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yohohonabottle · 12 days ago

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The wicked sun and Orderly moon- "Twin Merlins" (Reposted from A03)

🖋️Summary: When the sun is gone, the moon dutifully watches over the land. When the sun comes- so does unprecedented chaos that the moon reigns back in order. Two entities from beyond yonder, both essentially intertwined and woven into the world's tapestry. 📖 Work status: Completed

[ ❗ ]TW: Violence (description of torture and gore) [ ❗ ] -------------- 🎧Songs recommended for this work: -> Sanctuary of Surasthana choir with cathedral effect -> Moolians - Gu-Zo-Su-Hi/Lyrical Devil plus some Danganronpa soundtracks -> Who lives, Who dies, Who tells your story ->Monodrama -> Kafka's theme -> Bequeathed to the beloved

---------------------- "Unbeknownst to the denizens of every contained world, there are countless entities looking on from afar. Like spectators, they watch them go through sorrows and triumphs akin to actors in a grand play. And beyond the rapt audience, are the ones whom brought the land into existence and wrote its intricate rules. Let's call them...'Directors', to follow along with the theater-performance analogy."

—"Hey, weren't they the ones that 'make the dynamite strings'? Why're you running us through this again?"

The campfire crackles and pops, its warm glow casting flickering shadows over the faces of the crew currently gathered. Two teams made up of various factions, some old and familiar faces while others are yet to be 'met'. Whether the personages are villains or heroes in the 'narrative' matters little here- Only their skills and respective attributes, and team role.

The first and primary team comprises of the favorites, the secondary experimental and seemingly random. The other five team members of the favorites glance over at their 'captain' as the deathly-pallid man pauses his tale-recounting, offering the disheveled sailor a light patient smile. Understanding, oddly knowing, as though he has overlooked a small but crucial detail in a rush. Along with a small note of apology, answer simple.

—"Because it's important- For the newly aware, to not be lost and afraid as they notice out of place elements. And for those who have been 'awake' for longer, to have a better understanding of what you know. And if nothing else, then it's a nice ghost story."

—"Sure, you could technically put it this way." -Berial's smooth and clear-ringing tenor calmly joins in to refute, pulling the attention to himself. The usually over-the-top babbling Hypogean wears an expression of reluctant tiredness so out of character for him, sitting cross-legged on the grass and with face slightly obscured by the brim of his top-hat.

It's like he's lost most of his energy, not in the mood for dramatics or any form of performing.

"But you know as much as us that this knowledge is, well- useless in the end. Simply knowing and understanding you two doesn't give any of us leverage, or peace." So why pull us through this? Weren't you unenthusiastic to share the secrets?

What happened?

Quietly, in the background Cassadee ponders to herself with a tome-thick notebook in her hands while the aspiring gem-magic wielder softly hums under her breath a happy calming tune, contemplative. Both had 'woken up' merely a day ago after having been kept on the shelf for months until they reached the highest hero tier and got their weapons upgraded, making them 'finally useful' for the Player. There's a sense of mild unease about the two girls from the experimental team, the distant but distinct memory of being at least a little favored clinging to their subconscious even to this day...since the very first time the 'sun' and 'moon' arrived in Esperia.

And then two days in the journey's first steps or three, that favor fell away.

On the other side of the campfire, Salazer contemplatively watches the lively dance of the flames, perfectly-curved smile missing as his mind walks through the current excerpt.

He is no stranger to the 'spectator' from beyond.

At first, he couldn't care any less in his initial assumption that the entity in question is merely some boogieman or an unruly, undisciplined peasant or slave.

Until the envelope arrived, sent by the Mystical House and he was yanked from home- Recruited. Became a unit. Then, standing face to face with the slim barrier, the cusp of the world he knows and the realm outside- Salazer found his enlightenment. His awakening, eyes opened to the much greater knowledge, despite having lacked an apt term for it. Then, in that fateful moment fleeting--The nobleman heard her voice crystal clear, neigh boom akin to that of a goddess in unassuming low-class appearance of a mortal adolescent. It was the very first time, that he was closely exposed to 'the sun', felt her emotions seep, ebb and flow through him, sent shivers down to his very bones.

That day, the Graveborn aristocrat knew true power...And gripping fear, coupled with excitement. Partially his own, partially Rila's. There was a feeling of curious glee following after him, as he took down foe after foe in battle under the Player's unwavering gaze. Favored.

And then that sensation of joy got lost, like a candle harshly blown out with no return. In its stead settled a strange coldness--Disinterest, perhaps even a hint of discontent.

What changed? Was his might not enough? Was his whip not good enough, lacked strength? Were his skills no longer adequate, up to her standards? -Such worries plagued the upperclassman for days, and still do. He's made it a point to very carefully track when the recruitment letters would be sent out, how many on the given day or night, at what hour-- And made sure to snatch at least one of them.

However the pattern is heavily inconsistent, infuriatingly so.

Sometimes the phenomenon would occur at quarter to past five o'clock in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Sometimes, at three o'clock both in the morning, afternoon and night. And some days would yield nothing at all, a long drawn-out radio silence.

It made keeping track impossible.

Furthermore, what has to be most frustrating- is that even when he does get a stroke of luck and finds himself standing at the barrier... His words fall upon deaf ears. Suddenly, all he can utter, is his one 'iconic' inquiry.

Like a parrot or a broken record. Thus the questions haunting his mind remain without answer.

It's only today, or tonight, that Rila at last chose him for one fight. One fight alone, not even for the next retries of that same stage in the spire. Yet somehow he can acutely feel her influence and emotions still, in spite of the declined contact. The only other such entity of great power, is 'Pirin'. The 'moon' dutifully overseeing him and all the other units that have woken up. ...The moon that barely lingers, making his presence scarce with chance 'meetings' such as the current one being a rarity. Despite his role as Merlin in the sun's presence.

Next to the pensive cruel nobleman, Cecia sits on her throne of thorns. Ever-hungry for more power, the Lady of Thorns was quick to understand that the Sun and Moon are beings capable of immense potential. The winning side that trumps everyone else. The former has been glimpsed of bringing entire worlds into existence in a single day, with nothing but words and a pencil on paper or with her own fingertips.

And subsequently crush those worlds in less. Twisting and bending the very reality into anything she wishes. ..For brief second a chilling feeling settles over the woman. Like words being woven together in this very moment. Is this moment, also, one of the many realities spun? Or is the reality they know being altered? Somehow the sensation melts away with the thought akin to salt dissolving in water.

As for the latter, he has only been glimpsed fleetingly to mend reality- restoring it to its initial order prior to his half's fit of mayhem and gleeful mischief, leaving it reverted seamlessly and the memories of the phenomenon wiped away from everyone's mind. The Weaver once was a witness prior to her disappearance and through the Syndicates' leader Cecia learnt about this ability.

Not even on the next day, Illucia had no recollection of the events.

To make an enemy out of either or both would be the highest folly.

"When the sun is gone, the moon dutifully watches over the land. When the sun arrives, so does unprecedented chaos that the moon reigns tightly back in order. Two beings from far beyond yonder- Intrinsically entwined and woven into the world..."

The two groups turn their attention to the shadowy mischief-maker, some inquisitive, some baffled and others wary of his soft mumble. Unperturbed, Berial keeps on shuffling the playing cards in his hands before making them vanish with leaving only one between his fingers.

A strange mix between a taro and playing card depicting a lean pearl-eyed stern man, arms folded behind his back and a young-looking dark-brown haired woman with rich purple in her curly hair. Except her left half looks like him sans the tail and feathery wings, and jester attire- eyes and mouth a hot-pink color instead of pale faded purple, mouth less jagged. The woman appears positively elated, manic one might even say. At least her 'Hypogean' half. An innocent and kindhearted face with a dark, unpredictable side lurking secretly underneath.

"Two sides of the same coin and polar opposites." Two contradictions, stitched in one outside the worlds they visit. Near constantly at each other's throat yet can't be without one another. Looking up from the card, he dismissively tosses it into the fire. The jovial performer's signature eerie grin still hasn't returned as he visibly shudders.

Still hasn't forgotten the times that freak absolutely terrorized him and the other sins relentlessly, for the sole purpose of amusement. That woman is one unpredictable little fiend- You'd think it'd be easy to play her like a fiddle with how socially inept she is and like an open book. And you'd be horribly wrong- Turns out she's got the talent of surprises. Whether the surprise is good or terrible is a major coin flip, heads- good, tails- bad. Even then it's still uncertain- The two could be reversed for all you know.

For days that thing followed right after him. Berial honestly couldn't believe it- Him, caught by strings and moved around like a puppet, then torn limb by limb and reassembled a fifty times, almost literally died due to being half totally drained of magic and energy.

Three times back to back, and tortured with unspeakable vivid visions.

Oh, yes- There was also that one time the sadistic bitch literally dissected him like a frog, leaving him gaping for a nice whole hour. Just a few highlights. Worst part is the inability to get back at her for it all, and defend against it.

All because that little terror plays by completely different rules from a different board.

Berial has never been terrified before, from anyone. Period. Not even those glowing holly shmucks. But Rila? That thing really quickly put the word into his vocabulary. Every now and then, the mere sight of a thin chord causes him to freak out and bolt to hide away like getting flash-banged. In all honesty, I'd take copying statues all the time over...that. Phraesto and Reinier had the nerve to laugh their bums off, teasing and mocking him to hell and back. Until they, too, got 'lucky'.

Poor Stinger-head sweats bullets at just hearing that demon's name and Reinier? He simply hurries to jump into the next dimension the millisecond he senses her presence nearby. His rings are still chipped as if something literally bit into them, triggering his mysophobia like crazy. Worst part is how the rings were also skewed, like folded or snapped in half.

"What's wrong, Berial? Don't you love mischief and fun? Why're you scrambling?"-She had asked in a sweetly innocent cooing sing-song voice, advancing as though about to pounce. Now, it's true that his track record really isn't savory--But what she did wasn't mischief under any form! It was pure, messed-up and cruel sadism! Chaos is one. Complete and total anarchy is a whole 'nother different thing. Which says a lot, for a messed-up evil clown like him to be saying this.

—"You better pray Rila never comes to Esperia in person. I fear no man. But that thing...It scares me."

Grave silence hangs in the air.

—"....I saw her once, in person. ..I mistakenly took her life, however she revived herself as though nothing happened. " -An elegant tenor speaks up, barely above a whisper. All eyes turn towards the camp's edge where the Stormsword stands with his head subtly bowed, turquoise eyes downcast somberly. The clown visibly flinches, gripping his tail extra tightly, casting a quick look around the clearing.

Meanwhile Sinbad steals a side-glance over at Nara, a little uncomfortable with the Graveborn girl's presence. The woman has clearly died during the final showdown against Hodgkin, and stays dead- sleeping with fishes at the bottom of the sea. Nobody went to retrieve her body or performed another resurrection on her. And...here the Water Wights' dead leader is. In the flesh. A very peculiar, unsettling paradox.

"A playable character can't die or grow out of his or her 'established' age. For recruited units, time is frozen perpetually even as the world changes." -Pirin's words echo in his mind, sending chills down his spine.

Then what happens to those like Sonja's sister? Those that died 'in the narrative' but are playable regardless? Nara has been recruited. Yet she's like a ghost, similar to the lost spirits in Viperian's lab at Ragebone Cove. Unseeing and unresponsive, kept on invisible strings.

Valen stays uncharacteristically quiet, coarse brows pinched into a light scowl.

I saw her at Traveler's Light a week ago–She looked completely normal. Didn't act unhinged either. Is something wrong with Rila? Did she get corrupted?

Or is it all one giant act for her own amusement? Has it been all along?

How many times were reality and time torn apart without a care for no reason? How many times has Pirin had to right things out? Reverse and clean up the messes in her wake?

And how can that woman be a genuinely sensible sweetheart, wiser and more mature for her age...And then turn around and be a terrifying wildcard of unapologetic, unabashed force of destruction?

Is it venting out frustrations, fears, disappointments and pent-up sky-high aggression? Like how a child would play with toys..? It doesn't add up in the least--If that's the case, why here? Why unleash all of that on Esperia and those who live in this world? Why not go to a world she has created? A moment resurfaces to the knight's mind.

During the first days of the journey, when the petite brunette had appeared in person, found him at Traveler's Light. It was a completely normal encounter- No havoc, no crazy or creepy behavior. If it weren't the odd clothes and terminology--He wouldn't have noticed. Just a very short, shy and awkward girl who means well. Looked bit like an idiot, but Valen didn't have trouble helping her get past the initial bout of inner panic. Leveled them both on the same playing-field so she doesn't feel immensely out of place- Like being an unwelcome nuisance, or as though being perfect is a must. As if trying to impress a figure of utmost high status and authority, or an employer to get the job.

By Dura, did Rila prove herself to be an interesting fella once she warmed up. Witty, friendly, funny and pretty good conversation partner. Can't forget her humor either.

Well-mannered, reserved and quite good at verbal sparring. Can't count how many times the teen's brief words of wisdom had felt like a hard slap to the face and brought him down to Esperia. Simple truths, yet somehow have been eluding him. In the span of that one afternoon casual chat, the Solitaire was left looking forward to the next time they might meet.

The image of the young-looking woman smiling with gentle understanding clashes awfully with the horrors described. It couldn't have been faked. Rila isn't even the lying type! Every time she heard or witnessed dishonesty, her face turned to a deeply disapproving frown. Reserved annoyance at times even. Quiet anger.

...So how come she's like this..? Is it a cry for help masked under embracing madness?

Sitting across from him, the 'Secondary Magister' looks around the merry patrons at the other tables with a gloomy faraway deadpan- absently tracing a finger around her tankard's bottom. After a few long minutes of silence, the woman finally speaks up in a low tone full of contemplation. Distant and detached as her chestnut-hazel eyes, cheek resting in her hand and sharp elbow propped on the table's edge. Valen only observes without interrupting, taking a swing of his drink as he listens. The late afternoon sun's light hits his companion's face in such a way, that it makes her eyes seem forest green.

—"It's an ugly place- Back home. The people majorly being snide easily-offended cockroaches, time rushing too fast, deputies and governments that don't give a single rat's ass about the people and... bloody wars being waged left and right, for no reason.. No good one, anyway. It's either out of greed for resources and influence or power, throwin' their weight around. Or just plain dumb pettiness. None of 'em give a damn for peace or the countless innocent lives that ultimately pay the price. As always. It's only going to shit with each year. "

Her gaze idly sweeps over the people's faces, watching the waitress dart to and fro with peppy grace in her step and a sunny grin on her face as she serves the customers.

"...As soulless as it may sound, cowardly even maybe--I've no intentions of helping the world. I only care to survive through that disgustingly horrid circus and mind my own business. I know I'm no next revolutionary- Too risky & dangerous. And I'm not 'crazy' enough--I'd rather keep my head." A wry soft smile of self-deprecation curls itself onto her rosy lips as she glances down at the apple juice in her mug and lightly swirls it.

"Guess I got no right to whine with this in mind, huh?" Lightly drumming his fingers in thought on the table, Valen says nothing back.

It's not like Esperia doesn't have the same, or strikingly similar rotten underbelly. Nor is this world any more forgiving than 'that wretchedly terrible circus'. Even though it may appear so at a glance on the surface, to a 'tourist'. But...at least it's more peaceful, in a way, as in the lack of constant wars going on at all sides. Sure there are militaristic efforts, and all the atrocities that come with war, however it's not nearly as frequent. For now, can't say for the future-The world is always changing after all.

Looking into Rila's eyes- his heart twists. There's no spark of life in them. No joy-- And she's hardly near her thirties or forties still. A look he has seen- sees- in the gazes of his colleagues. Except this one is more sad to gaze at.

It's the look of someone who has lost all faith in humanity long ago and very barely gets it back at all.

—"Yes, and no." -The Heroic Order knight mutters pensively, earning himself a puzzled look. In truth, the topic is very messily complicated. There's no easy answer.

—"It's understandable for you to prefer to stay out of conflicts. And you make a fair point- Not everyone is brave enough to throw away everything for change on a large scale, withstand and push back against the onslaught of ruthless backlash they'd inevitably face from the top."

Dura above knows how much he and Fay have struggled--Kids of no remarkable name, too poor to afford anything more than sighing over the toys and goods displayed on store windows, fighting tooth and nail on the daily while mom & dad work to exhaustion and count every copper when time comes to pay taxes. Just very narrowly toeing the line between middle-class and slum-poor.

How many times they'd been bullied by their peers and the rich kids? And then the dream of becoming a knight ignited in little Valen's heart- To rise high to the top, as high as possible, to protect and support his family. Be able to protect many others as well, so they may not suffer the same, in its full brunt.

At the time, joining the army was the best option he had on hand with his lack of academic education- Not totally illiterate. But definitely not on-par for much more prestigious jobs like the law, economy or teaching and medical and scholarly field. A smooth silver tongue can only get you so far. When the certificate matters most and bribery is not an option, simply because you don't have the money.

So young Valen took up to swinging his wooden sword, honing his swordplay and fighting skills, became a mercenary. While sweet, optimistic sister Fay took to singing and dancing, gems and magic, and smooshed them all into one. Went around adventurer and scholars' camps- Until she decided to enroll in the Serene Lyceum to further pursue the art of magic. Sold all the exquisite gems and crystals she has found by accident, courtesy of her innate keen intuition when it comes to finding treasures, including gems and geodes. And here they both stand now, all nicely grown up- Him as a knight at the helm of the Solitaires of the secretive Heroic Order, and Fay as a successful adventurer invaluable to any scholars she joins and current apprentice of the greatest mage alive.

However not everyone in the position their younger selves were is as 'crazy' to take a wild leap of faith as they did.

"On the other hand, only voicing your discontent with matters constantly doesn't do anyone favors. Same as pity parties. You seem to know this well enough."

Waving his memories aside like the wind tenderly sweeps through wheat-fields, the elite solder gives a brief moment of quiet to give his answer some thought. Looking up at the fairer-skinned young lady eying him curiously from around the notepad she holds with a pencil in-hand, he offers a reassuring smile and a few cents of his own simple wisdom. A light to help nudge into a clearer direction, hopefully.

"How about a 'compromise'? You're pretty good at drawing and writing, from what snippets you showed me of that painting you had started some days ago and that excerpt you red me today." Still bemused, not quite catching onto his drift. "Why don't you share them- Your art, your stories? It's not much, but it could be helpful to make the 'circus' a little less grim." Doubt sprawls on Rila's rounded oval face, bushy brows pinched together.

—"...How're those silly ramblings and amateur drawings going to help anyone? They won't stop the wars or right the atrocities, abuse and injustice. Certainly won't make me or anyone rich and big...Not that I actually want fame or overwhelming wealth- I've seen what those do. Disastrous things. I'm happy with my simple, humble life." She glances down at her notepad, a tiny edge of bitter scorn in her irises.

"Point is, my nonsense won't help anyone." A claim that Valen calmly refutes with an easy-going smirk on his scarred face and a pinch of theatric goofy bravado as he wags a finger.

—"On the contrary. I'd argue that making your readers' day- or evening- a tiny less dreary is a lot of help. To inspire and invigorate, give them hope- Is the best form of aid you can offer. You, and all the others like you, make that world a little better."

And hope is the second most valuable, important thing to have next to being in good health. No attempt at retorting follow, so the playboy goes on to bring this topic to a neat closure with a final pearl of wisdom.

"Give yourself more credit and keep being hopeful. Don't be afraid of taking a leap of faith here and there." Without being needlessly reckless.

The memory fades to the soft crackling of campfire, the people having declined in numbers--Only Soren, Fay, Mirael ,Cassadee and Nara remain by the fire. A small hand rests on his shoulder and a pair of faded dark purple eyes look at him worriedly, Fay's canary-like voice tugging the Solitaire's busy mind. Looking up from the flickering fire, he glances around the camp, taking notice of the many missing people with surprise.

—"Where is everyone?"

—"Pirin told us more essential information about the Players and our 'role' and then the second team left." -His sister answers with an optimistic smile that feels a little strained. Overwhelmed and unsure of how to feel about all the newly gained 'cosmic' knowledge of the Truth. Her optimism struggling to keep her unwaveringly high, hopeful spirit from cracking under the weight. Just as he had fought to keep his own sanity together and stay out of the desperation upon first learning.

Esperia, the world they've always known, their whole lives and those of everyone else--Insignificant, borne into existence by the 'Directors' with countless complex lines of code, lore and pixels for the sole purpose of entertainment. Nothing, but mere collectables with pre-determined fate from start to the very end, and when their time is up as the servers inevitably get closed one day....

What then?

None of the struggle matters in the end. It's all just a silly mobile gacha game.

...At least there are audience members who keep each of their flame, tells their story. Is this enough?

Still, it hurts insurmountably. It's surprisingly easy to cover it up, act like nothing happened in front of the Players. Pretend nothing has changed.

—"How many versions are there of us?" -A haggard, tired Solitaire inquires in a strained quiet, broken voice as the new knowledge seeps into his very bones under the Overseer's warily watchful eye. Looking at the rifts in reality and time, at the abyss staring back coldly, listlessly, with words and numbers, and symbols he'd never understand for the life of him...with terror and helpless wounded anger and confusion. The crushing weight of the cosmic secret pressing onto his shoulders like a mountain and threatening to break him, mind grappling with the truth glaring him in the face and desperate denial. While clutching onto the lifeline the frail night nymph has given him, extending magic and song to soothe his slipping sanity. —"As many as the Players out there. Some never make it to high tier, some cases all reach highest stage shortly, and some stay unaware while others wake sooner or later. Some are favored above all others, depends on each player. All that ignoring the players who 'reroll' and how many times they do." The moon explained calmly in a somber tone while righting out the cataclysm caused by Rila's gleeful rampage of frustration. Valen silently watched his former charge mend the timelines to order, stitching up the fabric of reality to its natural order as per intended by the narrative. And wipe away the memories of the 'slumbering' people whom bore unfortunate witness.

—"And Vanya? Where did he go?" Valen loops an arm around Fay's shoulders, pulling his sibling into a tight reassuring hug. 'It's okay. It'll be okay.' In a macabre sense, it's comforting to know Fay has become aware instead of remaining as just a cardboard pawn. The thought of having to watch the geomancer loop through the same dialog-lines like an empty shell, a husk of herself--The older brother hurries to shut down that line of thought.

Bearing the Truth is enough.

Hugging back and fighting to keep smiling, Merlin's student goes on to elaborate, seeing as how Cassadee is too busy sorting the information in her mind.

—"Sinbad pulled him aside to let us have a breather from the new information, suggesting to call it a night. They should be little ways closer to the ruins in the Haunted forest."

"....Valen? ...I'm scared." The cheer is gone, a small quiver to her voice. Fighting back a sob.

The roving swordsman hugs his younger sister tighter, murmuring hushed words of comfort as he rubs soothing circles on her back. And prays she makes it out through the stages of waking, knowing it's inevitable. Even if Rila doesn't pick her or the others very often, the spike in power is evident. (right..?) The biggest hurdles are steadily trickling in, the rise steep.

Meanwhile, seated on the other log 'round the fire next to Cassadee, Mirael quietly mulls over the Truth's ramifications and the appearance of the two 'Merlins', as her fellow mage has dubbed them in her studious notes. Two sides of the same coin, like the purple-haired twins of Eternity from another world Pirin sometimes has told brief stories about when prompted about his time as that land's 'moon'. One of the twins was dreamy and kind, the aspect of dreams and change while the other was stern and unyielding with reinforcing order... that would then morph into the pursuit of eternity after the first goddess perished. On rare occasions, some of Teyvat's people have allegedly joked that him and Rila are the less tragic Ei & Makoto. ...In any case, this is quite the predicament.

On one had, Merlin is still alive and active as he follows his own role--However it often appears that Rila takes full control of his body akin to a ghostly possession. Not that the Magister has tried to resist or fight back, relinquishing control easily.

Or is it possible that's the case...because my Magister can't fight back or pose any form of resistance to this? The thought sends cold chills down the Scarlet enchantress' spine.

The string of sinister thoughts edging to delve deeper as follow up spiral are equally as unsettling- No. Terrifying. Concepts that Mirael firmly refuses to face, even less dares to glance at for a second. The implications are even more so. She hurries to burn, chase those thoughts away. --Yet they still quietly persist, looming ominously at the very edge of her mind. --On the other hand, without 'the sun'- Time may go on but nothing changes in terms of progression...and when she leaves, it comes to a stand-still altogether.

The whole time Pirin talked, spinning the great cosmic secret into a whimsical fairy-tale like legend, the Magister's apprentice had been hastily taking notes to document it all in full detail. Along with in-depth analysis notes on the duo's abilities and nature. Poor girl's quill moved so fast across the page, that it looked as though it would catch ablaze.

—"If my observations are right-Then 'Rila' is a catalyst, ensuring the events unfold accordingly. Moreover, once she arrives in a world- Her presence gets intertwined into it, altering it unintentionally. I suspect the descent of each catalyst- Player- creates a nexus point or several nexus nodes. One is where the world remains the same as it was prior to their arrival, with the other being the current 'new' order." The Scarlet witch looks down at the tome overflowing with scribbled notes as her fellow mage mumbles under her breath, reading over the text for mistakes.

It's worth asking him on the matter..Although he'd likely choose to not reopen this topic for a while.

Casting a glance over her shoulder at the tree-line of the foggy forest, Mirael looks back at Cassadee's study. The option to forget the Truth is on the table for anyone of them who no longer wishes to know, a form of falling asleep once more and loosing awareness or a transitory moment of blissful ignorance. The case being the latter for the Sun's three most favored.

—"Every 'actor' that becomes aware of the spectators and directors' gaze has 'woken up' and has two routes in that point. Either his, or her, mind fails to comprehend what is happening and what he-she is faced with and breaks into madness...Or undergoes a process of change which ends in accepting the overwhelming meta-knowledge. In a way, this could be viewed as a symbolic death and metamorphosis from how he, she used to be- To a newer self. Ideally, none of the 'actors' in the 'play' should wake up at all to begin with for the reasons I mentioned." —"What happens to those who fail to transition? Is it possible for that person to recover on his or her own?" -The white-haired mage inquires as she raises a hand to catch the Overseer's eye, hurrying to flip onto a blank page. The two groups' attention turns to her then back to the felled star. A deeply contemplative scowl curls onto the 'magister's' lips with a grim look in his pearlescent eyes as he takes a moment to sift through his memories and speaks carefully. Still continuing to chew on her question mentally in the meantime. —"I haven't seen or heard of such cases, nor have I allowed it to happen. Maybe it's possible, however I strongly believe the odds are rather low. It's why I make sure to keep a close eye on those that wake up when it first occurs, in order to help lead them onto the metamorphosis route. ...And, hopefully, make it as smooth as possible." —"I see...And what happens if they fall into insanity?" —"Then they become a shattered husk of their former selves, grasping for anything that can anchor them in desperation." A flicker of sorrowful fear flashes in the man's irises as he utters this in a shushed tone.

—"I can't help but feel bad for him. Having to reverse the damage his 'half' causes carefreely and watch over us while shouldering the Magister's journey and legacy." Merlin's former student carefully reaches out a hand and flips back to the pages detailing the two entities that have impacted Esperia so vastly. "Mirael?" Two sides of the same coin, and polar opposites..

(1) 'Connected how? Same entity??' Is it possible for Pirin to be a close reflection of Rila? (2) 'Rila doesn't suffer any damage when Pirin gets wounded/perish. In reverse he experiences the same injuries and emotions as when she sustains damage.' (3) 'It appears that Pirin exhibits traits of both an 'actor' and a 'player' at the same time.' Referencing the stories he has shared of worlds other than Esperia, he is capable of traversing and setting down in various different universes, along with influencing other characters and reality*-- similar to how some 'players' are able to. Curiously, he seems to be limited strictly within the 'fictitious' spaces along with lacking control over his own fate both past and future akin to a 'character' or 'actor' in a 'narrative'. Therefore I believe it's safe to assume that Rila (his 'half') has the role of 'Director' in relation to him. (Note: Ref- point 8) Similarly to a Player/Director, it appears he cannot be truly killed. According to one of Valen's eye-witness accounts, Pirin had gotten into a fight with Berial, the Hypogean killing him however the 'magister' self-resurrected and proceeded to strike back in retaliation. The sinister jester was dismayed by this turn of events and disengaged, fled the scene at the sight of Pirin's threads as soon he was set free of them. * Note: Some players can be also 'Directors'. I accidentally seem to have connected to Rila in one of my dreams shortly prior to becoming aware. The words she told me still puzzle me. "You're not under my jurisdiction." -Likely referring to the characters in her own universes. From this excerpt, I confidently conclude that since Pirin shares her abilities and roles (partially), he has lesser influence on us due to not being our 'Director', limited to memory/mind manipulation and/or mild puppeteering. However Rila has slightly stronger presence. (4) 'Pirin and Rila seem to share memories, knowledge and emotions (to a degree), leading me to believe they share a consciousness at a core level. Possibly linked together?' (?*)(5) Can Players have manifestations of themselves within the worlds they visit? It appears so. (The 'sun' & 'moon' being prime case example if my suspicions prove correct.) (6) It appears that time beyond Esperia flows much slower, with our day-night cycle passing nearly in the blink of an eye for the Players.. Furthermore, according to Pirin- The Player and Directors' realm lacks the magic and creatures outside of the regular animals. Yet in juxtaposition their technology, equipment and scholarly fields are highly advanced compared to ours, achieving a near 'magic-like' effect in complexity, potential and efficiency. I attempted to ask for more information however the Overseer refused to speak further on the matter. Very fascinating... (7) Actors are unable to truly harm and kill a Player (Catalyst) and a Director (World creator). (8) More observations and references are needed. Unfortunately 'Pirin' is highly unwilling to open up the topic and divulge more regarding the 'Truth' and its other aspects beyond the very essentials; Rila is missing most of the time, with her personal appearances on our world being sporadic and very brief. Currently I only have Valen, Eironn and Berial's account. (Sinbad and Soren refuse to broach the topic- How they came to wake up, their metamorphosis, emotions, what has changed, etc. I suspect they followed the general pattern that the three accounts point to.)

Snapping out of her own musings, the witch looks up, meeting Cassadee's inquisitively uncertain and worried blue eyes. Questioning.

—"Sorry- I got distracted for a moment, Cassadee. Did you ask me something?"

—"No, no- It's okay. I was just thinking to myself."

Meanwhile, Soren still remains perfectly silent--standing next to the log his three other teammates sat earlier. Arms crossed over his broad chest and head bowed slightly, his fringe falls to cover up his eyes as he stares into the flickering embers distantly. The fire's warmth does little to shoo away the nagging dread chilling him to his very bones as it slowly creeps. If the worst suspicions come true--Then it wouldn't matter whether Alsa has been recruited long ago after she became playable little ways before his turn came up. She'd still inescapably loose all awareness, fail to make it through the awakening and undergo that change...fall asleep.

The same fate that would catch Fay, Mirael, Cassadee and Mikola. As it would befall Salazer, Eironn, Bryon and many others not favored by Rila highly enough to interact with them frequently. Would they become like Nara, same state without being dead?

"I'll preface with this regarding the 'actors' in the narrative as it's essential: Right off the get-go everyone automatically has a default 'asleep' state- Or not available for recruitment by the players, 'playable' that cannot wake up long after having been recruited. This is for the Directors, a copy that stays fixed in the narrative. While when you go on to become playable, the chance of becoming aware presents itself as a possibility. Or you can remain asleep like the copy. This, however, is not in your hands unfortunately--The players inadvertently call the shots."

The warrior's lips press to a thin line, hands balling into fists as his ears droop. The memory of his own waking still blazes in his mind's eye as vivid as if it was today.

It was a day after having won in the Warsong Festival and gone out to journey through the Ashen Wastes on their way to Alkali. That day, the fragile-looking blood-sucker had looked up at him with a look of pained sadness and anxious dread. Scared for him, for his well-being as though he stood on the precipice of gravely immense danger. However didn't say anything, preferring to stay quiet.

Or was actually thinking of how to breach the subject and ease him into those murky quicksand depths as gently as he can. Spin, weave a tight net strong enough to keep him aloft from falling in. And Soren himself was relatively content to let him be, not being one for fussing over or needless chatter himself...

That was, until he just couldn't take the heavy silence of melancholy and its oppressive suspense causing all kinds of horrible scenarios to spawn in his head. Maybe Pirin has had a bad vision last night, a prophetic dream about the children, warning of their demise or getting severely hurt? Maybe something's about to go wrong back home with Alsa? Or something bad is going to befall the two of them during the trek? The faintly mumbled 'I don't have a good feeling.' that the magister gave him upon finally being prompted only confirmed Soren's worries.

And then a strange new sensation crept on him-- A resurgence in power, in strength that's not normal. As a purple ray enveloped his form, the sensation grew and grew. What the ursine son of the desert assumed to be the Dusk Lord's blessing flaring up from within him, turned out to be something else entirely and separate.

All fatigue, needs, evaporated along with the possibility of ever dying one day--Be it of old age or other ways. Immortal.

Somehow, in that second--Soren distinctly knew that the chance of ever aging at all beyond his current years has been ripped away from him. Never to be given back.

The world would keep going on and change, and he'd stay at teen age for all eternity. Even as the years still take their toll on his mind. And then the 'Truth' coldly stared him in the face like the blackhole it is, resulting in a flurry of questions from him, each meeting its reluctant answer.

The last one was a hard kick to the gut, the full merciless, cold, brunt of the secret the night jinni has been so adamantly coveting to himself. For all their sakes.

—"What are you rattling about?! How're we not real?? How're our lives- WHAT??" -He had ranted and lashed out in total denial, disbelief, pacing back and forth around their campfire for the night. Suddenly, Pirin's voice was grating to his ears and he couldn't stand him, the desert, everything- Overwhelmed, furious and terrified.

Lost.

A soft voice calls his name gently, an attempt to calm him down from his spiraling panic. Pirin had tried to carefully reel him back.

—"Soren.." It didn't work. It only made his mind latch on harder, denial and shock fighting over. Fur bristled and ears flattened back, pupils narrowed to slits in sheer wounded rage as he sharply comes to a stop, snapping, yells. Wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, a thunderous war cry until he has no breath left, angrily waving his hands around in frantic and enraged gesturing.

—"No! No way! You can't just- What about my clan? What about Pops?? Was all that just a lie all along!?"

"..."

The mournful silence only stoked his rage--grief and confusion. Terror. Helplessness.

Heaving and staring at the other man, with quick stomping strides--Soren reaches his friend in no time. Standing at his full, imposing height- he grabs the 'magister' by the shoulders with a bruising rough grip. His knuckles had turned white, whole form shaking as everything gets to a boiling point too much to bear. ...So the warrior of the newly infamous clan lets it out, bellows with all his might. A howl for help of a lost, scared man unable to hold it together and stay stoic and quiet. Boys--Men--Don't cry. Crying is for women, babies, helpless and the weaklings. He's neither of those. Should've grit his teeth harder, dealt with it on his own- Should've been strong, stayed strong. Should've persevered through this and won. So Soren roared, gave his best, most ferocious war cry. Hot, bitter tears had welled at the corners of his eyes. The former Grimmaw child was too caught up in his rage to notice and blink them back or wipe them away. They roll down his cheeks and chin as his voice cracks.

—"ANSWER ME!"

"...I'm sorry."

...And Soren, eldest orphan of the Uru clan, former son of the late Grimmaw clan's chieftain, crumbled to smithereens. Crushed under the burden's weight too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

That night, Soren wept like a weak, pathetic, helpless pansy. Like the terrified and lost little boy he felt, held in the vampire's arms. Throughout it all, 'Merlin' patiently stayed quiet, letting him cry, and he clung onto the shorter pallid man desperately in his sobbing. Eventually he had no more tears to shed, drained. Listlessly listened to all the tender comforting nothings the felled star murmured faintly.

In the end, each and every one of them had to pull it together and shake off the pain that the Truth brings. Oddly enough, there are some who deliberately try to actively put themselves into the sun's grasp and wake up.

—"I find it rather fascinating and mystifying." One of the half-bearfolk man's ear twitches twice, tuning into Cassadee's continued muttering. "From what has been observed and described of their behaviors, the two entities appear to have assumed distinct roles outside of their respective baseline. Namely, of 'child' and 'adult'--Ioan or 'Pirin' is the evident adult of the duo with the typical traits of that stage. Maturity on both emotional and intellectual level, behavioral basis, responsibility, nurture and guidance, empathy, understanding. Think of a parent or older sibling. 'Rila' in contrast lacks awareness- Innocent, curious, possesses the heartless cruelty present due to lacking understanding of importance, among other traits of childhood."

The Uru warrior and purple-eyed Solitaire exchange a look, mildly dubious.

—"What puzzles me is the line that Berial said at the beginning: "Two sides of the same coin." I'm inclined to interpret his words at face-value as both seem to be the same entity."

—"That's all fine and dandy, except for the fact that Rila clearly knows what she's doing." The two mages look up at Soren. "I've seen her appear in the desert and go on a rampage, just 'cause she got bored. She knew people would loose their minds when telling them of what we know. Knew it damn well and didn't care, still kept going."

The incident still itches at his mind. The only solution to the crisis was to rush to find Pirin and ask him for help. Ask him to fix the umpteenth catastrophic mess his demonic 'half' is wreaking onto the Ashen Wastes. Because that fiend is far too dangerous to charge at on his own and the chances of getting swept up are high.

A look of apprehension if not dread settles onto Merlin's former students. Valen and Fay stiffen.

—"..W-why..? Why would Rila do something like this?" -It's the colorful dancer's voice that breaks the tense quiet. Still trying to assume the best and give the better of the doubt. —"Because it's 'fun' to watch their reactions and if or how insane they'd go. Her words. Those people are simply playthings for her, like we are." Ignoring how that thing also made literal jaws rise from the ground to eat some of the Maulers and Lightbearers while terrorizing them, laughing maniacally with zero remorse or guilt. Jaws with gnarly teeth, hands. Surprisingly nobody died...physically. Internally? A lot.

It's the whole point as to why the decision was made to convince Merlin of freeing Phraesto and teaming up with plus the other two Hypogeans. Since that day, the Illusionist often acts as a lookout--Warning against that menace the second he spots or senses her presence in the desert. ..And then proceeds to nope out, jump right back into the Dusk Lord's tomb to avoid getting his scorpion hair seriously tangled into a tizzy like last time. Along with having his eyes gauged out in the most sadistic way possible and messed up 'til he can't see straight.

Whatever mind torture Rila did to that Hypogean must've been something else to make him that scared.

Same as Berial--The mouthy lil brat acts as an alarm system and lookout for Holistone and Rustport. In short, for the Lightbearers. And Reinier covers the Wilders' turf. Lookouts and decoys to keep that terror busy while one of the team members goes to fetch 'Merlin'.

Not fool-proof but works, for now.

Although it was a bit funny how the Seaside savant went about the issue that time Rila popped up in his hometown--Already in her dragon, shadowy Hypogean creepy form, ready to cause mayhem. The man had just sighed in exasperation, got a broom since he had one on-hand, and shooed off the thing, like it's a typical Monday. Completely unbothered. A reckless idea. Thankfully, he lived.

Regular day in ye old Rustport, the intel-broker having been assigned by his employer to sweep one of the warehouses of the Carmine Whispers. (With the promise to be paid fairly, of course.) So there Sinbad was, minding his business with sturdy old broom in hand, whistling a happy little tune to himself--Until the distinct sense of deja vu struck. Pausing in his diligent work to investigate, a pair of nice, glowy hot-pink orbs stared right back at him. With utmost curious, diabolical glee.

A particular little 'rat' that has been skittering around town lately and stirring up troubles, almost flipping Rustport on its head...literally. Yup, there the shady lizard is, sitting in the corner with a huge grin and ogling shamelessly. This is the fifteenth time this week, the wretched terror making at least five back-to-back visits each day--Popping in and out not unlike Berial. Except this one doesn't warn at all. That jester at least makes a noise to announce his presence.

Sure enough, the pesky menace is already doing her creepy nonsense--Jaws wide open, teeth growing and twisting, falling out with lil' tissue and blood in the cracks on 'em, eyeballs expanding and shrinking, rolling in their sockets sloowly then fast. The whole horror movie nine yards. Those kinds of shenanigans would've freaked out anyone else, however he wasn't buying it. It's been done soo many times by now, that he's gotten desensitized. Or maybe has gone off the deep end himself somewhere along the way. With a tired sigh, already so done with this bullshit-- The blond sailor steps towards the stupid 'rat' calmly, gesturing for it to go away with his free hand .

—"Alright, get lost. C'on, shoo." The grinning devil crawls up the wall, head turned three hundred-sixty degrees and lolling as it does. Like a centipede or cockroach. Naturally, he tries to swat at it with the broom to get it down. Maybe kill the troublesome fiend, if he swings hard enough. Outer being or not, that little brat has no business in the warehouse or in town.

"There's nothing for you here, get lost. Get." Unfortunately Rila moved too fast and scuttled right up to the ceiling. Drooling.

Some of that disgusting slime falls on his scarf, the same one that his foster mothers had gifted him on his coming of age ceremony. Glancing down at it, the orphan frowns as he attempts to wipe the sludge off but to no avail. (Oh great, just great.) Looking back up, just in time to see another drop of drool fall and step aside, holding the broom like a weapon. "Don't jump on my head."

And then the thing crawls across the ceiling, scuttling over to the window and outside to jump on someone else's apparently. Already whispering incessantly the great cosmic secrets and cackling. Realizing that hell's about to break loose--Again-- with full Armageddon, he drops the broom and hurries out the door to (hopefully) find that lizard and cut her off before rifts the size of blackholes start appearing all over the place.

A scream of terror echoes.

Too late.

(Should've thought this through better. Note to self: Trap the devil next time. (Or at least try.) )

Another scream, another rift. The weather was starting to act funny. Things were getting downhill fast and soon someone might even die.

—"Sinbad!" (-And a very peeved Sonja would bite my head off, it seems.) There the curly-haired mafia woman is with Lucca at her side and a bunch of Whispers, already at the scene right as he arrives at the elevator. Another rift tears itself dangerously close to them. In front of them, the endless maddening whispering skittering about it and all the other rifts ripped into reality's fabric.

All across their humble crime-ruled spot of the world. It's like Rila's everywhere at once. Judging by the confused, mildly unsettled looks that flash in the gang's eyes, the chatter is beginning to take its toll. "Don't look or listen to those! Go back inside, too dangerous!" Assuming (hoping and praying) that the blasted devil hasn't left some nice rifts in the manor as well.

"Retreat!" --The scarred rouge calls over his shoulder to them without looking back as he continues to rush, finding Pirin being top priority. The only one who can put a stop to this and fix it. Miraculously, it didn't take long- the faux Magister hanging by the docks of the lower residential district.

—"Devil's back. Help." -He chokes out between catching his breath, struggling not to panic as seconds tick by with the damage getting more devastating. Doesn't need to see Pirin's face to know the man's frowning tiredly in annoyance at his 'half' and her antics. The star's eerily quiet tenor is flat, stern. Gracefully uncrosses his legs and gets up to his feet, turning to walk towards him. A simple question. A gesture for him to slow down and breathe.

—"Where." —"Upper district. Moved from there to the docks or plaza." Targeting crowded places.

In a blink Pirin vanishes and Sinbad races right over there after him, hoping to be of help. Somehow. Arrives right on time to see Rila get mercilessly shot down with sharp needle-like blades made of crystalline flames, connected by thin silk-like threads of that magic that wrap around the dragon's thrashing form. Held to the ground, jaws clamped shut by the threads.

No negotiations, no patient gentleness or attempt at reason like the several times before. Straight to tracking, hunting down and kicking her out. Seizing the trouble-maker by the scruff, Pirin drags the caught being towards the newly ripped rift as it gets morphed into a portal- And throws her into it, closing the rift.

Footsteps and easy-flowing banter draw the small group's attention to the tree-line of the veiled Haunted forest to see the two love-birds returning. The lively savvy swindler sauntering by his partner's side calmly, having already left the topic alone and moved on to less serious matters. The fallen star on the other hand seems to be still thinking something over, likely ironing out some of its kinks out and finalizing it in his mind. A plan.

For the hundredth time, Valen's heart skips at the sight of his former charge and a spike of bitter jealousy--Envying that rascal's mad luck. It gets followed up by a pang of inquisitive buzz of excitement and nervousness as the hare-brained idea that has been secretly brewing in the back of his mind, crawls back.

I really am an avaricious brat, aren't I?

Not sure if either one or both would be interested... But it is worth putting out on the table.

—"Hookay. I'll keep this nice and short: I got a hoodwink to help with the 'Devil' problem." Instantly the goofy idea falls to the far backburner, the knight's attention fully directed at the incarnated wandering spirit along with everyone else around the fire.

Funny how they all look like kids in class, ears sharp when listening to the cool and/or favorite teacher. Or meerkats on the lookout.

"Upsides- You get a part of my magic to keep plus abilities, and a way to counter the menace on your own. Drawbacks? This plan is in testing and I'll need to work very closely with you to see if and what needs to be ironed out. I.e, more frequent meetings and having to recall how your attempts went in detail plus how you are being affected. No skipping." Mirael smiles as the two younger mages' eyes light up at the prospect, same as Sinbad's. Soren stays quiet, mulling the offer and weighing it carefully while Valen looks one step away from casually accepting it. Sure it will be more work and business meetings, but how can he possibly complain when it's Pirin?

—"I volunteer to be Holistone's representative." -He declares confidently with a raise of his hand, giving Fay a cheeky smirk as the geomancer calls 'Veto!' shortly after, pouting at having been beaten to the chance. Meanwhile the Scarlet witch doesn't appear fussed with missing out on the opportunity, content to observe as the two siblings squabble a bit.

—"Valen! I could improve my gem magic with his guidance!" -An unhappy Hail moon star whines, earning herself a playful retort from her older brother which makes her huff. This is a once-in a lifetime chance! Merlin is powerful, without a doubt- But it's apparent that Pirin has a lot more to offer in terms of magic, guidance, knowledge and wisdom due to being a long-lived spirit that has experienced plenty! (Barring the four other lifetimes of his or the other worlds he has visited.)

—"Sorry, Fay- Early bird gets the worm~! Besides, you're already busy studying under the Magister." In all seriousness, both of them know that the woman will find plenty of other opportunities. Still doesn't stop her from pouting though. "Still not fair..." The elite knight sticks his tongue out childishly with a smile and she does the same with a scowl of feigned frustration. Then they laugh at the silliness.

The Empire is quite the territory to cover.

—"I volunteer to represent the capitol!" -Cassadee's quiet, soft-spoken voice rings out next without hesitation, seizing the unique chance like a dark horse. The volunteer for the coastal side is obvious. Which leaves the desert areas and the Wilders' territories alongside Remnant Peak.. Pirin silently observes, not fully surprised people are jumping to accept the plan. And then Merlin's apprentice chimes in, catching the present off-guard, her choice of territory even more so. Soren's ears perk up and twitch twice, visible bafflement and surprise on his face at the proclamation.

—"I volunteer for the Eroded Enclaves!" There's a bright grin on Fay's oval visage, and a gleam of fierce determined competition. Refusing to give up. Almost as though the two mages are having a competition. Makes the brunette's main motive for this endeavor curious..Sure, her desire to get better at gem magic and prove a point is there, absolutely. However there's an odd sense that there's bit more than that to her resolve, maybe trying to impress someone with how well she mastered her 'feeble', blooming magic..

A gleam of surprise, concern but also pride and inquisitiveness flickers in the white-haired scholar's sky-blue gaze as she glances at her. And then gets tiny bit shy and looks back to the 'dutiful moon'.

Her brother gives her a mildly concerned look, knowing how unforgiving the desert is. It took him a good half a year to adjust while traveling with the 'Magister' and the Uru siblings, during the Song of Strife escapades. Even then, he had just barely started getting used to the climate.

—"Are you sure?" The answer was immediate and resolute. —"Yes."

—"I'll cover the Ashen Wastes." -Soren's baritone voice slides in next flatly, finally making up his mind. Pirin gives a clipped nod, turning his eyes to the only person whom hasn't spoken up.

—"Mirael? Your thoughts?"

The former Lyceum pioneer student waves the offer off with a simple smile, not interested in taking part. It's fine to sit back and watch from sideline, lend a helping hand here and there. There's enough work of watching over Ryeham and burning down hypofiends, driving them away anyway. Plus taking care of Merlin so the notorious Arch-mage doesn't do something too reckless or overwork himself. The little hamsters aren't enough, busy with maintaining the Mystical House and keeping it pristine, alongside with caring for the Giga with Dolly.

—"Thank you, but I'll pass. I'm helping my dear Magister at the House. However I can pass him a message, if you wish?"

—"Yes, please do. Let Merlin know I'll need the Hall of Resonance for the meetings....Also, a friendly reminder to go outside for a few minutes now and then. Thanks, Mirae." At this, Mirael offers back a nod in acknowledgement paired with a muted chuckle at the last quip. Certainly will be sure to pass on the message. Rising from the log and lowering the campfire's intensity, the curvaceous lady gives a playful salute... And with that, the red-head graciously leaves the clearing. Soon enough the desert tribe's secondary chief also takes his leave to find the nearest waystone and teleport home. Probably has sensed the 'odd' jittery tension that hangs around his knightly teammate and didn't want to have to deal with the awkward situation pending. Which leaves just the captain and the two lovebirds by the dimming fire. And if he doesn't act fast, it'll be only him by himself.

Sitting on the log by the fire and staring into the embers, twiddling his thumbs absently, the dazzling player keeps oddly quiet for a few seconds, lost in thought. Is this really a good idea? Maybe leaving the two alone would be better...Glancing up from around his fringe at the duo as they walk past him, the high-ranking solder feels his confidence dim slightly, watching them banter easily. Not quite listening to what they're exchanging, but the tone is chipper, playful and breezy with a few jokes and friendly-fire quips sprinkled.

Plus a lovey-dovey flirtatious subtext to the mock 'bickering' and the sweet affectionate lilt underneath it all. Basically what some might call 'a married old couple'.

And here he is-- Possibly 'bout to butt in like some annoying third wheel. Most likely. What's worse is that Pirin, the poor sweetheart he is, would feel bad as if leaving him out...

Seriously, how is it that the guy is clever enough to come up with good battle plans and analysis--And yet be so dense? Not like the vampire's faking it either. Unless the flirting is slightly above subtle, bit more direct--then he won't catch on. Just assume the other person's being affectionate, especially when it comes to the people he views as his friends, or 'homies' like some of the youngsters like to say.

Absolutely ride or die, will drop everything to come and help anyone of them out, stick it through to the end come hell or high water. But by the dear Goddess is it frustrating, trying to get the point across without being obnoxious.

For a whole week, he's been trying to say 'Hey! I'm into you!'--Dinners (that never got to actually happen. The doll was always busy with Merlin duties or other work.), flirting and playfulness.. Which in hindsight probably looked like typical Valen shmoozer bravado. But the gifts should've been some hint! Right?? I mean, come on! Who else does that? ...Oh, wait- Fay and the Wilders crew have also sent him gifts. And the Uru clan, too. Also Marilee and Mirael from time to time. And Magister Merlin.

Suddenly Valen feels like a fool.

Taking all of this into account, no wonder his behavior gets mixed up. It doesn't help that literally every time he's tried to ask the wanderer on a date face to face, something always cropped up--Either the general got a new mission, or something else duty-related that can't wait or he'd be swamped with paperwork in the office. Or the annual meeting of the Solitaires has come and he didn't notice, as a result having to rush, beeline for the capitol like a madman.

Meanwhile Sinbad has only very recently joined their little squad and is a friend, yes.. Just not quite 'a homie' yet. And none of that crap. Lucky bastard devil.

"I think I figured out why Sonja was never interested in me."

"Hm? Why?"

" 'Cause she already had eyes on her bodyguard and got with him." "Really??"

"Aye. Can't miss 'em. I was just too tunnel-visioned to notice it."

—"Never really thought the lady had it in her, to be honest. She always comes across to me as too busy-not interested in romance."

—"Ha. The irony." Pirin lightly swats at his shoulder with a small laugh and a half-hearted 'Oh shut it.', the two of them almost passing by the slouched over troubled knight.

Valen's forlorn, gloomy face catches the vampire's attention and he halts, a scowl of mild apprehension settling onto his features. Unhooking his arm from his sailor's, the ghostly 'siren' pads back, causing the other to pause and look back at him with a look of slight confusion. Then his brown eyes land on the brooding Solitaire and it clicks in his head. The scarred intel-trader calmly rejoins his siren's side.

—"Valyo? You alright?" -A breathless tenor snaps Valen out of his thoughts, almost jumping out of his skin. (Barely registers the silly nickname of endearment. It came up as a half-joke that stuck around similar to 'Romeo' and 'Prince Charmer'. 'Val' and 'Vale' or 'Knave', too.) Followed by a tenor an octave lower and more rugged yet no less worried, echoing in wary agreement.

Understandable, given how often the 'sun' has been terrorizing and the corruption she's known to inflict. Sometimes out of the blue, with no clue it's there until it gets more severe. Can't catch a break these days. —"Yup, you seem off. Everything good?" Their voices honestly startled him for a good second--Only to notice the two mildly concerned pearly and rum-like irises of his friends, Pirin's gloved hand resting on his shoulder. Whatever spiteful courage had come up instantly whizz out, leaving the light-armored charmer a sudden nervous wreck. Partially out of internal panic incoming at having been caught red-handed, realizing he's drawn attention to himself and at being left breathless from the sight.

Now or never. Now or never. Here goes nothing. Blinking, Valen hurries to quickly straighten out his posture and cover it up with a cough, silently having fingers crossed he doesn't burn bridges in this moment of truth. They'd find out eventually one way or another. ..doesn't make it anymore easy.

—"Yes! Yes, I'm fine! Don't worry for me! I was just...thinking, over something." -The handsome playboy knight answers back with a smile that comes across as more nervous instead of his usual. Well that didn't sound suspicious at all. Judging by the looks on his two companions, neither was convinced by his half-sputter. Running a hand through his wavy hair and keeping it on his nape, a slight grimace crosses his angular face, knowing he's just cornered himself and no backpedaling will save him.

"Alright, fine- I've been having a hare-brained idea for some time that keeps nagging me." Another feeble attempt at leaving a backdoor to weasel out of.

—"Just spill the beans already. We promise we won't laugh- We're all crackheads in this team." -That the hardy coastal swindler promptly shuts with a prompt of affable humor. "Right, Vanya?" The man shorter than the two of them, hums cheerily with a light smile.

Two against one? Not very fair.

Looks like the inner conflicting dilemma is done with, now that there's nowhere to run under the duo's expectant gaze. And so the poor outnumbered solder caves in with 'Just don't get mad and hear me out.' muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper.

—"Here's the thing: I've had a crush on our 'Magister' since I first saw him when General Hogan assigned me as his escort." -He begins, the campfire's dying embers weakly illuminating him, ignoring the simple "Cool." from Rusport's notorious intel-gatherer. Doesn't make a big deal out of the confession, casual smirk still present with a brief raise of the burly brows. However the subtle glimmer is there, a silent warning. Valen presses on, raising his hands in defense as a 'Chill out', keeping his tone even. As for Pirin, the spirit doesn't appear too excited, nor judgmental.

—"I've tried to express my interest several times, however something always happened. It was like a curse! And recently the idea of polyamory appeared in my mind, haunting me since relentlessly--It's fairly popular in the capital. So I guess I'm curious to hear your thoughts on perhaps giving it a try..? See if it works?"

Sinbad's breezy smirk has faded, hands on hips in what can be interpreted as mild disapproval. Definitely not enthusiastic about the idea, not quite annoyed either. Not very happy in any case.

Pirin's owl-like grey eyebrows pinch together subtly into a pout of mild confusion and uncertainty. Reluctant, weighing and doing a thorough analysis in his mind. Sorting out his thoughts on the matter and carefully putting them in a cohesive order. Likely also attempting to make sense of the ordeal, what to even make of it. One way or the other, it's plain obvious he'd stick with his 'Jolly sailor Bold'. Doesn't hurry to respond, fallen into 'observer mode', gathering as many perspectives to reflect in hopes of getting the bigger picture. So the blond easily slides in, keeping his voice level-headed. Neutral. As though humoring him with a hypothetical scenario. And blunt, not very convinced.

—"I guess we could. 'Don't knock it 'til you try it' as they say." Not flat out rejection.. "You might find yourself drowned in trouble, though- Given our track record as magnets for it." Then goes straight for the throat, using humor as friendly teasing. Beneath it, the note of sternness isn't lost on Valen. And it makes sense. Still doesn't make it more pleasant to be voiced aloud, however.

"Jokes aside- I doubt this thing would pan out. I think it's obvious we're both attracted to Pirin here, not each other. So it's really less of a 'polyamory' and more of a 'triangle'. To me- this whole thing sounds like a free pass to third-wheel us, no offense."

—"None taken, fair enough. Then I suppose that's a 'no' from you?" -The lilac-eyed Solitaire quips somewhat defensively, making the other man bristle a little. A flash of teeth not too unlike a dog.

What do you see in this con artist Vanyusha? —"Hey! If it was, I would've said so! Don't put words into my mouth, yeah?"-Then finishes in a calmer tone of low, clear tenor, gesturing with a hand- palm up. Kind of like a shrug. "I'm just laying my cards on the table, that's all." Maybe putting this suggestion out there truly wasn't the best idea after all. The fishy hustler has made a very good point- It probably won't work. They'd be at each other's throat more like rivals while trying to hide it under witty banters and mock spars, to make it seem like just horsing around in front of their shared partner.

Or maybe we'd get along swimmingly once I get used to Sinbad's particular bluntness and much sharper humor, crass or bit obnoxious as it is, due to our culture and lifestyle disparity.

Shoulders relaxing, the adventurous street-rat glances down at his partner, expression softening slightly along with his voice that takes a quiet note. That same gentleness that Valen envies and yearns for at the same time--Love. Simple, sincere, unconditional and unwaveringly lasting.

Once again bias strikes: How can this perpetually coinless, messy and unrefined, stinking scoundrel who greedily relies on the generosity of others, have attained what he has been struggling to grasp for weeks & longer?

What does Pirin see in this rouge, that he doesn't have or can't offer?

Chances are I look like a frivolous fop to the intel-trader in turn. Vanya has his reasons. I'm simply being jealous.

Still stings.

"Besides, I'm not the one who calls the shots solo." Let's hear Pirin's two cents on this.

—"...I'm not sure this would work either, but am willing to try-If, heavily tentative. What bothers me is that you would be--or feel like being unwanted or unwelcome when there comes a day where..." Falters, pauses for a quick second to get his thoughts organized.

By this point, most of the team is aware of him being a vampire and the little 'kinks' that come alongside it aside from the specialized diet. Namely, the whole bonding 'issue' which doesn't allow for polyamory on a biological level...and also psychological to a very large extent.

Something that's taken incredibly seriously, as a vampire's bonded partner- Is literally that individual's life-long partner with no return or cheating. The very reason why vampires had gone down in numbers faster than fairies did in the span of a single century during the slaughter.

"I inevitably have to bond, and will choose Sinbad. Once that point arrives, the arrangement would be rendered null, its purpose defeated. Or this is my perspective on the matter, at the very least." Looking up from the grass of the clearing and embers, the deeply contemplative look in his irises remains as he meets those of his former knight.

—"..Unless you are okay, knowing this...? Also- Isn't polyamory heavily frowned upon in Holistone? Seen as immoral and promiscuous?"

—"While I admit it does sting, I would still be content with being your partner. Even if secondary." And on the off-chance the 'arrangement' falls apart--I'd be fine with being simply both your friend and wingman. At least then I'd know I tried instead of running away. Carefully, the former mercenary takes one of the spirit's hands in his own.

"As for whether it's scorned in Holistone- It is, unfortunately. However, who says the people have to know our private affairs anyway? We can simply say we're close friends and tone down the intimacy a notch when in public, get away with the excuse. At most, the three of us would be deemed as eccentrics in a way.

Give it some time, and polyamory will gradually begin to be seen as something mundane rather than a big deal, maybe an eyeroll or crass jab here and there."

—"So we're all on the same page then?" -The Seaside savant chimes in all too casually, startling his siren out of his thoughts. Valen wrestles with himself to not get jealous- again- as the tanned Captain places his hands on the 'Magister's' hips, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. These two are already pretty much an established couple, it's him who's shaken up the status quo here. It's normal for them to be intimately romantic with each other.

Envy still doesn't listen to rationality, however.

It only merely flares up as Pirin relaxes and lightly leans back, a soft smile of sweet amused fondness playing on his lips, reaching a hand to affectionately ruffle the sailor's messy hair. Or when he cards his fingers through it, smoothing back the adventurer's bangs, out of his face with care.

"Good-'Cause I wanna make one thing clear. No threesomes, no negotiations." The snowy-haired much shorter man halts his ministrations with a look of surprise on his soft face, absolutely red. Sputters, or squeaks out a very embarrassed 'Sinbad! Can't just blurt it out!' under his hitched breath. The swindler's hands lightly squeeze his sharp hips in response as wordless apology.

—"Fair enough- I wouldn't have asked for it either."

Romance has always somehow made him bit squeamish, or maybe more like the notion of full commitment to someone. Either way, there's something about engaging in sexual acts with multiple partners that simply...doesn't click with him.

Fooling with, romancing multiple people and bedding them, are two different stories.

Although you could have worded it a smidge more tactfully rather than blurting it out. And because he can't resist being his usual cheeky self, Valen goes on to playfully tease.

—"I suppose that makes me your second boyfriend with financial benefits, then." A snort. The three of them start to walk up the trail back to Southville after ensuring the dead embers don't cause another wildfire.

As they saunter up the worn, downtrodden trail leading back to the village, the nocturnal being forces himself to pad at a steadier pace. While his partners stride at his sides with leisurely gait, enjoying the scenery. Until their love couldn't take it anymore and briskly sauntered up ahead a few steps then paused to wait for them, falling back relatively in-step.

Valen loops an arm around his..their? boyfriend's shoulder, pulling the restless ball of energy close, inwardly noting how calm his 'rival' is about it. Full trust, not a speck of jealousy or possessive protectiveness. Instead the dust-blond is perfectly fine with retorting in matching lark, holding the vampire's hand calmly, fingers laced.

—"Sure, if you don't mind paying the bill."

—"Don't threaten me with a good time, Sinbad." —"You two mind the rounds, or you're getting to snore in the garden."

And the two trouble-makers quickly pin this warning in mind, knowing well it's not an empty threat.