Lovers Embrace (PM to Join, Pre-Veil & GF'd)

[Chrysannia Syl'lithar]

The twin suns were settled in the clear summer sky casting almost barely there shadows over the stockade city. Normally the breezes that blew over the city from the bay would have cooled the city, there was hardly a whisper. Many residents of the city had decided to stay within their homes trying to escape the oppresive heat. Then there were some that reveled in the intensity of the weather, they lounged languidly on frontlawns, chatted quietly on stone benches. Those few that braved the sun were soon red of skin and some became blistered and passed out they were so hot.

Even in the magical hanging gardens, the home of many a druid, was almost bereft of life. Here the heat was less intense, a act done by a few of the remaining druids, yet only a few groups littered the verdent lawns and gardens. Those few that sat and spoke with one another were covered head to toe in clothing that would cover their skin for protection.

Among them was Chrysannia Syl'lithar and Jaraelium Celerrond, the two lovers recently reunited after Jaraes absence from Syl'rosya. They walked close together, Chrys' delicate hand resting upon the elflords strong forearm. The two were garbed as if to match, Chrysannia wearing a dress of snowy white and a scarf that covered her luxurious hair and most of her face. The stoic lord forgoing his usual colors of grey and blue had chosen a suit of white with a brimmed hat to shade his eyes.

Not far behind the two marched a far older pair of elves, the chaperones of the lord and lady. Having only recently announced that they had been pursuing one another they have not had a single moment alone together. The last moment that they had truly been alone was almost two eras ago during a secret meeting within the Laughingwater. When either of the couple was vocal about the constant itrusions into their private space they were chastised about propriety. Most of the time the chaperones went unnoticed, the two forgetting most about them when together.

"How have you been since I last saw you three months ago?" The Silver Dragon asked of Chrys as they stopped to view a sculpture of some long forgotten elvish hero. "It may have only been three short months, but to me it was almost as if we were seperated by three eras. I thought about you constantly, I dreamt of you nightly, you were there looking at me with your golden eyes even as I stood on ceremony with Yssar in Imperia." His eyes watching her eyes closely.

"It has been far to long love." The sweet tones of the lady replied. "Those three months did seem longer then usual while you were away from home. Although I must admit I couldn't always think about you, I am afterall such a busy woman." Casting a smile his way the luminous orbs sparkling in the sunlight. Chrys had never been one to show any true emotion, often being called an Ice Queen or Heartless by many of her peers. She at moments found it difficult to express what she was feeling and thinking.

"Oh do not tease me so, you know how my heart aches for you when we are not together." His tone pleading as he stopped her and stepped in front of her. "I have been meaning to give this to you, long before I even left for Imperia, there just never seemed to be the right time." Fidgeting within his back pocket he pulled out a small wooden box.

"What is it?"

He slid the lid backwards slowly revealing a simple chain of silver with two small rubies set within it. The silver wrapped lovingly around the rubies that were so clear in color that they almost gave off a red tinged glow.

"Rubies I know are your favorite, there is one for each era that we have been together and I promise to place a new stone withint he bracelet every era from now on." Holding her angular chin in his hand he angled her face towards his. All the love in the world shown vibrantly within his eyes, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson and even the hand he held her with trembled ever so gently.

"Th-this is simply wonderful." Was all Chrys had to say before she quieted as he held her face close to his. The same look showed plainly in her eyes, eyes that were becoming like liquid gold as they glistened with unshed tears. Love was the most excurtiating pain that she had ever experienced, but it was not a pain that was unbearable, she could stand for months just like that, with him, in that moment.

The softest of touches, his lips upon hers...

[Chrysannia Syl'lithar]

"My lady!" The stern voice of the eldery elf chaperone broke through the wall that had seemed infinite around the two lovers. "If any were to see it would not be worth the scandal." Chastising the both of them with a wag of her finger as her male counterpart looked around to make sure none saw.

"There is a difference between us, I think it is quite worth the scandal." Eyes still half lidded and looking rather dreamy Chrys replied to her chaperone. Her small hands still grasped in her lovers she pulled him back into their walk, resting her golden crowned head on his arm.

Jarae silent, his breathing a bit heavy, allowed himself to be led on by his lady love. Not caring if they were to walk off the edge of the world just as long as they were together. "Chrys my love." He cleared his throat with a cough, his voice a bit husky. "I have been thinking that we perhaps need to go on a vacation." Jarae knew full well that the two of them leaving on such a trip would only entice the other lords and ladies to greater whispers.

"Don't be silly Jarae, you know that we cannot simply leave Syl'rosya. We are needed here, you more then I, the soldiers need your support and encouragment. You only just returned to the city just last darkening and you already wish to leave. Where would we go, there is hardly a more beautiful place in all of the human empire then right here outside the wooden walls, our forests." Responding to him as a fellow couple passed by them, nodding in greeting the four continued on their way.

"I know I have only just returned, but I was locked away in Imperia. That city is one of the dirtiest most vile polluated locations I have ever set foot within. I doubt there are words that could truly convey the devious plots and many perils I saw while there over these last few months." Jarae was not one for voicing words that were not pleasent, but the dank northern city had put him on edge.

"It was just not the same, I was there being miserable and alone. If I were to leave again I would want it to be with you. That would be the key difference my dear, you would be there with me and it wouldn't matter where we went. Aslans Forge would be like a tropical paradise to me if you were by my side." Smiling down at her he waited for her response.

"Such sweet sentiments Jarae, but for now I will have to decline." Without looking up at him Chrys could picture the hurt look on his face. Tightening her grasp on his hand she squeezed it to reassure him that she still loved him deeply. "Perhaps at some point in the future. Right now there is far too much going on within Syl'rosya, we are needed here if only to assure things continue on as smoothly and queitly as possible." The lady was right though, things had been extremely quiet if not boring within the stockade over the months and Chrysannia wanted it to stay that way.

"I, understand." Jarae returned with a wistful sigh escaping him. "It's okay, I understand your wish to keep our home as much the same as possible." Turning their steps towards a arcane created pond. "I think we have found the perfect spot for our picnic." Stopping before the clear blue water he motioned for his chaperone to come forward.

[Chrysannia Syl'lithar]

Chrysannia sat with her legs folded beside her while her hands rested softly in the lap of her white dress. She watched as the Celerrond chaperone placed the wicker basket down before Jarae and herself. Unnaturally Chrys was slightly hungry for this time of the brightening, it was just after high watch and her stomach had given an uncouth gurgle while they walk. Perhaps that was the reason why they were waiting to eat, Jarae might have noticed and called the stop.

"For today we have strawberries, pears and honey wine all chilled on ice." The lord explained as he lifted the lid of the basket to reveal the contents within. The fruit was perfectly preserved within the icy coolness of the basket as was the wine, a favorite of Chrysannia herself.

"Jarae, you made one of your house mages preserve the ice for this meal? Why when you know perfectly well how long it takes a mage to attain clara and to cast a spell succesfully." Chastising him for his waste of his mages energies. All knew that some strange pale had fallen over Syl'rosya making it almost impossible for mages, no matter the level, to attain clara and cast. Such a blatant waste to Chrys was not so to Jarae and she was not impressed.

"Don't be so dour my love. It isn't like the mages around here do anything all that usefull. They are never called into battle these days and just sit around in libraries collecting dust like the books they read." The elflord was not the biggest fan of mages, not that any true soldier was. He had no real purpose for them and only kept a few on staff for there very few usefull purposes.

"The mages do more then you think dear. If it was not for the druids our city would be absolutely blistering, far more then it already is. They keep the plants from withering in the intense heat, with great discomfort to themselves as many pass out from their exertions. Just don't make it a habit to do this while we wait for an answer to be found for this, blight." Allowing her partner to place a strawberry in her mouth she chewed slowly, letting the sweetness flow down her throat.

"Delectible."

[Chrysannia Syl'lithar]

"That was delicious my sweet." Chrysannia said softly as she dabbed her mouth with a white linen napkin. Placing it within the basket she lowered the lid closed and motioned for one of the chaperone's to remove it.

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it." Jarae placing his hand on that of his lady loves smiled as Chrys moved closer to him. "Sitting here with you makes this beautiful day far more grand and a lot less hot." Sliding his hand around the slender waist of the lady as she returned the gesture in kind.

Of course the move was a little less then proper for the two do be doing in public, a lot closer then they should have been. It didn't matter all that much though, those around weren't paying that much attention and it was such an innocent embrace. Those in love or those who have been in love would understand the meaning to be close to the one you share such strong feelings though. Simple slip ups could be forgiven with ease.

"What would you like to do for the rest of the time that we have together?" His soft eyes looking down at her as he smiled. Pulling her closer to him he let out a soft sigh and looked up into the blue sky that was dotted with cotton puff clouds. "I would be happy to just sit here, like this for all time."

Her eyes looking at the scene before her, of the few elves in the hanging gardens Chrys grinned. "I know you would dear, I know you would. I would enjoy it greatly also, but there has been something I have been wanting to see for the last month. I have waited for you to return home so that we may visit it together." Explaining she shifted her head to be able to see his face.

"A sculptor that I had the pleasure of meeting some time ago has recently returned to our fair city. In the letter that he sent to me upon his return he spoke of the works of art that he had brought with him. No doubt in the hopes that I would purchase some of his works. I would of course spend money for this mans crafts, he is quite the splendid sculptor from what I remember and it would be lovely to view his gallery." Eyes alight Chrys pinched Jarae on the side to show him that she would not take no for an answer.

"Okay okay, we will go together. Just a few more moments here in the silence is all I ask for."

[Quenthalus]

Nestled in the close proximity of a picinic grove-- where sleek nobles and elegant scions wandered-- listening intently to his friends discuss about orcs, humans, and the Empire, Sy'aliande partook of their fine wine, tasting it's smooth elven sweetness with much joy. He glanced sidelong at Ery'endolen and Destrin but was more intent on hearing news of this part of the empire as Quenthalus narrated some thoughts of Imperia. He shook his head in disappointment, however, at the way the humans warmongering would displace and murder so many if conflicts were allowed to escalate, though it was no skin off his nose if humans died for no just cause.
"I believe that we should just ignore their actions, return to our ancestral lands, and let them kill each other off. There really is nothing in these lands worth saving, is there? I say kill the humans and be done with it!" Sy'anliande said nonchalantly before taking another sip of his wine.
"After all, they do nothing but destroy what they built but cycles before, and then seek our things to destroy once theirs are gone. Humans are loud, obnoxious, and quite dirty. I personally can't stand the smell of most humans, and I wish they would just die off. Unfortunately, they also breed like rabbits..."
"So, Sy'aliande, you believe we should just sit back and watch as innocent people are killed by the greed and war mongering people of their race? Let the women and children be massacred without so much as lifting a finger. To do such a thing is more cruel and evil than any act Humanity has ever committed on Telath. Very few humans are bereft of mercy or compassion, and to place such a stereotype on humanity is like saying the Vyssitchi are born murderers, and should be slaughtered and utterly annihilated from the face of Telath. Even orcs have surprised people before, though not often, with acts of mercy and compassion. Would you find it just to say that elves should be obliterated because we are elegant and wish to dominate? No you would not, nor would any elf, for it is not true. A man should be judged by his person, not by his race."
"To answer your questions, Destrin, however I assume they were rhetorical; 'yes', the weak of the humans should die at the hand of the strong, and 'yes', all vysstichi are born murderers. The only vysstichi I have ever met that did not wallow in blood and hatred were ones who have spent a majority of their lives among our own kind. We elves are truly the only beings suited to walk the face of this planet, because all other beings merely overpopulate it, under appreciate it, and destroy it! A genocide of the lesser races should be in order one of these days..." Sy'aliande grumbled, taking another sip of moonglow. "Quenthalus, what do you think?"
He regarded Destrin and Sy'aliande with a deliberate nod, hearing each members piece on worldly views, appreciating the source from which they arose. He thought of his own experience and considered suggestions, inserting a soft rationale. When Sy'aliande delivered his diatribe Quenthalus said nothing, taking that moment to gather his thoughts. He looked away, groping into the haze of Syl'rosya with empty eyes. When he looked back his gaze quietly lamented having to reconcile their questions. "I couldn't begin to offer you a worthy explanation, no matter how much I long to tell you there is another way, toror'amin." His voice, unbroken, and yet forlorn for an elf, spoke volumes in response. "Those of the Orders of Light will spend their eternal lives in a great struggle. They already know they fight a battle that is perpetuating, and quite simply, to stave off evil. But mistakes are made." He was no elf to defend the very empire he silently quarreled with, but his journey's had given him a great deal of worldly wisdom. What these two condoned struck Quenthalus as warped and clandestine interpretations of elven ethos. The solution never addresses the problem, it only works around it--. In this case genocide. He found enough nodes of true living spirit to be convinced that there were proactive alternatives. "Every warrior that spends a day killing someone loses a day building something. You have to innovate strategic and mindful ways of approaching something. Do it for the greater good." At least they addressed the real problems, and are aware of the consequences that come with absolute power. For this he was grateful.

"Before I lived in Syl'rosya there was a noble elf, august, ancient, and renowned for teaching the vysstichi a thing or two of terror. Lord Shan'tilarr of House Mithania. The entire House is dedicated to the eradication of the vysstichi. For some, especially those of you who know the edicts of the dark elven nation, you'd know the battle was a worthy cause. I won't be the first to admit I'm loathe to the company of dark elves, but my experiences with them in the past force me to approach them with immediate suspicion. What can I say about that? We know the larger dark elven societies are theocratic. Haya rules the majority. Better to error on the side of caution when dealing with them, though I won't deny credit to one of them, if they earn it. I have lost to dark elven hands. The majority of their culture is cruel and nightmarish. Many cultures come to Aelyria, and they become Aelyrians. They are driven by self interest, and a chance at new life, and this chance is available, even to a vysstichi. That is the Aelyrian way. Right of Meritocracy. But many are also still deeply rooted in their ways, and Aelyria is not impervious to the cultural overlapping. Dark elves are still notorious for bringing their dark ways into the Imperial world." He sighed to himself, looking to them apologetically. "Sorry. I'll finish the story." His lips pursed and he coughed, exhaling quietly. "He waged a private war against the Hayan worshipping dark elves, though neutral dark elves were often caught in the crossfire; it's a battle Lord Shan'tilarr has fought for almost three hundred eras." He sipped his moonglow, casually removing a leather case from some things piled near a bundle with cheeses, wines, and other accessories to an outdoor luncheon, then from it procured a slim wooden pipe. He stoked the kettle over a flame, drawing a languid breath in, then subtly discharging a conical nimbus. "He fought this battle because the dark elves had slaughtered his lover during the kithian assembly; a festive gathering when the Syl'rosyan Houses honor Silrosan - father of Moonstone ap Silrosan. Silrosan was the first king of Syl'rosya, and the first elf to ascend to demigod status. Hence the name of the city, Silrosia." He exhaled another bleary cloud, rolling his shoulders back and contentedly finishing the drink. "Shan'tilarr, like any good elf, was oathed to avenge the unwarranted murder of his wife. He, along with his sons (except one, Llorinal Mithania), spent countless campaigns pursuing the dark elven threat of Qu`ellar Xy`verm all the way into the caves, driving the dark kin back into the depths of the Great Mountains. I recollect on his story because his House is now convicted to the wholesale destruction of all vysstichi, and let's be honest, I wouldn't sway him. He is who he is, and as a worthy master and lord I stand beside his decisions, so long as they bear good logic, and serve the people in goodness. I only condone his clandestine war because he is a skilled adversary against the minions of Haya, yet many of the nobles and commoners of Syl’rosya know his inspiration comes from a dark realm of his heart. He kills for vengeance, and has no remorse. Pain, strife, and great evil brought him to this lifeless crux. The ancient spirit that coarsed through his body is extinguished now. Those that knew him know he never smiles, could never laugh from the bottom of his heart, or find a way to connect with his sons, and feel whole again. Something so banal consumes you when you hate like that. Shan'tilarr has his reasons though. So I have to ask, why would any of you wish to have that hatred within yourselves? It begins subtly, like now, merely exchanged over conversation, but don't you feel life slipping away? Why did we do all this fighting to begin with? For peace. But that's easily forgotten. Shan'tilarr has driven away most of his family, embracing the company of elves who live to kill, and only wait for absolution to consume them. For all its claims toward peace, the ritual embracing of this life affair obliterates their spirits - the very act becomes a mockery to the elven heart. And all those things that are elven, and that bring light to a dark world, they're lost. It's a waste." He could testify to that claim, long knowing Llorinal, the young noble for some thirty eras. It was Llorinal who taught Quenthalus the freedom of dance. "It's very elven of you to cherish the forest, and direct your disproval toward those that deserve it, but the ancients would frown upon one who thought themselves so low they could only expedite change through terror." He didn't know how they would take that, but he had long since stopped fearing what others might say. Setting his pipe aside, he gave a kindred hand, clasping it to Sy'aliande's forearm. He held him for a moment, eyes fixed to the elf, then let him go and offered a single nod.

He thought to answer Destrin about Imperia, but he kept the other elf’s questions in the back of his mind. It was best to talk serious in increments- he wasn't here to change anyone, and even if he felt like change was necessary, it was a path that all of them would ultimately travel alone. He admired all of their convictions, and their want of virtue. An elf like Sy'aliande would serve the people well delivering his angst to the orcish assembly, or the newly emerging dark elven cults of Haya throughout Centripax. Destrin and Ery'endolen, both seemingly drawn toward the destablization of the Empire through the re-emerging Elder Circle of Syl'rosya; so long as they lived he believed they could create an impact in the empire, and do some real good. He knew legends of northmen who would sacrifice themselves for a worthy cause. He too, would defend Trelore, but only as a final option. The land, and the system, and the oaths, they were all symbols that evolved a culture, but he would never place dangerous convictions before the lives of those he swore to protect.

Slender hands curled around his glass, drowning the last two sips, then empathetically turning to glance at each of them. He had ambitions, many of which were on the verge of climax. He wouldn't deny that a good majority of his recent company were all elves, but he sought like minded spirits, both to reinforce the desire to emulate the qualities of elvenkind, and to teach wayward elves about their people. It was his hope the elvish edicts, the beliefs which cause people to see elves as inspiring, exotic and beautiful, could be used to guide expansionists and power mongers out of their dark age, and into the real world. A world where you don't have time to worry about who sits on the throne. The system that was once used to serve the people has now become valued above the people it purported to protect. In this time it becomes paramount that individuals band together, bracing for survival in the wake of no leadership. While many busied themselves with fighting against whatever they could, he felt obligated to create those things that sustain, and live on. If killing ever commanded him, it would only be in the call of defense. But for Quenthalus it was time to expand that defense, and to this he purveyed the future heroes with high hopes.