Llyr listened to Doran, patiently and with intent consideration as to what was said. He eventually picked up his cup of coffee and settled on a nearby chair so that he could entirely focus on Doran, no matter how long the conversation extended for. His lanky legs crossed in a prim posture and he leaned back with ease despite his seemingly formal countenance. It wasn’t anything other than a look of concentration though, as he paid close attention to the other man. From the tone of voice, to expression, to body language, to the words chosen; he listened to Doran.
When the older man, after admitting the acceptance of his human blood, moved close to him, Llyr held the coffee cup aside. He remained seated in the chair but gathered Doran’s hand in his free hand. The young mage gently traced his thumb over the mortalborn’s knuckles. Llyr kissed the top of Doran’s hand, in simple warm affection, while he looked up at him.
He inquired to the nature of Doran’s contention with Xiur, whether it was a personal matter between the Immortal and the mortalborn, rather than the show of defending mortalkind like the Etzori made it out to be.
Llyr kept a hold on Doran’s hand, though he sipped at the coffee – which tasted much different than tea, even black tea. The more he drank, the more he found a sense of enjoyment from it. He listened to Doran’s answer about Xiur, about freeing others from chains, about the lies, about the controlled thoughts and feelings… and a hint of worse without explanation… and then Doran going so far to admit that he’d been a fool. The blond watched as Doran averted his gaze, for a moment, then looked back.
His expression could no longer be stern, though his focus hadn’t diminished in the slightest. He recognized the sorrow momentarily displayed in Doran’s features, and he slowly nodded to confirm that he had heard the other man.
He leaned forward and set the cup of coffee on the table. Llyr moved to the edge of the chair and gathered Doran’s hand between both his hands – between the palms. He looked up at him from the seated position with eyes that had irises of pale blue-green, flecked with thin indigo petals around the pupils.
“What do you believe, Llyr? Why do you wish to learn more about the immortals?”
The tip of Llyr’s tongue slipped between his pale lips. He wetted the skin, in pause to think about how he wanted to answer. His gaze flitted over Doran’s body, then he let go of the other man’s hand. Llyr leaned back against the arm of the chair, his posture faced toward Doran with a sense of openness despite that he kept his legs crossed. He rested his head against the palm of his hand and hummed while he considered the question.
“Belief…” he began in a slow, drawn-out way as if thinking aloud, his voice deep and accented with the lilt and lull of his southern tongue. “…Belief is vastly inferior to knowledge. Lesser than even crude action, faith is for desperate souls and troubled minds. What do I believe?”
“Theories are not belief,” he asserted. Llyr moved forward, then, and left the chair. He stood to his full height again, though he didn’t walk away from Doran. Instead, he looked directly at the other man. The irises of his eyes lost their green in a wash of blue-indigo hue. “Theories can be easily discarded, while most people seem to expect beliefs to remain firm even when presented contrary information. I do not indulge in beliefs, nor faith. I have dabbled with such things in the past and find it to be limiting and detrimental. There is far too great of potential to take advantage of belief.”
He waved a hand as if to ask for patience on Doran’s part and said, “Now, do you understand why I wish to learn more about the Immortals? Because it is belief that I wish to avoid. I want knowledge of them, not mere belief, to inform me because I do not seek to worship any...”
Llyr paused, in a momentary thought of this statement, then he set his hand on Doran’s shoulder. He spoke in a breathy voice, “…Incapable of change, you said? How can one live for so long and never change?”
“Yet this makes some sense,” he lifted his hand and moved to walk away, if allowed for, so he could pace a few strides and then return to Doran before repeating the path. “Indifferent toward the world because change is out of their own reach. If they cannot change… are they bitter toward this? Are they even capable of emotions? Do they possess moods at all? How can their minds operate if they cannot evolve thought? Have they remained the same since their conception?”
He rattled off questions, more sharing his thoughts than actually seeking answers from Doran. He tapped his index finger against his lips. “Then Immortals have their own chains. Chains they can never escape, if what you say is true. Fascinating… then Lady Sintra can never not manipulate, is what is suggested. She cannot resist to entrap; she cannot transcend these natural impulses because Immortals are beasts of the dominions we know them for? Like the wolf hunts the deer, they can never do otherwise. The deer shall never become a wolf and the wolf shall never be man. Correct?”
Llyr stopped walking and looked at Doran, almost enthusiastic when he sought confirmation in his realization. He continued, “And of course one would not generalize all Immortals alike, because they do not oversee the same spheres of authority. Lady Sintra is the Immortal of Manipulation, but Lord Ziell is the Immortal of Peace, and… this is something immutable. There are many predators, but you would not mistake the wolf for a shark. Nor prey like a deer for a sparrow… all animals have similar mindless instincts yet they are not all the same, other than for this greater lapse of ability to knowingly alter their behavior. Yes, yes, Im-mortal, Im-mutable, the language itself fits!”
He snapped his fingers, now entirely excited by his own thoughts while he made his way through them. It was only due to his eagerness that he spoke to Doran as he did next. “And you! As a mortalborn, what does that make you? Man and beast? Creature and man in one? Absolutely fascinating… but you say you are not like this? You are capable of change? Of course you are, of course… Yet you wanted to lessen the influence of your own father’s kind? Best of both worlds, you said, immortal and human blood… but how so?”
“Do many of the Immortals accept you or do they scorn your mixed blood? Was this part of the reason for Xiur’s spite against you?” he added with quick afterthought. Llyr hesitated briefly before he included one last question, “Are you chained to similar instinctual authority?”
