Waiting for Waves [Sivan]

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"To call a bay a lake? Hmph, what sacrilege!" Tyrann exclaimed, and it was unclear from his performance whether he was playacting for comedic effect. His mannerisms were so strange, it was quite difficult to discern, but if Sivan Sembled he would learn that it was, indeed, a jest and that he enjoyed playing up his peculiarities to jostle those outside his culture. It was not a habit he brought into his ambassadorial duties, but here away from the prying eyes of the palace and in the company of a less than princely figure, he was content to amuse himself after this fashion.

"Oh, how hospitable an offer!" His manner shifted from melodramatic umbrage to delight in a flash. "I am actually quite comfortable in the open air. More than most of my ilk, but such accommodations would be a welcome comfort if they didn't put you out... and I should like to see Kalzasi. I am fascinated by those who swim the skies..." He bit his lip and looked Sivan over as he went on.

"Am I to infer, then, that you, too, bear the travellers' Rune? I've borne it at length. I forget whether I chose it because I wanted this career or whether this career seemed more suited to me because I bore it... Oh, and the polymorphic one, as well? Quite the collection." He smirked, dipping momentarily until his nose and mouth were below the water's surface, before reemerging.

"Sorry. Thirsty. Yes, yes! The king. Do go on..." He gestured. "A thoughtful response, Sivan. Forthcoming, but also somehow... measured. You would do well in diplomacy, I think. I keep using this word, but there is something... disarming about you. Do I set off any alarums?" He hadn't Sembled Sivan since his arrival, aware of the cultural customs pertaining to such incursions, but he wondered whether that was the extent of what Sivan had meant in speaking of the king.

[Sivan]

Sivan observed the fluctuations of Tyrann's mood with only slightly widened eyes. He hadn't sembled past the surface, not wanting to be rude. It was enough, eat least, to know that he was largely joking and that it wasn't malicious in intent. That was enough for Sivan.

"Common has many failings as a language," he acknowledged. The term applied to Udori in Vallenor and Mythrasi was, he thought, entirely accurate.

And his smile at the thought of the strange diplomat residing for a time in his home was entirely sincere.

"My overachieving cadre of elemental spirits has taken to growing my home into a tower. Using stone from below to build up. There are hot springs in the basement, but they aren't salinated. Surely something could be arranged to set you entirely at your ease in my home." It got him to thinking how much deeper Geb could dig before hitting the water table or if, perhaps, he had made the stone strong enough to hold that at bay. The spirits in his care had grown in power and complexity of thought.

"Oh, no... Semblance came first because Sol'Valen is my fatherland. Summoning came second as Dalquia is my motherland. I look Hytori, but I inherited the spiritwalking from my Dratori lineage, as well as its... problematic passions. I began a career in artificing when I returned to Silfanore, and my Master took me out into the world. When Wraedan came for him, his last bequest was a letter of recommendation to a dragon in Kalzasi—well, I only later learned he was a dragon—who taught me the art of alchemy. Scrivening I learned along the way. It is so helpful with just about any magic, especially the magical crafts. Animus... well, I picked that up after my home was burglarized. I was a bit worried that I hadn't much in the way of combat magic, so at least I could learn to change myself into something more difficult to harm."

He shrugged; it made him uncomfortable more because he wasn't some warrior like Prince Rhydian or even Laurevere. He wasn't a soldier, but rather a craftsman.

"Wolf and Bear were ferocious enough, but Dragonfly was inspired by a friend... and their eyes. They see so much that we do not! I haven't the skill yet to take on another pattern, but it makes sense it should be something aquatic, at least to my way of thinking, when I do have the skill. Perhaps then I will be able to make a dragonfly's wings work with this body... or carve more than gills into me, and webbed digits."

A hand came up, fingers wriggling. His fingertips had grown a bit wrinkled.

"Oh, the king?" But Tyrann kept talking. He hoped he wasn't being drugged with seafood truth serum or something. While he wasn't attempting to dissemble, he knew that a careless word could give away more than he meant and even if neither of his homelands felt like home, he didn't want to be responsible for any harm done to their peoples or their reputations. "Oh... I don't know about that. I'm not very good with people. Usually, I'm working in my lab and my partner's apprentice deals with customers. Some of them think it some elven mystique but really... I just don't want to speak to them if I can help it. You can read the surface of my aura, at least, you know, without being rude. Some people can read faces, voices, or body language, so using Semblance for a bit of insight isn't terrible. I mean, I would refrain from doing so to any Sol'Hytori or Val'Hytori... or particularly influential Len'Hytori. But I am none of these.

"Hm. Alarums? Not exactly. I mean, unless one is a particularly influential Len'Hytori, a Len'Hytori might be somewhat on alert around anyone of greater renown. I am a citizen, so in some ways, I have more rights than you. In other ways, the goodwill of your parent might outweigh my rights in the eyes of my sovereign. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. At least, that was the rationale by which our king's father sacrificed himself for us. I do not think I am in particular danger, but the caprices of nobility..." Both hands came out of the water as his spread his fingers wide. Anything was possible when it came to the powerful.

"But I am enjoying your hospitality, too," he added earnestly.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"Many failings!" Tyrann exclaimed, sounding entirely exasperated by the notion, although this, too, was embellished to suit his sense of humour.

"We use these techniques, as well. I find cities that rely upon construction garish in an artless way. That sort of unnatural symmetry one finds in the buildings of, say, Geleros is..." He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "A ghastly affront to mine eyes. I am pleased to hear that your home might be less offensive." He noted with a smirk. "But I do hope you aren't planning to boil me alive as is the custom on land when it comes to my crustacean neighbours."

"Dalquia was not on my list of destinations. I do not know that I have ever met a Dratori... present company notwithstanding. I do not know that they've had much contact with my people, aside from the odd seaman I suppose. What ought I to know about these folk and their... spirit walking?" He wondered aloud and pointedly.

"Well! It sounds as though you've led an... examined life, as they say, and you've much more to lead, Depths-willing. And in that time, you hope to recreate the Neptori in piecemeal on your person with the polymorphic Craft? I can't fault you for a lack of ambition, Len'Hytori or otherwise." He held his own hand up and spread his fingers to reveal the webbing there. The texture of his skin was not such that it wrinkled as Sivan's did. He held it up to the other elf's palm and pressed them together, curious as to the difference in the length and width of their respective fingers and the strange phenomenon that turned his young skin so wrinkly.

"I do not have many friends here. I believe His Highness Prince Sorononar is amongst them, but... Well, though it is easy to return home, I prefer to immerse myself in the airs of this culture and I think I should have more social relationships, don't you?" He let his hand slide down Sivan's and splash into the water.

"Do you wish to emerge? Is it unhealthy for your flesh when it gets grooves like that? I do not wish to make a broth of you. Is that painful?"

[Sivan]

"It would be rude to boil a guest," he protested gently. If it was meant as humor, it was delivered with understatement.

Attempting to answer all questions, Sivan was unsure which were actually directed at him and which were rhetorical. He erred on the side of over-explaining, as was his wont.

"Well, most of the People remain in Dalquia, which is landlocked save for an inland sea. We have a knack for communing with nature spirits, but it requires time and effort to hone the innate skill. We all have the ability, but not all of us have the patience to form deep connections. I took the shortcut of initiation in the Rune of Summoning..." He rose, turned, and tapped the Rune at the base of his spine, thankfully too low to be what Aurin called a 'tramp stamp.' His Rune of Animus lay between his shoulder blades, and could prove a more expedient means of traveling to Caerulia should he use his precious anima mortalis ability should a Neptori offer him some piece of themselves to incorporate into his Rune. His Rune of Semblance was hidden under his hair at the back of his skull. There was a reason behind these placements, but he didn't offer that up.

The golden elf dipped back into the water.

"In any case, many Hytori are uncomfortable around us because we remind them of Ilixidor. The rumors of black rages and such are true... And so I meditate quite a lot." The idea of such a mild-mannered elf exploding into violent anger might almost be laughable, but still waters, they said, ran deep.

"I don't have many friends here either," he admitted. He smiled softly. "But I am here to toil—mostly alone—in a workshop. You are here as a diplomat. I suppose I might be more easily forgiven for having less of a social life."

Sivan marveled at the sea elf's hand, certainly curious about the webbing, about the mechanics of form, and all. Because he thought about bodies mostly in terms of mechanics, he explained, "Oh, land-dwelling people... Well, elves and humans for certain, we have an evolutionary adaptation. When we soak in water for a little while, the tiny capillaries in our hands and feet constrict and the skin folds. This creates little channels for water to sluice away and improve our grip. Less slipping on wet stones or fumbling with wet tools, you see?"

He could have held forth on any of those topics, but he wasn't sure how much the envoy wished to know. He wasn't sure what he wished to know about Caerulia and the Neptori, and was carefully trying to identify what he most wanted to know so he could ask fewer questions for greater reward of information and not try the pretty fish's patience.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

"I couldn't agree more! And, to that end, please do let me know if the temperature of the bath is at all unpleasant." Tyrann offered with a chortle, though the water was far from hot. If anything, it was a tad on the chilly side.

As Sivan turned around to display his Runes, Tyrann swam closer and traced his index finger long the lines of the Summoning mark.

"I am also a child of two peoples. My Archontas... this would be like 'father' to you, but to us is different. Let us say, 'The one who sired me' is of the Coastal Nation. His tribe spends more time on the land than in the depths. My Foréas, the one who bore me, is King Under the Waves. My siblings are all full-blooded members of the Tidal Nation, and that distinction is not lost on me. There are... stereotypes, you understand. Coastal Neptori are seen to be, um... well, rather lazy, or unambitious at least. Creatures content to bask on pretty beaches and lead a simple idyllic life, where Tidal Neptori are proud warriors and keepers of ancient tradition."

When Sivan turned back around, Tyrann floated back to where he'd been sitting across from him.

"These rumours are not known to me, but I cannot fathom you entering a black rage, so the meditations must be going, for lack of a less fraught term, swimmingly." He pulled a face at Sivan for highlighting his diplomatic failings, but didn't remark upon it. As to the matter of the wrinkling effect, Tyrann's eyes widened with interest.

[glow=aqua"But how fascinating! Nature is truly a monumental marvel. And upon what creation are you toiling alone in your workshop over these days, I wonder?"[/glow] He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his bare chest as he settled his back against the edge of the water, the gills at his sides flaring slightly beneath the translucence of the waterline.

[Sivan]

"It's refreshing," he assured his host.

Silfanore kept its people comfortable through a combination of clever architecture, engineering, and magic. An inside swimming pool was new to him, but seemed like appropriate Neptori genius.

Racial stereotypes being a sensitive subject, he embraced that of his work first.

"Well, I figured out a novel way to conserve mithril, a terribly difficult material to create. In recognition, the workshop is allowing me to guide the use of what I collected. My first instinct is rarely to create a weapon, but it... hm... sort of wants to form a keen edge to a blade. There isn't much of it, so this will work." It sang for Rhydian to his 'ears' and so he would gift it to the prince, which some among the workshop considered meet as he might acquire a long-term client; that wasn't really his motive, though.

Soon enough he would return to Kalzasi.

"I do, though, you are correct." He returned to the more difficult subject. "I have always meditated, otherwise I... might be overcome by negativity. My own, that of the world around me." He shrugged. "The rages are a part of my Dratori heritage, as is the kinship with wild spirits. But not all Dratori are berserkers, nor all of us spiritwalkers. I look Hytori, and so I am more easily accepted in my fatherland. I suppose being the First Children, we are prone to seeing everyone else, everyone other as a deviation from the norm. I do not wish to speak ill of my people, but I do not agree with that perspective. I am sorry that a version of it exists among your people, too, and that it causes you distress."

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

“Is that so?” Tyrann arched a brow at the notion of a blade wanting to be honed this way or that, but he was unfamiliar with mithril and with smithing on the whole. Social creature that he was, such solitary and, to his mind, mundane pursuits held little allure. Not wanting to seem ignorant and lacking any intense interest in the matter, he would let it lie and move onto more intriguing fare.

“We all have our perspectives and our prejudices. My royal lineage saw the alterations in our physiology as an asset… An evolutionary boon to aid our erstwhile colonial aspirations by giving us tolerance to new realms we might conquer for the empire. But the empire never came to collect, and our priorities turned elsewhere, as the ways of the land became stuff of recorded memory for the bulk of the Tidal Nation.

“I have always had one foot on the land, and so even this diplomatic exploit is ridiculed as an indulgence of my Coastal fancies, but they will see the merit of my endeavour when all is said and done.” He proclaimed with dark resolve tugging his lip into a snarl.

It faded as he remembered himself and his wry smile returned after he dunked his head beneath the water’s surface for a few moments.

“Are you open to new commissions? I could probably stand to add a new piece or two to my collection. A harpoon or a trident perhaps… You will forgive me, but I would not trust one of the landed to work on aquatic armour. It is a unique speciality that I would not expect you to master for a singular commission.”

[Sivan]

Blue eyes studied the water for a moment when Tyrann showed perhaps a bit more ferocity than he meant to; Neptori he might be, he was still nobly born and received by the king. The mercurial tidal lord would learn how to swim in these Hytori waters or he would not; certainly, Sivan only knew to keep his head down lest he be cut down.

Sol'Valen purported to be a utopia by some people; he knew that it was not so.

But a commission he could speak to. Sivan smiled at the strange, fascinating creature.

"I could certainly take notes to bring back to Tavárinoikos," he averred. "Likely one of the Masters would contact you to develop a more specific, complete project brief. As an apprentice, I cannot take on commissions without supervision but would likely be included on the project if I brought it to them. A friend of mine that I brought to see Silfanore has begun an apprenticeship there for runeforging and would be more likely to lay the enchantments upon your weapon. I would provide alchemical reagents for its creation." He paused, then hasted to elaborate: "Neither of us are unskilled just because we are apprentices. We are considered masters of our crafts in Kalzasi, but that counts for naught in Silfanore."

His smile was slightly crooked. He daren't speak ill of his Hytori betters, but he could point out things and let people draw their own conclusions.

"He would also be honored to have the chance to examine Neptori armor if you were feeling gracious..." That might be overstepping, but Tyrann himself was a stranger in a strange land and might appreciate Torin as an outsider as well as a masterful enchanter of magical things.

[Tyrann Xekourassi]

“I have little doubt that the standards of Silfanore are more exacting than those of Kalzasi.” Tyrann replied, in apparent approval of the rules that demoted Sivan despite his foreign accolades and distinctions.

“Mm. A trident, I think. I will have something drawn up and sent to you that you might pass it along to the masters and, hopefully, contribute to its design and construction.”

Tyrann chuckled at the observation that Sivan’s runeforger friend would have interest in inspecting Neptori armour.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt he would, but obscurity is its own armour and I would be a poor agent of the sea to offer up her secrets so wantonly.” With that, the ambassador stood up from the submerged bench, the gills flaring at his obliques as they met the open air, before quickly closing against his taut torso. He stepped out of the pool and, running his hands through his hair, the water was drawn forth leaving it completely dry as his caress passed. He stretched his arms, then, over his head and when he let them fall the water on his skin quit his flesh and made for the tile. He looked at the puddled he’d left on the tile, and willed it to wind its way back into the bath with his guest, leaving the floor and his form dry, though there was still a sheen to both.

“I am pleased you visited. I hope you have enjoyed my food and company, but I would not wish to devour your whole day. Would you like me to see you out, or would you prefer to linger longer?” He arched his body so that his pert, athletic rear was facing Sivan and his torso was turned at an angle that highlighter its musculature quite starkly,

“I’m sure we could find a way to occupy another hour or so before duty demands I leave for the day…?” He turned his face away,

“But no pressure.”

[Sivan]

"A trident," he agreed with a small smile. It went a bit more conspiratorial when Tyrann indicated he wouldn't be sharing such a sight with Torin. Sivan could understand why that might be the case. In any event, bringing a commission into Tavárinoikos would prove to the Masters that he knew how to conduct business as well as make potions and magical constructs.

It might have been rude, but he watched Tyrann climb out of the pool. Aesthetically, it was a pleasing sight, of course, but he was also curious to see how he plied his magic upon the water. Smiling bemusedly, he observed how an elementalist could effect a thing to be done, noting how it would be different for him, a summoner. Perhaps it was this keen attention that earned him the last offer. Blue eyes blinked.

Sivan could appreciate the xhal's form for hours; it took the offer to cause him to stir a bit beneath the water.

Considering, he bade the water spirits leave all but a sheen upon his skin as he stood up. The water slid faster down his skin than it might have otherwise, leaving it dewy but not quite dry as he climbed carefully out of the pool. Little air spirits dancing between his fingers as he ran his hand through his hair a few times added back a bit of the volume lost when he had submerged his hair.

"You would like that?" he asked. Well, the child of a King wouldn't offer if they didn't mean it. Sivan considered briefly, then moved toward Tyrann rather than the marble bench where the servant had laid his clothes. The elf didn't touch, but merely indicated an interest which was not quite pornographic at the moment, but apparent. "Then I would like to stay a while... an hour, as you say."

Long enough, surely, to sate their curiosities.

fin.