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“Oh, I figured– I more meant ‘common’ as in something the majority of the members had for one reason or another. It would not make sense for any given Sentinel to not have some type of magic…though I do often wonder how deep it goes. How many possess runes of…rarity or those deemed lost to time, so to speak.” Æros replied with an odd sort of smile on blue lips, as if the arcane concept truly fascinated him. Which, of course, it did. The Færie truly loved magic– if one thing could pull him out of the rut he’d been in for the past few years, it’d be the pursuit of power thereof.
The subject of Phocion soured his expression a bit, though not entirely, and before he responded, he drank from his wine. “That is…unfortunate. Should he ever be convinced to grant it to me, I would not say no– I care not about liking those who grant me any sort of power. The magic would always be worth it. I just…doubt the viability of such a route at the moment.” He spoke with a bashful sort of laugh, almost embarrassed, yet not indicative that he was truly bothered.
Whenever it was that the Star-crossed Fæ spoke of Arcas, veiled name or no, his voice was lower, hoping to be drowned out by the noise around them or simply ignored as the ramblings of a lush. Which, at this point, he very much still was. “That’s why I told you…I’d’ve honestly held that bit to myself, but if you were at this wedding, I feel like you might actually know something useful, no? In that case, it’d be better for you to speak up than stay silent since, I would think, knowing which nation wishes to tether men like him would be…pertinent information. Using power of that pedigree as a pawn is…a danger to us as it is any other.” Of this, he genuinely believed. For what other use are tethered gods than tools of conquest? Of dominance? If such a thing were the case, gathering intel of any sort as early as possible would be most ideal.
“He is cold, though to be entirely fair, that is not uncommon for elves. They get older and bitter like any other race– it just doesn’t show on our faces for far longer,” he laughed. “...and some are just…naturally made of stone. No fun, that, but ah well.”
To the mention of Zaichaer, “hm…honestly, I don’t know much about Zaichaer. I do feel like…the actions taken were taken by a nation out for blood. Given the fact that I heard that the city was leveled when the Mists came, I doubt that it was them, no? What government would be left to have sent our, ah…friend…here? I think it would be odd to send him down here of all places while their city lies in ruins. Have you any other ideas…?” Æros inquired with great curiosity, a genuine sort of pleading in his voice if only because he really wanted to unravel the mystery. He cursed himself for paying so little attention to what whispers of international politics did manage to cross their borders.
Regarding Arvælyn’s comment about those who heard from Her, he smiled, though he chuckled again in a bashful nature before he spoke. “Really? All three of you? How fascinating…” he only trailed off for a second, “...my encounter with Her was…an enlightening one, I would say. It gave me perspective and a sense of direction where I had none before.” Of course, it was not a favourable outcome, really, but he didn’t need to verbalize that, did he? Æros preferred to look at the silver lining of the situation as opposed to his own blunders knowing that at this point, all he could do was walk forward, not look back.
As he pondered the concept, he found himself passively draining his glass of what wine remained within. His request for more was but a gesture.
“Before whenever it is that I do deign to make the journey to Kaladon, however, I would like to find a way to honor Her and Her brother. Though in what way? I am unsure. They could have every drop of blood in my body, but that doesn’t feel quite grand enough. I do hope I can glean something more from our guest to share, too…but at this point I’m not sure how much he’s able to reveal.” That was the annoying part– Arcas appeared to be, in large part, kept in the dark about what exactly it even was that he was doing here and silenced regarding any other useful information. Perhaps, however, he would in some way slip?
And when the conversation shifted to his lover, Æros smiled. “That’s what I was thinking. Despite our skill, however, there is always the risk of tripping over the ætheric edge. I think…we both did a little bit in one of our encounters, and dangerous as that was, I regret little. The experience was worth it,” he laughed, much as he knew they risked breaking themselves. “I do like the idea of mirrored runes, even if for no other reason than to carry ‘round a piece of one another.”
The subject of Phocion soured his expression a bit, though not entirely, and before he responded, he drank from his wine. “That is…unfortunate. Should he ever be convinced to grant it to me, I would not say no– I care not about liking those who grant me any sort of power. The magic would always be worth it. I just…doubt the viability of such a route at the moment.” He spoke with a bashful sort of laugh, almost embarrassed, yet not indicative that he was truly bothered.
Whenever it was that the Star-crossed Fæ spoke of Arcas, veiled name or no, his voice was lower, hoping to be drowned out by the noise around them or simply ignored as the ramblings of a lush. Which, at this point, he very much still was. “That’s why I told you…I’d’ve honestly held that bit to myself, but if you were at this wedding, I feel like you might actually know something useful, no? In that case, it’d be better for you to speak up than stay silent since, I would think, knowing which nation wishes to tether men like him would be…pertinent information. Using power of that pedigree as a pawn is…a danger to us as it is any other.” Of this, he genuinely believed. For what other use are tethered gods than tools of conquest? Of dominance? If such a thing were the case, gathering intel of any sort as early as possible would be most ideal.
“He is cold, though to be entirely fair, that is not uncommon for elves. They get older and bitter like any other race– it just doesn’t show on our faces for far longer,” he laughed. “...and some are just…naturally made of stone. No fun, that, but ah well.”
To the mention of Zaichaer, “hm…honestly, I don’t know much about Zaichaer. I do feel like…the actions taken were taken by a nation out for blood. Given the fact that I heard that the city was leveled when the Mists came, I doubt that it was them, no? What government would be left to have sent our, ah…friend…here? I think it would be odd to send him down here of all places while their city lies in ruins. Have you any other ideas…?” Æros inquired with great curiosity, a genuine sort of pleading in his voice if only because he really wanted to unravel the mystery. He cursed himself for paying so little attention to what whispers of international politics did manage to cross their borders.
Regarding Arvælyn’s comment about those who heard from Her, he smiled, though he chuckled again in a bashful nature before he spoke. “Really? All three of you? How fascinating…” he only trailed off for a second, “...my encounter with Her was…an enlightening one, I would say. It gave me perspective and a sense of direction where I had none before.” Of course, it was not a favourable outcome, really, but he didn’t need to verbalize that, did he? Æros preferred to look at the silver lining of the situation as opposed to his own blunders knowing that at this point, all he could do was walk forward, not look back.
As he pondered the concept, he found himself passively draining his glass of what wine remained within. His request for more was but a gesture.
“Before whenever it is that I do deign to make the journey to Kaladon, however, I would like to find a way to honor Her and Her brother. Though in what way? I am unsure. They could have every drop of blood in my body, but that doesn’t feel quite grand enough. I do hope I can glean something more from our guest to share, too…but at this point I’m not sure how much he’s able to reveal.” That was the annoying part– Arcas appeared to be, in large part, kept in the dark about what exactly it even was that he was doing here and silenced regarding any other useful information. Perhaps, however, he would in some way slip?
And when the conversation shifted to his lover, Æros smiled. “That’s what I was thinking. Despite our skill, however, there is always the risk of tripping over the ætheric edge. I think…we both did a little bit in one of our encounters, and dangerous as that was, I regret little. The experience was worth it,” he laughed, much as he knew they risked breaking themselves. “I do like the idea of mirrored runes, even if for no other reason than to carry ‘round a piece of one another.”
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'Thoughts'
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
"Vastien Tongue/Speech"
"Valasren Tongue/Speech"
"Common Tongue/Speech"
