Laying Down the Law (Lysander)

[Sitkanis]

4th of Summer, 511 AV If Lysander was going to be staying with Sitkanis it was inevitable that things were going to change. He had become used to being alone and going where he pleased when it suited him. It had been a strange feeling for a bit. With Adalia gone he had to find things to fill his day with. He did not have friends unless one could count Perras and Veldrys. Sitkanis saw them more as acquaintances than anything. Now he had a boy, a newly fallen Ethaefal that had taken up residence with him. It would be a lie for him to say that he did not enjoy the company a bit. He would not show it though. The child did not need to see him as weak. This morning had brought Sitkanis to be quite pensive. The sun had not risen yet so he sat shirtless in a pair of pants that were clearly too long for a man of his current height. His lilac eyes watched Lysander in their bed as he slept. He was less interested in the sleeping Ethaefal and more in the aura that surrounded him in Nysel's realm. The colors were bright but that was to be expected. Although Lysander looked like a twenty-something young man in this form at heart he was still a child. Sitkanis took in the colorful spectrum as he feasted in the last bell of Leth's light. He was looking for something in Lysander's aura. Something darker and even scared. He was curious as to what the boy dreamed of but he would not admit this. Even if he did get attached he would not let Lysander know. He would do everything he could to never have another situation like Adalia's departure happen again. Once someone knew that you were emotionally attached they could use it against you. Leth forbid that happened to him again.

[Lysander]

Where sheets were crisp and the promise of sleep had snatched him and dragged him into unconsciousness bells before, Lysander lay on his back, head propped up on the down softness of a well-fluffed pillow and the linen wrapped around his legs had long since been kicked off in an attempt to find comfort in Denval’s humid summer night. It had only been a few days since he had moved into a small cabin with the likes of another like him – in body only; where they looked like brothers under their father’s light, the minds of the pair could not have been any more different. Black hair hung in wisps around his face and unearthly horns and hands were placed carefully on his stomach; his fingertips would twitch as he navigated through Nysel’s realm in shallow-breathed silence.

“Help me get him in here, hurry damn you,” a voice hissed as the pair shuffled a body through a dank corridor towards an opening – a slightly wider room with a table. A table stained with the dark blood of other competitors. The man groaned as he was placed roughly on the table by the hands of two slave boys. Dark hair was brushed back by a bloodied hand and Lysander could feel the thick crimson smeared over his forehead; unfortunately, there was no time to reel in disgust.

“He’s bleeding out!” Lysander could hear his own voice cry out; fingers grasping at the cloth tourniquet that had been applied to the man’s left leg. It had been severed above the knee, a blade carelessly swung and dug into the femur, severing muscle and fracturing bone – but most importantly it had obliterated an artery that was now pushing and emptying the man’s blood through a linen tourniquet tied by novice hands. It was everywhere, and as the man’s racing heart emptied the very life from his body he grew grey and pale. “Oh, god, oh ...” Lysander whimpered, leaning over to dry heave and grip hard, naively to the man’s leg in an attempt to save him from bleeding out entirely. Unfortunately, it was too late, and the trembling man grew limp on the table top.

Lysander broke into a cold sweat and his golden eyes snapped open as he gasped for a deep breath. A hand shot to his forehead and wiped sweat from his brow, jerking his fingers away as if to inspect them for blood. The lucid shock lasted mere seconds before he acclimated to his surroundings, sitting up shakily and pushing the sheet off of his naked legs. “Oh,” vapid gold fluttered beneath lashes as he turned to notice that Sitkanis had taken up residence in the bed since he’d fallen asleep the evening before. His brother, his saviour, beautiful as he in the silvery light of their father; Lysander’s pearly white teeth flashed in meek sincerity as the memory of the dream fizzled. “Good morning, Sitka.”

[Sitkanis]

Veins of darker colors seemed to work their way through Lysander's aura. Sitkanis watched the colors hug his brother's body with curious eyes. He could not help but wonder what the boy was dreaming about. He knew nothing about Lysander's past life. He wanted to know more so he could help him. His own memories were a complete mystery to him but if he could help with Lysander's he felt as though it might help him feel more content. It was almost an entire year since he had fallen and he had barely figured anything out about himself. He felt like he was wasting time but if he could help his new brother then maybe it would help him figure out his own mind. Sitkanis' lilac eyes widened when he saw Lysander's golden eyes flicker open. He looked away quickly in an attempt to try and hide the fact that he had been watching his aura while he was sleeping. "Umm…" The ex-Drykas looked out the window as he tried to think of what to say to Lysander. When he finally looked back to his brother he was relieved to see a smile on his face. Sitkanis forced a smile onto his own even if he was a bit annoyed by the boy calling him Sitka. "Good morning Lysander." He felt uncomfortable at his side. Lysander was taller than him at the moment which left Sitkanis praying for morning to break. "Are you okay?" He felt like the question was redundant. Lysander was smiling and he seemed to be in good spirits. "You seemed… bothered." He did not want to rekindle the boy's discomfort if he was having bad dreams. He just wanted to know that he was okay. "Lysander, if we are going to be living together I think we need to lay down some rules." Sitkanis was a little worried about that fact. He did not want to make the boy feel confined. At the same time, he was a man who enjoyed his space and he wanted to take sure he still had it in Lysander's presence. "I'm sure you have some things you want to talk out too." He looked down at the blanket as he tried to find the right words. "It's a big change I suppose." "Anyways, first rule. No going into the Temple of Nikali. If I'm watching over you then I will not have you sniffing around a bunch of Ranuri." This rule was not to be broken. Sitkanis did not want to have to deal with some woman waking up to a fourteen year old boy. Besides the fact, Sitkanis did not think Lysander was in any way ready to deal with women. For the love of the Gods, he was just a child.

[Lysander]

Disturbing images the dream kicked up had all but faded into obscurity. Images of his past attached to nothing in his conscious mind made little sense and were pushed away dismissively before Sitkanis had even spoke. “Bothered?” Lysander’s hands wrapped around his bare calves and pulled his knees to his chest. The legs were solid flesh beneath his fingertips; awkward and too large for the soul newly trapped within it. Long bony digits trailed upwards and as his elbows rested delicately atop his knees he wrapped them around curved jade horns, cool to the touch and smooth like glass. “Nah, I’m fine.” Hesitance rang in Lysander’s words, but the growing smile and heavy-lidded eyes dismissed it as a product of his brief consciousness.

While Lysander would have been content laying down again, letting those golden orbs flutter shut and succumb to Nysel’s influence as he had nearly every night, not out of direct need but of something he couldn’t quite explain – discomfort? Sitkanis seemed intent on laying down a few rules. Understandable, but why so early? He leered past Sitkanis and out the window where sea met sky; a thin orange line welcomed a sun that had not yet peeked her face above the horizon. Syna threatened to rise soon, to relinquish Leth of his nightly vigil and shrink Lysander’s body to his mortal form. A boy, forever to be treated as a child by this man; he already resented it.

“Temple of Nikali,” he repeated, mulling over the words, letting them fall from his own mouth as if it would help him understand the meaning of them further, “What is that?” And what was a Ranuri? It sounded like some sort of pasta dish. Lysander swung his legs around as he moved towards the edge of the bed, one foot pressing against the cool hardwood floor as his toes flexed and relaxed in an attempt to find balance before he stood. He knew that once he changed, he would be hungry. Lysander bent forward, stretching his knees and back and letting out a lengthy yawn before righting himself and turning with a teasing smile.

“So I get to make up rules, too?”

[Sitkanis]

OOCI am soooooo sorry that this took so long. Feel free to hate me. Sitkanis watched Lysander curiously. The way he moved and acted was strange to say the least. Although, that much was to be expected when one found themselves in a body that was so new. A forced smile found it's way to Sitkanis' lips in response to Lysander's own. He found it hard to stay as his normal, grumpy self around Lysander. While the boy did not turn him into a ray of petting sunshine like Lysander, he did help to lift his spirits, even if it was only for a bit. The Ethaefal really was unsure as to why he was so keen as to set up rules for Lysander. There were multitudes of reasons why he might have felt the need but he would never ties those reasons to his desire to lay down a few rules. He was not a very introspective man. Things were as they were to him. Searching one's soul was pointless, at least in his eyes. Searching one's soul was for women who were too into mysticism and mages who wanted to seem just that much more magical. He was fine knowing who he was on the surface. He was Drykas, somewhat and he was strong. That was all he needed to know. Below the surface of the strong Drykas Sitkanis showed the world he was scared. He did not want to lose Lysander like he had lost Adalia and the multitudes of people in his past life. There was a soul in him that he was yet to uncover. One more like his past self. Who he was now was still very Ethaefal-like. His soul was still lethargic from his fall even though it had been a year since he returned to the world. The Drykas hunter who he had been was starting to show though. The reason Adalia left had been because of him. His reasons for being protective of Lysander were influenced by him. Luukas was calling from deep within Sitkanis. He did not want to be ignored anymore. He'd fight his way to the surface if he had to and Lysander would help. "It is a temple filled with harlots." Sitkanis did not waste any time with sugar coating the topic at hand. Perhaps it was the father in him that wanted to keep the innocence of Lysander intact. He could not remember his son but the instincts of a father never died. "They are people who will do whatever you like… in a more…" Sitkanis struggled with the right word. "Intimate way. Anyways… they are not the kind of people you want to get involved with." Lysander's question surprised Sitkanis but he nodded all the same. "Sure, you can make up rules too. What are you thinking of?" He knew for sure he was not going to take orders from a kid but if the rules were simple, why not agree to them? If it made Lysander happy and it was not too much to ask it was a small gesture to show Sitkanis was willing to compromise.

[Lysander]

“I want to be treated—” he was cut off. Morning had come, whether the reluctant sun had broken the horizon or not. In the grey darkness of young dusk, two Ethaefal burst into glorious displays of light as their father reined in his likeness and reminded them of their mortality. It was enough to make the dingy windows of their shared cabin shine with unnatural light from the outside; no doubt startling any passerby that had not been aware Leth’s children resided there. “Like an adult.” A new voice finished the thought, one that was very much not an adult, though well on his way through the transition. The first syllable cracked and seemed to mock his perpetual puberty.

Lysander turned, grappling with a pair of pants that were too large around his stick-thin waist. “I won’t go to the temple and I will stay away from the… Ran… Ran-ur, the harlots, and you will treat me like a man when I am a man.” A rule for a rule, it seemed fair enough, even if breaking one hardly justified pushing the limits of the other.

His stomach growled, and his toes curled against the cold hardwood floor. Summers in Denval hardly seemed like summers at all; they were short, they were cool, and fog lingered along the coast nearly every morning like a shawl that hid the danger of jagged rocks beneath it. Lysander stole a sidelong glance out the window. Syna had finally begun to crawl over the lip of the ocean, her orange glow scaring off the last of the early morning stars.

“We changed before the sun came up,” he noted flatly, before letting his round browns drop to open and upturned palms, “What if the sun never came up? Would we change then? How would we know day from night if we didn’t?”

Lysander blinked away a train of thought that had gotten out of his own hands, and his lips curled upward into a wan smile. “Do you have more rules?”