• Graded • The Ineffable

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 83rd of Ymiden, 717

Finn jogged his way back to the home of Alistair and Fridgar, wondering how he’d landed himself in the care of a noble and a shapeshifter. While he’d first considered Uthaldria a rugged but alluring country, he couldn’t think of it as such anymore. Uthaldria was hard and unforgiving, and so were its people. The images of Argos, plundered and sacked, flaming like a torch against darkened skies, had not yet left his mind. Neither had the screams, the guttural groans, the cries of pain, or the clatter of arms and armor.

Alistair had taken him far from that city, but in his mind, he was still there. The noble had tampered the hatred that burned inside, brought the flames to a low simmer, but failed to douse the fire. Ellasin’s warning still rung in his ears. There was more to the beauty and the beast than met the eye, and Finn was starting to see the truth of it. Had Alistair not greeted him with a blade upon first meeting him? Had Fridgar not leapt blindly into a bloody fight at the first chance? Was Alistair not part of the same horde that had sacked the human city of Argos? Was Fridgar not also part of the society that condoned such barbarism?

As much as he owed them gratitude, he could not bring himself to express it. He’d been granted lodgings in their house and three meals every trial, they had been welcoming him in every way they could, and still he hadn’t thanked them. How jealous the caretakers back at Etzos would be of the freshly wedded lovers, for they had achieved the impossible and managed to put a stopper on a mouth that never ceased yapping. They had to know something was up by now, and he knew that sooner or later, they’d want to talk to him about it. As if that would solve anything.

Fortunately, he had managed to avoid them, and most other Lotharro, by running simple errands for Lucien, the only person he still trusted in the damned place. The spymaster had appeared somewhat surprised to see him return but had soon after complimented him on his perseverance and given him small courier jobs to pass the time. He loathed the looks he got at times, especially from the hollering Lotharro youths. They didn’t seem to think too highly of him and he returned the favor in the privacy of his mind. But this trial, two of them had gotten in his way, teased him in their stupid little language, sniggering and pointing at him. It didn’t take much more to rekindle the fire. He had leapt forth and slammed a fistful of hate on the other youth’s nose before taking a hit on the jaw himself. None of the passersby had intervened as the Lotharro and the human youths scrapped. Some even looked on, reminiscing their younger arcs. It wasn’t until both parties were sufficiently exerted that each had gone their way. While Finn had sustained more damage, by virtue of being outnumbered by stronger, more passionate fighters, he had given the youths some bruises to remember him by.

Quietly he slipped into his new home, aiming to tip-toe the way to his room before he’d get any remarks about his broken lip, the abrasions on his arms, or the dirt on his cheeks. Alistair, he imagined, would be none too pleased to find that he’d filled his new clothes with holes and rips. Fridgar, on the other hand, would probably ask about his technique and if he’d gotten a few good hooks on his opponents. On his way to the room allotted to him, he made a sharp turn into the kitchen instead. The scrap had made him hungry and thirsty and he didn’t think that he’d draw too much attention if he quickly stuffed himself with a bit of bread and a glass of milk.

[Varthakh]

Fridnos was at home, lounging about in Llewnos form. It was his most recent totem acquisition, save for the Lurker. While he really should have been spending more time dedicating the Lurker totem, he also had some calibrating to do for this form. Sure, he was fast, sneaky as fuck and hella strong... but had he really done everything there was to do as a Llewnos? Definitely not! Totrial, he'd been practising... sleeping in Llewnos form. Though, it was difficult. The Llewnos was naturally nocturnal and he was using it in the day time a lot more frequently than in the night. Even if it was just a case of believing he'd messed up the Llewnos' sleeping pattern and reflected it with his subconscious, it felt real.

The Llewnos sighed a light growl before opening its violet eyes and rolling to its feet. It then shook its fur and licked its paw. Sleeping was a skill he just couldn't master in Llewnos form. He could eat, exercise, defecate and even tap into its night vision, but he couldn't sleep. This was almost upsetting, but he was already over it. The Llewnos then turned and leaped onto the reinforced table on the living room and looked at the totems he'd laid out across the surface. Eyeing his Kaiserion totem, the Llewnos chuckled to itself. Then, casting totem guardian, he manifested the Kaiserion totem into a full being.

A warped, tall version of Kaiserion stood, intimidating and savage in appearance. "Good evening, Kaiserion," Fridnos spoke rhetorically, casting echo to retrieve the voice of Fridgar. "Greetings, Fridgar," the totem spoke back to him in Haltunga, using Kaiserion's voice. Fridgar stared at the summon with wide eyes, hardly able to believe what he'd just seen or heard. The Kaiserion totem would tilt its head, looking to the Llewnos perplexed. "What's the matter, Frid?" the false Kaiserion asked, innocence in his tone. "N-nothing, nothing's the matter. How is it that you're able to speak to me?" Fridgar asked with uncertainty. This was all very bizarre, after all.

Kaiserion would scoff, crossing his arms. "I'm you, dumbass. All of us are you," the false Kaiserion replied, shaking his head. "Us? Who's us?" Fridnos asked, cocking his head a little in wonder. "Your totems, duh. We're all you, just with a little twist," Kaisotem spoke, grinning almost maliciously. "What do you mean by a twist?" Fridgar asked, considering putting the totem away. "Like, if you'd been born as a Redbear or a Solghannon, we're incarnations of what you could have been," Kaisotem then approached Fridgar and ran his massive hands through Fridnos's pelt.

Trills later, Kaisotem disappeared, falling from suspended mid-air as a totem before landing on the floor. "Nope," Fridnos declared before picking up the Kaiserion totem and setting it on the table, next to his Fridgar totem... What would happen if he summoned Fridgar? "Nope," He forbid himself before placing one paw on the Fridgar totem and transforming into a Fridgar. The change spanned a bit where he decreased in size and snapped into a different shape before resting on his knees with his hands on the table, completely nude. "Nope!" Fridgar spoke once more as he pushed himself to his feet and went to look for his loin cloth.

Leaving all the creepy business behind him, he packed away his totems and set the bag in his room before collecting his newly awarded cloak. Commemoration for reaching the rank of hound in the Jegers, this was sort-of his medal. He'd been excited to show Finn when he got home, though couldn't put his finger on why. Finn was just a human, after all, a bratty one too. On their second encounter, Finn had kicked him in the nuts... He apologised for it, but still... One finds it hard to trust a boy after suffering such wounds. With his new cloak in hand, Fridgar stood at the top of the stairs and took his first step down when the front door opened.

Light footsteps walked by, meaning that Finn must have been home. Excellent! Sure, he'd wanted to share the news of his promotion to Finn with Alistair at the same time but... There was an aspect of competition in getting there first, a sense of pride, bragging rights... Sorry, Alistair he thought to himself as he waited for Finns footsteps to disappear from his range of hearing. Then, very carefully, he sneaked back into his and Alistair's chambers and cast echo on the deftness of the Llewnos totem. He was suddenly ridiculously light on his feet and could walk around without making a noise, if he so decided.

And, he did. Very quietly, he crept down the hall and down the stairs with his new cloak in hand. Fridgar then sneaked around the corner and crept toward the kitchen, where he could hear the boy fumbling with something or other. He arrived at the doorframe without Finn seeming to realise he was there. Then, very quickly, he dashed around the corner without making a noise and dropped half the weight of his paws onto the boy's shoulders from behind with a sudden "Ra!" an effort to scare the human. Whether it worked or not, Fridgar would chuckle and turn the boy around, only to halt when he saw Finn's lip and arms.

Fridgar sighed and stood up straight, setting the cloak aside on the kitchen counter. "Who started it?" Fridgar asked with a slight tone of pride in his voice. "More importantly, did you finish it?" Fridgar asked, leaning back and lowering himself a little as he looked the human child up and down. "You took me down before, I doubt some punk kid is going to stand in your way!" Fridgar laughed, though tentative. Was Finn okay? Was this a serious situation? Fuck if he knew. "Are you hurt anywhere? Need any help? I bet you remember how good I bandaged you last time. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up before Alistair freaks," Fridgar offered his paw to the child. If he did recall, Fridgar had applied the last bandage with such clumsiness that it was more of a burden than an asset and it certainly didn't promote recovery.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 83rd of Ymiden, 717

What might have been a gentle shove to the bear-sized Fridgar was like a sledgehammer to the grovelling child. His frame rocked, the bottle of milk he'd sipped from fell from his hand and splashed into a thousand tiny pieces on the floor.

"Shitting balls!" Finn cried out, a fair bit louder than he intended.

He was met by the immensely large, immensely stupid, immensely widely grinning face of Fridgar Calder. For a trill, Finn looked like he'd seen a ghost. A trill later howerver, his face shifted into relief, then a smile, and finally a strange mixture between all of them. "Whatdidyoudothatfor?" he gasped. "Honestly, just-" he seized Fridgar's oversized hand and placed it on his heart where the shapeshifter would be able to feel his frenzied heartbeat. "I might've died!" he added with surprising seriousness.

His eyes fell on the floor and the puddle of spoilt milk at his feet, but Fridgar didn't seem to care. As expected he was more interested in what kind of violence he had involved himself in.

"I started it," he stated bluntly, "well they did, really. They got in my way. They laughed at me. I don't know what they said 'cause it's that weird language of your people but...it wasn't nice, I could tell." He hadn't spoken more than a few sentences in all the time spent at the Buggery home, but Fridgar had managed to short-circuit his system into talking again, and now Fridgar was giving him an almost proud look, he remembered why he'd liked the Lothar to begin with.

"I smacked him on the nose, but he was with a friend so they took me down and started hitting. Can't say who hit what though," he shrugged, "it was just a tangle from there on out. They tired eventually, one of them had a bloody nose and the other was limping." Naturally, he skipped over the part where he'd gotten pumelled and kicked, or the part where he had been choking in some stranglehold.

It was when Fridgar mentioned bandages that Finn's mood soured again. "I don't need help," he defied the Havendal of the house as he stuffed a big bite of bread in his mouth. "I don't need bandages either. I'm fine."

They both knew it wasn't true. He had been unreasonably cold and quiet to both of the lovers. Something was clearly bothering him, but it wouldn't yet come to the surface. Instead, Finn continued to eat, practically shoving the food in his mouth and barely bothering to chew. He'd grown a bit taller since Fridgar had first met him and his capacity for food had grown tenfold alongside his length.

"Bmwesides," he continued as he lowered himself to his knees to clean up the shattered bottle, "ywou're shwmit awt bwandwagwes."

[Alistair]

It had been a long day at Kaelserad, and Lord was he tired. Dealing with the usual patients plus one incredibly vitriolic Ren never failed to drain the life from him.

While he wanted to come home early to see his love, he'd decided to dedicate a break and a half or so to Ralaith, teaching young Kriger - Kinderkrigers they were called - about education and what it meant for the advancement of a society. They gathered around him in the gardens of the Fallen Brother Hospice, and he revealed to them just what their lack of discipline had wrought. Tens, if not hundreds of men and women strewn about on the floor, wailing and dying. As he witnessed it all, he prayed, though he prayed to a different God than the other pious youth he'd brought with him. Ralaith.

It was a dark lesson - a painful one for many, but now they knew. There was more to life than fighting, killing and financial enterprise. There was room for growth in medicine, in chemistry, physics, biology, even psychology. Alistair had, of late, strongly considered launching a school of academic thought in Aedirn. Perhaps the young men - and at least one girl - before him would be enough aspirant students to keep the whole thing afloat.

"...this, young ones, is the future of your society, particularly now that the Horde has gone to war. Before long, the Fallen Brother Hospice will not have enough room even if you conscript the yards, gardens and surrounding buildings. We'll need real hospitals, with doctors who are not so overworked that they can't handle even a fraction of the patients. If you are interested, young ones, I would teach all of you medicine. And more than that. I'll teach you how to do right by your people in a way that isn't all obsessed with the death of your enemies. There's more to preserving a culture than killing everyone that isn't a part of it," he stated, rather obviously for many in the outside world, but apparently not so clear here.

Still, this really had become his home. The fact that he considered opening a school in Aedirn was proof of that - Kael and Aedirn would become his bases of operation, with which to bring health, wisdom and guidance to the younger generation of Lotharro. The things he'd teach them, they wouldn't forget, because they would last lifetimes to come.

Finally, however, his time with the young ones had ended and he returned home, to the House of Buggery. Immediately after reaching the door and turning his key to open it, however, he was met with the sound of crashing and clattering. The mage sighed, not nearly ready to face whatever laid within.

Finn, aggressively scarfing down a sandwich and talking while doing so. The noble's years of etiquette-based indoctrination immediately plunged forward, and before either of the two would've even known of his presence, he spoke.

"Finn, don't talk while your mouth is full," the mage stated, stepping into view of both of them as he removed his silken collar and tie and placed his brocade vest on a rack. He still wore tight silken black trousers and a formal white shirt, but alas, he could breathe.

"It's good to see you, honey," the mage whispered, maneuvering over the broken glass and spilled milk to greet his husband with a kiss. "I don't know what the hell I'm arriving home to, though. Finn looks like he was rolled down a hill, there's milk and glass on the floor, and I can't find Kaise-... uh, Kleine, he wants me to call him. Is he out in the garden, or something?" he questioned, looking out through the glass pane window and seeing... nothing.

"Hrm," the mage whispered, before shrugging.

"Finn, I'd normally guess you were the one to break the glass, but you can never know with my husband," Alistair shot a curious glance to his mate. "If you did drop that, I expect you to clean it."

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 83rd of Ymiden, 717

"Fwinn dwont twalk while ywour mwouth isw fwull," he parroted while bobbing his head from side to side to emphasize the words. For completeness' sake he let out the type of annoyed sigh that children specialized at, making their parents think they had just said or done something profoundly dumb. After an additional, well-practised eye-roll, he stood up and obliged, taking the half-eaten bread out of his mouth and putting it down on top of Fridgar's new cloak on the counter.

In an utterly futile attempt to appear modestly presentable to the stern noble, Finn wiped nose his with his sleeve and gave his hair a quick comb with his hand. After having done so he hopped atop the counter and sat down, his feet dangling just above the floor. It was easier to talk to Fridgar this way and avoided straining his neck. He hadn't forgotten about the broken bottle as evidenced by the smirk he sent Fridgar's way. "He did it. He made me drop it!" he pointed out to Alistair. Having freed himself from cleaning duty, he picked up his sandwich again and stuffed the rest of it down his mouth before letting out a short burp. Alistair wouldn’t like it, he knew. He had half a mind to hop off the counter and vanish into his room but in the end, chose to remain instead, muttering a quick apology before his expression shifted to an unusual seriousness.

"I have to tell you something," he started. Now that those accursed words were behind him, he could get on with it. "You have both saved me, spared me, more than once." His face grew serious as he eyed the two lovers. "I never thanked you for that... I wouldn’t know how to. I don't have much to give you, but when I saw you together at your wedding, something stirred in me. I can't explain it, but I feel that our paths have crossed for a reason." Had a sincere thank-you been bothering him all this time? It seemed absurd to think so.

"But... I don't feel at home here. Your people are very strict," he said to Fridgar. "I miss being free, I miss wandering the streets without being looked or sneered at. And what's worse, I don't understand a thing they say. I might as well be deaf." He shook his head. "They don't want me here, they think I'm weird, but I think they're weird. It doesn't work out..."

He hung his head in defeat as he slid of the counter. For a moment he froze, as though lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he launched himself at Alistair, jumping up up and swinging his arms around the noble's neck in a wild but affectionate hug. The noble would know this sudden show of affection to be the purest, most sincere gesture Finn had ever made since they first met. Hanging from Alistair's neck, he whispered a "thank you" in the noble's ear.

Fridgar was not excluded from the heart-to-heart as Finn embraced him next, but not long after he'd muttered his thanks, Fridgar would feel the small frame starting to tremble and hear snivelling near his ear.

More sudden than the embrace itself came the tears, flooding down Finn’s cheeks, washing away all the horrors he had faced. Some tears were happy tears, some were for what he'd seen in Argos, and others for the pains he'd endured during his short career as a poacher. Some tears he shed for his sister who was so far removed from him mow, and some tears he shed for Molly, his only real friend, who he might never see again. Some tears rolled down his cheeks because he was angry, angry with himself for how ungrateful he had been, and angry at the Lotharro horde who had imprinted such horrors on him. Yet the key of the entire upset didn't reveal itself until Finn had stopped shaking uncontrollably and between ragged breaths, managed to force a few words past his throat. "I've-" he croaked, "I've got to go. I've got to leave!"

He had never told anyone about his letter before, but now he had no choice. He let go of Fridgar and, without thinking, used Fridgar's new cloak to dab his eyes dry. "I'm sorry I am so selfish, but I have to find my father..." he sputtered before handing them his greatest treasure from his innermost pocket: the two torn pieces of his mother's letter.


Ooc: sorry for the bomb. This just came pouring out. I didn't foresee it, but I think it's right.

[Varthakh]

No, Fridgar hadn't noticed when Finn had dropped his glass of milk, he was too excited. The observant Lothar hadn't really noticed how quiet Finn had been compared to the boy he found in Etzos that trial. Finns startled reaction and fast beating heart only made his chuckle grow to a hearty laugh; he'd had the human boy good. But that glee soon faded with the recognition of Finns misadventures.

Finn struck first? A toothy grin parted his lips. Yes! Excellent! Finn was going to be a mighty warrior some trial, just like Fridgar and Alistair! Though something the boy said caught his attention. 'They'. Just how many kids had Finn fought? From the sounds of things, just the two. "They're wussies," Fridgar commented, not seeming to care that he was talking about children. They were more than likely reborn, regardless, just fully-grown men in the bodies of children. "If two Lothar need to team up on a human then they're probably defective..." Fridgar nodded with closed eyes before opening them, startled. "No offense, of course!" he realised the error of his remark, calling humans weak and all.

When Finn spoke the result of the fight, Fridgar's paws were clenched passionately into fists, his eyes were alight with something ferocious, looking Finn in the eye without realising it. "Yes, Finn!" Fridgar bellowed, overcome with pride. "You showed them no good punks what for! By the creator, I'm so proud!" The giant slammed his balled fist into the counter of the kitchen, enticing a groan and unforeseen snapping from the woodwork. He beamed at the boy, joyous as all hell. He seemed about ready to throw a party in celebration of Finn's victory.

Except, Finn didn't seem quite so joyous or celebratory. He insisted on keeping up his hard-as-fuck visage and denied medical treatment. Something seemed... off, though he couldn't put his claw on what exactly. Fridgar's head tilted to the side and his paw ran down the ropes of his beard, considering what had just happened. "Is everything Alright, Finn?" he spoke suddenly, his tone suddenly a lot heavier with seriousness. "I know we haven't been talking much recently, are you-?" The boy insulted his bandages. "HEY!" Fridgar barked, suddenly furious. "MY BANDAGES ARE WAY BETTER NOW, YOU'LL SEE!!" Fridgar opened a nearby cupboard and violently yanked a roll of cotton bandage from it before unwinding the first half a meter and approaching Finn with intent.

The Lothar's attention span was astounding. He appeared to have already forgotten about the seriousness of the conversation they were about to embark on. Instead, he was now intent on applying the best bandage he could to the cheeky human's face. Alistair proved his attention span to be garbage when his voice alone managed to sway his focused gaze from the boy and to the doorway of the kitchen. Alistair stood there, home from whatever it was he was doing. "My rose!" Fridgar spoke as though nothing had ever happened. The Lothar was excitable and easily flitted from one point of interest to the other without questioning why, Alistair might recognise.

Alistair's lips met his as Finn made a poor impression of Alistair, who had told him not to speak with his mouth full. Fridgar tilted his head in a scowl to the boy, a type of look that said: 'Listen to Alistair or you'll catch a smack'. He turned his attention away from the boy a trill or two later and focused completely on his mate who seemed to be confused, asking what had happened and where Kaiserion Kleine was. Fridgar shuddered, muttering a single word under his breath at the memory of the twink Lothar. Nope.

"Umm, I don't know, not here?" Fridgar offered an uncertain smile, baring his teeth. Where even was Kleine? He looked about the room, as though expecting him to be hiding in one of the cupboards or something before meeting eyes with the soggy half-eaten bread on his Hound Cloak. Fridgar's eyes widened and his jaw dropped, horror claiming his expression. His head turned to Finn with betrayal in his eyes. Maybe he shouldn't have scowled at the unruly human boy? And then, after having his cloak ruined and Alistair accuse him of breaking things, he was sentenced to clean up duty. What the fuck?

Fridgar looked to the milk and broken glass, lip quivering. Was it 'bully Fridgar trial' or something? He felt bullied. When did the broken glass of milk even happen? This just wasn't fair. Sighing, Fridgar knelt and started picking up the pieces of glass, placing them in his bare palm. It was probably for the best that Finn didn't clean this. He might have hurt himself, Fridgar could regenerate with a touch, but Finn couldn't. That and... he didn't feel comfortable putting the child in harm’s way. As he began to clean up, Finn recollected his sandwich, finished it and then proceeded.

He had something to tell them? Fridgar looked to the boy as he collected the finer shards of glass. Somehow, he still hadn't cut himself on them. Finn spoke his appreciation for the two, gratitude over everything that they'd done for him. It really wasn't a problem, Finn should know that. "There's nothing to get so serious about, we've enjoyed having you," he spoke with sincerity. Even if he couldn't speak for Alistair, he'd rather enjoyed having Finn around. The human was lots of fun, even when he was being a brat.

But... Finn wasn't happy. He didn't like it in Gauthrel, which was fine. Gauthrel was very particular in taste, but it could grow on him, right? He could learn Haltunga and keep beating down other kids that picked fights with him, right? He would only get stronger, Fridgar could teach him, train him, right? It doesn't work out... the boy said, Fridgar sighed, looking to the puddle of milk. Finn wanted to leave, this he knew. Fridgar stood as Finn dropped from the counter. He poured the handful of broken glass from his palm and onto the table. He'd deal with it later.

Before he could react, Finn launched himself at the noble and wrapped his comparably small arms around the noble in a tight hug, whispering something to him that he didn't quite hear. As saddening as it was that Finn wanted to leave, he couldn't help but smile at the display. They'd had some fun the past dozen trials or so; saving Finn, attending their wedding, returning home and taking the boy in, sharing stories, scaring him at every given opportunity. To think that he was going to be gone felt... empty.

Soon after Alistair's hug, Finn hugged Fridgar, shaking in the embrace. Watery eyes turned to face Alistair before Fridgar reached down and lifted the boy from the floor, taking him into a full Fridgar hug. He'd rest the boy on his chest as he held back a sob. Finn's crying didn't really help in his resolve to remain strong, either. But he was the adult in this situation, it's what was expected of him. So, he simply hugged the boy tighter and closed his eyes, rubbing the boy's back with his large paw, trying to coax out as much of Finn's tears as possible. He needed to let it out.

Fridgar managed to compose himself rather well before Finn choked out some words. He needed to go? Right now? Tentatively, he put the human boy down... only for him to dry his tears with Fridgar's cloak. He didn't mind, he could just get a new cloak. Finn though, he couldn't, wouldn't find a new Finn. The boy then handed over two pieces of paper after announcing that he had to go and... find his father. Fridgar looked away, honestly having forgotten that he might have had a real dad. He let Alistair take the pieces of paper, he was the better reader after all.

"We-" Fridgar's voice came out frail, dry, laced with pain. He would cough hard into closed lips and clear his throat before trying again "Well, you can't just walk out of Gauthrel. You nearly died on your way in, Finn." Fridgar shook his head, he wouldn't allow it. If Finn was leaving, he was leaving prepared. "Give us a couple of trials and I can get you some gear for the road. I'm sure we'll be able to rope Kleine into helping out too..." Fridgar had gone about this logically, somehow. "Finn, thanks for sticking around for the rest of this season. I know I wasn't home much with the white silence and Argos and everything, but..." Fridgar choked, rubbing his mismatched eyes with a large paw. "It's... It's been awesome, Ratbag."

Fuck. Tears had already began streaming down his cheeks, moistening his face. Having himself say goodbye really set it in his heart that Finn was leaving, this was reality and he couldn't escape it. At most, he could manage another two trials with the boy, but what happened after that? When would they meet next?

[Alistair]

Finn wanted to leave, and by every metric, it appeared that he was expressing the desire sincerely. There were tears streaming down his cheeks, and genuinely, he believed that Uthaldria was not a fit for him. He was mistreated for what he was, rather than who he could have been. The men of Gauthrel were almost exclusively cocky, thinking others incapable of matching them. He'd proven Halden wrong about that, however, and soon enough humans like Alistair, Robin, Aeon and Finn would prove all of these men wrong.

Still, it must've been difficult as a child, especially after how they found him. Nearly dead, bloodied, under a fallen corpse with a winged beast prevailing over them. He'd endured so much since arriving in this land, witnessing the atrocities of war and countless deaths. For a child, he'd been exposed to far too much. In fact, Alistair would not have been content for even the most capable adults to have seen what Finn had. All of it - it was pointless, aimless. It only served to deter his innocence, to jade him from far too young an age.

Alistair wanted Finn to enjoy his life. He wanted him to see beauty he hadn't, and seek something greater than himself. The noble and his husband were both restrained and abused for much of their early lives - it did not need to be so for Finn. Genuinely, the mage cared. He told him that at the battle, and - it seemed Finn knew. Understood. It was why he landed upon him, holding the mage tightly and whispering a sorrowful 'thank you' into his ear.

Shortly thereafter, Fridgar held him, offering him a firm and thoughtful embrace as the two got sappy with one another. The mage's brow dropped, as he frowned. It was adorable, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of aching inside. Alistair didn't want to see Finn go - for some strange reason... he found that he loved him, like family. He felt responsible for him, and most of all, he felt that having him here was right. Like it was supposed to be this way.

While Fridgar vowed his safety if he left, Alistair did not want for him to go. The letter didn't matter to him.

"Finn," Alistair whimpered, voice low and suppressed. "You know--" his tone rose, more clear, "I think our paths crossed for a reason, too. I've felt a kinship with you ever since I saw your body beneath the fury of that Albion. It was so perfect, wasn't it? A lone child, surviving where dozens of men failed, delivered into our arms. And again... before I found any other child in Argos, I found you. It was always you," the mage stated, shaking his head. He didn't want Finn to leave. He wanted to discover that link.

Fridgar cried, but Alistair didn't. He was close to, but - he didn't, regardless. It wasn't productive. The boy needed to know of the mage's feelings, unmarred by tears or whimpers.

"I know that you have to find your father, but--" he paused, biting on his lower lip. It felt almost wrong to say it, to utter such words so easily. But he had to.

"I could be your father, Finn. We could be your fathers. Kindad and havendad," he laughed, the titles coming naturally to him. Really, though, it was only a method of obscuring what he knew might have been great heartache.

"And we can live in Kaelserad, in Aedirn - say goodbye to the city. There's a big forested garden north of town, free from monsters... and miles of rolling hills untouched by danger. The people there are nicer, kinder. They've not given me their ire for being a human, only their appreciation for closing their wounds. You'd be happier, I know you would. Maybe... we can try?" he asked. Perhaps Alistair sounded desperate, but he didn't want Finn to go. What if he never saw him again?

Every time a loved one parted ways, and distance consumed them, he never saw them again. They either died, or they changed. And usually, they died. Not Finn, though. He was a child, he was barely known by this world. Alistair didn't want him to go. Not yet.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

"No."

[Alistair]

Finn didn't want to stay. Alistair couldn't make him. None of the boys in Uthaldria were like him -- so few even had that mischievous air at all. They were rough, fighters through and through. They were born to kill, born to hunt, born to attempt to surpass one another in the sheerness of physical combat alone. The world they lived in was cruel, and so they became crude from the very beginning. Finn knew, and Alistair knew, that it ultimately wasn't going to work. So instead, the mage agreed to come to Etzos -- some time -- with Fridgar. Fridgar, who wanted a child, who Alistair intended to have a life with.

The mage spent so much time looking forward to the future, that he'd forgotten to look within the present; the now. Uthaldria was a beautiful place.

He never knew that he was destined to leave it, and likely, to never return. He never would've wished to say goodbye. But here he was; wandering mindlessly while he had everything he'd ever wanted, still seeking more. Finn got away from him, and he wasn't the first thing or the last. In the coming cycles, more and more would continue to slip from his grasp, and he would never know of what to do. He was bound to such a life - it was his destiny, that always followed him.

And that was okay, he supposed. He would continue to fail, to lose, to wander. That was a Rupturer's life. It was his life, ineffable... lovely, mangled, handsome, gnarled, cruel and yet benign. Alistair would always remember this sad parting as one of his last trials in Uthaldria, the place he'd loved more than anywhere else - yet a place that reminded him far too much of Fridgar to ever be returned to.

[Caius Gawyne]

Here's your sarding thread review already.

Alistair

Points

XP:
15 | These points cannot be used for magic.

Renown:
N/A

Goodies

N/A

Consequences

N/A

Knowledges

Skill Knowledge:
None requested.

Other Knowledge:
None requested.

Finn

Points

XP:
15 | These points cannot be used for magic.

Renown:
N/A

Goodies

N/A

Consequences

N/A

Knowledges

Skill Knowledge:
None requested.

Other Knowledge:
None requested.

Comments

Dead thread, but lots of feels. You've all met your 1500 word allotment, so enjoy your points!

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Be not afraid of greatness:
Some are born great, some achieve greatness,
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em.

- Malvolio | Shakespeare's Twelf Night (II, v, 156-159)