• Mature • Wood You Kindly

[Alistair]

10th of Ashan, Arc 719, Afternoon-Evening

He hurriedly twisted the knob slightly with the key he'd been granted during their stay. His lover immediately behind him, Alistair looked back to him once and smiled warmly, only to slip through the door - quite literally - as if it weren't there, laughing teasingly as he did so. If Zarik attempted to do the same, he would simply plant straight into the door, though the key still remained in the knob and could be twisted as such. The mage was simply being... enthusiastic, and had utilized the same trick he'd done before with his breeches and Zarik's earring, and...

From through the door, he would call directly to his beloved, with a booming voice. "My dear!" he exclaimed. "I dare say the furniture here is... actual wood. In fact, it would appear that it is. What a rare delicacy in this post-Cataclysm trial that we dwell in," he stated with a prim and airy voice, as if impersonating one's depiction of a noble, before seating himself upon one of the chairs that sat within the large, open living room. It was - the whole place was - beautiful. All of the walls were refined logs, well crafted for appearance, insulation and livability. They were of an almost orange color, though Alistair did not know the specific tree that had been utilized in the building's construction. Much of the floor was wooden as well, though with pelt-rugs and actual carpets in key areas, such as beneath the dining table and between the seats of the living room. There was a - wooden - stairwell leading to a second floor, which appeared to be only half the size, not covered by walls but rather a banister that peered over the rest of the building.

The second floor was essentially just a bedroom, with a large double bed with a mirror beside it, two drawers on each side beneath the curved arch above them, and a shelf for reading material. There were two windows on each side of the arch upstairs, as well as a few windows on the lower floor, in the center of each wall excluding the one which held the front door. Much of the furniture had a wooden base with either a fur covering or leather, though overall there were not all too many interior decorations and most of the cabin's infrastructure was functional. It was cozy, all situated around a fireplace, but perhaps somewhat bleak. The mage immediately glanced to the 'kitchen' area, wondering if they had any preserved foods, such as dried meats. He was hungry.

"Come sit with me, my wife," he called upon Zarik, patting his hands firmly against the cushion beside him. "Would you like to eat with me? I don't know anything particularly impressive, but I can make proper beef stew. There's a cauldron," he gestured to it, "so--we can have that. Anything you'd like; we can even go to the port-town down below if you want. They probably have places to eat fish, clams, cockles, all that. I hear Saltfetcher balls are a commodity furiously sought after, here," the mage said with a silly grin.

"Also--would you like for me to send one of my friends to check on your father? I know you may worry for him. Perhaps my slave, Kaelrik? He's a well-tempered man; even my beloved father-in-law," he referred to Zalazar, "...could not manage to draw his ire. What do you say?" His tone seemed rather nonchalant, though he realized the subject of their now mutual father would likely not put Zarik into any spectacular mood. He just... didn't wish to engage in his intentional neglect. It was clear that his beloved still cared for his wellbeing, and Alistair knew he would be harmed if the elderly man were to pass unexpectedly. Particularly if he believed it was him at fault.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

By the time

the newlyweds reached the cabin door, they were both eager. The run through the forest, the tree climbing, and the sight of the clear blue waters, which surrounded the natural environment, had invigorated Zarik. He admired the area around the cabin, still in awe of being on the island. It felt like a vast dream. Perhaps I have died, he considered briefly when Alistair went to unlock the door. Zarik, ready to follow, set a hand on Alistair’s shoulder… only for him to slip away and disappear through the door.

“Oh, wh-wait.” Zarik moved without thought, not wanting to be physically separated from the other man. He promptly walked forward into the door. Not hard, but enough that he took a step back and felt foolish for trying to follow the mage. He rubbed his shirtless chest where he’d bumped against the wood, then looked at the knob where the key stuck out. He turned the key, jostling the lock before it gave, and he opened the door amid Alistair’s posh-sounding exclamations.

Zarik closed the door behind him, pocketed the key in his suede pants, and locked it shut. He followed into the living room and smiled when he saw Alistair seated on a chair. His eyes widened, and though they’d been the most blissful of his colors since their arrival to the island, now a vibrant amber hue swirled through the irises. His smile remained stuck on his youthful features. He went to a nearby shelf. He ran his fingers over the polished wood with a hummed noise of appreciation.

“This whole place is… wood,” he observed of the walls. His tone of voice purely sincere as he happily exclaimed, “Alistair, it’s spectacular!”

Zarik didn’t stay still though. Once his fingers had caressed the polished wood, he moved through the living room. He picked up anything that wasn’t bolted down, examined the décor, and caressed the shape of each furniture piece. It seemed he was on a mission to put his fingerprints on every single thing he could see.

The tall biqaj found his way to the stairwell during his tactile examination of their temporary home. Zarik glanced at Alistair, then grinned, and bolted up the stairs in a sprint. He started to explore the upstairs on his own and he called out while he did, “There’s a giant mirror in here! It's clean too! Wow, the bed is so big! And books! So many books! What’s this?! Oo, or this! And that! It's so soft! Ohhh, wow, this place is fantastic!”

As he enthusiastically narrated his discoveries in shouts that carried down to the living room, the padding of his feet thumped against the rug-covered wood floors as he ran about the upstairs. A faint clattering of wood on wood echoed, then Zarik yelled, “Oops! It’s okay! Nothing broke!" before more running steps. Zarik hurried back down the stairs.

Upon his return to the living room, he wasn’t alone. His arms were filled with items: fur throws, a stack of books, a soft-bristle hairbrush, a small vase that had a fern in it, a couple decorative pillows, and a handful of twigs clutched in one hand. At the shelf from before, he sharply eyed a wooden bowl that had decorative baubles in it. One of the pillows fell from his grasp and landed in front of him. His free hand waved but failed to catch it during the fall. His lower lip stuck out in a pout. He tried to carefully squat to pick it back up without dropping anything else he was holding. A wickerball rolled to the side and away across the living room.

Zarik looked at Alistair when the nobleman called for him and patted the chair’s cushion. He smiled again. He stepped over the pillow in his approach, but he did not sit down. Instead, he let the items fall on the living room pelt-rug in a pile. He dropped to his knees, a casual and vaguely childish posture, and started to look through his collected goods while listening to Alistair talk about supper options.

“You cook?!” He interrupted the other man and Zarik glanced at the cauldron. He bit his lower lip with an impossible thought to decipher from visuals alone. His eyes were still the same amber as when he’d first examined the living room. “I didn’t think nobles knew how to cook food by themselves.”

He laughed in response to the Saltfetcher balls. The bridge of his slender nose wrinkled, and he shook his head. Zarik picked up one of the throws he’d taken from the bedroom. He ran his cheek against the soft bear-like fur, then nestled it all over his face until the throw covered him from view like a child wearing a sheet while pretending to be a ghost. He laughed quietly, outstretched his arms wide, and said, “I’ll eat anything you desire.”

Zarik pulled the throw off. Static rose strands of his hair up, the blond hair fluffy from rubbing against the fur. He happily said, “I would live on air and water for a whole arc if it meant I could stay here forever!”

He picked up the hairbrush, admired the wooden handle and base. Zarik started to brush his static-charged hair, smiling and listening to Alistair as the man …asked about Zalazar, his father, the family he’d left behind in Quacia.

Zarik paused. He lowered the hairbrush. His smile faded and then disappeared. He looked at the items in front of him. The same pout he had when the pillow had fallen from his arms returned. Kaelrik… the biqaj sat down on his hip, stretching his legs out to the side. He picked up one of the several books he’d grabbed and flipped through the pages. What do you say?

What did he say… Zarik didn’t say anything, not yet. Alistair had called Zalazar his father-in-law and that didn’t settle the best with him. He felt the nausea of when he’d stepped through the portal return momentarily. For a brief trill, he wished he had other family to offer Alistair – family with better connections or more wealth or a pleasant easily understood demeanor. If his father wasn’t as rough around the edges as he was, perhaps Alistair and him wouldn’t have married as soon as they had… and then he wouldn’t be… here, but also he wouldn't have to feel or think about… other things. Zarik became distracted by such thoughts as he tried to figure out how to answer Alistair’s offer.

Such contemplation showed obviously on his face. His eyes had cooled into a steel blue-gray. His smile was far gone, lost as if it’d never been there in the first place. He set the book down, glanced over the items, then lifted back to his feet. The blond sat down on another chair, brought a foot up and wrapped his arm around the knee. He rested his chin on the bony pad. He said, “I suppose so. I should.”

“But...” he lowered his gaze and rested his forehead on his knee. “There’s no need for your slave to talk with him. I’ll write a list of items. Kael…rik… can bundle them in a basket. There’s a small drop shelf on the back of the house he can leave it in, ah-as long as he rings the bell to alert my father of the arrival.”

Zarik left the chair. He opened one of the books, taking out a thin stack of vellum sheets and a fountain pen he’d found. He set them on the nearby table in the living room, knelt beside it, and prepared to write out a list. His fingers traced over the expensive writing implement, his eyes warming as he did so, and he moved carefully as if afraid he might snap the pen in half by accident.

On one sheet, he scrawled a quick list of items: food and the like, basic supplies he often bought for his father, plus he added in a few rare and more expensive items that were coveted by Zalazar, in the hope to soften the blow… because on a second sheet of paper, he wrote a proper albeit short letter. Zarik felt comfortable doing so, however, being far away from Quacia and far from the ever-tightening grasps of his father’s dependency on him.

Once finished, Zarik let the ink dry and then sharply folded the letter until the starched vellum was nothing more than a petite triangle. He folded the list enough to tuck the triangle in it. Zarik crawled over to Alistair and handed him the notes. He said, “Here. Th-this is the list a-and a letter. Please, I don’t want your slave to read it. It’s for my father. A-and…” he assumed that Alistair would teleport to deliver the instructions. Zarik placed a hand on Alistair, a small touch, and said, “Thank you.”

Letter to Zalazar

Dear father,

I am married now, under the witness of His Wounded Lord, and away to celebrate for a few trials. I am to be a Durien. I belong to Alistair and my name is Venora... This is good, for the both of us!
When you are ready, we will talk again.

Please eat and keep warm.

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Alistair]

It... excited him, to see the other so excited, running up the stairs and clutching everything he possibly could, yelling about his many discoveries from the top floor as he viewed into the mirror and clutched a whole host of items from above. Alistair could only think about how his home had all of this and more, and nicer things... but he quickly dispersed that odd sense of bourgeois jealousy and realized that Zarik could appreciate other things without it diminishing his own home. Zarik had been raised a plebian, by all of his many noble standards, and that meant that log cabin retreats such as this were beyond his grade. Of course he would be excited . . . and the mage decided he would be excited for him, his face slowly lighting up into a smile as he heard the other's feet beating around upstairs.

He then came down, wielding a whole host of objects, far too many for him to carry. Alistair eyed him curiously, as it was an odd sight for an adult man to be holding so many things like an excitable child. Again, though, he thought on his upbringing. He likely hadn't the chance to wield the finer things for much of his life, and so now the touch of quality was riveting to him. The mage again learned to appreciate his enthusiasm, realizing they'd come to the right place. Every specification had been correct, and his lover - his young wife - was thrilled and enthralled both.

Zarik in front of him and weaving through his many items, Alistair expanded his seating posture so as to consume more space, considering the other wouldn't be joining him immediately. His legs sprawled out to make him more comfortable, as he leaned onto one side of the armrest and stretched his chest some. The other questioned his cooking ability, and rightly pointed out how daft nobles tended to be in that department. The mage laughed lightly.

"I am among my peers in inability to truly cook," he replied. "I can only cook a few, useful things. Survivalist things. I may be a noble, but I spent my fair share of time surviving in the wilds of Uthaldria and Ne'haer. I can cook meats over a fire, and make simple stews. Not much beyond that, though," he said. Cooking was always more about familiarization with particular recipes. Alistair's list was very limited compared to the average commoner, but it was not entirely empty.

As Zarik laughed, he smiled and looked to his lover warmly. It was nice to see him in such a cheery mood, that even his mundane and childish humor could invoke such joviality in him. I'll eat anything you desire, replied his wife, and so Alistair nodded and stood from the seat, straightening the cushion within the rift between the upper and lower portions after he did so. Alistair looked back only to see Zarik's hair fluff, eyeing him oddly as he stepped towards the kitchen to see what ingredients they might have had. Zarik's joyous statement of how long he'd like to be here was one that brought a smile upon the mage's lips, though a haunting whisper coiled into his mind as it did.

Why had he always made things like this a mere vacation? He had the wealth to live anywhere he wanted, anywhere in the world - the greatest paradises that flowed out through the horizon. He could have settled down with a man like Zarik, brought his family to reside in a lovely wooden home such as this, and remained. And yet... always, was he driven by power. That simple, terrestrial fate, would have never been sufficient for a man like him.

He brought forward the subject of Zalazar, his 'father-in-law' as he referred to him. As always, his mention had the effect of Zarik losing much of his joyful behavior and instead receding back into what the mage could only decipher to be stress. Alistair understood that 'drop' well, the overwhelming weight carried in his impression, the memories and feelings associated with his visage. He'd lived through many of those same reactions, of his own. Kaleb Venora. Willow Venora. Father, mother.

Still, he was right to mention him, and Zarik agreed. It would lift a great burden from his mind, and truly make this vacation of theirs something to enjoy, without the foreground of stress or bewilderment. He observed quietly as he thought, and as he wrote, and once Zarik had written onto the sheet of paper and offered it to him, he took the vellum into his hands and curled it between his closed palm. His beloved touched his shoulder, though only gently, and thanked him softly. Alistair could tell that his gratitude was genuine.

"I love you, Zarik," he whispered back, taking a grip of the hand that had touched him and lifting it to his lips, laying a soft kiss upon the back of his hand. "Whenever you may have a worry, such as this one, inform me and I will provide you my aid. Your happiness - among all the things on Idalos - is what I value most. So please," he both offered, and requested. A portal opened up behind him as he spoke, and the mage stepped back, teetering on the edge of it as the vortex seemed to almost reach out to grip him.

"I'll be right back, my wife," he said, before stepping back once more and quickly appearing through the other side.

What followed after was a quickened journey. He did not bring the letter to Kaelrik, but in fact to Daniel, considering the man had much less to occupy his time. He informed him of the address, and even the purpose of the visit, finally revealing to him that he'd gotten married and would be away for some trials. The air that followed his words was tense, though mostly from confusion or apprehension. Daniel wanted Alistair to be happy, but did not know if marrying a man he'd met a week ago was quite the solution. Still, and promising not to tell Kleine until after their venture, he agreed to take the list of things to the mentioned home and to avoid contact with the old man. The letter would be placed among the items in whatever basket he brought to the old man, and though Daniel didn't read it he could only imagine the contents.

Alistair was gone for... what could have only been half a break, before re-opening a new portal and stepping back into the cabin. He truly followed his word, coming back quickly and without much to report. There were a few less nel in his domain bag, having been offered to Daniel to purchase the list of items, but all appeared to be well and the endeavor had been set into motion. Still, Alistair elected only to teasingly wink at the other and raise one of his lips unevenly, as if to quietly tell him that the task had been done without any further mention of their now-mutual father. He knew that excessive conversation about the man was perhaps not something that would bring any particular joy to his beloved's heart.

"Now..." he began, again, "I realize this is perhaps sudden, but have you put thought into the production of our heirs?" the noble asked, forwardly. It was an odd veer of a topic, but . . . "The moment we get married in Rynmere, at the beginning of Saun, we'll need to have our official consummation. Heirs must follow shortly afterwards, whether through a surrogate arrangement or by some other means." He realized that Zarik likely did not understand entirely how such things worked, and perhaps he believed that Asher would inherit and all was settled. But, realistically, they could not expect as much. "My boy, Asher, beloved though he may be... was not produced in a legitimate marriage overseen by the Seven. Only our children - yours and mine - have any hope to inherit, which means they must be brought about quickly. Would you like to discuss this now, my love? I think it might be for the best."

It was uncomfortable a topic for one so young, and in the midst of their vacation... but it wasn't entirely for the business of being a noble. Alistair wanted more children, and ones that specifically belonged to he and Zarik. And, as per his usual fashion of escalation, he'd decided to move to this topic at his earliest convenience.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

Alistair left

after tender words of affection and love… but Zarik didn’t know how long he’d be gone for. He had said right back so surely that meant only a few minutes. So, Zarik sat down beside his collected goods and casually examined the items and books. A few bits later, he felt restless. Alistair still hadn’t returned. His thoughts drifted and he wondered what this Kaelrik slave-man was like… Was he handsome? Did Zarik wear pants meant for him? Were they the same size? He was probably smarter than Zarik was --- and Zarik ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated all of a sudden.

He stood and paced around the living room. In his hands, he tossed a decorative wickerball back and forth. What was taking Alistair so long? His pulse quickened, his heart beat fast. His eyes flashed green. He wondered what Fridgar looked like now too, and the other names he’d heard. Alistair had said he felt weak with the other man – the first husband – and Zarik didn’t know exactly what he meant by that. Was Fridgar harsh? Was he handsome? More handsome than Zarik? That man probably didn’t act like a fool, not like Zarik did. He needed to stop being so excitable and stop crying and… become better than anyone else in Alistair’s life.

Zarik tossed the wickerball at the wall. It violently bounced off and rolled under the couch. Now, it had been nearly 10 bits, but it felt more like half-a-day. He needed to find something to distract himself with. The house could suffice, but as he collected the furs on the cushions of the couch, he felt the nag of his frustration return within trills. It did not occupy his mind strongly enough to override the doubts and insecurities that lambasted him in Alistair’s first true absence since their struggle that morning.

He went into the kitchen and found distraction there. It was just as magnificent as the rest of the cabin. The descent into his darker mood lifted slightly, and he examined what was around. It was as if the place was lived in already, the pantry inventory full without having to travel to a marketplace. He opened a large burlap sack and gathered a handful of brown-flecked rice. There was so much to work with, he considered that maybe Alistair would want to eat on return. His own stomach growled at the scent of grains.

As he set about, collecting water from a nearby well just outside from the kitchen, he forced himself to wonder about other things: still about Alistair, but more optimistic considerations such as why the noble had spent time in the wilderness. Was it by choice? Or was it related to his exile? He supposed he didn’t know enough about that, but it seemed an awkward thing to ask about.

With a bucket of water, and an armful of firewood that he’d found along the cabinside, he returned to the kitchen. He set to starting a fire in the fancy, though small, iron-wrought stove. It seemed ironic to have such a thing around a structure of wood, but it easily started up from swipes of a tinderbox. He found a pot, dumped it full of the well water. Zarik retrieved some familiar spices from an intricate wooden rack and added them to the water to make it more flavorful. He collected some of the rice in a large cup, then stood in front of the stove. He watched and waited for the water to boil, trying to not think about how Alistair was still gone.

He didn’t hear the portal, but he did have an instinctual feeling that caused him to peek from the kitchen to where the mage had returned. Zarik smiled slightly, glad that he’d come back and hadn’t left the biqaj all alone in the woods for even longer. Alistair winked at him. Zarik swiftly returned his attention to the water. The first bubbles appeared along the surface.

And then, Alistair started in about a different subject of conversation. About heirs... children, their expected children. Zarik blushed. He picked up a wooden spoon, stirring the boiling water and mixing the spices. "Would you like to discuss this now, my love? I think it might be for the best."

Zarik kept his sight on the water. It looked good enough. He dumped the rice into the boiling water. He stirred the rice and said in a biting tone, “If you wanted to draft a contact for our arrangement on our honeymoon, we could have stayed in Quacia for that.”

He tapped the spoon at the edge of the pot. He held it loosely, turning to face Alistair. His tone did not ease and though his eyes had been blue upon Alistair’s arrival, they turned into a sea-green tint. “You’re already discussing it though so we might as well, since you think it’s best. If offspring must be brought about, then they must. What is there to talk about?”

The ice-blond shrugged. He turned back to stir the rice, ease the heat of the stove, and then placed a lid over the pot. He asked, in a quietly insecure voice, “Wh-why were you gone for so long?”

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Alistair]

His first sight was Zarik, standing over the shabby 'stove' of the cabin, with a pot of water beginning to slowly boil into bubbles. Peering slightly over to glance at what was inside, he realized quickly that it was rice . . . but rice wouldn't be any good without anything else. The magister thought of what they might add to it - beans, potatoes, carrots. Perhaps with a slop of some thick broth, maybe even with flour added to it. He wasn't the most inventive chef, but he'd learned how to make simple delicacies taste very well.

As he spoke, he noticed first the blush by his lover, and then a sort of... apprehension? No - he couldn't place it so easily. Zarik grew oddly distant in the way he addressed the issue, perhaps because Alistair had made it sound much like a formal arrangement between the two. But... in a way it was, and though he was Zarik's loving husband, he was also Zarik's noble husband. There would be times where even the discussion of children - and most certainly their children's future - would be discussed entirely for practical reasons, befitting their role. No marriage was ever entirely about love.

"We'll have a few trials here yet," he began to respond, not bothered by the biting tone or the way in which he phrased himself. "There is plenty of time to enjoy ourselves. And besides . . . a honeymoon is a perfect time to begin discussing children, wouldn't you agree?" he asked. Seeing no particular flaw in his own logic, he nodded as his wife allowed the advancement of their conversation, citing that it had already been raised and thus should be followed through. Of course, he agreed, though he wondered why Zarik's eyes had begun to touch... a familiar and unsuitable color. It had a tint of green, which bothered him, and his tone remained far from what he was accustomed to in his spouse.

He shrugged, and turned back to the rice. Alistair's eyes fixed upon him, narrowing, as if suspicious. And then... his beloved spoke what he imagined to be the reason for his strange demeanor, alleviating some of the worries in the man as he realized it was what he could only call a slight of insecurity.

"I sent Daniel to gather things for your father, rather than my slave," he explained. "And, as a result, I informed Daniel of our marriage and discussed it with him. Daniel is one of my dearest friends, and so of course he sought to gain a greater understanding of our relationship. And besides; it's better that they... that everyone knows, yes? That way, we won't be required to hide anything. The more people that know, the realer it is. And I want our marriage to be a very, very eminent reality. When people think of me... I want them to think of you," he said. The mage could only hope that his words would convince the other to calm his insecurities. He spoke truthfully, and his expression - calm and reassuring - could display no other message than that Zarik did not need to worry.

But the conversation of children was to be had, and they'd both agreed upon it. Alistair stepped forward and drew close proximity to his beloved, standing behind him with his hot breath warming his lover's neck and jaw, his arms wrapping around his waist and lower abdomen. "It's not just for business reasons," he said. "I promise. I want more children--and for them to be yours. You are my future, do you remember? Your very words," he whispered, stroking his soft skin, Alistair's chest pressed firmly into the biqaj's lean back. "There is a plague ongoing in our dominion. The houses will need to be rebuilt, and many noble heirs will need to be had. I expect to have at least four more, all with you. To do so, we'll either need to seek out a surrogate, or you will need to utilize magic. Considering you're... what some would call untainted, it might be better to stray away from magical means, though the only other way to create a child of our combined genetics is through surrogacy with one of your siblings. It's an odd possibility, and I recall your father saying you're his only child. So . . . I worry that without magic, we might not be able to truly make children of our combined likeness," he said, frowning slightly at the corners of his lips.

"I... don't know what you'd want to do," said the mage. "I know a woman who looks a lot like you. Almost strangely a lot, now that I think about it. Her name was... Tyara, I believe?" he pondered, for a trill. "Kleine has a totem with her visage. Perhaps we could pay her for her services? There would not need to be any copulation involved. I'm a doctor; I can handle such things like insemination, though I know it's an uncomfortable subject," he said. The entire topic of conversation was odd, especially considering magical reproduction was on the table. For a non-mage, it would be... a lot to wrap one's head around. But Alistair was serious, and would not delay such an important conversation. Not for squeamishness, at least.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

Zarik

had never thought about children before… not in that way, and not for anyone, so when Alistair stayed determined to the subject, Zarik didn’t know what more to add to the obvious decision. He understood, however, the importance of heirs for nobility and those who wanted to pass down wealth – even his own father had kept him near with such plans for inheriting the gruesome tradecraft of interrogation. And despite any reservations his father had, if he accepted Zarik as his son still, he would surely benefit from the marriage also.

It seemed children were an advantageous tool to be used. Even their potential existence proved powerful enough to distract a lustful man like Alistair away from other possible honeymoon activities.

He listened and nodded when asked for his agreement about discussing children. Zarik didn’t understand why the other man kept pretending to check with him about it, and he said closely as much. He still felt uncertain and insecure from being on his lonesome and dealing with the frustration he'd suppressed from earlier in the day. Zarik focused on the rice. He could feel Alistair’s gaze fixed on him. Finally, he gave in and asked what he really wanted to know: why the man had been gone for so long.

A different name arose in the answer, and Zarik couldn’t remember who this Daniel was. He took Alistair’s comment, one of my dearest friends, to fill in the blank however and he eased some. Zarik paused in the midst of cooking. He looked at the mage and slowly nodded. Others would have to know about their marriage – it didn’t seem likely that they could keep it secret forever and Zarik never designed for that. He now optimistically expected, and wanted, to be known as Alistair's husband, to be seen as the rightful spouse of the nobleman, and to share the magnificence of their love with the world.

Gnawing on his lower lip, he returned his attention to the rice. He said, “Yes, I understand, my love. I’m sorry… I missed you and… I do not know these people. They are strangers to me. I only know you care for them. I would like to- to- meet them when we return. Perhaps in a formal setting? A-a… is it a supper that would be proper to do? Or perhaps that is too much… wh-what would they like? Maybe a late breakfast or early midday meal to share?”

Zarik nestled against his husband when Alistair drew close behind him. He felt his prior worry dissolve, back in the warmth and scent of the nobleman. A quiet, content humming rose from behind his closed lips. Though he had felt as cold as ice when Alistair had returned, he now melted back into a happy little puddle, caused simply by the affectionate touches. He did not mind that Alistair quoted his own words from several hours ago. They still held true.

He set down the spoon next to the stove, listening about the plague and the plan to rebuild, and that Alistair wanted at least four more children… and to have them with him. Zarik turned around to face the man, wrapping his arms around his neck. He hesitantly smiled, listening on with eyes that lost their green and blue, becoming yellow like a sunlit field of wheat. Alistair had a lot to say on the technical matter of reproduction. It was so obviously an important subject for the magister.

Zarik’s smile grew a little while he listened to the explanations. He wanted to share that he didn’t much care what way, but that they would find a way – no matter what it took. Though he felt taken by surprise at the thought of becoming a parent, let alone a parent of nobility and heirs, Zarik wanted to fulfill Alistair’s expectations and he wanted to prove himself, to show the man that Alistair hadn’t chosen poorly for entrusting Zarik with such a valued position.

The youthful biqaj was about to tell the human that he would seek to learn about the potentials of magic, so they could have proper children together. It was a lot to consider, but he wanted to be the reason that Alistair’s slight frown and his present worries might disappear, just as Alistair had cared enough to take care of his own subliminal worries about his father's well-being. However, Alistair continued to talk and he reminded Zarik of the biqaj woman.

Zarik bristled slightly, his smile faded, and he pulled back from their relaxed hug. Tyara, I believe? “Tyara?” asked Zarik without pause. He blinked. His dark brows knitted together in a frown. He listened about the totem, and only slightly about the details of the process of surrogacy. He gnawed on his lower lip. His gaze lowered, blankly staring at Alistair’s abs. After a beat, he said, “That’s a strange…”

He didn't finish the statement. Zarik left the hold entirely, pushing away from Alistair. He picked up the spoon and checked the rice. He waved at it dismissively, then said, “That can be left to soak.”

Exiting the kitchen, he returned to the living room, and as he did so, he shared, “I am not my father’s only child, though he lays no claim to my siblings anymore. I had two kin sisters. They remained with my mother and her husband. I have not seen them for… over a decade now and I do not know if any of them are alive.”

He sat on the couch, next to the pile of furs he’d gathered there. Zarik leaned against them, rested his chin on his forearm, and watched Alistair as he added, “It is a strange thing because Tyara is also the name of one of my sisters. Yet something like that… I cannot imagine why, or how, or… it is an odd happenstance, I suppose. I do not know how I would even begin to search for them after all this time. I gave up on such a pursuit years ago.”

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Alistair]

The magister laughed lightly at Zarik's worrisome attempt to bring Alistair and his friends together for supper. He wished to meet them formally, to reveal himself to them. The mage did not mind the idea at all, and it would equally be a wonderful time for Zarik to meet his - their - son. The mage nodded agreeably at his suggestion of supper, kisses him firmly by the left side of his temples. "Indeed; supper it shall be. My birth trial is on the thirteenth, so why don't we return some time before the evening on that day and celebrate it with everyone? It would be a wonderful time for them to meet you," he concluded, and the two held one another closely for a time, nestling into each other's warmth and skin. While it lasted, he felt as content, though his mind truthfully concluded that there would be some tensity during their meal. Daniel would likely go eagerly along with whatever Alistair might have wanted, but Kleine... for his own reasons and for Fridgar, would surely jab into Zarik and attempt to ascertain his flaws.

Zarik was not a fool, though. He could handle Kleine - perhaps the Lotharro would even like him. They could only wait, and see... and for now neither of them mentioned anything; Alistair did not raise the possibility of his friend's behavior, and instead they pursued the conversation of reproduction, of course. It was one immensely important to nobles, and probably far more important to Alistair than Zarik, or so it seemed.

Still, he felt... some sort of understanding by the other, perhaps a dutiful desire to fulfill his husband's wishes. He was content with that, whether it meant magic or... whatever else they might have in mind. As he continued to explore the options, a particular word struck his lover, and specifically a name. Tyara. It wasn't an incredibly common biqaj name, though Zarik repeated it with a questioning tone, and remarked on the strangeness. His expression was no longer a disconcerting green-eyed glare, nor a daffodil shaded smile.

His wife pulled from him, leaving the rice to remain for a moment as he stepped towards the sofa, before pausing to offer the mage an explanation of his shift in demeanor. Zarik had two siblings - sisters, in fact. 'Kin sisters', he called them, a term the magister had heard before in reference to... some pair of Burhan siblings, if he could recall correctly. It was a biqaj term, if his vague familiarity was correct.

Still, what he said was more pertinent than the terminology. He had two sisters that were... probably alive, though he hadn't seen them for some time. They were left with his mother and her... newer? husband, the three children divided. Zarik sat upon the sofa, beside the pile of furs he'd gathered, and explained further. Alistair's brows rose, as if surprised. He'd seen the woman - the totem - before. She looked strikingly like Zarik, from her lithe form to the icy-blond hair. Even the piercing stare of her eyes.

He did not believe it was truly her, it seemed, just an odd happenstance. Alistair did not know her last name, though, and Kleine probably didn't either. There was no way to confirm the coincidence immediately, though a strange feeling crept up through his chest. It was almost... unsettling, to imagine such an infinitely unlikely possibility emerging true. There were millions of biqaj in their world, and hundreds of thousands of them in Ne'haer. But... then, it had to be impossible. Or at least, it was very unlikely. And there was only one way to be sure; for them to truly know.

"What if this woman was your sister?" he asked, boldly. The mage glanced once to the rice, then moved towards Zarik, sitting between him and the furs as he nudged his lover to the side. "What would that change for you?" Alistair questioned, stroking his lover's arm softly. "For Asher? He would be like our child, then. I... struggle to even imagine it, but what if? He'd be the spawn of our blood. Your lineage and mine. And we... we could have more. That totem... Kleine could--"

The mage stopped himself. It was probably insensitive, even if it was his sister, to place their reproduction over the imperative of finding his lost siblings. Or perhaps it wasn't -- Zarik was an odd one, and Alistair didn't know what he truly prioritized. It was likely true that he valued his family with Alistair more than the one given to him by birth, but perhaps in his words there was... some form of request. Maybe Alistair could help him?

"If it's the same Tyara, she was in Ne'haer. She lived in Ki'eiran, the town where my hospital was. It wouldn't be impossible to find her, or even truly unlikely. It would only take a Sohr Khal's flight, and we could be there within trials," he said. "And--even if we couldn't find her, Zarik... it would still mean... we could..."

Now that he'd thought about it - really thought about it - he was elated. If there was one thing he'd always wanted, perhaps even more than the throne itself, it was this. To start a family - a big, happy family with the person he loved. He exhaled. It was ridiculous, the whole thing was. And he felt... guilty, for letting the thought excite him so much without even hearing Zarik's perspective. What if the thought made him feel uncomfortable? What if a totem of his sister deeply mortified him? People were always flimsy in their tolerance of magic, and what it could do. In the face of that reality, he could only cease his words and calm his nerves until he and them were silent. He lowered his gaze, sitting somewhat awkwardly beside his wife, awaiting a response he could only hope was benign.

[Llyr Llywelyn]

A date was made

– Alistair’s birthday – for the supper in which Zarik would meet the others. He felt a nervousness at the idea, but he would have to meet them eventually and he preferred to do so in the crowd rather than in the more intimate confrontation of one-to-one with each of them. Though, he felt a faint concern for what he might wear to such an important moment. He couldn’t just wear handidowns… and he had no clothes of his own still. But he didn’t bring his concerns up, not now that he felt the closeness of Alistair and his body warmed to the affection. Whatever he wore, it wouldn’t matter as much as the fact that their marriage was already done. No one could attempt to get in their way, even if they didn’t like Zarik. He smiled slightly, at that thought.

The conversation returned to the subject before, of heirs and children, and Zarik became distracted when he heard a familiar name – a name he had not heard in a long time, though he kept it close to his heart always. He must have heard wrong, however… but he supposed since Alistair did not know, and that they were to spend the rest of their lives together, he would tell his husband about his sisters and the family he’d left behind. His sisters were kin for they’d been born on the same day as him, albeit a few minutes before he arrived into the world.

He settled on the sofa, next to the furs, and mentioned this strange coincidence to Alistair. While the name was uncommon, it wasn’t impossibly rare. Likely it was just another Tyara, but the synchronistic fact that the woman shared a name with his sister was intriguing to Zarik just on its own. He did not believe it was his sister, it couldn’t be… and in a way, he did not want it to be. For Zarik had resigned himself to believe that his siblings were long gone and dead to him; it was easier to accept than holding onto the possible hope of reunion in the unknown future.

But the hope he’d warded away, had started to glow just from hearing the name. He squirmed at the feeling, not wanting to give into it… and he visibly winced when Alistair boldly proclaimed the possibility that this Tyara could be his sister, Tyara.

Zarik shifted on the sofa, making room for Alistair to sit beside him. He brought his legs up, resting them over the man’s lap and he leaned his back against the furs. Resting his arms over his face, he hid behind them and heavily exhaled in a low sigh. What would that change for him? Zarik considered the question. He peeked between his arms at Alistair as the other caressed his arm. He smiled slightly and grabbed onto Alistair's hand, intertwining his fingers with Alistair’s fingers.

He tried to not become overwhelmed by the mere possibility that Asher could not only be of Alistair’s lineage, but also connected to Zarik’s bloodlines… entertaining the mere idea sent both a thrill and a chill through his body. He blushed because, though his emotions seemed a mess at the moment, he felt a giddy sort of amusement toward the hypothetical. He glanced at Alistair from behind his dark, curtained lashes. His eyes gleamed rose pink and amber. Zarik did not need to say anything as his eyes answered for him, but he did not know that for certain and so he said, “It would be… undeniable if that were to be the case.”

Zarik lifted to sit straight. He ran his free hand over Alistair’s beard and leaned closer to land a kiss to the man’s lips. He quietly said, “If such a thing were true, Alistair, I could not restrain destiny and I… I would believe it to be a sign that we are not only meant to love each other, but it is as you say. You are to have heirs and I must serve that role well.”

He paused, kissing the other on the cheek, then listening about where this Tyara lived. Zarik did not know why his sisters would be anywhere, as a lot could change in over a decade, so it did not help in solving the mystery. But Zarik did not want to go to the place immediately. He wanted to stay and enjoy his honeymoon with Alistair. They could attend to such investigations later. He listened to Alistair stammer away the last of his words, not sure what the man wanted to say or why he was hesitating.

Zarik moved, spread his legs, and straddled Alistair’s lap with his knees tight against the man’s hips. He looped his arms around the magister’s neck, and he demurely smiled. He kissed him once more, a little longer this time with romantic affection, and then he broke it because he had something to say. “I will make you a promise, Alistair, my husband, my love… one more to add to all the other promises I have offered in my devotion to you and the taking of your name."

"If we are to find this Tyara, and she is proven to truly be my sister and the fated bells ring in this unmistakable display of our destiny, then I promise you that no matter what is required of me… we will have children. You will have many heirs, as many as time allows for. And together, we will care for them and love them as our own parents, perhaps, should have cared for us. They will become great men and women who will far surpass the both of us, born by fate as much as by our passions for one another.”

He kissed Alistair again, hugging him close, and then kept near as he looked into the vortexes of Alistair’s eyes. His irises had lightened to a pure rose-pink pigment. He whispered, “I promise you this, but only if this woman is my sister. For if she is not, then a different bell has tolled for us, one in which we must learn the path as we travel it and I cannot make these promises for a way such as that. Please, understand.”

Speak ✣ Am ✣ Think

[Alistair]

He was... right. It would be undeniable. The low possibility, a stranger to their reality, coming true... and what it would mean for them. A message from the Fates, they could only assume. An echo of their destiny.

It would cement... everything. And Zarik would 'serve his role' - a thought that allured Alistair as he drew in to kiss him, their lips entangling as their warmth wrapped within one another. "Wouldn't that be wonderful?" he murmured into his ear, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Still, the two were united in that both of them wished to stay, remaining on the island... remaining alongside one another. Zarik straddled him, their bodies pressed closely together as their chests made contact. He could feel Zarik's heart beating against his own, a beating that intensified as they kissed among their passions. And then, his lover began again, offering him a new promise.

My husband, my love, he called him. The words brought a smile to the magister's lips.

And then, he spoke his promise, and truly was it beautiful. Poetic, fateful, and filled with meaning. Alistair could vividly imagine it all, he could see it within his mind's eye. That future - one that filled him with warmth in what had been until late a bitter and brittle heart - was a possibility. It could become real. Through magic, or other means, or even a gift from Gods or Immortals... it didn't matter. Zarik vowed to find away, and in that regard, the two were united.

But it was with an expectation; they find her. Prove their blood relation. And then, poor Asher would have a mother after all in the visage of Zarik, and many siblings could follow. As the two held close together, kissing and allowing their animated eyes to meet, the mage smiled gleefully at this possibility. The inverse, in some ways, was ominous - though in truth he did not expect that it would diminish what they had. Alistair dismissed it easily, whispering a silent 'of course' to his lover as he grinned, foolishly. With each hand, he gripped him by his waist, smoothing over the soft skin with his palms as he lurched his head forward and under Zarik's chin, kissing and nibbling passionately at his neck. He then grabbed some of the flesh beneath his teeth, sucking hard on it as he bit down into it for half a bit, leaving what would be a noticeable bruise upon his skin.

He groaned, somewhat ferociously, as he felt his desires stoked by his proximity. And by his promise.

"My wife," he whispered. "I have no doubt that fate has tied us together, and so... I will not allow your sister to leave Ne'haer before we might find her. We will not waste any time; once our honeymoon ends, and all of our business in Quacia is settled... we will go. It will be proven; that I am meant to be your husband, and we are meant to bring a family into this world - like you've promised - of many boys and girls, men and women, who will from our love grow stronger than even us. And no man in this world will ever be happier than I, to learn of this destiny. For I... I've been drawn to you, my Zarik, from the moment we first met. Within your eyes I did not see the reflection of the sunrise, but the sun itself. You are my destiny," he whispered, and pulled him closer, his arms sliding and scaling the whole surface of his back.

And then, over the moment, the fog of desire converged.

[Korva]

Rewards!

Name: Zarik

Knowledge:
Skill
Appraisal: What’s This? What’s This? Collecting many items to look over.
Appraisal: Examining the quality of fur rugs.
Appraisal: Touching to learn the quality of make.
Negotiation: Setting the terms of starting a family.
Caregiving: Spontaneously cooking to feed a hungry loved one.
Logistics: Planning a formal meeting between friends.
Rhetoric: A poetic promise given.
Psychology: Talk of producing heirs distracts Alistair.
Tactics: Children are advantageous to influence people.

Non
Alistair: Wants to raise children with me.
Personal: Is my sister, Tyara, alive?

Loot: NA
Injuries: NA
Renown: NA
Magic XP: NA

Points: 15

- - -

Name: Alistair

Knowledge:
Non-skill
Tyara: Zarik's Sister
Asher: Possibly Zarik's "Child"
Zarik: Will have heirs with me, if we find his sister

Let me know if you want any skill knowledges!

Loot: NA
Injuries: NA
Renown: NA
Magic XP: NA

Points: 15

- - -

Comments: Aw, a little domestic thread. It was nice to see them adjusting together, because even though they're married they're still so new to each other and that was portrayed well here. The set up of the search for his sister and the talk of kids, it sounds both so cute and like the start of an adventure, great job guys!

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM or ping me in Discord. Thanks!

**Made by the magnificent Kes