested in living things, and it was deemed that they posed no security threat, so those on watch weren't relegated to hours of bug-smushing duty.

The next beacon point was before an imposing archway engraved with some sort of ancient hieroglyphs akin to those found upon the ancient statues that stood before the Temple of Midnight's Mother in the Umbrium, but different enough as to offer no discernible intelligence. They would know from their briefing that this was the labyrinth. The last part of the journey the students were known to have successfully navigated before disappearing into whatever lay beyond. Decius would be able to confirm the intelligence hitherto provided that this was a null zone for magic. They did, however, have the benefit of a previous party of competitors fighting amongst themselves as they worked their way through the labyrinth. Whereas earlier on the path, they'd sought to be savvy and trick one another, it seemed at this point they were largely working together- Perhaps recognising that getting through at all was more important than getting through first, or that they had bigger fish to fry and their interpersonal conflicts could wait.

The tunnels of the labyrinth were not cramped, but they were not large enough to make flight practical for Raithen or Arvælyn. They would find obstacles, but most of the traps had been triggered and paths forged. There were hungry creatures that had survived the students and needed dispatching. The close quarters made Arvælyn's fiery talents more dangerous to his companions, and so good old fashioned blade work won the day. As they neared the end of the maze, they would make the grim discovery of an ostensibly human skeleton. Any clothing, supplies or identifying markers was gone and the little prints in the surrounding sand suggested the flesh had been picked clean by the same little worker beetles they'd seen outside the labyrinth.

As they made their way through the exit archway, they would stand before a massive, open chamber. Geographically they must have still been underground, unless they'd unwittingly crossed through some portal, but the ceilings were so high and the darkness loomed so far above that they couldn't see them. The magic dampening effect was strong here. Stronger than anywhere they'd yet been, and they knew the final beacon was behind them out of reach on the other side of that labyrinth. The light cast by their torches displayed little of what lay out before them, but the vastness of it was palpable even in the unassailable blackness that stretched out before them.

"This is... tile?" Arvælyn noted, as he crouched down to wipe some of the dust off of the smooth, even floor to regard the patterns displayed thereupon.

In the distance, another light flickered into view. A sole torch drew closer, revealing the distant figure of a humanoid from whom a masculine voice called out:

"Hello?"

[Finn]

Though danger found them, it did not find them wanting in the power to defend themselves. It was heartening to see how powerful his husband had become, given a weapon even a pyromancer might envy. Raithen, too, was a doughty warrior, as he knew from their sparring and magical training. Decius and the others were, of course, competent, and he had been training hard as well, with his fellow Sentinels and even with Vespera and her golden legionnaires. The skill with a blade remained even as he felt his connection to his Runes flicker and fade. He wondered if he ought to try to capture one of the beetles to bring back to Hilana to see if they were different from the normal scarabs. But that was not the highest of priorities.

Finn made decisions when decisions needed made, and relied upon everyone to use their skills for the good of the mission.

When they found the dead, he reached for Aværys, albeit silently. Take this one unto Thy bosom, my God.

Later, of course they would reach a labyrinth with their magic subdued. Decius looked frustrated, and Finn offered him a small, supportive smile. Magic was a tool, but they were skilled at what they did and could find workarounds. He worked around to see what Arvælyn had found; it was disconcerting more that he couldn't feel his husband's presence in those inaudible harmonies that existed between them than that he couldn't mesmerize someone or pull a blade out of himself.

Crouching to run his fingers over the tile, he didn't have long to consider before Decius hissed and pointed.

Finn shot his gaze thither, saw the bobbing of another light source, and what might be a man. He stood.

"Salve!" he called, trained voice carrying. Though he was curt, his tone was hardly threatening. "We are the Silver Sentinels. Identify yourself."

[Raithen]

The enemies came, as they were wont to do in such places, not unexpected, but still unwanted. The flying siblings engaged with them in their own medium, keeping them at bay as best they could in their limited capacity, trusting that if one got through, those on the ground would be capable of dispatching it.

Raithen turned his head at the call, a grin splitting his face at the telltale signs of his brother's intention. Getting himself out of dodge would have been easier with access to his Kinetics, but he managed it, folding his wings close to his body and spinning, eyes squeezed shut.

That evening, if it was evening outside, as they made camp he listened to Arvælyn discuss his acquaintance with some of the students they were searching for. He explained his own, equally brief, encounters with them while attending parties.

The Avialea made a simple offering of prayer to the twins when they passed through the arches that might, or might not, have been built in their honor. It couldn't hurt to make his obeisance either way. If they were dedicated to his gods, they deserved his reverence, if they did not, then he would prefer Their protection as he ventured into realms dedicated to the unknown.

Being forced to the ground was not ideal in the sense that he could no longer scout effectively, but it was pleasant to be able to spend more time conversing with his fellows. Stories of battles gone and adventures had were passed between them, some with laughter and some with bated breath, particularly when either of the stage-trained husbands were the ones gracing them. Raithen's sense of group cohesion began to settle into something more solid, allowing him to see where each of the others would fit when supporting each other in combat. A reality which he did not have to wait long to see, as their path grew more dangerous.

Finding the remains was a grim omen, but added almost nothing to their store of information. The opening up of the chamber was like a weight lifting off of Raithen's shoulders. He wasn't claustrophobic, but a part of him always knew when there was room to fly if he needed to, and stressed when there wasn't. As the others spread out a little, examining the new environment, he stretched his wings to their limit, arms lifting above his head to stretch his spine too. At the sound of an unfamiliar voice, he snapped his limbs back close and flipped his speak into both hands. The newcomer had spoken, and Finn returned the greeting. With luck, speaking would be all that was required, but Raithen was not trained to expect such comfortable outcomes. His eyes flickered over each of the others, checking their positions and levels of readiness before turning away from the approaching light, searching behind and to the sides for threats less willing to draw attention to themselves.