#merlin should've been raised as at least a noble but he was raised in a literal late 5th century pagan village so

[yohohonabottle]

Clown's reminiscing & Bear's 'sin' (that outed half of the guests' present.)

The song that inspired it, lyrics got altered to match better.

TW: Description of mild game-cannon violence, mentions of death threat & implied/referenced suicidal tendencies.

Everyone was gathered in the Mystical house, the Magister Merlin having sent the invites and thrown this grand party. ...Everyone, but a certain wandering spirit. And tonight, on this wintery celebration evening, she held up a friendly Century Quest & Card duel competition- The prize being something simple. A patch.

Everyone knew that should the Incarnated spirit have been present, and took part--He would've won. Not even trying, just having fun and enjoying the friendly-fire rounds or 'spars' with people.. Regardless of who's who and what, stranger, enemy, friend or more. In the end, Thoran somehow won. And the Graveborns, aside from Earl Ludovic, didn't care about this small detail. Nor did the Hypogeans, other Maulers who managed to make it here. Half the guests didn't really care, half were not too approving of how...selective the party and competition feels. And the other half were only bit puzzled as to why the 'Magister' wasn't invited but figured he's probably busy or chose to be by himself tonight. Watching the Bantus king smugly claim the Ironjaw patch, Soren frowns. This just isn't right. Getting up from his seat at the table, his steps thump on the lounge's wooden floor. The memories of old adventures hold a burning, putrid sting-- A scalding, acid-like and drowning guilt still haunting his conscious and conscience to this day. It'll plague him 'til the end of his days. Rightly so.

—"Merlin, nothing personal but Pirin Hestios should've won the patch tonight." Sweeping a disdainful eye over the faces of the two nobles, king and pirate, the warrior's gloomy glare turns to Merlin. "And you people are crazy for not realizing that." Hodgkin scoffs with an amused snort from his seat at another table in the tavern.

"Why would we give that Rat the Patch, eh? So he could use it as a blanket?" Valen, Lorsan, Alsa and Eironn wince. Sinbad and Lyca scowl. Sonja and Lucca keep their mouth shut, but the edge of varying discontent tinging their masks of stoically dutiful neutrality is enough clue. Soren's ears pin back in annoyance as hearty laughter booms from some of the guests, Merlin included.

"That's the reaction I thought I'd get." A flicker of an idea lights up Lorsan's eyes at recalling a silly 'exercise' Pirin once did with Eironn. The aim was to help the Stormsword express better his emotions, or at least get more comfortable with them regardless of their nature. And also lift his spirit, by lifting some of the 'doom and gloom' with putting them through song. A method that the Burning star took to the desert and applied with the young Mauler. Absurd as it seems, felt and likely also is, to a degree, it did help. Taking out his lute, the bard easily comes up with a melody, and strums on the strings with a deft hand.

"Everyone in this room has been associated with Pirin, Either through adventure, the tavern or various odd jobs he does around for free or at most a silver." -The teen's voice is gruff as a buzzard's and gravelly with a small rasp, but darn it he kept pushing on. A few eyebrows were raised in question, some smiled and some rolled their eyes or scoffed. The hare kept on plucking the strings, setting the melody. "And I'm guessing most of you have either laughed in Pirin's face Or ruthlessly made fun of his eyebrows or body, or voice, or temper or shortness when he wasn't looking-" Merlin narrowly flinches, Rhys pulls a face at getting called out, Chippy & Hammie look down guiltily, Sinbad winces and Lenya pretends to play dumb. Lyca throws the catwoman a disbelieving look that quickly flips to sour.

Cecia and Salazer inwardly bristle for a second but show no reaction... Because both know they've done it. Just as Sir Lucius looks away in guilty shame along with Atalanta, Kafra, and Satrana. Hodgkin knew he'd done all of the above and harbors not a drop of remorse or care. Lorsan winces as he carries on playing the guitar, remembering that one time he'd grimaced at the man's 'Graveborn' appearance and cringed at his voice.

Seated at one of the tables with his wife, Niru calmly sweeps his eyes over the other patrons' faces. Notes the reactions. Plenty of guilty fellows tonight, it seems.

Valen tries not to grimace, the memory of how he'd pointed out his love's peculiar eyebrows-- Back when they truly met for the very first time. It wasn't out of mockery and malice...but the fact he'd teased him about it still stands.

"But the next time you'd see him, he'd still go out of his way to smile And wave at you and ask you about your mother's operation or something like that. Because he unlike us actually cares about someone other than himself--" Berial's laughter and gleeful grin dies down, memories resurfacing unwanted.

--------------——-=== - -- --——--- -- - ===-———-------------

For the very first time, the diabolical jester had found himself in a pinch after pranking the Magister--Nothing actually lethal mind you. Same reason as to why his pranks on her stand-in and the people of Esperia, too aren't actually aiming to kill. A nasty scare here, heaping misfortunes and or nightmares there, or something completely goofy sans the cruelty and evil.

Dumping a bucket of period blood, tree-sap and rotten seaweed (Because that's what came to his mind as funny) he'd conjured up, the nasty little fiend then cackled merrily. Oh the Magister's horrified yell of being startled and the disgusted grimace she had pulled were priceless. The two pip-squeaks cries of alarm, the horror on their chubby gorged cheeks and frantic fussing--It made it five times funnier! Well the Arch-mage's wrath that followed right after in retaliation wasn't fun. Bloody Mary proceeded to 'prank' back with a mean bite--Casting a spell to not only nail his body with Dura's oh so holly sword...But instead of sealing him and finishing the deal, Merlin worked on purifying and extracting magic straight out his core.

How it burnt, how it burnt! It was like being boiled, grilled and burned alive all in one! "It was just a prank! What're you draining me for?! I didn't even try to hurt you this time! At all! OW-!" --He'd wailed, almost beginning to regret his prank. And suddenly Pirin's 'curse' was a far, far more pleasant experience to go through again.

Being a nobody and feeling phantasmal-ly powerless in a nightmare is much more favorable, better, than actually being truly dead. Hell! Being turned to stone, or a mortal and chucked at the Order would work too! Just not total, real death and erasure of existing!

...And then the nail was removed, a compassionate Blazing star having warily approached after Merlin has long left. Hollowed eyes with diminished glow feebly lift to gaze at his 'nemesis.' That day, Berial honestly expected to be finished off, be met with more ire. Certainly wouldn't have blamed the man for it, considering the time his pranks on him crossed the line and also the troubles he'd caused, being a perfect doppelgänger.

But no. No torment or wrath came. The spirit squandered the chance to kill him off for good instead. Weaving a small spell, pulling at the threads of neutral-aligned and free-flowing magic; tainting it with dark emotions, intents lingering from a past life's grief-borne bloodlust, memories vicious-- The tar-like oozing flame orb was held out to him. Squinting up at the lost descendant with nothing but immense confusion, the slowly-withering Hypogean stares for a long moment. There are no expectations in those mirror-like eyes, nor hope for reward, no desire for favors and deals.

".....Why?" Why're you helping me? Why aren't you hurting or trying to finish me off for good? The answer the 'idiot', or maybe Pirin really was an idiot, gave in turn to his weak rasp, was even more baffling. But the serene sincerity of simple conviction was unmistakable. Like a slap.

—"Only good can't exist, not without its counterpart. You have your own place in the scheme, though hard to grasp by many." The jester scoffs, forcing on a pitiful attempt to grin like usual..but it crumbles to dust. While trying and failing to make sense of this strange, funny, 'naïve' blockhead.

—"Not what I asked. What? You want a deal? Power, glory, endless gold, adoration? Name your wish, and I'll grant it.~" The refute was like a cold slash of a blade.

—"Just take it. If you insist on doing me a favor," His discarded top-hat is picked up from the ground, the orb placed bit harshly into his palms. Dusting the hat off, the gloved hand places it back onto the inky head, the demon blinking down at the ball of potent abyss. Then blinks up, a sense of....something stirring somewhere in his black core. Respect, partially begrudging from last time.. and also sincere.

"then a simple 'thank you' will do. Or a smile, if that's too pricey." On eye-level, that ember of kindness coloring the magister's light smile as it does his eyes. Too pricey?? Excuse you???

"Thank you."

For once, the clown's grin isn't malign nor sneering. Gobbling up the orb without needing to be told twice, instantly returning to his normal lively self. It was delicious! No longer on Death's door, sockets and wide grin now back to their vibrant glow and ashen features wrought with life once more-- But he makes no move to attack. Or prank.

How can you be so genuinely selfless like a saint?

—"Seriously though—Why did you help me? You could've left me to die and everyone would thank you for it, you know?" I'm a Hypogean, the literal embodiment of evil. You know my track-record. You could get hurt. I could kill you at any moment, and those you hold dearly. I know. —"I don't want anyone to suffer in the ways I have." Not anymore. I did, once, took the lives of many in my blind rage. Brutally so, without remorse or guilt, drawing and dragging out their agony-- The instigators, the perpetrators, the accomplices...and along with them, the innocent, too, got in the line of slaughter. In my grief, revenge, I couldn't, didn't, distinguish nor cared to. I wanted nothing more, but to make the world suffer -Pay for it. I was no better, than those that called and inflicted the genocide of my kin. Not the first time I've been a sadistic monster either-- Same rage and pettiness, same cause of it, just a different world. (In a different lifecycle two prior.)

I'm still paying the price myself. (For my own senseless evils.)

----------———-—=== -- --——--- -- ===—-———------------ "The reason I bring this up to you Is because I... was the worst offender, of all." --Lorsan masterfully glides a hand over the strings. What he hears next, stirs up confused anger and shocked disbelief, the way the teenager outs himself. His mistreatment towards the vampire they'd come to call a 'nightingale', 'little finch' or 'lark'. It was in the early days of his adventures with the Magister, yes, but still doesn't make it okay!

"My life was simply going nowhere, Then a tiny, little man, rushed to my side. He should've gotten a big thank you, Instead he got a quicksand-dunking ride."

Some of the Graveborns laugh, pleased at the revelation. With the mental imagery of their pesky, meddling, enemy's abuse in the past.

Ludovic's hold on the branch of delicate flowers ever so subtly tightens for a second. Subdued, reserve and strongly disapproving anger flashing in the young boy's melancholic eyes. Like last time, when Merlin had beat up the felled star, beautiful white lilies were left on Pirin's nightstand.

The only thing to soothe away his pains of heart and mind, the nightmares, besides his Jolly sailor and loyal Knight.

Tonight, the 'Magister' would likely find himself another branch of those lovely blooms. Or in a patch of them. An eternal sufferer, in a way... and also a mere sincere gift from a friend. A gesture of kindness to keep the warm, kind bleeding heart from growing cold. A quiet way to say, remind the man there's someone(s) out there, who care.

"I was such a shithead. But he never quit on me, 'Til I told him he was useless,...and should go take his own life.." Shock flashes in the young lord's stern, saddened, pale green irises- Shaking out the melancholy and composure. Covering his mouth with a hand, other hand gripping the flowers even tighter.

The immense, crushing shame and guilt in the Mauler's voice aren't lost on him, ringing clearly in his voice with deep remorse. But the spark of fiery fury that flares in the young noble's dead heart is there. Lorsan very narrowly stops playing his guitar, jaw drop on the ground. Valen's eyebrows shoot to his hairline, Sinbad's face darkens and Lyca gapes at the warrior, just as his sister does.

How did Pirin not lash out...? Beat the ever-loving lights out of this punk? ...Why did he take the blows? Berial remains draped on his seat at his own table, already knowing what happened next. The sweet little thing held himself back from pummeling the whelp, knowing all too well what his own anger looks like. And didn't wish to inflict it. Instead he simply smiled instead, hurt, but smiled anyway. Forgave Bear-boy for the wrongdoings, and moved on like nothing happened. 'I don't want anyone to suffer' (In the ways I have.)

"I snapped at Soren more severely, once. After he crossed a line. I haven't gotten so angry, in a long while.. Not like this. Couldn't hold back-- In a blink he was on the ground, and I just...kept clawing and punching at him like a straw dummy, anywhere I could strike." --A pained 'Magister' laments devastated, fur sprouted along his neck and arms. And the Joker quietly listened to Batman's confession of 'sin', slight against the young former Grimmaw orphan he'd recently become foster father to. How he'd pelted the fighter with a flurry of vicious strikes, giving the brat two nice black-eyes, a crooked nose, nicked ears and plenty of nasty bruises.. and a dislocated shoulder from almost twisting his furry arm.

Blinded by anger. Just like in his old days.

"...I could've taken his life, only barely managed to stop myself. Had to force myself to flee, go to my dorm at the Mystical House and turn it to an arena, let my anger there. Better than him or anyone else getting the brunt of it." --The distraught spirit uttered in a shaky rasp, almost a choked quiet sob. Horrified with himself.

"I almost killed him, Berial! I-" How did a prank of dropping a bucket of blood-looking juice lead to this moment? The Hypogean had no clue, but kept his mouth shut. For once in his entire life. I'm a monster. I really am like the Temple says-- So he'd placed an inky hand firmly on the boney shoulder, stopping the train right there.

"No." Stop with that nonsense. What monster cares, and so much? Runs away before it could do harm? None, that's what. How in the Abyss did we become frenemies? No idea. Can't complain, keeps things interesting with these twists. 'Sides, even villains got downtime, no?

That day, the performer put up a show--Simple and comically flashy, without horrors, mockery or gore. ...Okay fine, he snuck in a literal eye in one of the tricks as a punchline and pulled out dead doves out his hat then revived them, and made the birds disintegrate into regular confetti. Just to cheer this one 'idiot' of a 'magister'. Hypogeans can't feel actual love you see, or care in the typical constraints of mortal understanding and their rigid, dull morality lofty ideals.

More like... Favor. Have interest in someone or something, and in turn keep it safe. Can't have that person or thing go 'poof' in any way, can we now? It wouldn't do. In a way, to a degree, it can be called 'care'. ----------———-—=== -- --——--- -- ===—-———------------ Somehow pulled into the spirit of confessing 'sins' in song, Sir Lucius takes the turn to sing next. Outing himself, right as Soren sits down back in his seat, ears drooping in remorseful shame.

"Once when we were watching Sunday spectacle in the Gala square, A fuzzy movement was all that we could see." The image comes back, a gloomy day in Holistone and how Father David sent for Pirin. The ghostly-pale man had earned himself the reputation of being a reliable hand, outside of his duty as Merlin. That Father knew, and the music was playing, a spectacle in Dura's name to honor her, the Archons and Heroes of the Immortal war.

A way to draw youth back to morality and tradition, to spread the good will and sacred words. And perhaps also incite interest in them for the Temple, for the Divine and for Faith. The lights had abruptly given out and needed to be fixed, newly-acquired technology from Alkali. Poor man, a diligent jack of all trades, worked on fixing the blasted stage lights in the background whilst the show continued.

"Pirin came over with a toolkit-- And spent the spectacle on top of the theater grids.. And when the lightning struck him, He let out a wicked loud yell. .

But we just turned up the volume, And ignored, covered up the burning smell-- we should all rot in hell!" It was horrible, going up to the rafters after the performance... only to find a charred body, miraculously alive. But unconscious. That day he'd grabbed the man, and tore through town-- ran straight to the doctor's office, cutting the queue of patients and frantically explained the situation through prayers and pleads for help.

After that he'd taken the 'mercenary' to Valen's home with all the medicaments needed (that Lucius bought with his own money) in tow. Valen looked scared and distraught at the sight, then gave an angry earful "What were you and the Temple thinking?!" "The weather was clear today, until the projectors gave out near the spectacle's end...Father called for Pirin to repair them.." "What?! Ohh greeat, go tell Father to be more mindful- And carefully check the weather forecast when planning events! You've put not only Pirin's but also the citizens' safety at risk! People could've gotten seriously hurt!" Covering his face with an armored hand and bowing his head, Lucius closes his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "Dura above, please forgive our sins..." The blond Templar knight's eyes blink open, head snapping up when Archon Talene softly rises from her seat, hand on her heart. And divine features pinched into a guilty, ashamed look.

"I went to high Pantheon with Pirin, in a previous cycle of his.... As a joke I told him to meet me at the banquet, needing a cavalier.. When he got there I said, ''I can't believe you thought I was serious.''"

Dionel and the Hypogeans look up at the firebird, Harak with a mouthful of fish and chicken, blinking up in confused surprise. Some of the bones stick out his maw; Berial blinks, then grins half in sneering amusement at one of those pomps having dirty laundry (not surprising, ask Dionel but the perpetually drunk sloth won't tell you. And suavely divert your attention elsewhere, like pulling a rug right from under your feet oh so smoothly). Phraesto and Reinier couldn't care less. Scarlita stays silent as usual, hands rested atop the handle of her battle-axe, remembering the scene all too well.

"So he ran home crying because of my deceit and slow-danced with his mom." Worst part is the Blazing star only agreed to begin with, was not because he had romantic feelings towards Talene--But because the child simply wanted to help. Along with bearing curiosity as to what the gods' victory feast and celebratory ceremony is like.

The Dusklord's young familiar had been transferred over to Talene after the war-god met his end. Just as the god of the waves relinquished his own familiar to Misarte shortly prior to dying himself-- *rrEEeep-lu lu lu lu* Hestopeous (Jaallanne - Diinqan -Hestios), the mother, child of a family in the Eclipse lineage. Upon being given to Misarte, she took on the name Larra in place of Jaallanne.

And the boy's father, whom the god of war chose as his familiar first (before taking fancy to Pirin and taking the child under his wing as 'familiar in training')-- *Thwack-Clanck* Hestopeous, child of a Crimsonfang bloodline family (Ekchauh - Hunahpu-Hestios) was given to Dulingr.

"What a crushing blow to Pirin. Bet you wish you could take it back." -The rowdy hustler joins the song, chastising and accusing himself of the exact same, as much as he's discontent with Talene's antics.

"How could you all be so mean to Pirin? Sound to me like you're all on crack!" -Rhys crows from another nearby table, leaning back on his terrabird. Doesn't have the smallest clue what all these 'confessions' are about or why people are doing it in song out of the blue, but still pipes up anyways. Harak blissfully goes back to wolfing down his own large portion of yummy food, keeping a curious ear on his surroundings.

It was strange to him, why the mage kept switching scents.

Sweet, very sugary and fruity, almond-like one moment-- Then this funny weak earthy and floral scent with different trees in there. And the attitude jumped back and forth too! It was only when two Merlins stood side by side (he was caught in the bottle he'd smashed in his feasting), that the strange smell and personality-flip finally made sense. It's TWO mages, one of cold and one of fruity!

And then he'd been woken up, recruited and placed onto a team. All but dropped in the cold Merlin's hands by the sugary one. With a harness and a leash-- Sugary mage's idea. ("Merlin, what am I supposed to do with him..?"

"Eh I dunno, train Harak to behave or something.?"

"....Merlin, this is a shark we're talking about. Not a dog or a dolphin." "Well actually, sharks can be trained! I red it in a book on aquatic life yesterday!" "Merlin!" D:<<) Cold Merlin--Pirin-- Was very annoyed. Then turned to glare at Harak, like he was the problem!

"You. You better behave yourself, ya hear?" -Hissed with narrowed eyes, jabbing a clawed finger at his chest. Disgruntled. "Or so help me, I will kick your fish ass AND Merlin's, I don't care how strong you are!" Harak only blinked down at angry mage, confused and amused. And that's how Harak was kept on the team! Annoyed Merlin is nice though, tosses tasty fish to Harak.. (And Harak behaves nicely, a good boy to get yummy food. Annoyed Merlin's dreams taste nasty though, reeealllly bitter and rotten, and like octopus ink! And stink of smoke! Nasty dreams!)

"Tonight Pirin was counting on this team, To show that we care,

But the first time he really needed us, we weren't there." - The shark Hypogean looks up at the blue-dressed girl with white short hair. Tilting his head, still puzzled what this song is about and what it's got to do with the Annoyed Merlin. By now the two Graveborn nobles have left.

"It is just not fair." -Dulingr at last joins the song, adding to the music- Dionel takes the turn to sing next. Comes up with a very absurd chorus, the other more singing-inclined guests both sober and drunk join in too. Valen and Ludovic quietly get up from their seats after exchanging a look, silently agreeing to go see the missing guest. Not before catching Rhys crow "I wonder if that guy ever wiped his ass with the wrong hand", throwing Hodgkin a grin. Some cringe--Valen included, the young earl wincing internally both at the vulgar language and question itself. Others laugh. The ''Strongest captain in the world ever'' glares at the red-head Mauler with a scandalized and seething snarl, eyebrows set into a very deep frown. What stupid question is this?!?

"OI! Watch it Furball! I'll turn you into a damn coat!" (yes) Harak laughs as well, his croaking raspy laugh echoing all around the lounge. ...And then his eye catch on the two figures sauntering to the exit, fish dangling out of his mouth that he just stuffed in. Where is Cold Merlin's mate going?

Getting up, snatching handful of tasty meat from the plate (which was Lorsan's because he had already scarfed his own food. Also Bunny man hasn't touched the food. So Harak took it, bunnies don't eat tasty meat anyway.), the spiny shark Hypogean slinks after the two. His tail grabs a nearby jar with a heart (Niru's collection, the doctor's attention away) along the way. ----------———-—=== - -- --——--- - -- - ===—-———------------

.

.

. No hair or hide of the fake, faction chameleon. Where could he have possibly gone? Not in town at any rate, nor Ryeham. Looking around with a scowl tainting his boyishly dazzling face, Valen exhales a dejected sigh. At this point, the Mystical House is a permanent no-go when searching for the ghost. And why wouldn't it be?

I wouldn't go there or be near Merlin unless necessary. Even then I wouldn't stick around, or anything related to the Magister. It's really a shame she spiraled so terribly, got lost in 'madness'. Does Hogan know? The general will be...devastated, if he were to learn Merlin no longer cares about anything, anyone, other than himself. Him included. The grass crunches softly under their feet, the silence interrupted by the sounds of that Hyposhark gnawing on ribs.

Is this why the Magister summoned Pirin and placed the journey onto his shoulders to bear? Because he's from the Eclipse, a lineage of clear-cut rationality and clarity of mind? The Pallid covenants were known as the most mildly tempered and diplomatic of the bloodlines.

Arbiters and ambassadors, as well as mediators and overseers. Of all colonies, it's them that can swiftly pierce through the haze of deceit, illusion and temptation--Find the raw truth, and reflect it. Unbiased. With these attributes and his longevity, perhaps the night nymph is rather difficult to fall prey for ''The Kings' madness''....

—"Harak?" Clear blue eyes inquisitively settle onto his form. "Can you find Pirin, lead us to him? We've been walking for two hours now and no sight of him yet." It's a gamble, but-

—"Mate worried for Angry Merlin.?" What...? I mean, not that he's wrong, just... Oh nevermind. Good gods, this shark-thing stinks like dead fish and oil!

—"Yes. ...Brown-haired Merlin was very mean to ''Angry Merlin'' last time, hurt him very badly. Still is being mean to him. So ''Angry Merlin'' chooses to stay far away from the brown-haired mage." Chewing on the chicken bones to scrape off the flesh, confusion and displeasure colors the shark's face. A low, unhappy growl rumbling from the Hypogean's chest, eyes narrowing. Letting go of the bone with a 'click' of sharp, pointy teeth.

—"Why very mean?" —"Because jealous Pirin has many people who care and proudly declare his name while he doesn't." A huff. The team ''guard shark-dog'' seeing it as stupid. Which it is. "I can't see him at all, or hear him.. Help us find him. Please?" Another rumbling noise ripples in the shark's throat, not exactly a growl, more of a hum. As if that wee little brain is working to process and piece together things, crunching pensively on the bones caught in his maw.

Sniffing the air, the Hypogean abruptly darts ahead. —"Come! Found Angry Merlin!" Valen needed not be told twice, darting after the hulking form with the young master close behind. This thing's fast! Really fast and nimble! Eventually their path leads to the ruins far past the Altar, past the hut on the riverbank, through the Dark Forest's canopy and....to the foot of the Vaduso Mountains far away from the Wilders villages and settlements.

No civilization. Only this cold, snowy lone and silent mountain. Looking up and sniffing the air, Harak shivers as the cold bites into his hardened skin, head up. And clicks his teeth, making a small noise of mild discomfort, breath coming in a misty puff. But still refuses to back away or leave and flee, lifting a hand--Points to the clouds with a clawed finger.

—"There. Your mate up there....Cold." Squinting up at the fog of clouds swirled around the summit, the knight tries to find his love. Nothing, even with following the direction the fiend is pointing in. The Graveborn noble gazes up at the clouds, frigid winds tussling his hair as well as the knight's. ''Sometimes... people tire me vastly, mostly Merlin and his hamsters. I prefer to hide away, calm down in peace'.'

—"I can't see him... Can you?" —"No. Only smell. Mate is circling." No chance he hasn't heard us. A night nymph's hearing is scarily keen, puts Bryon's to shame. So sharp, that they can hear your every heartbeat, every breath, the flow of blood in your veins, the vibrations of your voice.

Stepping back, Valen draws in a deep breath. Holds it for a second, then lets it out in a long-drawn out, sharp and shrill whistle. The echo answering back as though taunting. Nothing. Another whistle, interspersing it with shorter, lower ones. A 'song'.

''Night nymphs rely heavily on voice and hearing, thus singing and voice becoming prominent in their forming culture. When courting, the suitor 'sings', flexing a wide variety of vocals and tones--Whistles, thrills, chirps, sonar calls and tweets along with clicks. Varying in pitch, tone, frequency and duration. May sometimes include human vocal mimicry, covering both the male and female ranges.' (Although that is most common in Nephylims than vampires.) Through song, one's voice, a bonding or already bonded pair can also locate each other. Each song is unique to each pair.''

One last whistle, low-pitched and drawn out, ending with a mid-drawn out, soft click and a short thrill at the end. Very much akin to a songbird's melody. A name in that sonorous language, foreign to man. And now if you don't at least answer, I'll look like a lunatic. Or like a foo--A shrill, mildly agitated whistling cry calls back with a thrill paired with short clicks of 'clack-clack-clack', or 'k-k-k-k'.

A figure pierces through the haze, swifter than an arrow fired. A long-tailed bat, wings folded at the sides, fur pristinely pale as the snow itself. With a quiet 'thump', the long tailed creature lands before the three of them, the long fur around his neck swayed by the blizzard winds.

For first time, Valen finds his breath entirely stolen away. Majestic. No other word can describe the being standing before his eyes. In this form, Pirin barely reaches to his chest-line, yet still no less mighty. And gorgeous, the regal look to him still not gone.

Suddenly the biting chill doesn't matter, a patch of white lilies blooming under his feet. Carefully approaching, the Solitaire feels his lips upturn into an enamored, awed smile, falling on one knee. Hands lifting, cupping the bat's face.

—"Just as ethereal as in human form.. Here I was, thinking you couldn't get any more regal and majestic. A dragon, in your own way." One of his hands moves over the fur tufts on the critter's cheekbones, gliding over one long ear and lightly scratching behind it; moves down to smooth down the thick, silky collar at the neck. A little coarse and tangled, but soft as cotton candy and finest silk regardless. A low, quiet purr reverberating from the spirit's throat--relaxing, content. Leaning into his touch, eyes closing tiredly.

"...Why did you run so far away, dove?" A huff, a click and a very short low-pitched thrill.

—" 'Needed to return home.' " -The brunet stiffens for a short moment, startled by Ludovic's soft voice. Almost forgot the Earl is still here. Glancing up at the boy, a look of mild surprise sets on Valen's visage, still running a gentle palm through Pirin's fur absently.

—"You can decipher what he's saying?" —"Yes, albeit not quite as precise as Magister Merlin. I fear that my knowledge regarding the Night nymphs' language is.. slightly subpar. I used to have a tome describing their customs and behavior in-depth, however it unfortunately got lost."

—"Far better than mine at any rate. I only know that voice is very important to them, along with weaving and blood. Just made-up the 'song' when calling him."

—"I could attempt to find my tome and lend it to you, if you wish Sir Valen?" The ghost of a happy smile plays on the aristocrat's ashen features. Observing the two of them, peering at Pirin with subdued wonder and humble curiosity. The swordsman's purple eyes light up.

—"Really? Thank you, my lord! ...I mean, if it wouldn't be troublesome. It would mean a lot to me, being able to better understand Pirin." —"It shall be of no trouble to me, rest assured. I shall bring the book to you, once I find it. Furthermore....You may keep the tome. I no longer have use for it. It appears that it shall find better use in your possession rather than gather dust." —"..My lord-" But it seems Earl Ludovic has already made up his mind. "We should return to Golden Wheatshire, probably. Harak already left to go back to the Dream Isles." A jar with a heart inside sits on the ground where the Hypogean once stood. Picking up the bat and letting him perch onto his shoulders, curl around his neck like a scarf, the solder rises up to his feet. And the two make their way back to the closest waystone, to teleport back home. Valen's cheery voice fills the quiet along the way, telling stories of past adventures, the young Earl listening intently. Already, many ideas, scenes take shape into his mind's eye-- Of swaying wheat fields and a heroic trio fighting off elementals, a night nymph leaping into the flames to save a family from debris and suffocation; Of a hare Wilder and his friends, their dense rainforest... Of ruins and a battle against a raging, looming golem.

Much to paint, and all the time to perfectly replicate the experiences.

[servingliesarchived]

MERLIN’S FAMILY AND THEIR STATUS BEFORE THE GREAT PURGE.

Initially, Merlin knew very little about who he was or where he came from. Raised by his mother who would speak neither of her own heritage, or the identity of his father, he lived a humble life for the first years of his life. Despite the poverty they lived in, his mother was the one that made sure to educate her son, a very unusual thing for how widespread illiteracy was at the time, a fact that was never addressed until later into his adulthood. Interestingly, had the Great Purge never happened, Merlin’s status would vastly differ from what he had been brought up to believe he was, which means  Merlin was a commoner due to circumstance rather than birth.

HIS MOTHER’S SIDE OF THE FAMILY.

Though living an exiled life of a commoner from infancy, too young to remember anything else, Hunith was the youngest child born into a royal family of Demetia  ( Dyved )  in Wales  before its fall due to regicide  ( Merlin later in life visited the place, and later chose to reside at Carmarthen / Caerfyrddin, commonly known as Caer Myrddin, where he established a magic school ).  There were five children in total, three sons from the king’s first wife, and two daughters from the second. The third son was Gaius, who subsequently left their home and any claim to the throne behind at a young age to pursue the study of science and magic in the court of Camelot. Though none of them were naturally gifted like Merlin when it comes to magic, besides Gaius there was a number of magic practitioners among the family members, including Merlin’s own grandmother, as well as Gaius’ mother.

Having different mothers, there was a big age gap between Hunith and Gaius, so they never quite grew up together. Gaius had already been at Camelot when Hunith was born, and she was only few months old when a plot had been conducted to overthrow Merlin’s grandfather. He had been killed along with his wife, two sons and older of two daughters, who was only five years old at the time. Only baby Hunith was successfully smuggled out of the castle and outside the border by one of the knights and her nanny. They settled in the small village of Ealdor, Essetir, close to the border with Camelot, where Hunith was raised by her nanny who acted the part of her mother due to the long years she had previously spent in the service of their family. An educated woman herself, she had been who taught Hunith how to write and read in the secret of their little, inconspicuous house.

Meanwhile, convinced his entire family is dead, it wasn’t until Hunith herself was about nine years old when Gaius found out his sister had been alive. From then on, though they only met a number of times in person, they exchanged letters every now and then, to a point that he sent Balinor, one of the last dragonlords not yet killed during the Great Purge to her house, which ended up resulting in Merlin’s conception  ( which had been destined to happen all along with him being a critical powersource of infinite magical energy ). However, it wasn’t enough for her to enclose in great detail that her only son is magic before sending him off to him eighteen years later, for the fear of the message being discovered and him being executed for it like other magical folks  ( magic children were routinely drowned at the time ). 

Chased away by Uther’s pursuit, Balinor had never known of his son, and Hunith gave birth to him with the help of the woman that raised her. She passed away when Merlin was too young to remember her. Though aware of her own heritage, having lived in exile all her life as well as facing the reality of raising a very magical child in a world where those were killed, she didn’t disclose any of it to him until later in life, when he had already been working on restoring rights of magical folk for years. He was aware Gaius was his uncle by blood, but continuing the safety habit of his mother, never officially called him as such, and rather addressed him by his name.

HIS FATHER’S SIDE OF THE FAMILY.

While Hunith had never lived a noble lifestyle, the same can’t be said about Balinor, who was titled before the Great Purge and Uther’s eradication of the dragonlords. The Order of the Dragonlord was held in a high regard during the times when magic was still cherished and valued, though they practiced the status differently to the norm. The skill itself had been the primary merit behind their power and respect, though they still, for the majority of cases, held lawful titles and position of power among the peoples. Balinor himself had come from quite a prolific line of dragonlords, known for their notoriety, zest, as well as a rebellious streak. In fact, Merlin’s grandfather had proven such by marrying a woman he loved in spite of his own father’s wishes concerning his possible match. Merlin’s paternal grandmother had been a druid, and a very skilled and renowned healer. She passed away just two years before the Great Purge, and Balinor was her only child.

Native to the lands of Camelot, Balinor had been brought up among his people and traditions, taught their ways from young age by his father the same way he was supposed to teach his own son, which he could never do due to Uther ordering a literal genocide. Traditionally, however, he didn’t receive his powers until his father’s death, which happened fairly early when he was only fourteen years old. Starting at a young age had been difficult due to the nature of how you receive the gift, but the already existing reputation of his family had been helpful, and soon enough he too became respected in his own right. In fact, he had grown quite famous due to his strong relationship with the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah, woven and tied to him and his kin throughout the centuries. Balinor was also often a guest at the court of Camelot, and in fact developed a friendship with both Gaius and Nimueh.

When the Great Purge began, at first the danger wasn’t quite so clear to any of them. In fact, the dragonlords were tricked by Uther by false promises, who considered them too close to magic in his vendetta against it. Using them to to call on the remaining dragons to kill them, and Balinor himself who was tasked with bringing Kilgharrah to Camelot so Uther could imprison him beneath the castle as a token of his victory, he rounded most of the dragonlords and executed them, while the rest of them, including Balinor, were pursued and ordered to be killed. Being one of the last, with the help of Gaius he managed to escape and was sent to hide with Hunith, which led to Merlin’s conception. Before he knew Hunith was pregnant, however, he was forced to run again and hid until Merlin found him hiding in a cave in Essetir when he was around 19-20 years old. Never knowing he had a son, and dying within a day of meeting him, Merlin never really learned the ways of his people and was left in the dark about their traditions and practices, at least the ones of dragonlords among the Britons.