Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Friend, I think I must throw a dinner party.” 

He says it in his thick accent, brushing the coily scruff of the baby beard he’d grown complacent to shaving lately. Kenric pauses reading his book and looks down at Terik who was curled up on the couch, head resting in his lap. He hic-cups and smiles while taking a sip of water from his ‘nursing-a-hangover’ straw cup. It had yellow and blue stripes and was the ugliest trinket he’d ever brought back from his adventures in the forbidden cities— and yet he cherished it like his first born.  

“Terik, of all your drunken ideas, I think that might be the most foolish yet. Who hosts a dinner party after spending a week dancing and drinking at a wedding?” 

“What can I say? I am in the spirit of…celebrating.” 

“Is that code for I want to get black out drunk stupid again or did you receive another vision again?” He deadpans.  

Terik stares at him for a moment with his longing, deep blue, eyes (which looked more like ink in this light). He swallows and glances back towards the couch, pulling at a cushion thread distractedly. “You know I can’t  answer that.” 

It was true and annoying. Kenric didn’t even try to read his mind anymore. He was almost certain  Terik got drunk after his visions to scramble his brain so he couldn’t read it. It was about as nauseating to be drunk while reading his mind.  

“Right. That would ruin the potential of it all.” Kenric chuckles, softly closing the book around his index finger. He leans across Terik, careful not to bump his reddened nose as he places it on the coffee table. “ Well if this is one of your silly endeavors to set me up with some girl, I assure you it’s not going to work. They’ll look me twice over and decide I’m not fit for marriage.” 

“Surely not looks dear friend, you are quite alright in that department or they wouldn’t look at you once!” Terik slurringly pats his face and then his shoulder in comfort. “It is the dimwitly personality that you struggle with!” He laughs.  

“You are the greatest comfort, Brother.” Kenric pats his head patronisingly and chuckles. 

Terik smiles adoringly at the nickname. While brothers of birth they weren’t, their friendship had persisted to as close as they come. He wriggles his head slightly as he grabs Kenrics outstretched arm mid pat, in half joking sternness for him to stop, and in assurance.

“I promise you that it is not for setting you up on another disastrous date— I think we are long past this stage— I think it’s just important that I host a dinner. Think of it as an expansion of your career.” 

He was trying to warn him about something. Kenric knows the tone, he just hates it. He hates the idea that his best friend knows exactly what’s to come and won’t tell him anything about it. It’s the same piss all crap the Black swan gives him and he’s absolutely sick of it. 

“I’m an Emissary Terik, there’s not much higher for me to go.”  Frustration is evident in his voice. 

No higher than he would go. Is allowed to go. Would dare to go.

“Well maybe consider  the ranking within the Emissaries— with the right connections you could get any assignment you want.” 

“I have a perfectly interesting case right now thank you very much.” 

“The Pyrokinetic case?” Teriks face falls. He knows that look. He’d been lectured about it before, about his overzealousness towards the investigation. It wasn’t exactly the type of attitude the council liked— especially when his interests came into conflicts with the council. 

“It’s significant. I know it. Laws about ability restricting are so vague these days, someone needs to address it, and if you’re not willing to, I will. The council is keeping secrets abou—“ 

“I sense potential, Kenric. I am barely trusted with secrets as it is, you know that. My title is a formality at best.” 

“But he  was one of you— a fellow councilor. Don’t you worry that someone will question your ability some day? Have you kicked off the council?” 

“He was not my peer. And you should stop pressing on about this. It won’t lead to anything good— the council doesn’t have secrets for no reason. ” Terik shudders and Kenric knows not to press on. There were certain things he didn’t like to talk about, though he was sure that meant he was hiding something. Something he was even protective of even with loose inhibitions. “Now how about you use that studious diligence of yours for your own good and attend my dinner party? Network a little. If you’re bold enough you might ask to schedule a hearing with the council about your concerns.” 

“You are the strangest Terik.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“I won’t bury myself in my  schedule.” He mumbles, shifting to get up from his couch. 

“Excellent.” He smiles. “I appreciate you, Kenric, you know that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you wouldn’t keep me around otherwise.” He chuckles. 

————

“So you going to this party?” 

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” 

Adalinda fodgets with a Rubix cube in her hands, a friend of hers had got it after their mission to the forbidden cities. It’d kept her busy mind occupied as she tried to solve as many iterations as possible. Handing it to Kenric each time for a random shuffle. “He did say you’d be able to ask for a councilor hearing— that’s not an easy opportunity to have could be good for—“ 

“The Black Swan can hit their panic button any time they want for that. But I know the council won’t give in until there’s indisputable evidence and I’m so close. I know it Ada.” He struggles with the cube again, forcefully trying to push it in the wrong direction and Ada frowns, snatching it back off him to secure the cube face. 

“I was actually going to say it would be good for you brother.” She ruffles his hair. “You've been hard at this case for what? Six months now? The families barely seen you, you've hermited up in your Eternalia house and you haven’t even been on any match dates? Where’s the Hopeless romantic in you gone?” 

“You don’t even believe in match dates.” His voice trails off. “And you know the case is important .” 

“I know— there’s still a difference between me burning my match list as a political demonstration and you wrap yourself up in a case for so long you don’t even take an interest in a relationship when that’s all you’ve ever wanted! The case is always going to be worked on. Lawmakers, protestors— everyone who’s experience injustice and discrimination for their abilities. There’s no harm in taking a break to our yourself out there again! Have a bit of fun?” 

“I’m not really up to it.” 

“You don’t look up to it.” Ada chuckles. “When was the last time you got a haircut?” 

“It’s my style .” He hisses, combing  through the choppy edges of his frizzy low ponytail self-consciously. He’d grown it out over the summer, which had resulted in quite the mop of copper hair. 

“Alright alright! Didn’t know it was a touchy subject.” She raises her hands up in  defense. “Look, I’m just saying that we miss you Kenric, all of us. Your family, your city and even your match list. It’s high time you—“ 

“I know. I’ll be home soon.” 

“Good.” She smiles. “Mami will love that.” 

“Terik would not. I do his house keeping while he’s away.” Kenric laughs before kicking the railings absentmindedly. “Do you really think I should go out more?” 

“Look I’m no dysycre but I think it’ll be good for you to socialise, just make sure you clean up your look...” 

“Ugh, Terik told me I looked fine and handsome.” 

“Terik was drunk.” She cackles. “Terik is also not your target audience, unless that’s changed?” 

“No. I’m not aiming to woo a councillor, Ada.” He laughs. “Now that would be more hopeless than anything I’d attempted.” 

“Look, all I’m saying is burning your match list is an option…” 

“Still not as radical as you’d like me to be.” He rolls his eyes. “ Don't think I ever will. Close as I get is not receiving mine.” 

“You care too much Kenny.” Ada smiles half heartedly. “Government assigned Soulmates aren’t real .” 

“I know.” He swallows. “I still couldn’t bring myself to burn my list though. Even if it doesn’t exist. Even if I don’t believe it means anything.” 

They stand in silence for a bit watching the sun set over the city from their back deck garden wall. Kenric leans across the railing sinking into the bars as he admires the view. There was nothing quite like Mysterium, not in all the lost cities. Eternalia sparkled like a jewel and Atlantis was an ancient wonder to behold but nothing was quite as alive as here. 

Wind chimes signed the hour with crystal twinkling upon great clock towers in city squares— and yet incomparable to the shouts children in the street, who, Kenric is sure, would reach decimals louder than a dinosaurs growl if it weren’t for their hushing grandparents watching over their games on apartment balconies. They yell and squeal in delight, kicking balls and drawing chalk. No matter if you were the shyest kid in the city, there would be some lanky boy in ripped sleeved, oversized tunic ,  who would stand  across from your huddled loneliness and holler for you to join their game. And in the summer, once you had run a mile around the blocks, keeled over in laughter a kid would drag their older sibling from their studies and they’d show you how to do a skill like levitation or water breathing. If your grandparents were able, they might wipe the sweat off their brow— and after fumbling around their pockets off oily handkerchiefs— and hand you a silver coin to buy a treat from the rolling carts. Icecream, pastries or dumplings; either way it was undoubted delicious. 

Paper lanterns and lines of laundry hung across sandstone buildings in the cobbled streets. Giant trees lined walking pavements — a giant wanderling of a forgotten name in the city square alongside a fountain with moonlarks that nipped your hand if you got to close. The sea wasn’t so far away either, a five minute walk from the centre of town to the docks meant kids would flock to the water on the hotter days, taking turns to practice their skills in levitation over the lapping waves. 

On some days Mysterium would be foggy and endless, and others the sun beat down freckling his skin even when tanned— either way windows were always left open to ventilate. It meant the city smelled the same everywhere— and it’s aroma, his mother’s spice and workers soot, clung to his clothes like a cigarette husk. He found even when they were hand tailored in eternalia it only took an hour before the smell sunk into them. Kenric wonders if it’s his skin, olive dark and forever smelling like home.  He doesn’t know if he could ever wash it out, doesn’t know if he ever wants to wash it out. So he never tries. 

“…Invitation to the Ruewens? Bertrand dear, why wouldn’t you tell me about this?” His mother’s voice grows louder as she walks upstairs to the kitchen and rooftop where they stood. 

“Because it’s stupid and I’m not going— Give me it Mami” 

She holds it up high out of his reach tutting with disapproval as she looks over to her husband. “It’s your friend's Winnowing gala it would be unfortunate not to go. Right Mi Alma?” 

Brant cringes at her phrasing and Ada seems to have a twinkle in her eye over it. Their dad shuffles his news paper and peers over it lowering his glasses. 

“Well you know I never encouraged the matchmaking system dear— but the Ruewens have always been so accepting, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. She’s your friend isn’t she?“ 

Ada nudges him with the look that says read my mind and Kenric sighs. 

You should read his mind. See what he’s up to. 

I believe in free thought. Not doing that without permission Ada 

Wow you’re so—- 

“Jolie isn’t my friend.” Brant seethes. Ada glances back and forth between Kenric and Brant, eyebrows knit together in concern. 

“Ok but maybe it’s serious.” Ada whispers 

“Not doing it.” 

“Ay, Since when?” 

“Since right now. I don’t want to go to her stupid winnowing gala. And not with you all either.” He groans, jumping up to snatch the invitation from her hands before storming downstairs. It was typical teenage behaviour, typical Brant behaviour even. But it was certainly atypical Brant about Jolie Ruewen behaviour. 

“What has happened to my Brant?” She sighs. “They were thick as thieves just this morning!” His dad puts his paper down and pulls out the seat next to him, patting its spot for her to sit. 

“I’m sure he’ll get through it Sofia, dear, you know he has opinions about the galas. Everyone here does.” 

“But it’s Jolie Ruewen? Her and Edaline  are nothing but welcoming of us. They’ve never been much concerned with perfect matches, winnowing were nothing but silly formalities.” 

“I know I burnt my list, but he might feel differently...” Ada adds. “Teens are like that.” 

Kenric, shuffles forward, removing his shoes as he steps through the threshold of the house. “I’ll talk to him.” 

He files down stairs and pases the front door into the hallways of bedrooms. He makes his steps light— he didn’t want to stir whatever Bertie’s state was, and to make him frightened or scared would only make him more angry. He needed gentle here. 

“Brant, d’ya wanna talk?” 

“Go away.” 

“Are you sure?” 

There’s silence on the other side of the door. Kenric sighs and knocks. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Whatever.” It’s as close as he’ll willingly get to a yes these days. 

He pushes open the door and finding a room painted in ocean like blues and calming purples like waves. On top of which are covered in fish and sea creature details that give the room a mesmerising effect,, as if they were in the very sea themselves. The room seems to sway side to side and Kenric wonders if this is how it feels to be the last kid at home. Clinging to a boat in a churning sea desperate to jump off board and swim to land like all before you— but terrified to try. He knows he certainly was, and even then Ada was close enough to jump near to. She was always ready to catch him and guide him along the way. Kenric wasn’t nearly at home enough to even teach Brant and if he thinks about it for too long he might drown in guilt for it. He doesn’t even remember when the decorations in his room changed. 

“Your room looks nice.” 

“Thanks, Dad helped paint it.” 

“He’s good at that stuff.” 

“He is.” 

“Are you… alright Brant?” 

“Well I’m a alive.” 

“You look pale enough not to be.” The words fall out of his mouth before he can realise what he’s saying. Brants head shots up with a confused stare as Kenric kicks the back of his own foot in embarrassment. What a dumb thing to do. 

“You do too, it’s just the lighting in the room.” Brant says, nonchalantly picking at the beading  of his black tunic. 

“Still, you seem upset.” 

“I mean if you lost your only friend you would be too.” He sniffs and Kenric takes it as a sign to shuffle over to his bed, plopping down at the edge. 

He clasps his hands together, like his father used to when gigivng him a pep talk. He supposed he best listen now though. Brant seemed miserable. Didn’t take a mind reading to figure that. 

“So… how’d  you fall out?” 

“We didn’t ‘fall out’ we were dating. I broke up with her.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“Nobody knew.” He hisses, like a kicked puppy. “And I thought that was for the better, but now she’s throwing her stupid winnowing gala— even had the gall to hand me the bloody invitation when she knows .” 

“Brant, winnowing galas aren't exactly a choice for most people.” 

“Name one person in our neighbourhood who’s had one Ken.” 

“Okay. Well name one person in our neighbourhood who’s got parents that are a good match?” 

Brant is silent, staring down at his clenched hands. Kenric licks his lips as he tries to find the words to explain. Growing up in Mysterium was great and all… but when you got the chance to participate in noble society, the standards were often different . An upsetting ‘different’. Class and tradition were interwoven as apart of those environments and anything that deviated— even if not a choice was often outcasted. Matchmaking was treated with about as much interest as a discussing the weather where they lived, but in foxfire? It was an assumed prerequisite to adulthood and socialising. It was the idea of weather itself. Unquestioned as an experience of reality. 

“Jols… actually, the Ruewens are apart of the nobility. They have their own property and propriety comes with that. Jolie grew up with that stuff— it would be more shocking if they didn’t.” 

“Well you work in the nobility. How come you never had one.” 

Kenric twists his mouth in consideration. 

“I’ve never taken out a match list.” 

“Never?” 

“Never.” 

“Aren’t you a bit curious?” 

“Weren’t you just hating on them a second ago?” 

“Only because I’m not on her list.” His voice lowers to a mumble as he crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “ I don’t even get a list.” 

The air thickens at his acknowledgement of the true elephant. The crux of what this truly was about, the thought that the world, his world, might move on without him because his genetic makeup and a council of cowards deemed him unmatchable. It was foolish and stupid and ugly. Another cruelty they had granted his brother. His neck reddens and Kenric has to physically pause and draw in a breath to level his thoughts again. This wasn’t the time for anger. 

“I know. It’s stupid— But I’m working on it. I’ve had a bit of a break with the case and hopefully I’ll be able to write up a proposal soon.” Kenric kisses his brothers head comfortingly. “ I won’t rest till the world's right for you.” 

Brant nods solemnly and the two sit in mutual silence for awhile. Kenric doesn’t know how long. But he hopes it’s a comfort to his brother. He runs his fingers through his copper hair which is stained at the edges by chalky black dye and Brant leans his head on his shoulder. The blue of the room washes over them. 

“What if you never find them then.” 

“Find who?” 

“Someone you’ll love.” 

“You don’t need a list to fall in love. This city is living proof of that.” Kenric half smiles. “I think you should go to Jolie’s Winnowing though.” 

“It’s so stupid. And it’s like two weeks away.” Brant groans, tucking his knees beneath his chin as if curling into himself defensively. An obvious blush pricks at his cheeks. 

“Look, I’m not saying you have to— it’s just a suggestion.  A fortnight is plenty of time to put something together anyways. For mami at least.” Kenric smiles “I don’t think you’ll be able to keep the ‘hating Jolie Ruewen’ spiel for long anyways. Got too bad of a poker face.” 

“Ugh your so annoying.” Brant bumps his shoulder playfully and Kenric smirks, ruffling his hair. 

“You're welcome.” 

“Whatever.” He groans. “Outta my room.” 

“Course course.” He laughs standing up to leave. He walks to the door, passing as he reaches the frame to turn back at his sulking brother. “If you ever need to talk, you can always hail me. I know I’m not home often.” 

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

Kenric almost swears he sees him smile. 

Chapter Text

“Are you sure about this Terik?” Oralie says, fidgeting with her betrothal pendant.

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about Oralie dear, if you speak half as posh as you do with me you’ll be perfectly fine!” He says sprinkling a bit of flour on his nieces nose teasingly. Oralie sniffs and sneezes into her sleeve, sighing at his antics. He giggles, rolling out the dough again.

“Are you sure it’s even relevant for me to be here? I’ve been barely sworn in as an emissary— there’s no reason for anyone to know me. Except, well you. But it’s not like you got the choice.” She laughs half heartedly, leaning back onto the kitchen bench with her arms crossed over one another self consciously.

“Making this all the more necessary. It’s good to network, no?”

“Well yes, but not with the COUNCIL?!” She shakes her head. “You did not tell me when you were having friends over that it meant the leaders of our world, Uncle!”

“They are my colleagues are they not? It’s only natural some should be my friends.” He smiles

“ I’m at least not going to be the only non councillor in the room? Right?”

“Well of course not! The chairs are not councillors.”

“Terik.” She groans, nudging him lightly and he chuckles.

“I am only teasing. I wouldn’t put you in that sort of predicament. I have another friend coming soon. He is an emissary himself. Works under me occasionally.”

“An emissary?” Her head tilts and she stretches onto her tippy toes, peering into the bowl Terik was now mixing. “What cases do you work on together?”

“Very important classified information.”

“Don’t even start.” She rolls her eyes. “You’ve never taken your councillor missions seriously, Uncle. Even when you should.”

“It has mostly been just benign missions I needed to delegate. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Ugh.” She whines, “ you’re so annoying, you know that?”

“Pay back for the terror I went through babysitting you.”

“I was a very sweet child.”

He points with his spatula emphasising his phrasing. “You were a child invested in sweets. That I cannot deny. “

“At least i was an only child.”

I do not believe that makes it better.” Oralie pouts and Terik sighs. “If my brother were half the fun he was with me, he would have been the greatest father.”

“It’s not his fault.” She tugs at the pendant further twirling it around her finger. “Mother can be horrid at the best of times.”

“The marriage was not his fault, of course.” He swallows, eyes darkening. “But leaving you in her wrath alone made him a coward.”

“He didn’t leave me.”

“I’ve spent more time with you as a councillor— a role that denies any kinship. Where was your father at your midterms and galas or even just to play tea parties?”

Oralie averts her glossy eyes and stares down at the floor. Of course he wasn’t there— that’s just how it was in the nobility. You marry according to your best match (her parents were both on the top of each others lists) then you have a child or two and then one of you take leave and live seperate lives because match lists broke more families than made.

She shrugs. “It’s just how it’s done.”

“I am sorry you feel that way.” He sighs. “And I’m sorry I didn’t resign twenty years ago and take you in myself when he left.”

“It was not your job, you were young yourself.”

“It was my responsibility. And my deepest regret.” He shakes his head. “How is your match going anyway?”

“Engaged to the apparent number one match.” She holds up the pendant, dangling it in his face like a victory. It did not feel much like one. “He is pleasant.”

“I take it your mother has still not let you see the list.”

“She thinks it would disturb my focus.” ‘And I trust her’ is what should follow, but in truth Oralie cannot bring herself to say it. She trusts her mother enough to follow her word, but not enough to believe it.

“Does it not disturb you she has taken out all five lists of yours and hidden them under lock and key?” He shakes his head.

“It is not my choice Terik,”

“Ancients sake Oralie— it is your future, it should be!”

“It is not as if I can yield now.” Oralie shakes her head, she was already betrothed and in a few months she would be wed— she did not enjoy this fact, but it was the truth. “I will find my future in my ambition, not in a husband— if I appease my mother I can be freed to do that.”

Terik rubs his temples and lets out a heavy sigh.

“You sense potentials Uncle,” She holds out her hand. “Prove this logic— I doubt you will find a flaw in my plan.”

Terik pushes her arm down gently and hañf smiles. “That is not how it works Oralie. You are like a daughter to me, and any potential I do know you possesses only gives me reason for me to think of far greater ambition, far greater happiness than a benign marriage.”

“It’s not worth the chastening and ugliness of mother.”

“Is it not?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You have not married. How can you say it would be?”

“That does not mean I have yet not loved. Love is complex and wonderful, marriage is contractual and frugal in this world.”

“It’s all I can do to survive.”

Terik strokes his scruffy beard, drawing out its curls that spring back as soon as they’re stretched too far as Oralie rubs the goosebumps forming on their skin.

“Would you trust me enough Oralie, to at least consider other options before your betrothal.”

“I don’t have the means to do that. I cannot so easily look at my match list.”

“Beyond that Ora, consider what you may find without it.”

“How?”

His doorbell rings and he turns away from the kitchen, pressing down the collar of his tunic in preening before he walks to the enterance. Oralie follows nervously behind.

“I think for a start, dear, that it’s near time you get out of that house of yours and explore the world for what it is.” He smiles fondly at her patting her shoulder. “Now come greet our guests with next.”

Like clockwork his expression instantly adjusts from warmth to an unusual cheer. It’s not disingenuous exactly, but it’s certainly not a common look on him. She would subscribe it to the same catagory as her mothers portraits hung on the halls of their estate. Warm to any foreigner and foreign to any warmth.

Terik opens the door and his arms in fanfare to three cloaked councillors. “My esteemed colleagues, please do come in!”

“It is good if you to have us.” Councillor Emery bows his head and steps through the threshold, whether out of respect or concern for his height Oralie does not know. He shakes hands with Terik and reaches for his circlet before his eyes catch Oralie.

“I was not aware we had other guests, Terik.” His eyebrows raise as he glances back to the host.

“This is my niece, Oralie Lucrecia. I have invited another as well, if it doesn’t bother you.”

He pauses, mouth opening and closing in confusion before he shakes his head and gives her a quick nod “Not at all, it is a pleasure to meet you Miss Lucrecia.”

“As it is to meet you Councillor.” She curtesy’s, “Terik has set up in the drawing room down the hall.”

Councillor Ramira enters in next, kissing Terik on the cheek in greeting before she turns to Oralie and Embraces her. As she moves her jewelry jingles and she wonders if she wears for the comfort to Terik that she wouldn’t be snooping. Merry is sound of a vanisher, a comfort, like bell collared cat to know she wouldn’t snoop.

“It is lovely to have you join us.” She says, before turning to follow Emery, who extends his arm out for her.

The last to enter is Zarina, in sparkling gold, that looks like a lighting bolt in the heavens. Terik smiles fondly and takes her cloak with a smile. Zarinas eyes are tired, that much she can tell, but she manages to persist a smile and move forward towards her.

She shakes Oralie's hand and she swears she can feel the electricity in her fingers, spluttering like a technopaths live wire voltage. It hides whatever churning emotions she would usually feel and she wonders if the myth is true. Chargers always worked with logical driven abilities like polyglot’s and telepaths; they tended to be less accommodating to Emotionally driven ones. Oralie wonders how she will fair.

Her eyes sparkle and Oralie barely notices the small smile that pulls at the corner of her mouth before she turns to follow the pair of councillors in front of her down the cramped hall.

Terik begins to pass her before she pulls his shoulder back to halt.

“You did not tell me—“ She hisses

Terik brushes pass her, unphased as he brushes out his white tunic. “It is rude to leave our guests without a host. We’ll talk later.”

The drawing room has been prepared like an evening dinner spread— of course it did not match the traditional elvish grand balls and such. But it was enough she supposed for a couple of councillors and one of their nieces. Terik yabbers (while pouring chai) on in pleasantries she does not bother to listen to— Oralie of course was more focused on the alarming matter at hand. Terik didn’t tell them she was coming. She stuck out like a sore thumb and it was evidently clear from the way the move their heads so stiffly that they were not expecting to retain their circlets on. Elvish custom insisted they be on in the presence of the public. And well, Oralie was far from a councillor by any stretch of the imagination. Young, Engaged and an Empath. No wonder Terik simply lied to them about this gathering, there was no way they would agree to it otherwise.

A bell rings from the Kitchen and all eyes and attention is snatched towards it. Kenric pats

“Allow me to go get that friends, I won’t be a moment long !” Terik nods beginning to arise from his seat. “Oralie dear, please make our guests feel welcome!” He pats his niece on the shoulder before, running back to the kitchen to fuss about his food

She blinks probably a multitude to many times and holds her hands stiffly to her knees to prevent herself from tugging out an eyelash. “Well thank you—“

“I heard—“ Councillor Ramira begins.

Oralie swallows and shakes her head quickly. “I’m sorry, I interrupted you, please go first.”

Emery seems to flash a look of concern and Oralie clasps her hands together almost audibly. Ancients sake her eyelashes were feeling itchier than a skin peeling serum.

“I heard from your uncle that you were homeschooled.” Councillor Ramira says through a sip of tea. “That is rather unorthodox I’d imagine, what was that like?”

“It was different most assuredly being seperate from my peers Councillor, but I got a thorough education no matter.” Oralie brushes her eyes to aleiviate the itch before she smiles. “Truth be told my schooling was my mothers own wishes, her doctor warned her about me potentially compromising her condition with being around so many others. So she thought it best to have me by her side.”

“That is right, and how is Lady Lucrecias condition?”

“She gets by.” Oralies voice falters at the edge and she curses it as concerned looks are all she sees around the room. It wasn’t as if she was that attached to her, it was more the nerves of speaking with them. Though she supposes it is best not to over explain that. There is a moment where she can do nothing but stare in silence at her own cup until she hears shuffle of pans from the kitchen and Teriks footsteps across his creaky floorboards.

Unlike most Mansions of Eternalia Teriks felt more like a burrow than a house. It was cozy, his walls were muddy browns, rusty reds and sage greens which were trimmed with golden flowers and other painted murals around the edges. This meant it was pleasant to be in most times, but when seated amongst three councillors, it felt rather awkward, out of place. It certainly did not help that Terik did not warn them she would be here. She massages her hands trying to minimise the audible tapping of her heel.

“Well I must say these might be my finest batch yet. You are in for a treat my friends.” He laughs breaking the awful silence.

“Your cooking is always a delight Terik.” Councillor Emery replies with grace.

Oralie can only truly describe her uncles cooking as, well,, delicious.

“You are too good to us.” Zarina smiles “Is this your mothers recipe?”

“Indeed it is. And by the look on my nieces face you have been more spoiled with it that she has.” He smiles cheerily. “My brother was not much of a cook.”

The conversation is smoother from there. Terik and the other councillors chat along and once in awhile Terik or Ramira will ask for her opinion. It’s… not awful. She’s had worse conversations with her mother. But still, as the night draws on she doesn’t find herself in gratitude towards her uncle. After all a night like this would have been a thousand times more enjoyable if she weren’t here.

Another bell rings, this time it’s from outside.

“Would you mind Oralie dear, fetching the door for me?” Terik smiles, pouring a glass of wine for the councillors.

“Of course!” She says, smoothing out her pink blouse as she stands. She weaves her way out of the sitting room, through the kitchen and to the front door. With a flick of the latch and turn of the handle, she pulls it open.

He’s tall.

That’s the first thing she notices because she actually has to look up at him. She never had to do that much in her life. Her mother was bed ridden and she was a tall as her dad after hitting puberty (not that she’d seen him much). Terik, her Uncle, was only a few centimetres taller than she was and it was barely noticeable unless you counted his gelled hair. She’d taken her heels off at the front door and exchanged them for house slippers at arrival which had made it even worse than usual though and now she found herself gawking at the stranger as she stood in his way.

“Uhm. Are you going to let me in?” He coughs, re-tucking the slipping bottle of wine back into his arm and she remembers he’s real.

“Who are you?” She asks. After all, she is a little nosy.

“A friend of Teriks. Who are you?”

“His Niece. “ She steps aside. “I’m Oralie Lucrecia.”

“Kenric Fathdon.” He nods, brushing past her to open the mud room closet. He throws a silver Cloak in the closet that looked suspiciously like something Terik would wear. He had an affinity for séquens.

Underneath it he wears an olive green tunic that is sinched at the waist with a brown belt. Red pants and boots she does not care to judge the colour of. She looks back up at his face. He had a hooked nose the scruff of a growing beard and bright copper hair. It swooped long past his shoulders in waves that were soaked and dripping all over his clothes.

She snaps out of her gaze, realising his predicament. “Do you need a towel?”

“Rain made me look that rough?”

“No I just.” She furrows her brow, and she’s clicks her fingers, conjuring one that she hands to him. “did no one teach you how to not get sick.”

Kenric raises an eyebrow. “Whenever it rained at my house all the kids would race outdoors.” He chuckles, dabbing the towel across his face. “Summer storms are the grandest.”

“Well it’s autumn.”

“Ancients sake,” He clicks his tongue, as he ruffles his hair. It turns into a brilliant coppery curls. “don’t have to be so crabby about it.”

Oralie frowns. “Crabby? I’m pointing out the obvious and trying to save you from being sick! How is that rude?”

“Well you're yelling at me right now.” He rolls his eyes.

“I was just trying to help.” Her voice is small.

“Well I don’t need to be coddled, Oralie.”

“Forgive me for caring, Kenric. I shall not again.” She spits.

Oralie storms out of the room, composing herself with a few quick internal screams and depth breaths before entering back into the drawing rooms festivities.

“Did you find our guest at the door?”

“Yes, he’s just drying himself off.” She sniffs cast a side glance at Terik as if to say we will be talking about this later. She takes back her seat.

“Excellent!” Terik claps his hands gleefully and as of on cue Kenric appears in the doorway. “Come join us my friend!”

He smiles and wanders over to them, taking a seat right opposite of her. He places a wine bottle between their field of view— and it might be the smartest thing he’s ever done. Given how foolish he was to not dry himself while being in the rain and being presented in front of councillors.

“Thanks for having me Terik.” He nods. “And Councillors.”

“And Who are you young man?” Ramira asks, taking a bite of one of Teriks treats as she turns to face him.

“Kenric Fathdon, I’m an Emissary research working under the tribunal sector.” He says, shaking her hand

“Fathdon? I don’t believe I’ve heard that name before. Are you parents from the nobility?”

“My mother was from the Pacheco family.”

“Ah— from Mystrium. You’ve come quite far.” Emery interjects.

“So my mother often complains.” He laughs. “But I think I have the duty to do the right thing even if it keeps me far from home.”

“That is a good attitude to have indeed.” Zarina nods. “As servants of our society, we must do all we can to keep it safe.”

Oralie scrunches her nose, biting the innards of her cheek. Why did he have to be so good at talking? She hadn’t even mentioned she was an Emissary herself.

“I am also an emissary. I am studying cases of inter species relations in lieu of the upcoming treaties. I hope to be an asset to the negotiations.” She smiles politely and she catches a sparkle in Terik eyes that gives her a further surge of confidence.

“That is excellent to hear.” Emery nods. “Those negotiations are of apt importance to the continuation of Elvish society— And what of you Mr Fathdon? What sector of the tribunals do you do research on.”

“Mostly domestic matters, I am afraid I do not possess near enough knowledge else where. I am currently researching ability restriction laws; specifically in pyrokinetics.”

“I imagine that is quite straining on the mind.” Zarina frowns. “Tedious and painful to see the histories behind those laws.”

“As a telepath I possess greater discipline of my brain. I think it wise to use that with harsher subjects to commit a full report.”

“Noble indeed.”

“I believe it is necessary— those with greater power should use it to help those with a disadvantage.”

“And how do you define that disadvantage exactly?”

“Well I do have skills in certain areas by definition which makes me stronger in those areas. Gives me an advantage in logic than to, say an Empath.”

Oralie narrows her eyes. “I am an Empath and a conjurer. By logic alone, having two abilities should make me stronger than you.”

“Strength of a person does not lie in their ability, but their training to be disciplined in it—“

“There is no hierarchy on abilities but the arbitrary roles we assign them to. No amount of abilities lesser or greater makes you better. Only how you excercise it.”

Oralie clicks her tongue and slouches in her seat arms crossed. She did not necessarily disagree with that, but he did have an awfully petty voice in saying it. Kenric raises an eyebrow at her over the bottle of wine. She rolls her eyes back. There is an awkward silence before Terik whispers in Ramiras ear and she nods.

“Well. I did have an important case to delegate that interestingly involves both of your specialities. We have found scorch marks in runic that seem to be created by elvish rebels in Serenvale, a Gnomish territory.” Ramira begins. “I think you are both capable individuals if you would like to investigate under the council's sanctions.”

Oralie blinks, a investigation mission would be an excellent way to get more experience in the field, and with the councils sanction not even her mother could dispute it. This could be freedom and perhaps would further her own portfolio in time for the treaty renegotiations. Although working with Kenric might prove to be immensely difficult….

“Unfortunately, Councillor Ramira I find myself incredibly busy at the tail end of my research. Another investigation might hinder my final report.” Kenric interjects, and it’s like a cry from elementine. A blessing of sorts. An infestation on her own would prove even more exceptional on her portfolio.

“Well I would love to take on the case anyways. I am certain I am capable to handle it on my own— and this would be extremely valuable to my own research if your are willing.”

“Excellent.” She smiles. “I will see you at my office tomorrow then.”

Oralie nods, an unexpected giddy feeling,
something like pride, settles in her stomach. It’s fuel for days. A full stomach despite Teriks tempting treats.

An hour or two further into the evening and the Councillors take leave with a greeting. Ramira hands her a card with an office address (though it would be unlikely for her to miss it given half of her life has been spent in Eternalia).

It is an eight days hour to midnight when they clean up the dinner parties remains. As it turns out, Kenric Fathdon is a close friend to her Uncle. Which does r exactly surprise her, but it certainly puts a frown on her face as they are forced to clean up the silverware and wash the dishes in his kitchen while Terik sweeps the crumbs in the drawing room and resets the pillows.

Oralie drops a dish into the soapy water and it splashes a spray of soap onto his tunic. She could not admit it wasn’t slightly on purpose.

“Are you going to apologise?” He snarks, wiping a trail of bubbles off his curly hair.”

“I will not apologise for that atrocious hair, no.” She laughs, perhaps too cruelly.

“What is wrong with my hair?” There is a slight pang in his voice that dampens Oralies mood more than she’d care to admit. She did not intentionally mean to be cruel, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been vaguely insulting her all night.

“It’s longer than mine and you haven’t even done anything nice with it.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have a routine for it ma’am.” He says throwing his hands in the air.

“It’s Lady, actually.

“Don’t be imbecilic.” He laughs

“Then don’t patronise me.”

““You know, someone who was really noble wouldn’t need to constantly insist that they are.” He shakes his head. “You think if you wear your pretty sparkly clothes and your stupid betrothal pendant and bat your eyes at councillors that you’ll fete everything you want— but life isn’t always handed on a silver platter. Sooner or later you’ll realise chasing every drop of power won’t make you powerful— it’ll make you a boot licker.”

“Oh and you're not for coming to this dinner?”

“Terik made me.”

“Ditto.” She crosses her arms. “I would have rather not come. But I am not going to waste an opportunity to be able to investigate in person and learn more about the cultures I'm investigating in person to better inform our negotiatiors. That’s more valuable than any report I could ever write.” She piles a last dish into the sink carefully and grabs a towel to start drying.

————-

“I am starting, dear friend, to believe you throw these parties only so you may drink the spoils afterwards.”

“My dear Kenric, how did it take you so long to notice my scheme?” Terik laughs, flopping onto the couch beside him with a bottle of wine. “So, how’d you like it? Wasn’t too terrible after all ?”

“It wasn’t…well...” He takes a pragmatic pause to reject Teriks offer for a drink and shrugs. “It wasn’t the worst.”

“I would agree so, What did you think of Lady Lucrecia?”

“Oh, The posh blonde?”

“Yes, Oralie.” Terik swishes the bottle in his hand, nursing the wine like water.

“Oralie.” He repeats, fiddling with the ends of his hair. Dry and smelt of rain and detergent. “Well she certainly had an attitude. Rude about everything.”

“Oh and you aren’t?” Terik chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “If it weren’t for her agreeing with your ability sentiments I'm sure you would have exploded at the councillors. We barely get through a conversation without.”

“Well I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just, something I noticed. “

“It’s good your perception is still in gear friend. Perhaps you should work on your wording though.”

“That wasn’t what I was—“ he sighs, pressing his pal into his forehead. “Give me that.” He snatches the bottle of wine and takes a swig before standing up and walking towards his kitchen.

“Why would you do that now?” Terik pouts rolling over to his stomach, hugging a decorative pillow.

“You’ve drank enough and — Eugh.” He groans, wiping sweat off his forehead as he placed the bottle in the highest cabinet. “So have i.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m being a good friend.” He sighs. “Can you walk straight ? Or do I have to carry you to bed?”

“I’m fine on the couch Kenric.”

“Are you?”

“I find no comfort in my room that I do not have here.”

Kenric pauses, placing his hands on his hips. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Terik?”

His eyes are guilty, and dart around wildly looking everywhere except right at him.

“You know you can tell me anything. I am your friend.” Kenric persists.

“You know I ca—“

He paces towards his drunk friend on the couch, kneeling at his resting head. “You can, brother, if you're suffering tell me your burden.” It is a plea, but Kenric can’t find any other way to say it.

Terik half smiles. “My burdens are only my thoughts. They cannot kill me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

Silence. As usual. Terik truly was his dear friend, but that didn’t mean he always kept Kenric and his secrets at arms length. It didn’t make any part of their friendship easier. He stands from his friend and begins to walk away, taking out his path finder from his pockets

“I only worry about you, in truth.” He mumbles as Kenric reaches for the door.

“What do you mean?”

“I know potentials, Kenric, and they aren’t the most pleasant things to know. I only see things for what they could be. Not for what they are. I can only push people in the right directions, I can’t guide them hand in hand. It would ruin things.”

He turns and falls at the feet if his friend again, he grasps his shoulders, shaking them in affirmation. “Tell me what you mean.”

“I can’t be your prophet and neither can I be your interpreter.”

“But you are my friend.”

“That is the hardest part.” He shakes his head. “I behold your very future and I cannot tell you a thing.”

“Let me ask you this; is it bad? Do not deny me an answer.”

“It’s beyond all you imagine in the best and the worst parts.”

“Will I die?”

Terik pauses, swallowing. “Who cannot? We are mortal in the end.”

“Do you remain my friend ?”

“I couldn't hate you if I tried Kenric.”

“Then that is all I should care about. As long as my families safe and my friend is by my side then I am satisfied.” He kisses his forehead.

Terik swallows, his longing eyes downcast and he lets out a choked breath, tears weeping from his eyes. At first, he believes it just to be his usual drunken sadness, but when Kenric embraces him he leans into his arms and sobs further.

“Please tell me my friend. I don’t like seeing you miserable like this.”

“Kenric if i council you on one thing— Love her dearly.”

“Who?”

“You will know.” He sniffs, “I know I am frustrating, I bother myself— but just know that what I do know does not make me entirely miserable, I cry tears of joy too.”

“That doesn’t make me worry less.”

“Worry not friend, even in my despair there is hope.”