• Mature • To Know You

[Llyr Llywelyn]

51 Ymiden, Arc 720

Evening came, and Llyr arrived to Doran's suite in the Obsidian Prism - not by dreamwalking as he almost always did. For once, he knocked on the door and waited to be shown in.

The last time that Llyr had visited Doran, it had been on the earlier side of Vhalar in arc 719. He had sent a few letters between that time and now, but never much of anything was said in them. Only to assure the older man that he was alive, but preoccupied with undefined matters.

He had sent a note ahead, by courier, that he wished to share an actual dinner with Doran. In the privacy of the son of Ziell's home, and expected to be prepared by the man's servants, but a proper meal all the same.

Llyr wore a minimalist suit of silver-lined white. He kept a pair of fitted gloves on, and his short boots were pointed with steel tips. While he waited in the foyer for the servant to get Doran, he fixed the fluff of his pale blond hair. The bangs kept curtaining his eyes.

The younger man felt more than a little uncertain, for when he'd last spent time with Doran, he had Edashan magic to perfect his features. Now, he hadn't taken those potions - not yet - and he was left to his own appearance without the additional potion. Of course, he still had his many varied mutations such as his halo, wings, and the new colorful tattoos along the back of his neck. The high collar of his suit covered most of those, though. He quietly hummed, and observed a nearby decorative painting on the wall.

Once Doran had greeted him, whether warm or not, Llyr matched in perfect reflection without the slightest inclination for his uncertainty.

At the dining table, he took off his gloves to reveal that he had an assortment of rings on his fingers. Llyr mentioned that such was a result of his increasingly powerful sparks desires for something to latch onto. It was, he insisted, a potential way to keep the sparks from manifesting further outward mutations of his actual body.

Of course, this was just a hope of the biqaj rather than a confirmed approach to stem the tide of so many awakenings... he had once not understood why he had so many... but now he did. Llyr did not explain further about this, though, and instead asked Doran to tell him about how his alchemy research had been going.

Though the meal was delicious with the sort of things that Llyr confirmed that he liked, he barely touched the food. He did sip at a goblet of water, but refused wine. Until he finally mentioned that he wouldn't refuse champagne, if Doran had any.

Llyr spoke, a little, about his travels on Idalos. He shared that he'd gone all over in the seasons away from Viden and Etzos; that he'd visited Ne'haer some, then Rharne, and Yaralon, and Nashaki; and numerous smaller towns between the larger cities. He didn't go too far into details about any of it, though.

Provided a flute glass of champagne, Llyr seemed rather happy with that. This was obvious enough, in that his eyes glittered in the iridescent colors that Doran knew well from their intimate moments together during Vhalar.

Llyr was on his fourth glass of champagne, when he finally reached over the table and placed his hand on Doran's hand. The meal was mostly finished (or as Llyr's servings were left to get cold until taken away by the servants), already at the dessert. The southern biqaj smiled in a thin manner that didn't show his teeth. As graceful as the lithe mage ever was, he slid his chair closer and leaned slightly. He glanced over his initiate with a surveyed look.

"Doran," he said in the naturally deep tremble of his voice. "There's something I must tell you..."

His hand moved away, in retreat. He tapped his etherlit fingertips against the champagne glass, then finished the bubbly drink off. Llyr hesitated, uncharacteristically so, then he stood from the dining table. He walked a few steps away, as if to get distance between him and Doran, then turned around. He gesticulated in flourishes of his hands while he started to talk, "So, I wanted to tell you a long while ago but... there was still so much unknown and- well, I didn't know how... or- I wished to figure things out, for myself, or get to a point where... where it felt like that, at least."

He brought his hands together in a folded steeple, while his index fingertips tapped against each other. Llyr straightened out his posture some, though he was already at his tallest, and his halo flickered above his head. "It's... that... what I am."

"Perhaps you already know this, but if not, you should. And that's... we're- we're related." That hadn't been exactly how Llyr wanted to phrase it, but that's what he said regardless. A silvery-blue blush rose to his cheeks. "Right? You- You called Yvithia your aunt? Remember?"

"I have come to discover - I did not know before when we were... but my- my father isn't who I thought he was, and- it's partly why I visited Nashaki, or wanted to, and... Fates, why is this so difficult to say?" Llyr picked up his empty glass. His lower lip pouted when he realized there wasn't any more champagne in it. He retrieved the bottle and poured the glass full again. While he poured, he said in a low voice, "I am Mortalborn. Chamadarst, Yvithia and Ziell's brother. We're cousins."

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Doran]

The last time that Doran had seen Llyr, before he had appeared in the Fitness Centre so unexpectedly, had been almost two cycles prior. There had been a couple of letters from him since then, but nothing concrete had been said in them. The son of Ziell had not been mad because of that, even though he had missed him, of course, often incredibly so.

He knew that Llyr’s life was quite complicated (during their last meeting in Vhalar he had shared some of the things that troubled him). It was probably more complicated than his own life, in spite of what he had done on the frozen plains of Oscillus and everything that had followed.

Llyr had said that that he would pay him a visit that evening, before he had gone somewhere with his assistant, after they had sparred, and he had immediately told his cook Elias to start preparing a meal for them when he had come home, an exquisite meal. The mortal that had worked for him since Etzos had been surprised. He had never seen his master so obviously excited. Doran was not somebody who showed his emotions openly, at least not in front of those that worked for him, but was calm, disciplined and controlled.

Elias had seen Llyr before, when he had entered his kitchen one morning in Vhalar, half-naked, which had caught him by surprise for a moment, he had to admit.

He was not aware of the details of the two men’s relationship (and he would not ask, no matter how curious he was; Doran’s love life was not any of his business), but he knew that his master cared about the young mage with his unusual mutations who had a tendency to come and go a great deal, more than he had cared about anyone in the arcs that he had known him. He seemed happier since he had met him.

That was enough.

~~~

Time seemed to follow different rules where Llyr was concerned, Doran mused while he waited for the younger man to arrive, sitting in his study and reading (although he found it hard to focus) and occasionally going into the kitchen in order to see what Elias was making. When he had met the etherist in the Fitness Centre, it had been as if all those long trials that he had spent without him had not existed, as if it had just been the trial before that he had held him in his arms and talked to him and made love to him. The few breaks that had passed since they had temporarily parted ways earlier that trial on the other hand felt like an eternity though.

When Olivia, another one of his servants, informed him that his visitor had arrived, he looked at her incredulously for a moment before he abruptly put his book away and rose to his feet in order to move down the hallway. And then he finally saw him. He held his breath for a moment (there was something about Llyr that occasionally left him breathless or speechless) before he smiled, a warm, happy and joyful smile and closed the last metres between them. Llyr looked different, in a way that he couldn’t quite point a finger at, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was here, with him, again.

If Llyr didn’t give him a sign to the contrary, he would embrace him and kiss him (he had wanted to do that since he had met him in Fitness Centre, but had decided not to as he had not been sure if Llyr wanted his assistant, one Saza Moshe from Nashaki, to be aware of the nature of their relationship). “I missed you, my love”, he told him in a soft tone of voice (Llyr was the only one that he ever spoke in such a tone of voice to). A few moments later, he led him into the salon where Olivia had already set the table for them (there was a dining room as well, but the salon was more comfortable, smaller and more intimate – the table in the dining room could have seated at least a dozen people).

When Llyr took off his gloves and revealed his rings, he raised his eyebrows for a moment, wondering if there were any signs that the rings had indeed helped keep the mutations at bay before he rolled up one of his sleeves in order to show him the crimson markings upon his skin. He had progressed in his magic since they had last seen each other, and although his mutations were not as extensive as his lover’s, he seemed to mutate more than most as well (which was not something that he minded of course; magic and Llyr had improved his life in every single way, and for that reason, he treasured his mutations).

When Llyr asked him about his research, he told him that he had finally finished his thesis, that all he had to do now was to wait until a date for the defense had been set (it would probably take place at the end of Ymiden or the very beginning of Saun, he told Llyr). He had proven that racial blood, that what people called normal blood, could be used in alchemy. His potions had turned out to be extraordinarily useful and saved lives.

Llyr barely touched the food, he noticed, but he did not comment on it. Instead, he smiled and told a servant to bring them champagne when he asked for it. He was curious as to where the younger man had been, but he waited until Llyr decided to speak rather than demanding answers, and he appreciated whatever he decided to share with him (it surprised him that he had travelled so far. The fact that Llyr had travelled the world filled him with a sudden, unexpected desire to leave the confines of his icy laboratory as well again – it had been a season since his last, short trip to the island of Scalvoris where he had held a series of guest lectures and visited the Order of the Adunih).

A little later, when the servants had taken what was left of the main course away, they sat there, drinking champagne (Doran had asked for some for himself as well). The Mortalborn who was dressed in fine dark clothes that were more casual than what he wore in public, was comfortable and relaxed, at least for the first part of their reunion. When Llyr suddenly reached over the table in order to take his hand and admitted that there was something that he had to tell him, he squeezed said hand reassuringly as he seemed to struggle greatly and met his gaze.

Whatever he wanted to tell him, he would listen. He would be there for him, he said to him.

A moment later, Llyr abruptly withdrew his hand again, stood and walked away, and Doran’s heart began to beat a hint faster as he tried to make sense of the younger man’s words. What Llyr was? What did he mean with that? What was he, apart from the most extraordinary man that he had ever met? What else had happened while he had been away? What had he done, apart from apparently travelling across half the known world?

“Related?“ he repeated and blinked slightly. After all those centuries, there were not a lot of things that surprised or confused him anymore, but Llyr telling him that they were related definitely had that kind of effect on him. He had not expected to ever hear those words from him, and he couldn’t help but wonder how they were supposed to be related. Llyr could not be one of his descendants. He had only had a single child, a daughter, that had died quite young, and his mortal family had only ever consisted of his mother and him. There had been no siblings and no cousins, and neither aunts nor uncles.

In spite of his confusion and curiosity, he did not interrupt the younger man, he did not pressure him, but simply sat there, and waited patiently for him to tell him more. When Llyr mentioned Yvithia, he inclined his head fractionally. “I remember. Yvithia and my father are siblings”, he spoke, somewhat slowly. When the younger man finally told him what was on his mind, in such a low voice, his blue eyes widened slightly.

“Mortalborn?” he wondered, as if he were unfamiliar with the word (He did not dwell on the statement that they were apparently cousins for more than a trill or two. Such mattered little where divine beings were concerned; it merely constituted the cause of some amusement – or would, at a later date, depending on how things went). “I didn’t know. I never even suspected. Why … how did you find out?” he wanted to know. “If you don’t mind telling me?” he added, realizing that there were some things that the younger man might not be willing to share with him right now – or could not share with him because they were too complicated and too hard to bear to put them into words.

But a moment later, he rose to his feet as well, approached him and quietly held his glass that was empty now out to him, as if he were asking him to refill it as well. He could not sit there, in his chair, so far away, when the man that he loved found it so obviously difficult to share the news with him, but wanted to be next to him and show him that he was there for him, in the hope that doing such would make some of that uncertainty go away. Llyr, he realized, was likely confused and had a lot of questions right now.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

51 Ymiden, Arc 720

Llyr paid little attention to Olivia, when he'd been shown in. Before when he'd visited in Vhalar, he never displayed interest with getting to know the servants - though he did seem slightly concerned about putting them out or burdening them with tasks, until Doran assured him not to worry about such things. That's what they were paid for, after all.

When Doran embraced him, he allowed for it. The kiss was another matter though, because though he didn't try to stop it in any way - at the last trill, he turned his head slightly so it landed to the very side of his mouth rather than directly on the lips. He smiled, after, though as if it had only been meant as a tease. While Llyr wanted to, there were other things they needed to discuss... and part of him realized how long it'd been since they had touched so intimately. For the younger mortalborn, as long as he could remember, a few trials often felt like entire arcs to him (his sense of time had never quite recovered from his time in chains; an alteration in his perceptions that proved both a blessing and a curse).

"I missed you, my love," said Doran in such a soft and sincere way that Llyr blushed in reaction. He averted his gaze, and his eyes grew a deep blue color but he said nothing more than, "I am pleased to have returned to Viden, and see you again."

The cozy salon for their dining didn't lack in finery, despite the smaller space. Llyr couldn't resist while he opened himself up to all the sophisticated decor and preparation. Unseen, but certainly the case, Llyr didn't eat food like a mortal but he almost choked on how fast he fed on the high-class symbols of civilization that Doran kept around. The servants, the prepared meals, even the knives and forks - all polished with refinement of the ambition of mortals in the creation of society - nourished Llyr in a far more meaningful way than chewing on a breadroll could.

During the course of their dinner together, upon being shown Doran's mutations, Llyr examined the crimson markings. Llyr shared that he was quite pleased that Doran had progressed safely with the magic bestowed upon him. But that he never questioned Doran's ability to do so, and thus was why he had felt certain about initiating the older mortalborn in the first place. Llyr reiterated that he did not care to initiate people into magic, and Doran already understood why - or should have remembered, as they shared similar views toward the general populace of magekind.

Though he barely touched the food, Llyr did compliment it anyway to assure that there wasn't anything wrong with the meals. He mentioned in a vague manner that just seeing it prepared was enough for him to feel satisfied.

...and then after the multiple glasses of champagne, he found his willingness to finally confide in Doran what he had come to say.

Llyr tried to not focus too much on Doran's reaction to what he said, especially not after he finished. He knew it was a lot, especially after being gone for so long like he had been. The biqaj felt a distinct sensation that maybe... just maybe... he wasn't a proper teacher of magic, and wasn't a good master to his initiates. After all, what had become of all his precious initiates?

Last information he had collected on Rakvald had not proved promising, and he often regretted that initiation for how he had done it while in a deeply depressed state with nothing more than the logic of hallucinogenics involved in such a decision as his first initiate. Then what of the dreamwalkers? Of Kasoria, who tried to kill him for what he was. Of Sybil, who had all but vanished. Of the lot, it was Doran who stood out among those he'd brought into the realms of magic. Yet he had left him like he had, but only because he believed Doran more than capable of handling himself with proper care.

Doran claimed not to know, and not to suspect, and Llyr felt inclined to believe him.

There was, however, a part of Llyr that wondered otherwise. He knew Doran was older by nearly 380 arcs than him... and he would not believe that an individual could get to that age without certain capabilities that extended beyond ordinary mortal understanding. Such as - was it truly a coincidence that Llyr had come across Doran in Emea? That he had felt so drawn to the other man? Did it not make more sense for it to be orchestrated in some fashion? That for the same man to wish for such bonds with him, to feel so approving of everything Llyr said and did... Llyr had never experienced such unconditional love before, not from anyone, and so the young man struggled to believe it to be sincere (no matter how much Doran might prove it).

"It doesn't matter how I found out," he said simply, while he took a small sip of his refreshed glass of champagne. Llyr did not wish to worry Doran about the source that he'd nearly died to a zealot's hatred for their kind. He crossed his arms, then watched while Doran approached. Llyr added, "All that matters is that it is a fact. It is true. I thought perhaps... or I had wished it had been some ploy, but no. I am... like you. I suppose it makes more sense than not, doesn't it?"

He took the other's glass once it was handed. Llyr's eyes - a dark sapphire blue in color - lowered to fill both their glasses once he'd finished his off again. The light alcohol barely affected him, but for what little it did, he latched onto the sensation. It lifted his spirits a little bit, and gave him a pleasant warmth that showed in his silvery-blue blush over the bridge of his nose and along his sharp cheekbones. Yvithia's mark glimmered on the right side of his face, the metallic blue reflecting the candlelight.

"I... You had to know, but I didn't want to write such a thing down," he explained while he watched the liquid in the glasses. Finished pouring, he handed the one to Doran with a small forced smile. "I've realized this means we won't be able to..."

Llyr cleared his throat, then sipped from his own glass. He said, "I don't mean to offend, of course, I know that Rynmerians see these sort of things in different ways."

He stepped away from Doran, and walked in a casual saunter as if to admire the surrounding decor of the salon. Llyr glanced over a vase of flowers.

"Did I ever mention that my husband was from Rynmere? Oh yes, Venora, to be specific. A lord." The blond wistfully sighed. His etherlit fingers trailed over some of the flowers, then he plucked a petal off a carnation. He turned back around, and set the petal in what was left of his champagne. "Early in our arrangement, I discovered a journal of his that detailed much of how the nobility in such a place operates. I can only imagine what it must have been like, in the older times before modern sensibilities shamed such practices like incest. But I have been informed that the common folk of the country don't indulge in such debauchery."

Llyr raised his eyebrows while he looked down at the petal floating in the bubbly golden liquid. He sipped at it, regardless. His gossamer wings fluttered as they spanned then resettled along his backside. "As... defiled and degenerate that I am, I have little interest in that sort of thing. At least, for now. Perhaps in a hundred arcs..."

He looked up with a slight smile, his ice blue eyes observed Doran. After all, to Llyr, being mortalborn meant he also would live far longer than expected when he believed himself mortal.

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Doran]

Just like Llyr, Doran could not help but wonder if their first meeting had been orchestrated in some way, by some sort of higher power, by the Immortals, or maybe by whatever had created them, their creators, and what had come before them, by the universe, or fate itself, although a part of him was reluctant to believe in as abstract a concept as fate.

There were a lot of things that could have prevented their meeting. If he had not attacked Xiur on the frozen plains of Oscillus, he would not have been haunted by the battle in his nightmares over and over again. If he had not had that particular dream, or gone to bed just a bit or two later or earlier that night, Llyr might never have entered his dreamscape. If Llyr had not led the life that he had led, he might never have decided to seek him out.

He did not question why he felt so drawn to a man that he had only known for a very short time though. He did not question why he, a man that had lived for centuries and seen entire nations rise and fall during that time, had become so rapidly attached to him and loved him so deeply and unconditionally. How could he not have fallen in love with someone like him?

In the end, that he loved him was all that mattered.

When Llyr insisted that it did not matter how he had found out that he was mortalborn, he nodded. A moment later, he accepted the freshly filled glass. He took but a small sip before he lowered it and turned to listen to what the younger man had to say again though. While Llyr’s smile was forced, his smile was encouraging. His statement that he would be there for him, had not just been empty words. He had meant what he had said.

“I don’t think that you mentioned that bit”, he admitted when Llyr spoke about his husband being from Rynmere. That was all that he said before he listened once more, furrowing his brow almost imperceptibly. He had met the very same Venoran lord, a couple of times, in fact, but the memories had all but faded from his mind, due to a curse that had been placed upon said Venoran lord.

It had not occurred to him that their Immortal parents being siblings (although he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have used that term at all in hindsight) could be a problem and that Llyr might see such things differently than he did until the younger man spoke of Rynmere and the incestuous ways of its nobles (which was something that he was quite familiar with; he had lived in Rynmere several times during his long life). He had in fact more or less ignored that part of his lover’s statement as he considered it to be meaningless compared to the revelation that they were both Mortalborn.

He had not been afraid or even particularly nervous when he had stabbed the Immortal Xiur during the battle at Treid’s Tomb, in spite of how dangerous doing so had been (although he had eventually come to regret those actions). He had in fact been largely indifferent. When the younger man admitted that he had little interest in that sort of thing and implied that they couldn’t be together anymore because of what he had found out, his heart skipped a beat though, and he felt a brief, sharp pain in his chest, in spite of that slight smile and his hinting that he might eventually change his mind.

They had only been together for a very short time, but he could not imagine being without him anymore. Physical intimacy, no matter how much he enjoyed it, was only a part of it. Llyr’s presence made the most mundane of things better, he made everything seem brighter. He was the only one who had ever been able to keep up with the speed of his thoughts. Before he had met Llyr, his life had been empty. The etherist had touched his heart and his soul and given him hope. He had opened his eyes and made him see.

Llyr meant everything to him, more than his wealth, his prestigious position at the Academy, his divinity, his life.

(If he asked him to, he would give up everything for him in a heartbeat.)

In spite of the way that the younger man’s revelation affected him, he thought about Llyr again within moments though. He couldn’t help but wonder what he must have felt like when he had found out, how he must have struggled with the unexpected revelation and with the decision that had been influenced by the narrow-minded views of the people around them and that was based on information that was, as far as he knew, simply incorrect.

“Llyr”, he said in a firm tone of voice so that the etherist would look at him. “It isn’t the same when it comes to the Immortals. That Chamdarst and Ziell …” He hesitated for a moment as he wasn’t sure how to word things so that he would understand. “… have the same origin doesn’t matter. They are just called siblings because that term is easier for people to understand and more convenient. I use it for the same reason. They were not sired by the same man and born by the same woman, and they are not related by blood. There was nothing sexual involved in how they came to be. They were made. Things work differently where the Immortals, their creators and their offspring are concerned. We are not cousins in the way that mortals are, if we are actually cousins at all”, he explained before he paused for a moment and simply looked into Llyr’s eyes that were ice blue now, almost like his own eyes.

“If it takes a hundred arcs for you to consider being with me or just kissing me again”, he said in a sincere tone of voice rather than continuing where he had stopped. “I’ll gladly wait a hundred arcs though. I’ll wait a thousand arcs, and even until the end of time. I meant what I said to you, back in Vhalar, about my love for you, about hope and the future and wanting to take your pain away. I’d do anything for you. Llyr”, he continued, realizing that all this might be too much for the etherist right now and that he likely felt quite overwhelmed and lost. How long had it been since he had found out? A cycle or two, at most? He was likely still getting used to it. He remembered what it had been like for him when he had learned the truth about who and what he was and that he would, likely, live forever. Some aspects of it had been hard to bear.

“Is there anything that I can do for you? Is there anything that you want to know from me, in regard to the Immortals or your own Mortalborn nature and what it means? Is there anything that I can do to help, no matter what it is?” he asked in a gentle tone of voice. A part of him wished to take the younger man into his arms again and hold him, and comfort him, but then he realized that physical contact might not have the intended effect, due to what Llyr wrongly believed. For that reason, he merely stood near him, his gaze filled with warmth and concern. The glass of champagne was still in his hand, but he had never taken a second sip. He was entirely focused on Llyr.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

51 Ymiden, Arc 720

Llyr did not know how Doran might react. He had thought of it, more than once, before he'd come to visit and during his travels through Idalos. He had written different letters, only to throw them away because such things couldn't be said in writing. Llyr could have delved into Doran's tangle and found the threads that he didn't want, and sever them away so that the older mortalborn might simply accept what Llyr said... but instead, Llyr kept a steady observation over his own tangle.

Especially when he heard the firm tone in which Doran said his name.

The etherist glanced at the petal in his champagne, then looked up to survey Doran's expression. It was difficult to tell whatever the older mortalborn might be thinking but he listened to the mention about reproduction of Immortals. He hummed quietly, and then he asked, "How were they made, do you think?"

Llyr walked along the edges of the salon, his attention going to survey the various decor while he listened to Doran. He didn't say anything other than the simple question. When he glanced back, he didn't shy away from the eye contact between their respectively blue eyes. The youthful biqaj's own expression bordered on a calm look, observation and little else. The heartfelt devotion that poured out from Doran's sincere words caused him to sigh though. He set his champagne glass on the mantel.

He folded his hands at his lower back, then turned to face Doran. His posture proved tall, proud for how he held his shoulders back. Llyr considered what of all the many thoughts he had, that he should share with his lover and initiate.

Before he could, he listened to... offers for help? Llyr's dark brows wrinkled from his confusion. He stood beside Doran, not stepping away from the closer proximity. He glanced over to the dining table and sincerely asked, "Were we not sired? I am not aware of how that works and could not find any writing on the matter."

"Is that not worse then?" continued Llyr on the matter of their relation, and perhaps there might have been a reason that he ignored Doran's romantic promise to him. Perhaps, there might have been a reason that he kept walking and kept a distance and kept sipping from his champagne. In all the time that Doran and Llyr had known each other - as brief as their dalliances in the Vhalar season of 719 had been - Llyr had never indulged in so much drink before, of any kind. It was, perhaps, one of the only signs of just how anxious Llyr felt. He continued, "For our very souls to be related, rather than our blood. Our ether. Our energy. Why, is that not even more of a taboo rife with impropriety? Not only family by blood, but by our very ether..."

Llyr shook his head, in a dismissive attitude, and he crossed his arms while he kept one hand up with the flute glass. He gently twirled what champagne remained in the glass, gaze on the liquid instead of the man near him. It felt... nice... Doran's assurance to him. He didn't know if he believed it, but it felt like a nice sentiment anyway. Yet as nice as it felt, he also felt a sense of wrongness to it all.

Is there anything that I can do for you?

The biqaj looked at the older man again with a vaguely confused expression on his youthful features. Doran offered him... assistance? Of course he did. Llyr smiled slightly, a soft and unintentional smile that slipped through, while he considered the gentle tone taken with him. He slowly blinked while he gazed at the flame of a candle. The fiery orange tail bobbed and weaved with the currents of the air in the salon. Llyr partially expected Doran to approach him, to hold him, and convince him through touch... but the man did not. And Llyr exhaled, with a slight breath of sounded relief.

"I... I do not know," he admitted. Llyr hesitated, then he sat back in the chair finally. Seated close to Doran, he looked up at the other mortalborn and said, "How do you... Immortals... it's..."

There were many things going through Llyr's mind at once. It felt like a thousand and one thoughts that sped past. He set his champagne glass aside, then rested his head against the palm of his hand in a defeated posture. His eyes shut. He kept them closed. Llyr tried to sort and focus through the various things he wished to ask about, the things he wished to say, yet the decisions he had to remain strong to while in the presence of the other man. Already, he wanted to discard his decision and simply fall into bed with Doran. It would be so much simpler, he suspected, if they stopped talking for a while and reunited in another way.

But no, Llyr wanted to stay true to his decision. Better that way, he had decided, even if Doran didn't understand why.

"Immortals have domains in which they exert control, power, and yet they are molded by those spheres of influence," said Llyr finally. He kept his eyes shut, however, while he focused solely on wrangling his thoughts into a way he could verbalize. "It seems to me that mortalborn may have much the same. Yet how are these realized?"

Llyr opened his eyes and looked at Doran, "What do you have... what can you do... that is not from the magic as we know it, but of Immortal magic? There is some, isn't there? Tell me of that... please?"

"Do you think we are naturally drawn to each other?" he asked next, eyes glimmered in warmer colors among the blue. The young mage stood, all of a sudden. Without his drink, he set one hand at his lower back and with the other, he gesticulated while he started to share a very small portion of his thoughts with the older man. "Mortalborns, that is. Do you think mortalborns find each other due to some sort of... ethereal pathways that are perhaps formed by Emea?"

"Like veins of blood, but greater than that. As if... If Immortals make up the world - they make up the world, yes? Yet they are more than their bodies. You can stab one and it does nothing to the actual Immortal... Immortals are impervious to this sort of harm, and what if that is because they are merely a projection of Emea into Idalos? Ah, and what if they are also dreaming here? What if Immortals reside within Emea, and dream themselves into Idalos, just as we reside within Idalos and dream ourselves into Emea. Perhaps what we consider blood is different for Immortals. Maybe their bodies are different than how we tend to think of bodies. Maybe it is ether itself. Maybe it is Emea itself. What if the reason why we can dreamwalk, the reason why I was able to find you and slip into your dream, is because I merely... flowed along an Immortal's vein through Emea? Does that make sense, Doran? There must be a better way to describe it..."

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Doran]

“With divine ether“, Doran replied when Llyr asked him how he thought that Mortalborns were made. His tone of voice was calm, but he did not feel calm, at least not completely. When he told him how strongly and deeply he felt for him and that he would do anything for him, Llyr only sighed. He couldn’t help but wonder why this was the case, what was going through the younger man’s mind right now – and how he could get through to him and convince him that it would be alright.

“No, it’s not”, he replied in a firm tone of voice when Llyr wondered if their souls being related was not worse. Unlike Llyr, he did not pace back and forth, but remained where he was. Pacing did not solve anything or make it easier. He preferred to focus on what he wanted to say. He kept on looking at his lover and mentor the entire time though. “There is nothing improper about what we are and what we do – or what we did. We didn’t even know until recently, so why should we let this one thing, this curiosity, dictate the rest of our lives? None of the reasons why such taboos exist even apply to us. We did not grow up together, there is no risk of unequal power relationships as a consequence, and sickly, inbred offspring won’t be an issue.”

The last sentence had been spoken in a somewhat dry tone of voice. He was aware of the fact that Llyr was a Becomer, that he could become a woman – they had talked about it before, and he had told him that he would love him just as much if he became a woman, that he loved him for more than just his body, that he loved who he was on the inside – which was true. Even on the off chance that something happened, and there was a child sometime, such things were matters of the body, and not matters of the soul though.

“Taboos vary, depending on the generation and the culture, and relations between cousins, actual, mortal cousins, are commonplace and accepted in a lot of nations on Idalos. I do not see you as a relative though, Llyr. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. To me you are so much more than that – you are the one that I love, the missing piece of my soul”, he spoke, his tone of voice growing gentler now. He realized, really realized, perhaps for the first time since they had met in Vhalar and become lovers, how vastly different their backgrounds truly where.

He had seen entire nations rise and fall during his lifetime. He had seen cultures come and go. He had seen how rapidly beliefs and social norms could change, and as a consequence he cared little about some of the things that were so very important to the mortal inhabitants of Idalos sometimes. Questions of race, religion, social station, or sexuality mattered little to him, and some of the views that the people around him harbored simply made him shake his head.

Llyr, for all the power that he possessed and his extraordinary intellect, on the other hand had only ever known this time with all the cultural norms and taboos that came with it.

He had not planned on touching Llyr again, out of fear that his touch would just cause him to withdraw even further, because he believed that their entire love was wrong, a taboo. When the younger man sat down again, closed his eyes and rested his head against his palm, he approached him and reached out to him though because he could not bear to see him like that, so defeated. He couldn’t just stand there quietly and let him suffer alone.

He placed a hand on his shoulder, his fingers moving slightly, so that Llyr would perhaps raise his head and look at him even though what he really wanted to do was take him into his arms, pull him close and kiss him until he forgot all the things that troubled him and make his pain go away, at least for a while. He wanted to comfort him and make him realize that everything that he had said had been true, that there was no reason to doubt and that it would be alright, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to do that.

“They are”, he confirmed as Llyr talked about Immortals having domains and being molded by them. They had talked about it in detail before, back in Vhalar, when things had been so much simpler. “Mortalborns are the same – and different at the same time. We have domains and abilities to go with them, but they do not control us. We have some of the power of the Immortals, but the freedom to forge our own destiny, just like mortals. If we use our powers too frequently, it can hurt us though”, he added.

That statement would like not help Llyr in his current state, but it needed to be said, nevertheless. He didn’t want him to discover his powers and indulge in them – and break as a consequence – or turn into an old man. That fear, the fear that he would damage his mind or his body beyond repair was why he used his powers so sparingly these trials.

“As for what I can do”, he continued, smiling a warm and gentle smile when Llyr finally opened his eyes and looked at him again. “I could take the light of all the lamps in this room and plunge it into utter darkness if I wanted to – or fill a place with light. I can light up the darkness and make everything seem brighter. I can change things – I could take an object and change it, turn it into liquid, into countless tiny drops and cause it to eventually evaporate. And sometimes, I see … sometimes, I can look into the past, just as Ziell is capable of seeing the future …”

His voice trailed off when Llyr stood again. He stood next to him, close to him, but this time he did not touch him, but simply watched and listened as he gesticulated and shared his thoughts with him. The things that he said, the theory that he proposed was fascinating, but he didn’t agree with him regardless, at least not entirely. “I was not drawn to any of the Mortalborns that I met. I did not feel any sort of connection to them, not even when they revealed their powers to me”, he replied in a thoughtful tone of voice, remembering his strange encounter with Oberan, approximately two arcs prior in Etzos.

“I only ever felt drawn to you. As for the rest, Immortals dreaming themselves into Idalos just like we dream ourselves into Emea – I think that Immortals are more of Emea than of Idalos and of ether rather than of flesh and bone. And maybe there was something that caused us to meet that night, that caused you to find me, something more than just chance, that will enable us to find each other again, across the centuries – I do in fact hope that there was a deeper reason for us meeting …”

“Llyr”, he said the younger man’s name. If he ever stopped gesticulating, he would make a step towards him, take the etherist’s hands into his and hold them, if he allowed it. “Do you believe what I said? If there is anything else that you want to know, tell me, please”, he added. “Whatever it is, whatever is on your mind, I will try to answer and be there for you.”

[Llyr Llywelyn]

51 Ymiden, Arc 720

Divine Ether, was a thing that Llyr still struggled to understand how it distinguished from the ether used in domain magic. It was different though, even his fairly short time spent in actual study with Doran had taught him that much. He certainly wasn't an alchemist, but he had picked up much from the underlying logic of the discipline that he could apply to his own study of domain magic. His fingertips tapped against the table, in a quiet fidget of contemplation.

What better than such inquiries as to escape the awkward discomfort of Llyr's naive attempts to distance himself further. He had heard Doran, of course. He had heard of how strongly, how deeply, the far older mortalborn felt for him. Llyr could almost feel their connection, especially between the sparks in their souls. Regardless of how they felt about each other, he admired and respected Doran on a level beyond the rest. Or he tried. The young man struggled at times, to balance his understanding of Doran's age and of his own assumptions about life - or increasingly, since he found out about his mortalborn nature, what would be a far longer life than he expected for himself.

Llyr had raised one of his dark eyebrows, however, when he heard "-there is no risk of unequal power relationships as consequence-"

Was that true? He didn't know. Power, for Llyr, proved a difficult thing to measure and was it not always unequal? What was equal power? The phrase confused Llyr somewhat. Did Doran believe them equals? As flattering as it might have been, he knew it wasn't true. His expression softened into a slight frown. He listened, doing his best not to interrupt...

"...you are the one that I love, the missing piece of my soul..."

"Doran... please," the quiet words escaped Llyr. He set his fingers lightly over his lips to keep himself from saying anymore about that matter. The distraction of the other conversation had served well so far, he did not want to return to the other incredibly important conversation. A silver-blue blush rose onto his cheeks. He looked to his empty champagne glass, while he sat down and closed his eyes. He rested his head against his palm.

The hand on his shoulder took a few trills... then Llyr slowly opened his eyes. He looked at Doran, with eyes of blue, and he sighed again.

Llyr examined the other man's expression. Though he didn't delve into his tangle, he could realize what must have been going through his mind anyway. It didn't matter that they hadn't seen each other for nearly an arc. He felt, for the first time since his independent travels through Idalos, a sensation that no time at all had passed between their last visit together. It struck him as odd, by comparison to the great span of time he had perceived before. Llyr said nothing about it, though, as he allowed himself to feel the unusual pivot in his perception. Perhaps Doran was right, he supposed, perhaps what they were doing wasn't wrong... perhaps...

...Perhaps he could make it work between them. Somehow. Over the last seasons whenever he considered the son of Ziell, that cerebrally handsome alchemist to the north, he figured many reasons why such a thing couldn't work between them. An overwhelming amount. Yet Llyr's resolve, that he had built in his time away, cracked apart while he listened to the answers about mortalborns.

Answers he doubted he could find anywhere else, let alone from someone so patient and gracious and handsome and intelligent and-

-Llyr struggled to focus. The champagne made him feel warm in his face and chest. He observed the smile that Doran offered him, while he fixed his attention on what Doran could do with light and darkness. Or objects, itself. His eyes widened slightly. The blue of his irises flecked with violets.

"That's amazing," whispered Llyr when Doran trailed off about his ability to look into the past. He shared his line of theory about the possibility for mortalborns and Emea. It was subsequently doubted when Doran insisted otherwise. Llyr took the dismissal for what it was, though. Another attempt to return to that other conversation that the young biqaj seemed keen to avoid - even though he'd been the one to bring it up.

His blush darkened into an even more prominent shimmer over his face. He lowered his gaze when Doran took his hands in his. Llyr almost squirmed, barely able to restrain himself. He wanted to withdraw from the touch, but he didn't even know why anymore. The blond bit at his lower lip, and his breath hitched in his throat.

"Doran," he repeated with the same tone of weakened resolve. "I'm sorry, I... I don't believe in fate anymore. I..."

He dryly swallowed, a terrible thirst in his throat and mouth. When he finally exhaled the oxygen he'd been accidentally holding in his lungs, his breath sounded shaky. His etherlit fingers twitched in the gentle grasp of Doran's hands. In search of anything else to distract, he blurted out, "The hurt, from our powers, that you mentioned... I believe that is what this is. My fingers. They... it isn't magic that has done this, as I can seal all my sparks and it remains."

Llyr shook his head, though, as if in rejection of his own statements. He frowned, and moved closer to Doran. The biqaj's eyes overfilled with sapphire blue-tinted ether. He glanced up, though he found it difficult to look his initiate in the eye, and he said, "Doran, oh... didn't I say we shouldn't fall in love? Didn't I say that? This is- I- I can't... I'm not... We're- it's..."

"If there's some reason for us meeting, I do not know it." Llyr stood from the chair, but he didn't pull away from Doran's hold. Rather, he moved close enough so he could lean against the broader built man. The lithe biqaj continued, voice pitched with a wave of emotion that crashed through him. "I am not... I cannot be- whatever it is I'm expected to be. I don't know! I cannot marry. I do not wish to, even if I could, and- I am a terrible person, Doran, and a liar too. There are things I have done and plan to do... and... I don't want to hurt you any more than I already might. Please, you must understand this, yes? You've lived so many lives and probably been with so many people and I- I'm nothing compared to any of that."

His breath evened out, and he calmed somewhat while he forced his thoughts into speech. They weren't the best words, but they were the closest he had that he could actually find voice to share with Doran. Thin lines of watery tears rose along his blue eyes. He averted his gaze to stare at the flame of a candle. "I'm so sorry, Doran. I'm not- I can't go back to- the chains of another man, even if they are chains of love. I must focus on why I am here on Idalos. I must center myself to accomplish all that I seek to do. I must not waste the arcs... and- and I so dearly want to hold you again. It will only bring us pain, though, in the end... won't it?"

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Doran]

“It is true”, Doran replied in the same quiet tone of voice as he heard Llyr’s plea, as if the younger man couldn’t bear those words. He had told him the truth. He really felt as if Llyr were the one thing that had been missing from his life all those centuries. He had felt empty before he had met him, but he hadn’t been fully aware of it until they had become lovers, the night after his initiation. He did not say anything more than that though. He did not wish to overwhelm him. Instead, he only looked at him and waited for him to speak again.

Llyr seemed to have doubts that it could work. He had had doubts before, he had even wondered if he deserved this kind of love, because of who he was and what he had done. Doran on the other hand was convinced that it would eventually work out. He preferred to be optimistic, despite the fact that things were so complicated, because life was nothing without hope.

He noticed that Llyr almost squirmed when he took the younger man’s hands in his, and for a moment he wondered if he should withdraw again. He wanted to hold Llyr and never let go of him again, but even more than that, he didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. At the same time, there were signs that Llyr’s resolve was faltering though, as if he actually wanted the opposite of what he said which did not make a lot of sense to him.

Why was he so afraid, and what could he do to ease his fears?

“Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry”, he whispered to him and looked at Llyr’s fingers that were so different now – when they had first met, all those seasons before, Llyr’s fingers had not shimmered with etheric light. He had always thought that the glow was one of Llyr’s newest mutations. When Llyr told him that it wasn’t due to magic and remained when he sealed all of his sparks, his eyes widened a hint. He held the younger man’s hands between his, as if he wanted to keep them from shaking, as if he wanted to steady them, reassure him and help him calm down. “So, you’ve already developed at least one ability”, he murmured thoughtfully and looked up abruptly in order to meet his gaze.

When Llyr moved closer to him, he did the same.

“And yet we did“, he replied in a very soft tone of voice when Llyr reminded him how he had said that they shouldn‘t fall in love. He didn’t find it difficult to look the younger man in the eyes at all; on the contrary, he didn’t want to look anywhere else anymore, because Llyr mattered more than anything else in the world to him – the rest of Idalos might as well not exist at all – and because a part of him was worried that he might not be able to look at him again in a very long time. “And I do not regret falling in love with you – I never will. I was reluctant at first, but my life is so much better since I met you.”

“But Llyr”, he said and paused for a moment in order to put his arms around him as he leaned against him and hold him close. A part of him was still worried that this might be the last time in an eternity that he would be able to be with him like that, but he did not think about his own pain for long. More than anything else, he wanted to ease the younger man’s pain. Llyr didn’t deserve to feel like that. He didn’t deserve to suffer so much and feel so unsure. He only deserved the best, a life that was filled with nothing but happiness. He deserved the world.

“I do not expect anything from you, apart from what you give willingly. I do not expect you to be anything but what you already are – and I love you because of it. It doesn’t matter to me if we get married or not, you do not even have to stay in Viden if you don’t want to, and I don’t care if you are a terrible person and a liar. I told you what I did! Whatever you did or plan on doing, it can’t possibly be worse than that, and I would never judge you because of it!” he told him, his tone of voice tinged with obvious emotion now. Llyr’s words had touched him deep inside.

“I would never keep you in chains or prevent you from doing what you want or need to do – if you want me to and if you let me, I’ll help you accomplish your goals. You are not nothing though”, he told him in a gentle tone of voice that was filled with warmth. “You mean everything to me. You speak of hurt and pain, you had the opposite effect on me. You made me whole again. You gave me hope, and you made me see and hear when I had been blind and deaf for most of my existence.”

“I wish that you could see yourself the way I see you”, he admitted. “You speak of wasting the arcs, but love is never a waste of time in my opinion. What point is there in a life without love and hope, in a life that is only filled with work and duties? I lived like that before I met you, and there was nothing desirable about it.”

“Llyr”, he said, his tone of voice growing even gentler and softer, and raised a hand in order to carefully wipe the tears’ from the younger man’s cheeks because he couldn’t bear to see him cry. “I don’t care if you ever bring me pain. I’ll gladly accept the pain. I just want to have you in my life, no matter how. A kiss once every other season, or a night per arc or even per decade or century, whatever you give to me, whatever you want to share with me, it will be more than enough – and so much more than I ever had before you. I have been with other people before you, but none of them ever compared to you. None of them ever touched my heart and my soul.”

“Would it really be so bad if we held each other again and were together again?” he asked and looked at the younger man who was so very close to him now. “Being with you never kept me from accomplishing anything. On the contrary, I accomplished so much more since I met you and fell in love with you – I invented an entirely new branch of science. Loving someone and being close to someone is not necessarily a hindrance. It can also be a driving force and make you stronger. It had that kind of effect on me.”

[Jackalope]

Thread Comments:

It’s too bad you guys didn’t finish this thread. It was an engrossing read, unfolded very dramatically and emotionally, and seemed just about to reach some sort of decision point. But that is, of course, y’all’s decision. You both portray, in different ways, the alienating effect of being part-Immortal in a society of mortals.

Doran

Experience: +15 xp

Knowledge:

Caregiving x2
Discipline x2
Persuasion x2
Rhetoric x2

Skillplay: Approriate to level.

Comments:

Poor Doran. His longing for happiness with and love from Llyr is so consuming. To see him wrestling with the idea of what it means to (not) be human is touching. I get the impression that, of the two of you, Doran is the more solidly anchored in Idalos and the goings on of people in it, for all his professions not to care about society and their taboos. That’s a recipe for major internal turmoil and potential heartbreak, and it will be interesting to see how it plays out. I hope Doran finds happiness somehow!

Llyr

Experience: +15 x.p.

Knowledge:


Loot: None

Skillplay: Appropriate to level.

Comments: Llyr feels a bit like Doctor Manhattan in this, torn between the call of the flesh and his preoccupation with more transcendent things. He obviously cares for Doran, yet feels ambivalent about their relationship in a way that Doran does not. His apparent indifference to human affectations sets him apart, and the visual of the ethereal glow emanating from his fingers even while Doran tries to hold them hints at them growing distant in spite of their feelings for each other. Heartrending stuff.

Let me know if either of you have any questions/feedback. Enjoy your rewards!