Friends in High Places

[Hekatos]

Friends in High Places

Istraoikos, deme Lisse, Silfanore
68th of Frost, 124th Year of the Age of Steel

The invitation had gone out eventually. First, a date had to be decided given Sivan's erratic translation back and forth between the Jewel of Karnor and the Crown City of Sol'Valen. Laurevere often traveled back and forth with Sivan, which was nice. While he had trained himself to be self-sufficient mostly so he didn't have to deal with other people, Laurevere had been his neighbor for years now, as well as a friend and even a teacher when it came to defending himself with steel. The other elf understood the specific traumas of being biracial in Silfanore, and had even taken some of Sivan's friends under his protection.

This was not Sivan's first time at Istraoikos, and he had enjoyed walking through the neighborhood, past the the Fist of Toralyon and the Agora. While he had politely declined the taxi, one had been sent to bring the Neptori envoy.

Despite walking, Sivan had arrived early and the servants knew him so he was let in to wait in a sitting room beside the dining room where their dinner would be laid. Laurevere, once apprised of his arrival, was quick to join him for an aperitif.

They caught up on many things, including the location of Destynrael.

"...skulking about Torin's valley, I believe..."

And Sivan accepted that. He wasn't sure the extent of the relationship developing between them; he only hoped Destyn's pure heart wasn't broken. Laurevere was Val'Hytori, and that came with certain responsibilities. Sivan hadn't expected the Fae to cleave so to one person for so long, but then there were a great many things he missed despite mastering the Art of Semblance.

They were just considering another drink when the arrival of Tyrann was announced.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

Tyrann accepted the offer of a ride to Istraoikos, or at least to the neighbourhood thereof, but once they got to the vicinity he decided to take advantage of the lovely day to explore the locale on foot. It meant he might not be perfectly punctual, but he didn't let his exploration push him beyond an acceptable delay in his arrival for the meeting Sivan had arranged. He was just shy of fifteen minutes after the assigned hour, as he sauntered in with an easy smile, pausing in the archway and striking a stance as his arrival was heralded.

Chuckling quietly, amused at himself, he entered the room properly.

"Good tide to you, Cousin Siv." He offered with a churlish smile, before turning his attention to the other fellow and, as his eyes locked on the elf, his pupils dilated perceptibly and his lips parted slightly as his gaze made a quick roam across his form.

"And you must be His Lordship of Val'Istra." He took a few steps closer, bowing his head, "I am enchanted to make your acquaintance." He offered, arching an eyebrow to Sivan in an expression that seemed to accuse him of failing to adequately prepare him for his friend's exceptional pulchritude- even by Hytori standards.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. I brought a gift... Or, well, I set one aside." He hadn't, strictly speaking, brought it as he hadn't felt like lugging a bottle with him on his stroll, but he was a formidible Traverser and so it was only a matter of exploiting the slipspace for the neck of the bottle to be in his hand, as he half-curtseyed in presenting it to Laurevere.

"Aurisian æther wine. This vintage was served at a dinner I attended last month and I fell in love. I hope you enjoy it as much as I."

[Sivan]

Sivan colored a bit at the candor of Tyrann's smile; Laurevere had a more inscrutable, aristocratic veneer. It took but a moment for the tides to change and for the Neptori envoy's attention to affix itself to Laurevere, even when he made a show of looking around. Well, that was to be expected. Laurevere was quite handsome.

"Look what the tide washed ashore," he said, jaunty for Sivan. "Hello, coz." And all he could do was shrug. And imagine Destyn wrestling Tyrann to the floor to impress Laurevere. Well, Sivan would watch that with only the quietest of protests against violence.

Then, as he was supposed to be introducing them, he continued. "Laurevere, may I present the Lord Ambassador of the Tidal Nation and Knight Aquatic of Caerulia, Sir Tyrann Xekourássi. Cousin, may I present Lord Laurevere Val'Istra."

"A courtesy title for the youngest child of the actual Lord Val'Istra," Laurevere assured his guest with an elegant bow. "Welcome to our home. I am delighted to make your acquaintance."

Delight might not be the first word that came to mind, but while taciturn, he wasn't unfriendly.

"Ah, you are too kind. Thank you."

Sivan felt a glimmer of worry. He supposed that at the sort of party he would never be invited to, offering an Aurisian vintage to one whose blood was half-Siltori might be seen as a slight. Deep in cups of a less pointed heritage, he and Laurevere had discussed the difficulties of not being Hytori enough for the Hytori. But, of course, Laurevere was used to swimming these waters, and seemed unbothered if he even suspected some double entendre.

The highborn elf turned the bottle over, examining the label. A little nod, and a little smile. A servant appeared, as if by magic, and took it respectfully with two hands.

Without looking to her as she retreated with it, Laurevere said, "Our guest will tell us which course it best complements, or if it were better aperitif or digestif." A beat, then, "Cousins? Siv, have you taken an aquatic familiar into your Rune?"

Sivan shook his head no, but looked to Tyrann; it was the Neptori's blood gem that had revealed the connection that founded the jest, after all.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"I am no stranger to courtesy titles. My siblings are princes, where I am but 'Lord of the Surf'. Does the unstable sand lapped by waves seem a sturdy province to you?" Tyrann replied with a wry chuckle. He smiled and nodded in answer to the gratitude expressed for his gift. Any potential for perceived slights was wholly lost on the Neptori to whose eyes Laurevere appeared entirely Hytori, as did Sivan. As he'd expressed to Sivan when the subject of the Dratori arose in conversation, he didn't really register the cultural distinctions that transpired on land whilst his people civilised the seafloor all those years ago. With Laurevere's mixed heritage never having been explicitly addressed to him, it remained unmarked by eyes more attentive to the aesthetic distinctions that set Laurevere apart than the racial.

"Ah, you will forgive me if my developing palate has not yet mastered wine pairings. We do not have wine in Caerulia, so I tend to rely on more practised palates to render such suggestions. Novelty pairs well with everything, I find." He bit his lip, dipping his head apologetically.

"It is a little jest between us, but one that stems from the incident that inspired this introduction. Sivan the Summoner can speak to this in greater detail, but suffice to say that your kinswoman gifted me with a blood gem that is excited by my blood, but fair manic over Sivan's. In our attempts to glean some understanding of this strange phenomenon, Sivan summoned a rather grisly-looking spirit who alerted us to a common ancestor between us- Doubtless some figure from a bygone era, but enough of a strange coincidence that I've taken to referring to Sivan, through a wink and a smirk, as my kinsman."

[Sivan]

Laurevere's face fair froze for a moment before he softened into a benevolent smile.

"How queer. Haera and her little jokes." Then, "Well, we shall have to experiment with the aether wine, then."

"I wasn't entirely certain the Aimatiká existed," Sivan said. "Or still existed."

"That would explain your ghastly messenger," Laurevere mused.

"I apologize if she was disturbing; she was just present at the time. Anyway, do you think your sister might see a friend of mine? He has a, hm, family curse that seems to ignore what grace Raella left us. A degenerative disorder, and I can't suss it properly, even with all my sembling. But the Aimatiká were... are... healers, no? This sort of thing shouldn't happen to Hytori."

Sivan was not the best at asking for favors, but when it was for someone other than himself, a fire could be lit under him.

"They are healers, yes. I will ask Haera on your behalf, though I would advise caution in making those jokes in front of the wrong company. Some lords of the realm would not be amused." He pulled a face to indicate he wasn't one of those. "Ah—" A servant appeared with a silver platter; the aether wine was decanted and glasses poured. He handed them out. "Well, I suppose good wine needs no accompaniment but good company. To what shall we toast?"

"Not cousins?" Sivan asked, though he cast a surreptitious smirk at Tyrann as he answered Laurevere.

"Certainly not to sisters," Laurevere muttered. But then he smiled anew, this one for Tyrann. "Guest's choice."

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"I'm told my sense of humour is an acquired taste as well." Tyrann offered in defence of Haera, but smiled all the same. As Sivan and Laurevere began to broach matters that did not seem to pertain to him, the Neptori's eyes and then feet began to wander as he examined the decor in their current surroundings with an appraising eye. He appeared more like an appreciateur perusing a museum gallery than a rogue snooping about for valuables, but when he was addressed again, he redirected his course smoothly and returned to the immediate company of the other two.

"Such an intriguing phenomenon, this compulsion to toast ere the first sip of a spirit when socialising. We have similar customs with some of our intoxicants, likely derived from the time before we claimed the sea. I'm sure the tradition existed amongst mine and Sivan's common kin in antiquity before my ancestors adapted to the water." He cracked a grin, "Is it obvious that I'm stalling whilst I think of something appropriate to extoll?" He sighed, and glanced from elf to elf.

"Let us drink to beauty, then, for it is a balm that lubricates living's many woes and tribulations. We are all of us beautiful and surrounded by beauty, so let us drink and let smoother edges beautify the world more still." He lifted his glass into the centre of their triad, waited for their ratifying clinks, and then took a generous gulp of the wine.

"I knew that Lady Haera was your kinswoman, Milord, but not that she was your sister. Yours must be a family of great prominence. Long stood it thus?"

[Sivan]

Laurevere relaxed a bit. There were connections that seemed obvious to him, but then, they would. Thankfully, Sivan's mind didn't seem to tend in the same directions as his did, and his foreign friend found it all diverting; at least, he seemed to.

"If it be like wine, then it will be savored by and by," the highborn elf replied. "And you are welcome to defer in future; I didn't mean to put you on the spot. To beauty."

"To beauty," Sivan declared, his gold gone somewhat rose , though he knew that Tyrann admired him.

After a few moments, Laurevere hummed his appreciation. Not quite the trained oenophile, Sivan kept quiet.

"Elder sister," Laurevere agreed. He wasn't compelled to elaborate upon the connection, that his sister was a half-sister. Bastardy didn't carry the same stigma among the Hytori as it did elsewhere, though he was happy not to mention his Siltori heritage. Sivan was well aware, but then Sivan had spent some of his youth here and was, perhaps more keen to notice given his own mixed heritage.

Sivan wasn't sure if Tyrann truly didn't notice. Perhaps all land-born elves looked too similar to sea-born eyes to delineate properly without more effort or familiarity.

"We are an old family," Laurevere said. His smile went slightly crooked for a moment. "My father says we were more prominent before the Lysanrin occupation, but many families say that now. In any case, we are well established, I think. We even served your ancestors ere they took to the seas. We followed one of Arsoren's children who remained Hytori."

Sivan looked on curiously; he hadn't known that of his friend and his friend's family.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"Oh, take not my musings for aversions. I am just endlessly fascinated by the little distinctions that never occurred to me before spending so much time on the surface. Drink is not the preferred form of intoxication in Caerulia for obvious reasons, yet we have our own parallel customs." Tyrann noted, after gulping down his first sip of the Aurisian vintage. He nodded approvingly of his own selection and smiled faintly.

"Is that so?" The ambassador arched an eyebrow. He pondered the point of the Lysanrin occupation. Ancient history though it was, it was an intriguing point to say the least. He'd never met one of their ilk and what connotations he had for the race were largely negative, though the Neptori had no dealings of note with The Clockwork Empire or its ruling powers.

"I should like to know more of this family history of yours, if you are willing to elaborate..?" He was interested in Laurevere for a number of reasons. For one thing, there was the connection to his enigmatic sister whose weird ways had piqued his interest in higher altitudes. Then, there was the fact that Sivan had seen fit to bring him here to introduce them. And finally, there was Laurevere's surpassing beauty, which was worthy of this aquatic aesthete's toast as well as his interest.

"And, of course, I am happy to answer any questions you might have for me about mine own background, should any of that interest you." But his blithe shrug seemed to suggest that there was little of note upon which to expound. Tyrann preferred talking about other people. After all, he knew his own story intimately. Other lives held the mysteries he was intrigued to excavate.

[Sivan]

"Well," Laurevere said, his humors odd as they were all filtered through his deadpan tones, "I am certainly interested in Neptori intoxicants. You seem to be one given... hm..." He glanced at Sivan, who was still a touch flushed.

As for the family history, "What would you like to know?"

Indicating over Tyrann's shoulder with his glass, "There's a portrait of Aicanar Val'Istra behind you. Tragically, he fell in love with one of the elves who sacrificed their immortality in Arsoren's deal with the Lord of Suffering. According to family lore, he didn't know how to cope with the change... many reviled the humans despite their deal being what saved us. But he died before they could be reconciled."

A grim little smile was marred by another sip of the aether wine. The family's history was long, albeit ragged. So much had been lost over the millennia.

Sivan considered the portrait. It made him want to speak to his own parents, whose love hadn't straddled the racial divide for very long. His father was lost to the Grimlord, but his mother did yet abide in Dalquor. He wondered how he would feel among the Dratori now.

"So many of the stories are sad ones," he murmured to himself.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"Mm..." Tyrann chuckled heartily at Laurevere's taunting jest and grinned to Sivan, "It is possible we create an inebriating effect upon the landed elves. Maybe that is why your sister took such interest in my blood. Someone should commission a study." He suggested as his aquamarine gaze returned to Laurevere.

"Aicanar..." He repeated the name, rolling the final r at length as he craned his neck to peer at the portrait behind him. He examined it in great detail as Laurevere spoke, only turning back to face his host when the tale was complete.

"As a product of elven deviation from our Hytori genesis, I can hardly begrudge the humans their branch off the primordial reef. Still, I don't see many humans in Silfanore, so perhaps Aicanar's prejudices have prevailed to some degree." He inclined his head slightly, "Though I am an outsider who is, perhaps, missing some of the nuance. I am here to absorb, not to interpret." He observed, lifting his cup for a sip and swirling the remaining contents as his eyes darted around the room, finding other portraits.

"Ooh, tell me about that one. I quite like his armour. Fashion over function is a bold statement that bespeaks either folly or remarkable prowess. One is either expressing the hubris of caring more about appearance than safety or broadcasting a level of martial acumen that exceeds whatever handicaps may be created by the ornamentation... And then, of course, there is the armour that is designed more for the orator than than sabre-rattler." A family of Val'Istra's obvious influence no doubt had its share of politicians in their history, and many politicians used fashion as a form of communication all itself. The princess Akantha was of this ilk, wrapping much of her personality into her obsession with couture, as far as he could surmise from his limited interactions with the royal. He found himself more at ease with her brother, Sorononar.