forum A Young God and Their Fae (o/o)

Started September 30, 2021 by @tungsten fastfood

tune

Arenwyn hummed and nodded, putting it on his vacant to-do list, though his nose curled at the idea of going out during the day. "The River of Hinae it is, then. Not a fan of losing sleep over this task, and especially after you've stolen my herbs. Of course it had to be my one good reed, and not one of the others." He rolled his eyes and playfully jabbed at Phorae's side, silver rings clicking together. "Thank you, though. Your advice has never failed me, and I appreciate your aid." The only reason he was so dedicated to the Gods, so vexed by the thought of never finding the newest addition to the pantheon. That God, that one entity, was the center of his life. Everything he built himself out of came from the desire to know everything about that one God. The mystery of their origins, the deafening silence, and lack of ready answers drove him to find everything he could. Perhaps one could call it an obsession, and he wouldn't refute the sentiment, but he personally wouldn't call it that.
It was a hunt.

"Oh please, Wyn, you needed to be taken off of this to possibly be the only Fae to meet the new God. You need not be faded, lost in reality, when looking them in the eyes. Besides, you're right, this is a fantastic reed. I appreciate you giving it up so easily." He laughed as he was pushed, coughing a couple times after. "You try to kill me, my dear. You could get there at moon high if you go now. You might have a harder time looking for the river, and do not hold me accountable when you fall into the water." They laughed again, puffs of smoke leaving their lips like a sputtering, dying fire. "But good luck on your hunt. Just remember, if you disappear, I will blame it on the Gods. They have taken you for their own. I am jealous of that sometimes." They glance over to the group of gasping younglings, shaking his head slowly. "Those warlocks are going to put ideas into their heads. But perhaps we need the young ones studying tomes. It would assure us that there will be ones close to the Gods when my generation passes on."

He snorted, an undignified sound, and waved his hand in dismissal. "Reality is far too dull to face unaided and sober. Who knows—maybe laying my eyes upon a God will bring me to my end without my herbs. They may just save my life, and you're depriving me of my saviour." His grin couldn't be stopped. Arenwyn knew very well that he might not come back. He might not succeed, and end up back in isolation after his failure. But he might also succeed and ultimately end up angering the Gods. The quest he put himself on only made one promise—to be difficult and unexpected. "Don't be so jealous. The consequences of being in their attentions is the very real chance of doing something that angers them, and disappearing. And being a convenient puppet."

Phorae rolled his eyes, waving his hands at the other, much more dramatic Fae. "You are going to become the stuff of legends and you're complaining about being sober as you go do so. Go chase that new God before I do so myself and fall apart due to my old age." They puffed a lungful of smoke in his face, tossing his head. "I'll tell the others that you went to get more rest. The other clerics would not be happy about you getting instructions from the Gods. Jealous, just like me." Phorae laughed slowly and affectionately, patting his shoulder. "If you take too long I'll look for you. How about that." He winked after his promise, waving a gentle hand in his direction, with a low yawn and a big stretch. "Good luck, though, my dear. You are the starting of a strange, long story. I will be sure to write it down for you."

Wyn, no matter how much he lamented through his dramatics that Phorae was horrible or whatever came to mind, did adore the Fae. He'd always adore and keep the older Cleric in his mind and prayers. He smiled wistfully and pushed himself up to stand, playfully ruffling the Fae's hair. "Make sure it's in song, and that your jealousy and awe is clear. Wouldn't want people thinking you encouraged my foolishness. But I do request eloquent writing. Only the best for me."

He cast his gaze over the others. Indeed, they'd be jealous. Arenwyn didn't want to know how they'd react if they knew what he was doing, least of all if he actually succeeded. Hell, he didn't know what he'd do if he succeeded. Probably die.

(You may!)

"Oh yes, it will be sung by only the best, and by my own hand I shall play the lute to your sorrowful passing. Do your best to not irritate the Gods too much though, my dear Wyn. We shan't need any more dramatics from the young ones." Pho smiled up at the other Fae as he stood up, affection gleaming clearly in his dark brown eyes. He tossed his green hair out of his eyes after it was ruffled, swaying that smoke back and forth in his left hand, shaking his head in that tutor like way.
"But go now. Don't be surprised if you come back to all of us doing the same thing. That is, if you survive." Their eyes squinted in their laugh, pure mischief ringing in his voice. "Just kidding. I will pray for your safety. Know there is one brain thinking of you."

He tipped his head to the moon, eyes closing briefly with a wistful smile dancing at his lips. "At least there will be one functioning brain." Nodding in farewell, Arenwyn said goodbye to his friend and made his way through the Elven gathering. They may or may not notice his absence, but that was the least of his problems and worries at the moment.

Wyn tugged at his sleeves, fixing his silks, as he trudged through the trees. Every once and a while, he'd affectionately scrape his nails against the bark of a tree he'd pass. A part of him still hoped that the Gods continued to look after them, continued to protect them from the bad. Maybe it was foolish to believe when they refused to even speak to the Fae they protected. But he couldn't help but hope for some good in a world of uncertainty and abandoned silence.

Minutes. Hours. He didn't bother with trying to keep track of time while he walked through the trees to the River of Hinae. The churches passed by his view, and he kept going. The lazy river hardly gave off a sound, so it wasn't much surprise when he tripped and found himself knee-deep in its depths.

But it didn't stop the slew of very choice words from spilling from his lips.

"Son of a– Týetgha's arse, that's cold. It has absolutely no business being that cold." Wyn cut himself off mid-tangent, ears perked when hushed whispers caught his attention. No words, not this time; only excited ghosts of gossips cupping his ears and willing him to pay attention.

A God walked among them tonight.

Grumbling more quietly, but still put off by the little mishap, Wyn pulled himself from the riverbank and onto the nicely dry shore. He fell to his knees, a hand tightly clasped around the symbol hanging at his neck, and closed his eyes while bowing his head. His free hand dipped the tips of his fingers into the river's water, willing the connection to guide his words to a listening ear.

"O moon and twisting leaves, protect my spirit and guide my plea. Lend me the eyes of a God, unveil those cloaked, and may I be a servant of their wishes. I seek only this, so might my karma be merciful and fair." His words tapered off in a breathy whisper, the anticipation of what was to come leaving him breathless. This is it, he thought, this is when my fate is sealed by the Gods.

A giggle of ghosts and spirits surrounded Wyn as he prayed by the river, the hush of the quiet water, strong by the stones but meekly babbling over the tops and splashing about, frolicking in the moonlight.
Like the water in the moonlight, Gods play tricks on their subjects, allowing them to see what is unseen and blind them to what should be possible. A prayer allows even the smallest of Fae to cross this line, to peer into a God's world and see everything for themselves. The prayer is not well known, however. It has been kept a secret and passed between hands between generations.
A final, decersive laugh rang out among all the others, and Wyn could hear the splashes of river water. Stones being skipped along the surface and clicking against each other if not skillfully thrown enough.
By which these stones were thrown was no other but a God Wyn did not recognize. They had skin comparable to the softest of lavender, gleaming silvery in the moon kissing them from between the branches of the canopy above. Their white hair also matched this color and seemed to be the moon itself from Wyn's angle down the river, tied into a long ponytail draped over their shoulder, which was bare other than a silken shirt with small straps connecting to their arms. Their eyes were equally as strange as the rest of them, one seemingly completely empty and blind, and the other a soft blue. Long pants with wet cuffs hugged hips and thighs, swinging with their naturally relaxed composure.
This God, especially to devout Arenwyn, was completely unrecognizable. Yet somehow, the Fae was able to understand that this was the subject of his prayers, held in his thoughts for many years and more.

For a moment, the sounds of skipping stones and laughter drew his curiosity and confusion. He wondered where it came from, and who could possibly be partaking in such a mundane activity while sounding so joyous. But then a figure became known to him, and his eyes locked onto the God.

The God quite literally of his dreams.

Wyn seemed to shrink in on himself without actually making the movement, redness creeping past the collar of his shirt and outstandingly noticeable from his pure white skin—and even blooming along the tips of his ears. For years, he had devoted himself to finding the new God, and guiding them through whatever they needed from him while gathering as much information on them, and the other Gods, as possible, including the reasoning for their disappearance. It had been his life's purpose. And with that purpose, came an image, and he was staring right at that near identical image. Somehow, though, he laid his eyes upon an even better version than the one conjured by nights of boredom and loneliness.

His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. Only a tiny squeak slipped through, and it was probably more humiliating than a lack of words. Arenwyn covered his mouth with his now freezing hand and cleared his throat while hastily standing. "U-um. Hi–hello. Hello," he corrected, his tone forcefully calm, even if he was everything but. Was his heart racing? Because it felt non-existent, and he didn't fancy an undignified death such as one brought by a miniature and senseless panic.

This God kept enjoying their small session of enjoyment until they were interrupted, moving their head in the direction of Wyn, as if actually seeing him for the first time as well. Hidden in the crafted shadows before, now came to light. Long antlers, the color of mottled, sanded bone shone instead, casting lined shadows down onto the wide head and across much longer ears than a normal fae's. They cupped in on each other, but still had plenty of piercings and markings of royalty. The silver danced and bumped up against additional hair. Also laying on their shoulders were two braids, dark black and stark against the white, so much so that it was easily disguised as a shadow.
"Mm– hello. I don't believe I have ever seen a Fae such as yourself up close before," The God rumbled curiously, a voice matching their appearance. Not quite feminine, but not masculine either. Fitting into that perfectly warm and homely voice that one could snuggle in to if need be. Their eyes locked after they observed the mortal across the stream, head tilted curiously with their jewelry clinking into the tense silence between them.

Never had Wyn wanted anything to do with the coupling he had observed around him. There wasn't a clear purpose to tie himself to someone else when he proved perfectly fine on his own. But, he supposed, never did he meet a creature so seemingly crafted for his eyes to rest upon during weary or lonely times; and, for just a moment, he forgot the status of this very creature, this beautiful and unfairly attractive creature. The utter otherness, the pointed signs saying 'they are not one of you', only made him all the more painfully drawn to the wonder standing at the river with him.

With a jolt, he silently reprimanded himself for thinking such thoughts about a God. Now he decides to indulge in the idea of lovers, and with a God of all Fae. Stupid. He clasped his hands at his neckband's borne symbol and bowed his head ever so slightly, peering up through his lashes and biting at his lip in trepidation. "I am Arenwyn." Say something proper. Say something proper. Say someth– "You are?" Dammit.

They shifted under their own weight, standing up to meet Wyn officially, their head still tilted as they observed the Fae shuffle their feet and grow red in the face.
"It is nice to meet you, Arenwyn. I am Seonastra, supposedly a God no one has ever seen before, but I don't believe that." Seonastra launched across the river to meet Arenwyn, legs bunching up as they lept almost like a deer, matching that same elegance as their clothes flowed in the strong presence of light, sparkling and gleaming like a breadth of stars choosing to dance around them.
They landed steadily next to the Fae, not standing much taller than him as their eyes met, bodies stood and swayed together, and Wyn was truly able to meet his God for the first time. They were more than curious to see him for themselves, and now up close, Wyn was able to see that Seonastra was more than real. Their features were long and sharp like that of a Fae, as though they had collected the general population and take the average features just for themselves. Rounded, hooded eyes encasing those strange pupils, one empty but with a lone pupil matching its right brother in moving and skating across the petrified Fae's face.

His mouth opened to reply, but the words caught in his throat when the God leaped over the river like it was nothing, and now stood close to him, in his space. He couldn't breathe. Daggered vines of conflicting thoughts and emotions slithered into his lungs and dared him to take a too deep breath. One wrong move, one wrong desire, and he'd collapse into nothing but a sorry excuse of a legend.

Arenwyn sucked in a breath, hands twitching against the urge to touch, to feel just how real this illusion was—for it could only be that, or else he'd never forgive himself for being so idiotic and childish—and finally worked up some coherent words when he brought his gaze up and into the strange eyes of Seonastra. "…Perhaps it may not be true," Wyn allowed slowly, thoughtfully, "in the sense that some might have unknowingly saw you. But." Again, he tugged at the symbol with his fingers. "But, I have never come across you before, and can't say others have either. I would've heard." I would've remembered a telling of an encounter with such an enchanting creature, is what he meant.

Seonastra smiled a few moments after Arenwyn logicked his way around a quite absurd claim, revealing a set of teeth almost like Wyn's own. Small, pointed fangs hung over their lips once the smile faded a bit, one chipped and digging into the soft blue skin it found on their lips.
"I think I have heard of you at some point. Your voice sounds familiar. It is one I have heard almost all of my life. The other Gods say it is quite an important one. That I had to find the water to which flows the source. I did not know it would bring me to such a gentle creature." They shifted a bit closer, now consciously deciding to step into the bubble of Wyn, their breath tangible on his skin as they observed the being completely different, but some how the same, as them. It was now that Wyn could catch scents of sweet flowers and hazy dreams floating off of this God, tickling the nose and soothing the brain, as if mimicking the feeling of having a blanket wrapped around oneself. Skin barely missed each other as the wind kept swaying them with it, the buzzing uncomfort of someone not quite close enough to touch skating across the senses.

"Gentle?" The word sputtered out of him before he could proofread his thoughts, and the words that had introduced the adjective finally caught up to him. 'It is one I have heard almost all of my life.' "I–What?" Him? Important? And how had Seonastra, a God, heard him most of their life? Had his prayers been heard? Or just his thoughts? This entire encounter baffled him, and he only clammed up even more when the God sidled even closer to him, a hair's breadth away.

His lips popped open just a fraction, but no sound slipped through. Arenwyn became far too consumed by the solidifying feeling of Seonastra's breath on his skin, the dizzying comfort of their scent somehow settling into his bones in a wash of peace, and the taunting proximity between them. A part of him wanted to lean back, to regain his personal bubble; but the other wanted to lean into the space and close it, just to completely reassure himself of the realness of the being before him—just for that, of course, no other possible reason. Wyn blinked several times and settled for nervously playing with his cotton collar, as if that would fix the panic building within his chest and squashing down any sort of reason he managed to muster.

"Yes, gentle. Such a sweet, strange Fae I have been assigned." Seonastra rose a pair of hands, to cup the cheeks, firm and high on the Faeish features, moving Wyn's head back and forth as if to certainly confirm for themselves that they were looking at an actual one of his subjects. Their hands were surprisingly cold to the touch, kind of like the bite if river water when one first jumps in. Their hands were moved after a few moments and the God stepped back, smiling a little wider now in the face of Wyn.
"Oh yes. Mother always used to talk about a Fae who was destined to be my partner in adventuring and such. To find and pair the Gods back together. She said he was most devoted to me." Seon grinned ear to ear, seemingly overjoyed at finally meeting Wyn in person as they connected the dots. "I am glad to have finally found you. As I am sure you feel the same way, since I have been keeping an eye on you, trying to guide your hand to the right direction. Father says you are quite the stubborn cleric. I couldn't help but agree with him." Seon laughed, a sound tinkling yet sharp and piercing through the still, dark night.

Too much. This is far too much for me to handle. Though Seonastra's hands were cold, the bite barely penetrated the flaming heat in his cheeks as his blush flared to an extreme. His own hands curled into his chest in uncertainty, while he let his face be maneuvered however the God wished. This wasn't going how he had planned. The plan was to summon this God, be a guiding cleric, seek out information on the whereabouts of the other Gods, and go from there. It wasn't to be a bumbling and blushing idiot while basking in the compliments of a being he had devoted his entire life to. But that didn't stop the flutter of disappointment when Seonastra released him and moved away. Arenwyn cleared his throat and rubbed at his nose shyly. "Yes, I am… words can't begin to describe how glad I am to finally meet you. You've been looking over me?" He could've had all the control in the world, but the hope and childish joy at the thought of being looked after by his God couldn't be contained. They seeped into his words and tugged at his lips, betraying his feelings, but all hope had been lost long ago to hide away how he felt.

"Of course I have. Why wouldn't I? It is my job to look over the few followers I have." Seonastra settled back down to a seated position next to the river, waving their legs idly back and forth over the water, patting the ground next to them to invite Wyn.
"I was hoping to meet you in person once you got around to it. You never seem to remember the dreams I give you, and you ignore my voice when I called you to find the river. I think the dreams thing might have been my fault, but… hmm I'm happy to see you now. You are really most interesting to observe up close when you know I am here. I expected you to be much more calm about this, you know? Not that I am complaining. I think the behavior you exhibit is most adorable, especially when the cheeks get red. But please, have a seat, please ask me any questions you may have about me since you do not know me nearly as well as I know you."
Their amicable, calm presence did not falter for a second, especially as their bright eyes refused to leave the face of Wyn, as if enraptured by the image of a real mortal, destined to be by their side forever. Out of everything in this beautiful night, Wyn was the one Seonastra set their eyes on.

"Ah." Wyn breathed a sigh of relief when he regained his personal bubble, though he complied and joined the God next to the river, his knees pulled up to his chin. His face soured for a brief second as he grumbled, "When the cheeks get red," but it smoothed back over into only faintly flushed neutrality. "Dreams are… difficult? That's the best way I can explain it. Most get forgotten into a fog as soon as you wake. And the ones we do remember tend to get twisted until they might as well be forgotten." He offered a slightly guilty smile and started twisted one of the silver rings on his fingers. "And the voices are–well, sometimes I hear things, but don't know what they're trying to say. Most times, usually. Others, I'm either too busy or don't feel like following puzzles."

Wyn rubbed at his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I have so many questions, I don't even know where to begin. How long have you been watching me? Why couldn't you approach me before on your own? And… you mentioned me being destined to be your partner?" So many things swirled through his mind now that he had the space to think. The cleric in him demanded he leech as many answers from Seonastra as possible while he could. But he also wanted to sit and stare in silent wonder.

"You know you are destined for great things, and yet you do not follow the signs of the Gods leading you to it?" Seonastra questioned, tilting their head to get a better look at the shy Wyn sitting next to him. "You had lamented of your sorrowful emptiness, yet passed on the voices telling you otherwise." They sat in silence with their own thoughts for a moment, still tilted in the head and those big eyes stuck on Wyn. "Interesting."
They took a few moments to shift on the riverside, brushing out their pants and readjusting themselves so their chest was pointed at Arenwyn, their full attention on him as he spoke.
"I could not approach you without that prayer. It allows you to see that which you have never seen before. You have ignored signs for so long I needed proof that you were indeed… Real. When you prayed to see me, you were granted the true eyes of a cleric, and you can see the spirits around you. I do not think this is something you have experienced before. You are quite a young Fae, but I know it works in some degree. And the other thing, that is just something mother mentions. I think she grew to like you, as you have stirred a lot of hubub among the pantheon. Something about a new generation of magic and understanding."

Seonastra might not have intended for their words to be weaponized. Logically, he knew they were only curious about the contradictions of his actions and words. But Wyn felt them like a blow to the stomach. Guilt. Failure. Regret. He swallowed them down and hid his face away in his knees to avoid looking at the God next to him, calmly pointing out what he could have done so long ago, but didn't.

"Oh," he whispered, trying to take it all in through the storm that was his mind. Should he justify himself? Explain? One quick glance at Seonastra, the God calmly staring at him, told him he wouldn't be judged in the way other clerics might—would. They most certainly would judge him. So he took a calming breath, moved into a proper sitting position with his legs folded, and began to speak.

"Knowing you are destined for something doesn't negate the feeling of emptiness. I have devoted my entire life to the Gods, you specifically, and for what?" He spotted a wilted, dying plant in front of him. From the size, it hadn't even reached its full life-span. Smiling sadly, he gently dug it out within a chunk of dirt, hugged it to his chest, and let his magic flow. "Little whispers that I can't decipher? The hollowness upon chasing a lead, only to find myself back at square one? The constant nagging feeling that maybe I should give up, because nothing I have done so far really matters?" His voice wavered, but he steeled himself and stared down at the fully bloomed and radiantly healthy flower in his hands, the numerous soft petals tickling his palms. "The only thing I've gotten is a reputation, jealousy, and isolation—both self-inflicted and by the rest of my kin." He nodded towards his God. "Until now, that is."

His eyes stayed glued to the flower in his hands, far too scared to look up at the being very capable of being angry with him for his lamenting.

Seon hadn't really meant to turn the words against Wyn, nor did they expect such a long winded lanentation, but how he reacted was really most entrancing to the God, their jewelry clicking as they messed with it between their long fingers.
"I am just saying it is quite interesting to me. You need not get mad or defensive over it." They half-closed their eyes willfully, humming to themselves. "If I spoke any louder, I would have ended up startling you. That is not something I want. But ultimately I suggest you start looking forwards. There will be many things you and I will need the utmost focus on if we are going to do what is required of us. Your self doubt in finding me can end here. You may still be an outcast, but you are working for the greater destiny of everyone else. I have started to get stir crazy around here, so I'm glad you finally found me. I have been itching to travel somewhere else." Seon exhaled slowly, shaking his head, the glimmering sheet of white hair gleaming blue and silver.

The level of calm and rationality the God displayed baffled Wyn, but it also temporarily put a damper on his frustrations. So, he heaved a heavy and relieving sigh, and nodded while gently petting the flower in his hands, careful to not spill too much of the dirt. "Of course." Sparing Seon a glance, he offered a smile and managed to keep his gaze directed at them. "Whatever you wish." The practiced response; the good cleric obedience to their Gods. It's what he wanted from the start, but lost his head the moment Seonastra was revealed to him. Their curiously mismatched eyes enraptured him, lured him into a sense of calm and comfort he wasn't prepared for. Really, everything about the God he imagined puzzled him, and tangled up his thoughts and intentions. He hoped it wouldn't be like this forever.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Wyn redirected the subject to Seon. "I'd imagine you'd have some place in mind where you want to go. And," his smile flashed a little brighter, if only for a second, "I'm not mad. Promise. My grievances aren't directed towards you."

"You must not have been exposed to Gods very much throughout your life," Seon murmured between the the few moments of thought Wyn had. "Which is understandable. You have probably been surrounded by stories of angry Gods who are nothing but savagely infuriated by the meddlings of the ones who know no better." Seon paused for a moment, setting a finger on their chin as if to stroke an invisible beard. "Which may be the case for some Gods, but not for most of us. We are patient and kind in that we understand you are not perfect. Especially me. I was willing to allow you to come to the natural conclusion that you were truly destined to meet me. That is what was important in the end." Seon set a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it affectionately as though soothing an old friend.
"You may release your grievances. I will help you to the path and greatness you were destined for. You need not worry about what is going to happen to you. It is safe within my hands now."