#cast me upon the fire and i'll blaze brighter // main verse.

[celestialdetected]

Being Sarenrae's champion comes with certain downsides, chiefly, the fact that Arawn has to travel, often leaving his children for months on end. He tries to take them with him as often as he can, its easier now that Rhiannon's a little older, but sometimes there are quests he wouldn't dare bring a child on.

Even if one of his children is a dragon.

He gets to his front door, a smile already spreading across his face. He's home. After these long, long months, he is home. He turns the key in the lock, feeling it catch in that familiar way, stuck for a split second right before it swung wide.

Rhia's at her music lessons. But Harry. Harry is here, sprawled out on the couch, reading a book. And oh, his son.

His son. Arawn loves him so much he thinks that he might burst.

"I'm home."

@inhcritance LIKED for a STARTER

[celestialdetected]

Arawn doesn't miss people all that much. Or, at the very least he's very good at pretending he doesn't miss people, of shoving that feeling down so deep he fools even himself. (The exception is Rhiannon, but she's the exception to every rule)

So, up until the moment he sees Florance, he's convinced he doesn't miss her in the slightest. And then he sees her, silhouetted in the doorway, their hair haloed by the setting sun, and he realizes.

Oh, how could he have ignored this ache for so long? This physical, bone deep ache of fondness and love and sorrow at being parted for so long. He's on his feet before he notices he stood up, and then he's launching himself towards them.

"Flo!" he calls, hugging her so tight it must hurt, then he pulls back and punches her shoulder. "You said you'd fucking write."

@saintsdawn LIKED for a STARTER.

[celestialdetected]

It was in that odd space between dreams that Arawn met the Champion of Ravens for the first time. He'd fallen asleep at camp, his new wings -spectral, incorporeal, still a heavy weight on his back. And now he walked in the void, between the stars where it was bitterly cold, and came across -a table.

It's set for tea, with a void-black teapot lacquered with gold and porcelain cups set around it. Unsure of what else to do, Arawn sits himself down and pours a cup.

Blood oozes, thick and sluggish, from the spout instead. And when Arawn averts his gaze, thoroughly disgusted, he locks eyes with the birdlike mask of the Champion.

Now, he's heard...some things about the Champion of Ravens, it's difficult to work either place he does; temple hopping, and picking through the criminal underbelly of Exandria, and to have not heard whispers of him. A nameless rogue turned follower of the Matron, turned something else after the dust settled in the wake of the Whispered One, there are rumors. Nothing concrete. Nothing Arawn put much stock in, until his own goddess began changing him.

'Champion' the Everlight calls him sometimes. And it terrifies Arawn that he has yet to understand what that means.

"....er, hello?" He tries, unsure of what to say. "Did you bring me here then?" He swallows the investigator's questions, the sarcastic comments, anything but deference. This man might not be a god, but he certainly isn't mortal anymore, and Arawn is smart enough to not go picking fights.

"Want some..er, blood tea?"

@storiesbreathed for VAX

[celestialdetected]

Arawn is suspicious when any wizard comes to his door. Especially a wizard in Rexxentrum. Perhaps that's unfair, but every morning he wakes up still tasting the ash of his village on his tongue, coating his throat until he's choking on phantom smoke. Every morning he wakes up knowing everyone he grew up is dead because some rich assembly of magic assholes decided that a village with no name wouldn't be missed, so he feels justified in being a little unfair.

He vaguely recognizes this wizard, he thinks he might be a teacher over at the Academy, he's seen him in the halls on the not-too-uncommon occurrence that one of his cases brings him over there. But hells if he can recall his name.

"What do you want?" he asks, it comes out gruffer and frankly meaner than he intended. Arawn doesn't particularly care, but just in case this man is a client he clears his throat; "I mean, what can I help you with?"

@feuerwizard LIKED for a STARTER

[celestialdetected]

Arawn allows his cheek to be pinched with all the grace of an irate toddler; that is he squirms immediately and rubs at the offending spot until it's red. He stills quickly, melting somewhat pathetically into Thanatos' arms as the god rests their forehead against his.

Gods, he loves this man. This being. This personification of life's end. He adores them so much it feels like he may split apart at the seams over it.

"I'm good," That hardly seems adequate. "Mostly trying to stay closer to home for Rhia's sake. I get called out to investigate the odd break-in, or heal an illness from time to time. It's steady work, I can't complain. How about you, my love? Surely something must have happened to keep us apart for so long."

"TCH!" they pinch arawn's cheek fondly. "how many a' mortal men have i met? think i have a fairly clear grasp on the extraordinary." the heroes and villains of old bore thanatos - the ones who commanded armies and destroyed entire kingdoms. the men like arawn, the ones who come from nothing and step forward simply because they are good, these are the ones who thanatos would see sonnets written about. he cradles arawn's cheek in a hand and bumps their forehead against his. "and you are extraordinary."

thanatos stands there silently for a long moment, simply holding arawn, tracing the line of his cheekbone with a thumb and soaking in his warmth. "how are you?"

[celestialdetected]

Arawn glared. He'd been reliably told that while his looks couldn't kill, they could maim. He gritted his teeth against the string of expletives threatening to come out of his mouth and sighed.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Don't kill the bard. Do not kill the bard. Do NOT kill the bard.

"I can disarm the traps if you are too lazy."

"How to stop it from being lethal?" Honor suggested with a cheeky smile, the bard with a Healing Word spinning above his fingertips. Their tail whipped back and forth behind them in amusement. "We can go take a nap if you need more spells, but you have to admit that walking through every trap in the dungeon is faster than trying and failing to disarm things."

[celestialdetected]

"A traveling circus?" Arawn raised an eyebrow. "That sounds interesting, were they any good?" Traveling circuses always seemed to be hit or miss in these parts. Staggeringly amazing, or terrifyingly awful. Sometimes even violent. Though Arawn hopes Harry would have lead with that if that was the case.

"And traveling bards! Unrelated? My, you two have been busy. I bet Rhia got a kick out of the bards." They've made their way onto the street and down the twisting cobblestone alleyway that leads to the little music school Rhia attends. Class is letting out, and he weaves his way around children and their families, looking for his daughter's blonde curls.

He sees her and breaks into a jog.

"There's my beautiful girl!" he crows, scooping her up into his arms, and delighting in her giggles. His family's complete. His daughter is in his arms and his son is at his side, and everything is right with the world.

"So, icecream?"

It's been some time, and time always passes slowly when there's distance, but it's not, Harry thinks, like routine has been missing too often. He still leans against Arawn, enjoying the familiar comfort of affection, and hums in consideration.

"There are a couple things," he tells Arawn, his smile amused, "I promised Rhia she could tell you about, herself." And he's not about to break his word, much less to his sister. "And we're not about to go on gallivanting on adventures without you."

He's happy to go when it's the three of them, but he wouldn't risk Arawn coming back to an empty house.

"But there was a travelling circus," he tells Arawn, as they walk the familiar streets. "And we did need to travel to the next city over to pick up a few books, last month, and the caravan ran into a troupe of traveling bards." He goes on. "All in all, there was little adventuring."

And he didn't mind that, not really. Not for a short while at the very least.

[celestialdetected]

Oh his boy. His strong, happy boy. Arawn takes a second to marvel at the way he shrugs off the sting of his birth father's rejection. Arawn knows, if it were him, such a blow would leave him lost in a sea of self-pity.

He likes that his son is stronger than him.

Arawn dusts off his own coat, tries to brush some of the road dirt off of it at the very least and slings an arm around his son. "Ice cream is on the horizon, nearly here I would say."

"Come, tell me everything I've missed and all the adventures you've had while I've been away."

Arawn is, with the exception of Rhia, the one and only person he'll ever allow to ruffle his hair. Especially without annoyance, without grumbling: he's willing to be far more undignified where it concerns his family.

And, moreover, he knows Arawn and Rhia both: he's eager to see them meet again, and he knows he'll treasure this memory, like he treasures many others.

All in all, his blood father would have called it weakness, and Harry has long stopped heading that voice in his mind that sounds so much like him: he's made his choices, they all have, and as much as Norman will always be an open wound, one he avoids even looking at... Harry knows he's happy where he is now.

"It's not a day to be sorry." He shrugs, however, as he puts on his coat and ensures he looks acceptable enough to leave the house, before opening the door. "Not today, not with you back and with ice-cream on the horizon."

[celestialdetected]

There's something surrounding Flo's relationship with the word 'hero' that Arawn has never quite teased out, even in the long years of their friendship. He knows why he is uncomfortable with that word, it doesn't fit the sentenced convict now does it? It doesn't quite wash away the deaths of an entire village who had pinned their hopes on one boy, a boy who had failed them most utterly. Hero doesn't fit him.

But it does fit Flo, so it baffles Arawn that they're so loathe to accept it.

Arawn can hear what Flo's not saying. Messy. Complicated. There's exhaustion in their face, a weariness in the set of their shoulders. Arawn wonders what the casualty count was, if Flo was among their number for a brief period of time.

He'll interrogate them about it later. But after the celebrations. "Come on then, it's nearly time to pick her up anyhow."

hero. they want to laugh. they also want to jab their elbow into his side. “ hells, ” drawls florence. “ don’t start calling me that, arawn. it’s a curse. ”

they meant it as a joke but deep down, they think it’s true. ( has there ever been a happy hero? ) even so, the cleric keeps their smile. there will be time for gloom and doom, but that time is not now. 

“ i ate rations on the road. ” half rations, they should say, but arawn doesn’t need to know. “ but i’ll never turn down a meal. and i wouldn’t dare miss the chance to see rhia ! ” this will keep their head above water. without it, they might drown in the memories of their adventures.

“ it was. . . ” what is the right word? devastating? exciting? quite literally breath stealing and they’ll never, ever suggest the experience of resurrection. “ less of a blood bath than you might expect, but just as messy as imaginable. ”

[celestialdetected]

Arawn hugs his son, feels the warmth of his body -a little too warm for a half-elf, dragon heat. He hugs him so tightly that he feels his own bones creaking. He's home. He's home.

Harry is taller than him, so he buries his head in Harry's shoulder, taking a moment to just appreciate having his boy so close to him again. He pulls back, just enough so he can look Harry in the eye.

"It went well." Well enough, he supposes. There were more casualties than he liked to admit, but he wasn't going to think of the blood on his hands, not at this happy reunion. "Evil vanquished, world saved. I suppose that's a win."

"How about you?" he cuffs Harry lightly on the shoulder. "How was it on the home front?" He tilts his head as a thought occurs to him. "Any word from your birth father?"

Harry knows duty, and he knows responsibility. And as much as he has not found a calling -and very much will not take up Tiamat's- he does understand that Arawn needs to leave, sometimes. It does not make it easy, and Harry worries -of course he does- but he understands. And he's happy to stay with Rhiannon and make sure the both of them are okay, and have everything they need.

Well, everything but Arawn, but Harry is always there to reassure Rhia, and to poke her a little about unimportant things when she needs a distraction, or ask her about her music or enlist her to help in the kitchen: he's a good cook, but it's fun when she helps out.

It's a small family, and one that's missing one key component when Arawn is gone, but its always temporary. And it's Harry's family, one he loves dearly, and fiercely.

Right then, however, the house is quiet. Rhia won't come back just yet, and it's a bit too early to start cooking, so he's doing what dragons do: Harry hoards knowledge, and new books are always a chance to sate his curiosity. He got lucky this week, moreover: he managed to find two old, dusty tomes of alchemy he hadn't read just yet... And also a few titles that he thinks Rhia might like.

The sound of the key immediately breaks his focus. Because it's early, far too early, and even looking as he looks now, in his favored appearance of a half elf, Harry can focus his senses beyond what he should be able to.

And then he's grinning, and sitting up, and only spares the moment to properly, carefully close the book before he's on his feet. And then he's looking at his father up and down, trying to find out any injuries that might need tending -even if he knows it very unlikely- or need some care before he's forgetting his usual sense of propriety and hugging Arawn.

"Welcome home." He whispers, and he means his joy and his relief both. "How did it go?"

Rhia is, Harry thinks, going to be just as overjoyed.

[celestialdetected]

The hug goes on for a long, long time. Arawn is too afraid to let go, in case Flo decides to slip through his fingers again. He's never had a sibling before, and as much as they piss him off, he doesn't want to lose her. But eventually, he pulls back and scrutinizes them.

"It's alright," he relents after a long, hard stare. He knows his gaze is unsettling and he wants Flo to squirm. "As long as you don't do it again."

He sighs, pushes a hand through his hair. It almost matches Flo's in color now, just a little darker. A shadow of gold in the white. Another sign that his humanity is wisping away.

"I've been good. Avoiding the call to adventure, keeping busy. Mostly solving petty thefts but, I'll take it. And Rhia is great, she can't wait to see you. She'll be ecstatic when she gets home from lessons."

they should have written. hells, they should have taken the time during those slow, quiet evenings to cast a simple message. arawn deserved that; shameful, isn’t it, how they let it all slip through their fingers?

“ i know, i know ! ” they didn’t want the embrace to end. “ i should have. i meant to, but i. . . ”

where should they begin? do they tell him of their daring ( and sickeningly dangerous ) adventures and the beasts, brigands, and would-be-gods they faced. do they tell him that time passed in the blink of an eye because their eyes and heart were focused on the road from neverwinter to amn. . . and the one that rode beside them through it all.

“ how have you been ? and rhiannon ? ”