Seeking Guidance [Veldrys]

[Lysander]

“If it helps me figure out who I was, I’d let you drink my blood until I passed out!” The laughter that followed the comment was nervous at best, and finally the gold-flecked irises drifted towards Veldrys’ crimson-wrapped glare again. “Yeah, soon.” Soon may have been a gross understatement. No sooner did Lysander respond to the polite accusation of his distractions did Syna peek her head through the dingy window. Rays of warm sunlight welcomed the onset of a new day and coaxed change in the Ethaefal’s form. A brief rush of heat prickled over Lysander’s skin as worry flared regarding Sitkanis’ whereabouts; the older Ethaefal seemed to hold little love in his cold heart for the daily change and preferred privacy in which to do it – but he wasn’t here. Another, more intense heat drew Lysander’s wandering mind back to the dingy cottage, where a Symenestra was about to be the first non-Ethaefal to see him shift between forms. Fragments of light shot out from his hands as bright as the budding rays of sunlight that were invading those dirty windows, working from his fingertips, up his arms before swallowing his trunk and consequently the rest of his body. The light lasted only seconds before it dispersed and left behind a much smaller individual than the one that had lead Veldrys to the cottage. The glittering beauty of glass-spiral horns were only a memory, and clothing that once fit snug hung loose around narrow shoulders and a bony waistline, threatening to melt away and steal what paltry shred of decency Lysander may have had. A round face with boundless brown eyes lifted as lithe fingers grasped and fussed with the hem of a loose waist. Despite his lightheadedness, Lysander managed an amused smile. “You look surprised,” the voice was higher, younger, but it hadn’t lost any of its bravado. Lysander was on the cusp of manhood; his features had begun to give way to a squareness and he may have flourished into a strikingly handsome man had he not been cursed with eternal youth. His nose was a hair too wide for his face and his lanky arms and legs were wrapped in wiry muscle and ended in hands and feet typically large for a boy his age. Off came the shirt and Lysander bent to rifle an outfit from his canvas satchel suitable for his size. “I kind of miss my horns during the day. Aren’t they cool? You think they’re cool, right?” A tanned hand scratched at his temple as if expecting the appendages to sprout back if he coaxed them enough. As he chattered on about Ethaefal features, he stripped himself shamelessly of his night time clothing to change into something more suitable. If Veldrys hadn’t looked away in embarrassment (something Lysander seemed to lack), he’d note that Lysander was painfully unremarkable in his human form – save for his scarred back. Between his shoulders lay mark after gruesome mark that suggested he’d been heavily beaten and whipped in this body’s life. The scars seemed so out of place on a boy so upbeat. “You should drink my blood again,” Lysander continued, standing as he fastened a new pair of pants, “My memories feel less hazy now. I can’t heal myself anymore, though.” He seemed to have a knack for smothering the fragility of an Ethaefal mind and making it sound so mundane – and he hadn’t even considered what Veldrys may have thought of the gorgeous Ethaefal that turned into a gawky child before his very eyes.

[Veldrys]

„I don’t think drinking your blood until you pass out would be a good idea“, the Symenestra replied disapprovingly and made a face. Why was the Etheaefal even suggesting such a thing? He was either so desperate to find out more about his past life that he didn’t care about the consequences or a fool. Even the laughter that followed did little to convince the Symenestra of anything else. „I’m pretty sure that even people that lived with the gods and fell from the sky like you cannot live without blood. Severe bloodloss can make you ill or even kill you, and I don’t want to be responsible for that. If I give it another try, I will only take a few drops again. Anything else would be careless.“ As the sunlight fell through the window, Veldrys abruptly stopped talking, and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. There was a look of pure surprise on his face that was very rarely seen on him otherwise, and it took him a few moments to regain his usual calm. Lysander seemed to be glowing! He had never seen something as beautiful before. For a moment the Symenestra was tempted to reach out and touch him, to find out what that being that seemed to be made of pure light felt like, but then he decided to merely watch. He was worried that the light would swallow him, that Lysander would not like it, that he would burn. And then it was over, as soon as it had happened, and surprise made way to confusion. Of course he had seen Lysander’s human self in his vision, and he’d heard him talk about it, but seeing him, seeing the beautiful Ethaefal changed into teenaged boy with his own eyes was different. He felt a little strange as he looked at him. „I am surprised“, he replied slowly. He didn’t know what to say to him. It still didn’t make any sense to him that Lysander was a grown man as an Ethaefal and this ... boy now. „Yes, yes ... I think your horns are cool ...“ he murmurred somewhat absentmindedly. He looked at Lysander’s head where the horns had been only a moment before, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the boy would look like if he had horns now, as a human – or what he would look like as a horned Symenestra for a moment. „You know, I could show you how you can have horns as a human, but you mustn’t tell anybody who taught you, not even your brother.“ The words were out before he had really thought about the consequences. The scientist, the mage in him was fascinated by the possibility of a little experiment. As Lysander changed into different clothes, the Symenestra averted his gaze, slightly uncomfortable in the presence of a naked boy that had been a grown man of unnatural beauty a short time before. He didn’t avert his gaze long enough not to notice the scars on Lysander’s back though. He gulped as he saw them. „I’ll try it again later“, he promised. „And don’t worry about not being able to heal yourself anymore. I can do that.“

[Lysander]

Lysander’s brows knitted together as he regarded Veldrys; he seemed so serious, so unnerved by every little quip or playful comment he made. Perhaps he’d have to think more carefully about what he said in the man’s presence: he certainly hadn’t meant for the blood-drinking joke to be taken to heart. The boy’s voice was slurred and his movements were indirect as if alcohol had been buzzing in his blood; but it was the change that had left him so light-headed. As Veldrys went on, Lysander had made his way across the first floor of the house to a hearth where an aged kettle sat, still full of water. He bent at the knee, pulling open the iron door of the hearth to pile in sticks in an attempt to start a fire. A spark of flint on tender chimed within the iron confines. “They are, I would like for them to always be around,” a murmur from a distracted teenager turned sharp, and brown eyes widened with a grin as his head swivelled over his shoulder, “What?! You could teach me that? How?!” Lysander nearly stumbled over himself getting to his feet again as he rushed to Veldrys. Those hands shot up to the Symenestra’s temples, just as bold in his touch as he’d been chimes before in the body of an ethereal beauty. “Could you have horns, too?” Behind him, the spark had caught on dry wood and a fire rolled to life and filled the small space with the thick and sweet smell of the hearth’s warmth. Those fingers dove backwards through Veldrys’ silver hair, and a pair of eyes that held an unnerving familiarity about them locked within the vermillion gaze of the man that was now much taller than him. “Please, Vel, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” A hopeful smile grew into an eager grin. Where did the possibilities end? If this man could teach him to grow horns, could he teach him other wonderful magic? Could he age him? If he always looked old, Sitkanis would have to treat him as an adult! Lysander seemed to have long forgotten about the blood drinking or its negative effects, or even the kettle that fussed and protested on the quickly heating surface of the hearth in the corner. “Could I make them different colors? Green is nice, but my favourite color is red—bright red, like your eyes!” He finally released Veldrys’ head, taking a few clumsy steps backward.

[Veldrys]

Veldrys watched, a little confused, as Lysander started a fire. The action didn’t make any sense to him. Was the Ethaefal cold? Had the change drained him of all warmth? He looked at him. No, he didn’t seem to be shivering. Maybe he was just hungry or thirsty and wanted to prepare a meal. Satisfied with this explanation he turned to listen to his words. If he were like Lysander, he would probably want to have horns all the time as well. It had to be hard, going from an unnaturally beautiful man to a little boy. He’d try to find a way to always wear his other form as well. But then again, was it right to teach him? Magic was dangerous. Too much magic tended to change people, and not for the better. There was a great potential for abuse. Was Lysander mature enough, was he responsible enough for this? He wasn’t at all sure about it, but there was something about the strange boy’s excitement that touched the Symenestra’s heart. He even let Lysander touch his hair. Was it easier for Lysander to imagine him with horns if he touched the place where the horns would most likely be? „Yes, I could have horns as well“, he replied. He could even transform himself into an Ethaefal, given enough time, but he didn’t tell Lysander that. Growing horns was one thing, but a complete transformation? If word ever got out that he could become a different person, people would instantly become suspicious of him. He had tried too hard to make them trust him to risk that. It would be best if that aspect of his magic remained a secret forever. „Of course you could make them different colors. You could even have a red and a green horn – or three horns. And now watch.“ With that he closed his eyes and remembered what Lysander had looked like before. He touched his own head, touched the part of his head where the horns would be. Touch wasn’t absolutely necessary, at least not for an experienced mage, but it was easier for him. And then he willed the changes to take place. Two red horns started growing, horns that looked exactly like Lysander’s had looked. „What do you think?“ he asked. He felt a little strange, knowing that he had things sticking out of his head now. He wasn’t completely comfortable when he changed himself. In the end Veldrys liked his normal body, the one of a hornless Symenestra, best. „Do you want to know how I did it?“

[Lysander]

The kettle fussed further beneath the pressure of coalescing steam, but Lysander’s cries of unrelenting joy overwhelmed it. “Vel!” A stumbling foot thumped between them as Lysander reached out to grope at the shining new appendages that glimmered like vermillion glass in the budding morning light. “You look like an Ethaefal—well, sort of.” Laughter rose from surprise as a pair of thumbs traced the curve of glassy horn to the very tips. He wanted to shake them, to squeeze them and break the illusion; but as far as he could tell they were as real as those that had graced his own temples moments ago. “Can every Symenestra read minds from drops of blood and grow horns, or are you special?” It sounded incredulous behind a toothy grin, though his intentions were sincere. By now steam had brought the pitch of the kettle to a high-pitched squeal, and Lysander tore himself away from the beauty that adorned Veldrys’ head to remove it. “Of course I want to know how you did it; I want to be able to do it too!” What a silly question—he had asked, hadn’t he? Two porcelain mugs (not without their fair share of chips) were filled with steaming hot water fresh from its boiling point and garnished with hearty dried leaves and bergamot. A fruity aroma lingered beneath Lysander’s nose as he offered one of the mugs to the Symenestra. “Do you usually sleep at night?” He took note of the soft, dewy corners of Veldrys’ beautiful rosy stare before a hand freed by the passing of that mug lingered back around the man’s temple where horn met skull. “I do, sometimes—but I feel terrible if I waste every night of my Father’s glory with my eyes closed to it. Sometimes I sleep during the day.” An excited mind beget wandering thoughts; despite Lysander’s change in subject, the hand never left Veldrys’ body, fumbling through strands of silver that had wrapped themselves around the new appendages as if they had been there for years. “I want them,” he murmured, referring to his own that he hadn’t realized he missed so much. “Can you do more than grow horns? I mean, are you able to change other parts of your body, too?” He wanted to demand Veldrys to shrink, to become his height, even to look like him! Lysander’s mind buzzed behind a lifted mug, and he sipped his tea carefully.

[Veldrys]

The fact that Lysander immediately touched his new horns was almost enough for Veldrys to let them disappear again. He found it incredibly strange that the boy touched those things that didn’t even really belong to his body and hadn’t been there a moment ago. But then he let him do what he wanted, as always. He found the boy’s excitement a little contagious. „I look like an Ethaefal?“ He arched a pale eyebrow, and then he shook his head. „I don’t think so. I mostly look like a Symenestra with horns. I’m not as beautiful as you used to be.“ The next question made him laugh. „No. Most Symenestra can’t do those things. Those abilities aren’t limited to my race either. Everybody can learn those things. I can read minds because I’ve received Viratas‘ blessing. As for growing horns, I’ve learnt that from somebody else, back in Kalinor.“ He inclined his head in a sign of gratitude as Lysander brought him tea. „Thank you. And yes, I usually sleep at night.“ He found the question a little strange. „Everybody needs to sleep. If you don’t sleep, you lose your mind and eventually die. Do Ethaefal sleep?“ „I can do a little more“, he admitted as Lysander posed the question he had feared would come all along. „But I can’t do any drastic transformations. This kind of magic is complicated and dangerous, Lysander. I’ll teach you how to grow horns, but nothing more.“ He took a sip from his tea. The drink calmed him down a little. Magic always gave him a bad feeling. It fascinated him beyond measure, but he was only too aware of the dangers. „If you want me to teach you, I’ll require patience and dedication from you. It’s unlikely that you will be able to grow horns today or tomorrow. You need to be able to completely separate your mind from your body. Do you know what meditation is, Lysander?“ He looked at the Ethaefal. He had to admit he enjoyed the role of the teacher, but he couldn’t help but wonder if Lysander was able to clear his mind at all. It seemed to go against his nature.

[Lysander]

Lysander’s face settled into a content smile as Veldrys spoke, fingers continuing their tour of a claret horn. His thumb pressed against the tip so hard it threatened to break his skin; fortunately, a life he could barely remember had left the digits well-calloused and strong against the delicate appendage’s bite. The tea cup floated in his free hand, pressing against a fleshy bottom lip that hung slack below a row of ivory teeth. He wanted to argue that the pale man was indeed beautiful—save for the unnerving length in his limbs, though that did offer a grace that Lysander had failed to replicate. Not that they were incredibly obvious beneath the folds of the dingy robe, anyway. All in all, he was pleasing on the eyes; the silver hair reminded Lysander of his father’s mercury face in the black sky and the wide pupils acted as tiny mirrors: he could see his own face within them. “I sleep sometimes,” Lysander admitted, “A few hours here and there, but I feel guilty if I sleep through an entire night, you know? I do not like to miss my Father.” Finally, the probing set of fingers fell away from their fascination and settled along the curve of his porcelain cup. “I bet I could figure out more on my own,” he challenged, grin widening and pushing his cheeks into tight ruddy circles. The subject changed to that of meditation—separating soul from body—something that sounded oddly familiar to the boy, having spent a length of time in an intangible world as an intangible being. The very thought of his life in his heavenly Father’s realm was hard to process, and often gave him a headache to think too deeply about. “I could do that.” While Lysander lacked many things, confidence was certainly not one of them. It was hard to tell whether Lysander could actually clear his mind, or if he even had a desire to if, the impossible were somehow made possible. “Oh!” He nearly spilled scalding tea over his wrist as he closed the gap between them again. Whatever warnings Veldrys had outlined had gone utterly ignored beneath the brown curtain of bangs that all but obscured his rising brows and some of his eyes. “I want to look older, too!”

[Veldrys]

„When you speak of your father, you mean your god, don’t you?“ Veldrys asked. „Does he talk to you regularly? Viratas came to me once. It was the most the most amazing thing that ever happened to me.“ He touched the spot on his arm where his god had marked him. „Does your god never come to you during the day? It seems strange that he is limited in such a way.“ Veldrys knew where little of the gods of the sun and the moon and what they were capable of, but he knew that Viratas was always there for him. He didn’t grin as Lysander stated that he could figure out more on his own. In fact he looked a little shocked, although his voice was still calm. „Maybe you could“, he agreed. „But it would be dangerous. You could end up horribly disfigured. Your body could forget what it really looks like. Why do you think do I not take a different form every day? Why do you think did I hesitate to even do this to me?“ He gestured towards the horns on his head. Was it really such a good idea to teach the boy magic? „You think so?“ Unlike Lysander Veldrys sounded rather doubtful. „In a few chimes I will ask you to do just that.“ If the boy wasn’t able to clear his mind sufficiently, he would have a reason to stop his lessons. He wanted to have a student, but Lysander seemed to ignore all of his warnings so far. He didn’t seem to be responsible enough. „Of course“, he remarked as Lysander told him that he wanted to look older as well. „I might have a way for you to make yourself taller or grow a beard – if that’s what you want – but not right now. I can’t teach you everything at once. If it turns out that you are really able to clear your mind and grow a pair of completely normal looking horns, I might practice one more thing with you. But only one. As I told you, magic is dangerous, and it’s best to take it slow.“ Without a doubt that warning would fall on deaf ears.

[Lysander]

“He’s never spoken to me,” Lysander’s brows knit together, visibly annoyed that Veldrys’ Viratas had spoken so plainly to him. “Never, not after I fell. If we spoke while I was dead, I don’t remember. But, he’s always with me,” the boy nodded, “I can feel him; even during the day I can feel him. At night, though, I feel closer to him.”

Lysander had stepped forward again and a tanned hand was unsurprisingly groping at one crimson horn above Veldrys’ temple. “Just show me how to do it,” he seemed to beg behind that earnest smile on a rounded face, “I want to learn today.” Not tomorrow, nor the next day. He didn’t know when he’d see the willowy, ash-colored man again, though it could not be a hard task to search him out in such a tiny town. The investigative hand wandered to his bare temple, rubbing the spot where horns should grow.

Steaming tea was set aside, forgotten.

“Come!” Lysander snatched Veldrys by both arms, surrendering him of his own tea before pulling him across a slick hardwood floor to a nearby table. “Would it be easier to start with something else? What does it feel like to have red eyes?” The boy had taken a seat, though he was perched on the very edge of it and was fiddling with the soft linen robes Veldrys wore, as he had in the temple. “I’d give anything to know how to do what you do.”

[Veldrys]

„Don’t feel bad that your god hasn’t spoken to you in person“, Veldrys said. „Most of the time the gods don’t appear before those that worship them. I still don’t know why Viratas came to me. I’m not any more special than you are.“ He furrowed his brow as he thought of it. What had he done to deserve such an honor? „It’s important that you can feel him. He is there for you. Sometimes actions are more important than words.“ He stepped away as Lysander groped his horns again. The gesture made him fairly uncomfortable. He didn’t want anybody to touch body parts that didn’t really belong to him. „Now?“ he asked and made a face. „Learning to meditate takes time. It’s nothing that happens automatically. But very well ...“ He allowed the boy to pull him to the table and took a seat. „Having red eyes doesn’t feel any different from having brown eyes or green eyes. Eyes are just eyes, and I’d prefer if you didn’t start your training in morphing with changing your eyes. You don’t want to end up blind, do you? Eyes are complicated. We’ll start with horns. When I changed myself, I simply touched the part of my head where I wanted the horns to grow and then thought about them growing. It might be easier if you had a mirror and could watch the changes though.“ „Give it a try.“ He looked at Lysander, expecting that the boy would fail, that he couldn’t clear his mind sufficiently, that he would end up with horns that were too small or big or horns in the wrong place. Lysander just didn’t seem like he would ever be a competent mage.