Lucent Afterglow [Arvælyn]

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: 27 Cinderfall, Ash 122
NOTES: Open Me!

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Æros wasn’t entirely too surprised at the reaction of his employers upon his return. The odd, ethereal nature of the Fæ’s starlit skin attracted many to seek him out regardless of where he performed, and thus, those who employed him were happy to have such a crowd pleaser back. As such, he was offered the opportunity to fill in spots on the schedule with a varying array of improvisational dances amongst other choreography he’d learned in the past. To him, this was a fairly notable relief– it gave his life some semblance of normalcy after the wild ride that was the past week and a half.

Since his return, he’d run into a fairly new acquaintance of his a few more times and the man had expressed interest in seeing him perform. Æros offered a selection of times he’d be at work, telling the other man he could show up to whichever was the most convenient. He and the elf ended up agreeing to one specific time such that he’d know when to expect the other.

Now the night of, Æros sat waiting within the dressing room as a few of his coworkers yet still performed. He wore robes of sheer black fabric, designed to flatter his figure. His jewelry tonight was of silver, adorning ears, face, chest and arms. The Fæ’s mood was fairly serene, inebriated as he was. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled that Arvælyn should show…but at the moment, it was a bit difficult to think quite coherently. And when his fellow dancers returned from the stage, the Færie stood, regarded them with a friendly nod and moved to make his own way out to perform.

On stage, he stood alone– the lights that shone upon him were soft blues, purples and some shades of magenta, colored by crystals glinting overhead. Though his skill in masquerade was quite new, he used it on his own stars to both make them shine brighter and create thin, coruscant lines between clusters of stars, making the constellations they formed more obvious to a viewer. For more dramatic movements, he’d shift the colors of his magic to something far brighter and prismatic.

Tonight, his performance was of a traditional improvisational dance, native to the Re’hyæn elves of Solunarium known as lunae procidens. It was a pretty thing with sweeping, elegant movements of the limbs. The dancer would rarely look out towards the audience, instead oft directing eyes of black-gold down his arms towards his hands. The Faerie’s movements would direct the viewer's eye from delicate hand movements to intricate footwork and back in slow waves like the rise and fall of a languid tide. For all of its artistry and beauty, there were undeniable undercurrents of eroticism to the way he moved.

Having performed this on several occasions in the past, Æros really didn’t have to think; his body flowed to the music’s rhythm as if piloted by the sound itself. He knew not whether his friend had shown, lost in his own thoughts and focused on his magic as he was. The longer he danced, the more vibrant the colors of his skin and stars became– a further enhancement of his Masquerade.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

It was rather nice, Arvælyn thought, to have a reason to dress in aught that wasn’t loungewear or a black uniform that was, by Solunarian standards, passing plain. For all the disadvantages of Kalzasi, during his time there he’d been able to dress the part he sought to play. Ironically, now that he was actually playing a similarly lofty role, he rarely had cause to don the finery of his preference. Even in those indigent inaugural days in working at the Velvet Cabaret, he’d had the privilege of being lodged in a surplus costume closet. From thence he’d been able to pilfer whatever garb suited his fancy- at least for a few hours.

Here, however, he took language lessons in the domus or trained in the martial and magical arts at the Prætorium of the Vigilia Argenti in the Umbrium. At home it was all loose robes and slippers, in the Prætorium it was all basic black. He was comfortable, at least, but didn’t feel very fashionable.

Tonight however, he was able to actually premiere some of the wardrobe he’d started to amass from his earliest days in the realm. He stood before a mirror in an asymmetrical cut crimson tunic, with golden rings at the one covered shoulder as well as over the opposite hip bone. A chain of identical rings hung between the two on both his front and back, dangling over a thick belt that cinched his waist. With complementary jewelry adorning his neck and arms, he felt ready for Noctis Æternæ. Until he didn’t, but that was on the lift down to the Umbrium, and he simply employed his Craft to emulate the molten earth that churned to keep these caverns warm.

As he stepped into the venue, the fabric of his tunic seemed to churn with hues of bright yellow, red and orange, as well as shadows of grey and black. He dimmed the luster somewhat as he entered the venue, wishing to be eye catching but not too terribly disruptive. Still he glowed enough to garner the barkeep’s attention straight away, and then he claimed a seat to observe the goings on on stage.

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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A dancer's gaze was important in this particular performance, such was the case with many. As was the tilt of the head, angle of the neck and so on…some movements meant to elongate the figure did so requiring the dancer to also reveal more of the neck and moves that focused on particular limbs saw his vision drawn towards finger or toe. Such gestures were important for balancing and rounding off more sweeping motions and full body movements as well as bridging other moves together such as with a roll of neck or shoulder.

The dance was an elegant, almost reverent thing; it honored the moon, and in turn, Domina Varvara. Though Æros did prefer to grant his worship towards the sun, they were, ultimately, two sides of the same coin. To honor one is to honor both. And given his possession of skin like velvet night and a figure dotted with myriad celestial bodies, he looked so lovely in lunar endeavors.

The colors of both light and magic cast upon him waxed up until the climax of the dance, whereupon they then waned back down and so too did the pace of his steps until the stage was dim as a solemn, starry night once more. Upon the cessation of performance, Æros performed a grand sort of bow with arms outstretched, skin veiled in a light sheen of sweat. Though his breaths drew heavier and despite the exertion, he did not feel tired whatsoever.

Perhaps the effect of something he'd taken? If that were the case, it would make no difference to him. He'd taken some things off a coworker earlier in the evening, didn't ask what it was– didn't care. Entering now back into the dressing room backstage, he changed from the sheer, almost nothing of what he had performed in, back into what he'd walked into work wearing. In this case, he wore a simple black robe, lacking in sleeves, that extended down to his knees. The Færie always preferred to dress down, letting his odd appearance speak for itself.

Once finished, he emerged back onto the main floor of the establishment and looked over the varying people within. Most were not of any note for him, given the fact that he was looking for somebody in particular– but the golden elf did not take long to spot. Over at the bar, Arvælyn sat in a rather pretty ensemble, either runeforged or blessed in another way with some type of magic. With no reason to linger where he was, he strode over to his friend and took a seat beside him.

"So happy am I that you made it, friend. How have you been?" Æros posed this question with a friendly yet notably curious tone. Though the two had seen one another on the Equinox, it was a brief thing, not the most detailed of conversations.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Observing the performance immediately brought to mind Arvælyn's own days as a dancer. This venue didn't feel as seedy as the one in which he'd trotted the boards, but Solunarians seemed better at hiding such things than the Kalzasern. Although he often thought poorly on those nights spent using his body to earn his keep, it hadn't been all bad. He truly did enjoy performing, even before he was cast in anything he deemed 'legitimate'.

He took a delicate sip of the rich red wine that seemed so popular in the Umbrium. It truly was delicious, and its vibrant hues brought to mind the altar in Varvara's temple- its spillways flowing with fresh blood that was drawn downward as if being sucked through a straw.

Soon Æros took his bow, and Arry would answer it with applause, as did many others. With the performance over, he turned back toward the bar and regarded his reflection in the mirror behind the rows of bottles. He ran a hand languidly through his hair to fix a tousled section, and ere long Æros appeared beside him.

"Oh, me too!" He grinned, "And you were wonderful! A far better dancer than I ever was..." He conceded with a chuckle. It was true enough. Æros' art seemed more nuanced- almost reverent. It was as if he meant to enlighten the onlooker, where as Arry's dancing had been more geared toward arousing the audience erotically. Not that the half-Fæ didn't achieve a bit of that as well, along with all the rest.

"I've been... Fine, I suppose." He replied in Vastian, "Very busy playing catch up for all my lost years. I'm a Subvigil of the Sentinels now, you know..." With as busy as he was, it was hard to keep track of to whom he'd told what, so he wasn't altogether sure he hadn't already broached this with the man beside him.

He gestured to get the barkeep's attention, and then to Æros so he could order his preferred drink.

"And you? What have you been up to since the Radiant Mass?"

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

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If Æros wanted to maintain a coherent conversation, he ought to avoid his preferred drinks– ones which were crafted with little regard for their taste. He cared significantly less on evenings wherein he intended to bed his partner in conversation, though this, however, was not one such occasion. Alas, Arvælyn was taken and, arguably, so was he…but in his own case, the concept of loyalty was something neither he nor his lover had actually discussed as of yet. With that in mind, he mirrored his friend’s preference and opted for one of Solunarium’s most beloved red wines. When he did drink for taste, he couldn’t deny how pleasant this particular vintage was on top of being lovely in an aromatic sense, too.

Always a fan of compliments, the Fæ smiled something bright at his companion’s words. “It’s been a hobby of mine for awhile and I was taught by some rather disciplined folk, too– I’m sure you’d be just as pleasing to watch should you have dedicated more of your time to such a thing. After all, I don’t have any doubt regarding your dedication to other things. Magic, language studies, earning your title as a Vigil, your lover, so on…admirable, really.” And such admiration was plain in Æros’ voice. He always respected those with drive to succeed, especially now that he no longer felt so aimless himself.

To the other’s question, though, Æros almost scoffed, as if he balked at telling the tale, long as it was. “Well…where to start with that, hmm…?” The half-elf mused, speaking this mostly to himself. “I…almost died in the Atraxian sands but was saved, rather serendipitously, by a stranger. Said stranger and I worked alongside one another for a bit– I was his guarantor in arena matches. Strange circumstances only got stranger, however, wherein this fighter’s skills attracted the attention of the royalty.”

“...and that’s when an ever more eldritch chain of events occurred. The stranger was revealed to be divine when peered at by grandmasters, which drew out the presence of one Princeps Phocion. And in talks with him, it was further revealed that the divine was none other than Arcas.” Saying these words aloud, Æros could not help but laugh. It sounded so utterly ridiculous. “High tension, that meeting was. Oh, but my life gets ever funnier, hm? Dear Phocion decided to test my loyalty in the aftermath, requesting I bleed for Varvara.”

“Possessing zero qualms with doing so, I happily obliged. Then the world went dark and I spoke with Her…might’ve embarrassed myself a bit, but ‘twas not a thing I…could’ve ever predicted. Speaking with her, at the very least, was an edifying experience, however brief. I feel as if I’ve learned much.” He sighed, though he did look like he still wanted to laugh. The Færie had conversed with not one but two divines in the span of a week– such tales likely sounded like those of a raving madman.

“Oh, and between all of that lovely fun, I’ve been trying to find time to spend with that sweet little lover I mentioned when we first met. I plan to buy him away from his master at this point,” he felt as if he should’ve stated this first given how mundane such circumstances sounded compared to everything else he’d just said.

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'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Arvælyn chuckled,

"I suppose there's only so much time in a day. And I will confess there's some overlap. What I knew of dance has actually helped me with martial forms. I suspect the benefits will work both ways next time I'm inclined to dance..." He settled into a lean as Æros began his tale, but the first twist came at the outset, causing him to blink for more reasons than moistening his eyes.

"Æros." Arry held a halting hand up at the mention of royal involvement. He actually switched from Vastian to Common to make sure he was getting his point across correctly:

"I'm going to stop you there. This story sounds..." He sniggered, "This story is outlandish. Mesmer to Mesmer? I'm going to listen to your Symphony right now. If you try to block me, I'll go ahead and assume you're full of shit." He grinned as he lifted his wine glass toward his lips, returning to Vastian to say: "Go on..."

And the Rune at his wrist hummed to life.

"Phocion?! He's my b-..." Arry caught himself, paused half a beat, and corrected: "Boss- At the Vigilia's prætorium." But then when he went on to speak of Arcas, and Arry's back stiffened, his gaze sharpening.

"Æros!" He whispered, grabbing his arm firmly, again returning to the Common tongue. "Should you be talking about this in public? Should you... be telling me about this at all?" One thing Arry had learnt amongst the Silver Sentinels, is that they liked their secrets and held them very close to their vest...ments. There was shit Cithæra knew that she didn't even tell Phocion, much to his apparent chagrin, and one hand didn't always know what the other was doing. Still and all, he was pretty sure that the higher ups in the Vigilia Argenti would not take kindly to one of their assets tipsily spilling state secrets to someone he'd met only a few weeks earlier and knew very little about. He leaned even closer, staring golden eye to golden eye with intense urgency as he lowered his voice even more.

"I've only been here a few months, but I'm pretty sure word of... that entity in Solunarium would have the potential to cause widespread panic. Please. Be careful." He loosened his grip on the arm of the Fæ and settled back in his seat, taking a much needed gulp of the wine.

At the mention of the female Founder, he arched an eyebrow.

"I... spoke with Her, as well. On Æquinox Eve." But She'd only spoken one word to him. It sounded as if the other man had a more profound interaction.

His expression softened as the man spoke of his lover,

"Really! That's a big step, but I daresay a romantic one! What spurred that on?"

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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Æros tilted his head at the comment regarding dance and combat; his face would appear interested in the subject. "That so? I've been meaning to find a way to defend myself properly…with my eventual goal being to travel all the way to Kaladon, at this point, I ought to have something. What do you think of the viability of a dancer learning Reaving? I know there's some sword techniques that flow with as much elegance as a dance…but then, I'd need to find somebody to grant me Reaving all the same." Outside of the direct question posed to Arry, he would almost sound musing, as if he were proposing these ideas to himself for the first time.

And then as he began to summarize the past few weeks, his companion immediately stopped him. This response made the Fæ laugh, especially the language switch– it was completely fair, too. Arvælyn being a master Mesmer himself actually made sharing with him easier because his own Symphony would show no lies. He was self aware, at least a bit, that his story would sound like the ravings of a moonstruck drunk without anything to back up his words.

"Go ahead. I'm…a rather open person, to be frank, I likely wouldn't try and stop you regardless unless I'm in a particularly poor mood," the Færie punctuated the sentiment with a chuckle.

And it was true– his whole life under the thumb of his family he wasn't really allowed much privacy and at this point, at least among pleasant company he enjoyed, he was happier being transparent than not. Of course, there's contexts and people with which he won't share a thing, but such is not the case at this moment. So on he went with his tale.

At the mention of Phocion, Arry's reaction caused Æros to quirk a brow. Given the former's position, Æros had assumed that the dusky elf was some sort of superior to the present company. Such a reaction, however, betrayed that there had to be a bit more to their relationship. Definitely not intimate, he would imagine…but he supposed since the other opted to hide whatever this relation was, he'd wait a bit to pry at the subject.

To the queries posed his way, "...it is true that I very likely shouldn't run my mouth to just anyone…but I figure if strangers overhear me here, I'll just sound like a drunk speaking of some sort of dream or hallucination or perhaps the cruel tricks of somebody's Masquerade. And…though your rank is low, I do trust that as a Subvigil yourself, the information would stop with you, no?" Being a rather lonesome individual, the truth was that Æros just wanted friends to confide in, risky as it was. Anyone directly involved with this complex and divine web he'd become stuck in he was not much a fan of. Not Phocion, definitely not Arcas, and the other Vigilia were largely tertiary beings.

"So I'll risk it…just because the endless ruminations to myself about, ah…all of this," he spoke with a gesture of his hands meant to encompass simply a lot, "...can be maddening to the mind."

"...and I do only intend to say the man's name but only that once, just so you're…aware…of the sheer gravity of the situation I've unfortunately dug myself into," though he laughed at this, his face wore a grimace, as if he'd tasted something bitter.

Æros could tell the other's concern by his touch and the sincerity behind his words– this was reassuring– and the Star-crossed Fæ wasn't about to share this information with just anyone. No, that would be infinitely more foolish than the two people he had told; the man before him now and his lover. With others, some…details…would be missing.

Regarding the moonlit Founder, Æros' eyes lit up at his companion’s mentioning thereof. "Oh, did you? How fascinating. I don't imagine Her speaking to the mortal flock is very common, now is it? So to learn that She reached out twice in the same day…I certainly wish to strive to adjust the missteps in my words, now," he spoke with a bit of a giggle at the end.

If the Founders were suddenly going to make themselves known with more frequency, the Fæ imagined he ought to tread carefully going forward.

Regarding his lover, "...the time he and I have spent together since my return has been…truly a delight. His company offers…a lot of things I've not felt before, and that's on top of the lovely way we mix our magics. Affording him shouldn't be a horribly big deal and, well…I want him. Sneaking him away from his master when I desire his company is a bit of a nuisance."

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

Pointed ears perked at the mention of Kaladon. The name of that distant volcano represented the extent of Arvælyn's own interaction with the Mistress of Chains. Upon the dealing out of his sacrifice, the word had entered his mind as plain and clear as moonlight on a cloudless, desert night.

"I would not have taken you for the pilgrim type..." Arry observed, mildly. "I can't really speak to Reaving, but I could ask one of the Sentinels, if you're interested. It is actually a discipline Sentinel Phocion practises, I know..." He trailed off, as the focus shifted to the bizarre and convoluted story.

"I thank you." Arry allowed the Rune at his right wrist to engage with the æther around him, beyond the general passive senses he typically deployed often without even thinking on it. He gingerly tapped his way into Æros' Symphony, which aided his comprehension of the Vastian tongue as well as validating the veracity of his sundry strange assertions.

The half-Fæ's defence of his indiscrete revelations seemed to settle Arvælyn down a bit and, since he was actively engaged with the other man's Symphony, he gleaned the sensations of solitude that drove the move. He could understand the impetus and, although he worried for the man's safety, he hadn't made a poor choice in Arry for his confidante.

"All right, just... Be careful, yeah?" The golden elf urged, "I'm happy to talk about this with you and I am a safe outlet, but... If you need to discuss this again, please seek me out. Day or night." He offered the address of his domus in the Aurecine District, so Æros would have greater access to him.

"And perhaps we can come up with a code name, for now. Maybe, um... Kal. For Kalzasi, where his current avatar hails from." He pursed his lips, "You may be surprised to learn I've met him, as well. I even attended his wedding, though that famously went awry." His mind trailed back to that night, when he'd spoken to Talon and Aoren and an odd vision passed between them. He realised now that it had been a vision of the final battle between Arcas and Aværys. He'd liked the man before that, though he always had what felt like a preternatural unease in his presence. It was clear why, now. He was a blood rival due to the ancient feud between Talon's deific predecessor and Arvælyn's divine forebears. His Symphony was unmasked enough that Æros might glean his ambivalent feelings about Arcas, but shielded enough that he wouldn't find much more of note.

At the talk of the unusual incident of two mortals hearing from Varvara in the same day, Arry arched his brow.

"More than two." He noted, "I know of at least four people, including us, who were graced with contact. One of the holy people said that something is shifting... I wonder whether the same incident that caused the Mists might have to do with it..." He mused.

At the talk of Æros' lover, he grinned in earnest.

"Ah, mixing magics is a lovely way to connect, I can say from experience. As Finn and I are both Mesmers, the um... Intimacy can be quite divine." He glanced down, taking a cheeky sip of wine. "Is your paramour a Mesmer as well, or..."

[Aeros]

TIMESTAMP: -
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The other's interest in the name of the mountain piqued his own. Had Arvælyn ventured there in the past? Did he plan on making the journey in the future? Should the latter be the case, it would be far better a trek, Æros imagined, if he didn't have to make it alone.

And then to his words, "...I wouldn't have thought myself to be, in all honesty." The Fæ spoke with an odd expression; it was something brooding crossed with a wistful sort of nostalgia. His Symphony would back up these expressions, though for what he felt nostalgic for would be unknown. "But I feel as if I've been…stuck, so to speak, for a while now. And though the recent past has been eventful, I ought to keep things rolling with a venture I've, at the very least, put some sort of intention behind." The chaos of the last ten or so days had been…fascinating, yet all of it had felt like he was a pawn in a game he knew not the rules of. Æros very much wanted to learn…the problem was, he felt unsure about the path forward.

Relevant to Reaving, "oh, is Reaving common for the Vigilia Argenti in general or is it just favored by Phocion? For I, unfortunately, am not– if I am to get that Rune, I very much doubt his hand would be…" he clicked his tongue, and after a beat, continued, "...willing. He and I did not see eye to eye, so to speak, for much of our interactions thus far. I do intend to, ah..try and smooth that over going forward, given that I now am obligated to report to him, but the first impressions have already gone poorly on both ends." Though he laughed, the Færie spoke with a bitterness to his tongue that betrayed his great displeasure with this predicament.

"Granted, even if I treat him with the utmost respect from here on out, I am unsure how much of a difference such a thing would make at this point– regarding our interpersonal relationship, that is." Æros shrugged, knowing how ruined first impressions can poison waters between two people for quite some time.

The half-Starborn paid little mind to Arvælyn’s intrusion into his Symphony, not really reacting to it at all. In this situation, he really didn't see any tangible benefit to hiding what he felt. What would the point in doing so even be? And though he held himself open to the Melodies of his companion’s own, the Fæ did not feel the need to pry in return. He would, of course, if invited– but why risk irritating the other?

When next the other spoke of the ever impactful Arcas, Æros looked at his friend with surprise. He knew absolutely nothing about this wedding, for even if news of it had crossed the sea, the Færie was absolutely not paying attention and didn't care at all about foreign affairs at the time. Not that he even consciously knew when this wedding was.

"Oh? It went awry, did it? Did that event serve as the origin for his, ehm…" Æros trailed off, unsure if Arvælyn even knew about the man's current…predicament. "...well, given I can trust you, you're aware our dear friend Kal is shackled, yes? Imprisoned by…he can't even say. His bonds are strange, eldritch works of Runeforging. If you've any idea who might be behind his current binds, do let me know, or, I suppose, it might be easier for you to go directly to Phocion with that knowledge? But do put in a good word for me if you do– as I said, he's not my biggest fan at the moment," and to this, he chuckled, a bit of a grimace on his face.

"You were there, right? I think…any knowledge about his attackers could help identify the captor. Such knowledge is very valuable, so…do let me know." Valuable, for the most part, as a manner of national security regarding their plans for dealing with Arcas, not necessarily to the half-elf on a personal level. However, nosy as he was, he did very much want to know.

It was not lost on him the ambivalence the other felt towards the wayward demigod, though he figured now was not the time nor place for such a discussion.

Æros tilted his head at the other's next words regarding Varvara, specifically, 'graced with contact.' "Contact of what type? Though brief, She and I had more of a…conversation as opposed to an omen or the deliverance of a single message, so to speak. But such news is as exciting as it is foreboding. I truly wonder what it means…" he spoke with a trail, thoughts turning inwards, gears shifting in his head.

And then when the subject shifted from religious to that of more mortal pleasures, his curiosity about the unknown morphed into something of a boyish infatuation regarding the one he'd found himself entangled with.

"He is not a Mesmer, no– the Craft he uses when we're together is Semblance, actually, though I think the particular way in which he uses it…is unique? A quirk or mutation of some sort? He can mirror what I feel unto himself and then I hear my own pleasures echoed back in his Symphony, layered within his own. Of course, should he ever want Mesmer, I'd be happy to grant it to him, but that's up to him to show interest." Æros knew not exactly the exact machinations through which his lover's strange ability functioned, but he figured what he'd said would at least make enough sense.

- - -

'Thoughts'

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Vastien Tongue/Speech"

"Valasren Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

[Arvælyn]

"I don't believe that there is a magic that is not common for the Vigilia Argenti..." Arvælyn replied with a chuckle. It wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't inaccurate pertaining to the more widely known and useful magicks. Particularly since the Vigilia had many functions, it had many uses for diverse schools of sorcery. "I have not met a Sentinel who failed to practice some magic or other." He observed with a sip of his wine. He glanced up over the rim of the glass as the dancer hinted at some perceived mutual dislike between the half-fæ and Arry's half-brother. He pursed his lips. Phocion was rather a cold fish, and he could see how one might bristle at his stoicism or believe it to betoken some sort of enmity toward them. From what he'd observed, it was rather universal. Whatever the feud, balanced or otherwise, that existed between the two, Arvælyn decided it was none of his concern and let the matter rest.

"He is the only Reaver I know offhand." He shrugged one shoulder, "Sorry."

At the talk of Arcas, Arry leaned closer, arching a brow. Even with their little code name being employed, there were magicks abundant in Solunarium to circumvent such feints. Discretion was a challenge.

"There was an attack at the reception. Some sort of magic-suppressing agent descended upon us from above. There was murder and mayhem. The Kalzasern Shokaze... their king was slain, and the grooms taken hostage. They... have same-sex weddings there." He knew that, in spite of the acceptance of same sex relationships, a marriage that was not intended to produce offspring was anathema in Solunarium.

He shook his head,

"No... I was not aware." His family was passing secretive, to his consistent vexation, though he supposed a secret like the presence and bondage of a rival deity might have been above his clearance level. "I am still only in training with the Vigilia, so I don't get the best gossip..." Nor would he be at liberty to discuss it, if he did.

"Heh... I'll put in a good word, if you like, but you should know he is just kind of a... curmudgeon. He comes off to a lot of people as if he dislikes them." He considered, the next question.

"Everyone assumed the attack originated from Zaichaer. We were on the verge of war with them..." Which was one of the reason's they'd seen fit to flee the North.

"Hilana, Finn and I all had little messages in our minds upon dealing out our sacrifices. Mine seemed like a summons to Kaladon, but... You had a full conversation? That seems like quite an honour! I hope it was a favourable one..."

By the time they got to the talk of Æros's lover, Arry had finished his wine and gestured for another round.

"Well!" The elf chortled, "I can see why you keep him around, then. Gods, if you both had the same Runes, you could create quite the orgasmic echo chamber. Do be careful not to overstep if ever you should embark upon such an endeavour." He reached for his refilled wine glass and drew it nearer to him on the bar, though he didn't sip at it yet.