• Mature • Going Home

[Alistair]

70th of Ymiden, Arc 717
Song

His eyes stared upon the mirror before him, as he sat upon his knees in a small room composed for the upkeep of the kindal's outward presentation. Alistair had been supplied an outfit by the Children of the Creator, or so they called themselves, the men and women working for Thetros and the preservation of his faith among the peak of this high mountain... one that, for all he could try, he could not seem to discover the name of.

He wore a silken sash along his waist, with a short robe descending. His torso was parted through the center down to the middle of his pectorals, with two silken half-sleeves of an embroidered silvery pattern descending from the top of the robe covering his torso. The color, as a whole, was shade of beige lined by a darker reddish-brown. Alistair's incredibly athletic form was accentuated by the attire, though mostly his physique was concealed by the shape of the silken outfit he wore.

He stood to his feet, standing atop a pair of conventional sandals, content with how he looked. Shadowsong laid quietly in the room they'd procured for him, and until the wedding was no longer convening, it would remain there waiting.

It couldn't have been every day that the Temple had a wedding -- the people who married here were brought together for lifetimes, hundreds of arcs mapped out by the exchange of a singular vow. There were few things in this mortal life more important than the Likryjr -- it meant more than marriage, it was a bond of unity that would last an eternity. And it was his, and it was Fridgar's. It was theirs to share.

It meant a lot. Alistair could barely bring it all to summation -- just how he felt, how he'd always felt since coming together with his mate. All of the pain, all of the arguments and the vitriol, had not blackened out the vast amount of love he'd always had for this man. Like he said two trials before, he loved Fridgar from his first, and would always love him for all time afterward. Everything that took place until now was but a small and insignificant pebble within a vast sea -- their lives, across many different bodies and forms, would all be filled with great adversity as well as great achievement. He understood that.

Today was an important one. Alistair's thoughts had been weaving and contriving in his mind for some time, about the significance of everything -- coming here, experiencing Gauthrel, commissioning Kaelserad and unifying with his lover at this temple. Ultimately, he realized something incredibly important. For so long, he'd felt an underlying pain at the thought of leaving Rynmere behind, abandoning his "home", his people. Now, though, he gathered something incredibly important. By coming to Gauthrel, by marrying Fridgar here and setting up a life here, he was not abandoning his people or his place... he was coming home.

This was where he belonged -- he loved Gauthrel, he loved Fridgar. They both belonged together, and genuinely, the mage could say true of heart that he belonged here, too. He would bring knowledge to this land of brutality, lay hands of healing upon those of callouses and grief, and fight for justice and the protection of his family. He had never been able to do true good, with a sure heart, in the shoes of a noble.

But here, he felt different. He really was going home, where he could be who he was, where he could create greatness. And now, he had someone to share that home with, for all time. His mind relaxed, as the priest -- Hadvar -- stepped into the room and nodded at him. It was time. The mage gathered his confidence and mustered down the hall, where he was met with a large circular room. All was quiet -- the bond was apparently too sacred to be marred by sound, and there were only a very small amount of slots for guests. It was a good thing that they'd only brought Finn.

"Step forward, Alistair," Hadvar spoke. "Fridgar will be here shortly -- this isn't a fanciful aristocratic exchange. You will be seated, he will seat beside you, and you will learn of one another in a far more intimate way than you imagined. Sit," he whispered. Alistair stepped onto the circular altar in the center of the room, facing forward as his knees pressed against the floor. The mage waited, as patiently as he needed to. Fridgar would be here before long, and they would be tied.

[Varthakh]

Totrial was the trial. They'd lingered about the temple of Thetros for two trials after arriving, talking and discussing their futures, organising the surrogacy and cuddling... a lot. But now, it was time, they were finally here. When they left here totrial, they would be going home as Kindal and Havendal. Fridgar had come so far from the mindless savage that trampled and rolled people for looking at him funny Since meeting Alistair, Fridgar had realised his wrongs and twenty trials ago, he'd realised just how wrong those wrongs were. Now he felt remorse nearly every trial, considering the people he'd killed and trying his very best to remember each and every one of them.

As much as he deserved to be unhappy and miserable, wanted to be unhappy and miserable, this was the trial of their bonding forever. He couldn't be unhappy or miserable, not without upsetting his beloved. No, for one trial, he could stand to be happy, suck it up and let their ghosts rest. Whatever it was that afflicted him, it had to mean that he was finally ready to be the husband he wanted to be, maybe ready to be a father, even? Only time would tell. He wanted to be different, for real this time.

Never the less, Fridgar was adorned in some robes, supplied by the temple. Though calling them 'robes' was a slight overstatement. He wore a silken sash around his waist with a length of similar fabric reaching down to his knees, lined with the same silk of the sash. He wore wooden sandals on his now thoroughly cleaned feet. From the waist up, he was complete bare. The whole of his torso had been left on display save for around his collar bone where a heavy bronze pendant lay attached to a broad, flat chain of bronze. He'd also been granted some sleeves of a similar style to the silken kilt he wore. They were tight around the beginning of his arms but hung loose and plentiful toward his wrists, both were tied in place by silk ribbons at the beginning of his thick arms.

Looking himself in the mirror, he felt like some kind of tribal chieftain. The design was savage, almost primitive and felt... masculine, somehow. These must have been the assigned robes of the Havendal, though he was surprised they fit him as well as they did, not every Lotharro was seven feet tall or nearly as broad as he was. To think that they had a bunch of these robes saved up for Lotharen of any size was a neat thought, admittedly. Thinking back to what Ganren had told him upon capturing and caging him, perhaps the creator knew he was coming? That thought, was even more neat.

Fridgar was left in the changing rooms, fully adorned with what they'd given him. A twisting in his gut heralded to the rest of his body just how nervous he was. He'd never thought he'd live long enough to be married, let alone to spend eternity with the most amazing man he'd ever met. Through all their adventures, Alistair had stood at his side through it all, no matter how crazy things got because of his fighty nature or lesser men thinking they could square up to either of them, Alistair had been through it all, even as his body was petrified and destroyed just twenty trials ago, Alistair was always there.

His beloved Alistair, once a random noble in the ball that he sought to destroy. Who knew that with enough time and indulgence, they would end up here? he'd even relinquished his ties to Rynmere, just to be with him more. Now, they spent every trial together and he could see no better use of his time. Alistair made him so happy, happier than anyone else ever could. He'd lead Fridgar from the darkest path, serving as a subordinate for a potentially malevolent Yithnai. The Lothar shook his head, looking himself in the mirror for the first time in a very long time. Upon making eye contact with himself, his spark rushed, stirring his anger and pulling hard on his adrenal glands. The Lothar looked in shock before turning away and clenching his fist.

He calmed, composed, taking deep breaths. He couldn't look himself in the eyes? His mutation prevented eye contact with strangers by rushing his body with an insatiable rage, prompting a brawl between the two with little effort, now he was finding that he couldn't look himself in his own black and brown eyes. Could it be that he'd changed so much that he didn't know himself anymore? Or was it that he saw the man in the mirror as another monster? He continued to calm, taking deep slow breaths as he tried to ease his racing heart.

Soon after, the priests came for him. He assumed a warm smile, failing to make eye contact with the men as they filled the entrance. Two of them, both smiling to the giant Lothar. "You're ready to proceed?" One of the men asked in Haltunga, Fridgar nodded, "I've been ready for a long time," He spoke with a respectful nod. If the event with the mirror was any indication, then he really had changed. He really wasn't the beast he saw there anymore, he was Fridgar, respected Jeger, Loving Havendal and caring father-to-be.

The two priests nodded and lead him away, passing through long sections of the temple and even down a flight of spiralling stairs. Eventually, he arrived at the circular room where Alistair was kept. His heart stopped for the trill that he first lay eyes on the man. By the immortals, he was so beautiful, perfect in every way, and he was due to become his Kindal. His stomach tied into knots and his throat burned all the way through to his lungs. Unsure, he looked to Hadvar, who motioned for him to take his place beside Alistair.

His beloved was dressed in a different type of robe, more of a gown. Perhaps this was the difference between the Havendal and Kindal apparel? His palms sweated and an uncomfortable warmth washed over his head as he settled beside the human, lowering to rest his knees on the hard floor beside his beloved. Mustering all his courage, he turned to look at the noble, meeting his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to kiss his beautiful husband in that moment, but restrained himself for the sake of the ceremony. his features were alight with joy and passion as he took in the whole of his beloved, he was about to be married to all of this and it was amazing. He was ready to proceed.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 70th Ymiden, 717

It was by the grace of Hadvar Lorien, the high-priest of the Temple of Thatros, that he had been nursed back to health. At least sufficiently so to be present at the sacred ceremony. For a trill he wished his hearing hadn't returned in full, for the silence that lingered in holy space was almost oppressive and he barely dared to breathe. There weren't many guests present, and he still wasn't sure if he had been invited out of pity or because Fridgar and Alistair wished for him to be there. Regardless, he was at least as nervous as the two lovers. What if he had to sneeze or fart? Was he supposed to say something? He hoped not for he didn't know either of them well enough to say anything meaningful about them. To make matters worse, he had soon learned that the temple was not only dedicated to an Immortal, but considered the home of that Immortal. He'd have to be wary that Hadvar would not convert him into worshipping such despicable creatures.

Those in attendance had been seated on simple but rugged stools, forming a semi-circle around the center of the shrine. As one, they rose when Alistair stepped into the frail light that beamed down the holy space. When Alistair was seated, so did the guests and a silence was draped over the assembly once more. He didn't recognize any of the guests but he noticed the woman beside him sending some curious glances in his direction. Was it because of how he looked? All the clothes he'd brought with him had been damaged to some extent, and so Hadvar had supplied him with fresh, but simple clothes. They fitted him well, though there was a slight bulge on his left shoulder, where the wound from his encounter with the Albion had been bandaged. He didn't smell, did he? He'd taken extra care to wash himself, even going so far as to ensure that there was no dirt hiding under his fingernails. Unable to find anything wrong with himself, he simply focused his attention back onto the center of the space until, finally, the silence was broken by the approach of lumbering man.

Whereas Alistair had approached with a certain fluidity and grace, Finn barely managed to surpress a snigger at the elephantine footsteps of Fridgar. He averted his gaze and bit down painfully hard on his lips to stop himself from bursting into laugther at the sight of the hulking Lothar. He wore nice clothes, there was no questioning that, yet they didn't seem right on him. Then again, perhaps he was biased as he'd gotten used to seeing Fridgar lumbering about in a loincloth. It all just looked so frivolous on the large brute. After he'd regained his composure, he dared to look up again and considered just how odd of a couple the two really were. One a noble. Impecceable. Controlled, and always very serious looking. The other, a brute even among his own kin who lived for violence and was so easily upset.

Perhaps that was why it was right. Because they filled out each other's lack. Yes, it was right in a way, more right than he had ever realized before. And yet, at the same time as his chest swelled with an intangible appreciation for the two lovers, it also filled with a painful yearning. Had his parents also been married? He doubted it. Had they even loved each other? Why now? Why, of all moments, did these thoughts come to haunt him now? Again, he bit down on his lips, and again he averted his gaze, but not to hold back laugther. He wished the ceremony would get started in full soon, so he could distract himself from sinking down a hole of dark thoughts.

[Alistair]

Finn was there. Alistair waved lightly at the young boy and passively smiled, happy that at least someone they knew was present. The rest of the faces were unfamiliar or, in the case of the raven haired woman seated beside the boy, mostly concealed. Of course, not for long did he need to worry absently about the familiarity of the crowd. The person most familiar to him finally came, stepping forward with his typical lumbering stomps whilst decorated by a havendal's garb. Alistair blushed at the sight of his lover, so well-crafted and powerful at the chest, and so elegant and exceptional from the waist below. The sash was certainly beautiful, and so was the kilt of sorts he wore around his waist.

His necklace was nice. Alistair wore the typical rose pendant he'd always worn, but Fridgar wore something different. He was as tribal as he was enchanting. The mage fell in love with him all over again, seeing the man stepping down the hall as he was. Hadvar had to avert his gaze, as it lingered far too long, especially when he noticed the joy in Fridgar's eyes upon seeing him. His cheeks were rose red.

"We have all come today to unite the two lovers, Fridgar of Clan Nordhoff and Alistair of House Venora, into a bond more sacred than blood, and more powerful than love. It is a bond that spans lifetimes, connecting two together for as long as their soul may dwell in this world. Before we go on, however, there are things we must know." Hadvar took a seat before the two of them, his lap curled together as he closed his eyes in focus. Many would note he spoke in Common -- a great deal of the attendants today did not count Haltunga among their languages, and he would have them as witnesses.

"Alistair of Venora, do you seek to join the clan of your husband?" he asked. Alistair nodded, without hesitation.

"Then you are now Alistair of Clan Nordhoff," the priest declared. "Fridgar, do you vow to protect your beloved through all things, beyond any and every line? Will you uphold this vow throughout the ages, even at the risk of your own person?" The priest questioned. Assuming he said yes, Hadvar moved on. There was a great deal to cover.

"You are, in this life, kindal and havendal. As of this moment, by Thetros' decree, I declare the two of you married for all your life. Alistair, as shall be your duty from this day forth, I ask that you bring comfort to your havendal, your husband," he requested. The mage had no hesitation in doing so, and quickly fell into the arms of his beloved, kissing at his chest and wrapping around his body as tightly as he could. He could never really manage to out-cuddle Fridgar, though.

"In this life, the two of you have lived separately for so long... but have always been meant to return together," he nodded. "Once before, many arcs ago, you had lived in this world as two different men, but similarly bonded as havendal and kindal as you are now. Alistair, you were once the guardian, Aedan Calder of Clan Aelothari. Fridgar, you had been the kindal, Azzas Darkat of the Yithiral Empire. One a Lotharro, strong and impassioned, and one an Ithecal, prestigious and noble. Your marriage defied the cruelty of war and brought both of you a life of peace and prosperity in a time of utter devastation, where the life of man and woman was valued so little that it was discarded by the millions every arc." He closed his eyes. If they followed him, the life-bond would be once again tapped into, unlocking a sea of visions and emotions that once decorated their lives together.

They would not be able to view all of their life, from beginning to end, or any such thing. But the life-bond offered insight into what was before, when the two of them roamed the plains at each other's side. In particular, the two of them saw the beginning of their time in Idalos, brought to the side-lines of a battlefield where Fridgar's former incarnation treated 'Aedan' back to health. It was on that very night that this Aedan, as aggressive and demanding as he was loving, spoke the vows of marriage to Azzas who did not fully understand them, and yet somehow knew. He had been smitten from the first moment.

"For so long, across a hundred and thirty arcs, you sought out one another. And finally, not long ago, your promise was fulfilled. Fridgar, Alistair -- you have perhaps felt at one point that your love was a sort of destiny. That somehow, you were meant for one another. Many who come together hold this sentiment, and sometimes, it turns out that they were correct. The Likryjr has been established between you two for ages, and now it is your duty to foster this bond to the next life, and the next." He offered them another vision, if only they would close their eyes. In Aedan's arms, being watched after closely by the peering curiosity of his kindal, was his first son. Their heir, whose descendants still wore the name 'Calder' to this day. Somewhere out there, they had a connection, to the past.

Alistair, astounded and unable to believe, loosed a tear from his eye. He looked to Fridgar, with a weakness in his gaze. He'd seen something in those visions, more than just love and the growth of a family. He saw... a lifetime, learning, growing, changing. It was beautiful, and it was vast. It all needed to be explored.

"My love?" he looked to his husband, and held him ever more closely. The mage did not understand what happened, as he found it difficult to see any more. But it meant a lot, all of it. This was a life before now, one worth exploring.

. . .

The woman beside Finn stirred, moving closer to the boy. She greeted him with a nod of her head, and offered a hand with which to shake. The woman's face came into view to him, if he looked, revealing a smooth and pale complexion with vibrant violet eyes and a long network of black flowing hair. Around her neck was a pendant that looked much like a star, with a silken black dress running down the rest of her body to her heels, a shawl concealing the upper area of her torso, connected to the thin hood she wore around her hair.

"Who are you, little one," she asked, "and why have you come here? I noticed a stirring of sorts in your heart as the two came together -- the vision gripped you, so fiercely. Do you know these two men, well? And do they know you?"

[Varthakh]

What he hadn't noticed upon entering the room was the other people gathered. All his attention had been on Alistair, he was stunning. Everything about him seemed to drown out the others in the room for a spell; his nebulous eyes, soft skin, gorgeous brown hair, his heart warming smile, his scent, the clothes he was wearing. All of it, everything Alistair was in that moment made it hard to breath, let alone notice the Finn in the room or the mysterious woman beside him. He did manage a glance to the human boy before he set on his knees, though it was brief.

At least Finn was in one piece, it would have been terrible to see him crippled, especially now.

The ceremony proceeded with Hadvar's words, sort-of greeting all in attendance. He spoke in common for that reason as he took a seat opposite the two. When Hadvar offered Alistair the chance to join clan Nordhoff, Fridgar froze. He'd forgot he was from Nordhoff, in honesty. The place that people looked down on him for coming from. Alistair joined, they were both in the same boat now, both revered by the rest of the clans.

Then, Hadvar asked for his vow, his promise to the human. Would he uphold this promise through the ages, even if it cost his life? "Yeah," he spoke in the common tongue, clenching his fist with grit and determination. His eyes then widened with horror at the realisation of how he'd taken his vow! He should have said 'Yeah' more eloquently! "I- I mean yes! I do," fuck! What was he doing!? He was ruining EVERYTHING!! He couldn't help it, he was just so nervous. This was made apparent by the deep red hue that assumed control of his cheeks.

It was declared, they were now Havendal and Kindal. Hadvar used the name of the creator and all, emphasising the weight of the bond. Though in their hands, the weight was only comforting. Knowing now, that not even death could keep them apart, they were going to be together forever. As Alistair's duties were read to him, he took immediate action in practising, throwing all his weight into the Lothar. Even Fridgar barely had the time to react as he encompassed the human in his warmth. The human then kissed at his bare skin, sending involuntary shivers down his spine. He lifted the human from his body and pressed his lips into his Kindal's, Alistair had probably missed his lips or something after all.

Fridgar had thought that was the end of the ceremony, that they were now bonded for the rest of time. No, some things had been brought to light in the apparent re-awakening of their bond. Fridgar and Alistair had walked Idalos before? What is more, he used to be an Ithecal? He was a snake? He was the Kindal? That couldn't be right, could it? Alistair, he was the Havendal of a past life? It made no sense. Fridgar had once been named Azzas Darkat, a noble Ithecal, likely serving in the military as a snake knight? How could he have come back in the next life as a savage beast man? Honour and nobility were so far from his reach that he might as well never see them.

Fridgar didn't believe it, though the thought that they were meant to be together, it had cropped up more than once. It had been more prominent in recent trials and all, maybe there was some truth to Hadvar's words? Fridgar took hold of the human's hand, encompassing him with his large paws. Then, he would close his eyes with Hadvar, holding on to the human as tightly as he could.

At first, he saw nothing. Then... a stirring in the darkness, pale light began to fill his vision. A battlefield, torn and bloody, smoking with flames of destroyed weaponry. The last Lothar standing, wounded, honour, treating him, falling in love, marriage... Contedness, happiness, love, joy… It was only glimpses, but he saw it all, felt it all. Fridgar had been married to Alistair for a hundred and thirty arcs, destined to return to him from when they were separated... What separated them? He searched harder through his visions, perhaps harder than he should have, seeing roaming, hunting, foraging, exploring, travel, returning... Though it wasn't to Ivorian, it was to Uthaldria.

Weapons were drawn, screams of anger, bitter hatred. The Lothar were passionate and so was Aedan, he stood for Azzas upon returning to his home city. By then, they understood each other well. They were married, blessed by Thetros and overtime they raised a child... Their past lives had lived in such harmony with one another, despite their differences. And now, Fridgar had returned to his beloved? No, Fridgar had once been the beloved... which was strange, he still couldn't quite grasp it.

When the visions faded, the snippets of a different life, Alistair was in his arms, calling to him. Fridgar sighed, running his paw through Alistair's hair. "I found you, my rose," Fridgar purred, happy to simply lay there with the human on his body. Except... Fridgar wormed his paws underneath the human's arms and lifted, pressing his lips into his beloved's with absolute passion and desire.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 70th Ymiden, 717

If there was one positive thing to be noted about the Etzos' orphanage it would be that, through various modes of persuasion, well-mannered behaviour was highly encouraged. The more progressive among the caretakers relied mostly on verbal persuasion whilst others believed a more direct approach yielded distincly better results. Those of the latter category also happened to be experts on finding the toughest reeds that made delightful whooshing sounds as they came down on grubby, barbaric little hands, yet rarely made use of their expertise beside the purpose of restocking their supply, which always ran out frightfully fast.

One such thoroughly disciplined hand now shook that of the well-groomed woman who was naturally oblivious to how much training had preceded the motion. There was moment of confusion on the child's face as his extensive training had not prepared him for the situation at hand. It was undoubtedly rude to talk during a sacred wedding ceremony, but it would be equally rude to remain quiet. Thus conflicted, the boy resolved to answering in a hushed voice. "Finn," he mouthed, answering the first question. As to the other questions, he merely offered a shrug. "A bit."

While the boy's gaze returned to the ceremony, the woman would undoubtedly notice his eyes returning to her form on ocassion. The purpose of these fleeting visits was questionable, but their presence was undeniable. While his answers might have proven unsatisfying, the woman would take pleasure in noting that she had managed to stir the child's curiosity. Undoubtedly she'd be able to pursue her interests further once the ceremony had ended.

For the child, time seemed to crawl to a halt as the ritual dragged on...

And on...

And endlessly on...

Clearly the whole event meant a great deal to the two lovers, but the boy's interest waned by the trill and his eyes started to slip out of focus as his mind wandered to other, dreamier places. His contemplative mode was however rudely disrupted by the gruff voice of an insultingly large Lothar who struggled to say his vows. The event brought a faint smile to the child's lips. He was rather fond of the Lothar's poor manners as they reflected his own.

[Alistair]

I found you, my rose, he whispered, taking the smaller mage into his arms and holding him tightly. Alistair smiled brightly, melding with his lover before pushing him onto the ground before the altar, Hadvar's eyes widening as Fridgar's back hit the floor with a light thud.

"I found you, my Thorn," he whispered, kissing the man on the lips as he straddled him before the altar. Unlike in a typical wedding where the two lovers kissed chastely before the crowd, Alistair was shameless. "And I found the name I want to bear, for both of us. One that doesn't have any fingers attached to our fathers, our family. Calder. It means water in Haltunga, right?" he asked, glancing at Hadvar, who nervously shuffled behind them. He was astounded by the belligerency of the two husbands -- they were not compelled by typical restraints, as others were.

"Alistair Calder and Fridgar Calder," he whispered, nodding. "It was our name, so long ago. We had children, we had a family. We can find them... we can be a part of them, have a family that we can trust. They'll remember us, Fridgar, who we used to be. Under a different skin, we started something together. I want to see it," he whispered, lowering himself to lay atop the chest of his bare-skinned mate, their sashes meeting as he held him. The Lothar in the crowd seemed to be pleased by the demonstration, almost as if it were normal. The thought caused for Alistair to gleam; this really was their home.

"Our son... let's name him, Fridgar. Let's think about our future. I want to start that now. I want to leave the past behind."

. . .

The woman responded to Finn's words with a mere nod, leaning back and groaning. "God, what drama," she said, blowing her bangs from her eyes with a pucker of her lips. "Let's do something else that's interesting, alright? I'll guess three things about you, and you can tell me if they're right. Then, you can guess three things about me. Whoever guesses the most things correctly gets a treat. The other... I dunno, eats a cow-pie or something. Alright?" she questioned, quirking her brow.

"You've been sent on a mission by Lucien Lordaeron, the Wilder Roksgard," she whispered, nodding. "Your name is Finn O'Connor," she added, "and you have an artifact in your possession that Uthaldria's spymaster wants you to bring to Shebana the Falling Sky, leader of the Kemag Cabal in Iskara. Am I correct?" the woman questioned, fluttering her lashes innocently.

"Looks like the Horde has taken a lot of interest in you folks, unduly," the hooded woman stated, disapprovingly. "I suppose they see something in you and those men that they can't quite explain; a facet of themselves, a trustworthiness only known among brothers of the same ilk. All of the wildness, the passion, the outrage. You have it in you, too. I can see that; rather than standing around here, you'd much rather be making mischief. When you become an adult, that mischief will grow far more mature. Pranks will become vicious attacks, your games will involve betrayal and death," the Matron whispered, leaning closer to the boy.

"No matter what you see in the coming days, you must remember your own reflection within them. And that of those two," she pointed out, looking to them, "who have mutually performed more atrocities than you ever will. More than any ever will, I'm afraid. Remember that."

[Varthakh]

It was all too beautiful, too serene. He didn't mind, nor care that Alistair had gone and pushed him to the floor, despite being the Kindal. It made him feel more... appreciated, cared for, loved. Alistair wanted him just as bad as he wanted Alistair, it just reminded him of how much they needed each other. Alistair addressed him in a title he'd not been called for a while; The thorn of the Rose. That was him, there to protect his beloved rose and fuck up anyone that tried to lay their hands on him.

Fridgar sighed blissfully as the human kissed him, his skin tingling with delight as his beloved's fingers explored his bare skin. Even if everyone else was watching, Fridgar didn't care. They'd always been shameless in public... especially in Nidhoffnir. So what if they got a little excited at their wedding? Wasn't that the best time to get excited? If anyone told them not to, he'd punch them. Nothing would get between them this trial, and if they so desired, they would make love at the altar.

He wanted for all Gauthrel to know of his passion for his Kindal, to know of his protectiveness and his resolve to keep what is his. if anyone dared try and take this man from him by any means, they would die very quickly. Whether the bond had heightened his already hyper-protective instincts or not was uncertain, but he now had the desire to hug his mate and protect him from all harm. Alistair was his, all his. Smiling joyously, Fridgar chuckled under his light breath. "My Kindal," he returned the comment of his status as thorn.

Then, Alistair brought up the name change. Calder? Like Aedan from their past life? Somehow, this satisfied the Azzas within him. Calder, it had a nice ring to it, it would surely suit his masculinity so why not? "I love it, my rose. Let’s be the Calders," Fridgar declared, running his soft paws down the human's body before cupping a particularly sensitive area from behind. "I want to learn more about our past lives, my Kindal. I'm sure we can eventually find out where their family ended up, too." Fridgar was full of optimism, love, desire. Everything was so perfect and he needed Alistair to know just how happy he was.

But as for naming their child now... Well... "Uhh..." Fridgar struggled. "I... don't know..." Fridgar blushed, embarrassed by his own incompetence on the matter. It was one thing to fuck up the vow a little, but their child's name? He should have had one prepared! Fridgar pursed his lips, thinking hard into the matter. "I mean... With how potent I can be, it's probably going to be a boy... so we need a boy’s name..." that was pretty good start, he'd wiped half the names from the list by process of elimination. Though, it would be awkward if he had a girl.

"How about... Tommy…?" Fridgar grimaced, chuckling. "No, that's a retarded name," Fridgar sighed, empathetic to everyone in Idalos named 'Tommy'. Fridgar mulled it over some more before widening his eyes with what might have been a good idea. "How about Damien?" Fridgar offered. Alistair had said something in the past about liking the name in casual conversation, if he remembered correctly.

By chance, he turned his head to look at the people gathered, spying Finn and the woman. Concern filled his gaze. Who was the shrouded woman and why was she talking to Finn? Fridgar would tap Alistair's side and motion to the mysterious figure, asking his opinion silently.

[Finnegan O'Connor]

Finn O'Connor

:: 70th Ymiden, 717

Finn stifled a chuckle at the woman’s remark. Considering the two lovers were being married, Finn had anticipated the mood to be a bit more chipper. He turned to face the woman again as she proposed to play a little game. If the other guests hadn’t also been chatting quietly among themselves, Finn would have objected, so as not to be rude. Before he had given his express permission however, the game had already started. Her accuracy was astounding, but aside from a quick grimace at the start, Finn didn’t appear too shocked. A slanted smile appeared on his face as he drew up his knees to his chin.

“Wrong on all three accounts,” he smiled at her. “First of all, I haven’t been sent, I was asked, and I am still here. Secondly, my name is Finnegan, not Finn, so you had that wrong too. As for the last one, I can’t say anything about that.”

She spoke of the horde, whatever that was, and how they were clearly interested in them, by which she seemed to mean himself, Fridgar, and Alistair. Finn frowned at the reveleations. One thing was certain, she had been much more on her mark when she’d made three guesses about him. “I doubt I am anything like them,” he replied, but whether he referred to the married couple or the Lotharro remained unclear. He shriveled a little as she leaned in closer, whispering ominous words into his ear. While he gave little credence to her predictions about himself, an involuntary shiver surged down his spine at the mention of the atrocities that Alistair and Fridgar had committed. The Matron was starting to get under his skin now, and he didn’t like it one tiny little bit.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he rested his chin on his knees and stared dead ahead. “Now it’s my turn…” He pondered for a moment before he spoke. “You’re a woman. You don’t like long-winded ceremonies. You want something from me.” He cocked his head at her. “So, what is it you want from me?” He narrowed his eyes. As much as he wished to believe in their innocence, he reminded himself how Fridgar had leapt into a brutal fight in Etzos, and how Alistair, upon first meeting him, had held a blade to his throat and threatened to have him flogged. This time, he was the one to lean in. “What did they do?” he whispered, unaware that the two lovebirds were looking at him.

[Alistair]

My kindal, he called him. Alistair snuggled into his lover, stroking at his beard softly with an elated grin across his lips. "My havendal," he replied. The two of them had so many names for one another, now. Fridgar, Alistair, Beloved, Mate, Sweetheart, Dear, Husband, Rose, Thorn... and now Kindal, and Havendal. Calder. All of these words meant something to him. Nothing made Alistair happier than hearing his husband call him his kindal, or his rose, in that tender voice of his. He decided he never wanted to leave this place, this... whatever it was. Temple hall, ceremony place. He didn't care. It was where they got married, it was where he first laid eyes upon Fridgar as his husband.

"Fridgar Calder," he whispered his name, happy, content. "Alistair Calder. I like it. Fridgar Calder... I think that means strong current, doesn't it?" he flexed his brow, perplexed. Calder meant many things - water, river, ocean, sea, current. Fridgar, to him, meant strength. He was the embodiment of the strong, in physical form and in his unyielding devotion to his beloved mate.

Strong current - an unstoppable force. That was what he was.

As for Alistair, well... Ali. It meant Follow in the Aedirnan dialect. Strong Current and Follows-the-Sea. Wherever Fridgar went, Alistair would follow, keen to always be there for his husband. To serve him, to love him, to give him wisdom, gentleness and care. Their names were perfect -- it had to be Calder.

"Alistair Calder of Clan Nordhoff," he called himself, proudly. The name felt much lighter on him than Venora - so much lighter. "I'm yours, my husband," he whispered. "In all things, I am yours. Whatever you desire of me, I'll provide, always. I'm your kindal -- your needs are my own," the mage professed, deciding on something immediately. His eyes twinkled in anticipation, excitement.

"We'll name our son when you make him, my love," he whispered into his ear. "Let's do that now. Let's have our honeymoon."

. . .

The boy was sassy, witty. Ellasin liked him immediately, smiling at his ridiculous disagreement with her three assertions. "All of your rebuttals are wordplay. Unfortunately, my points still stand -- and the third one, you know it's true, so that one stands too." She rolled her eyes -- Finn wasn't going to get the better of her, kid was... one thirteenth her age? Something like that?

"As for your questions... no. I'm a Lich, not a woman. I'm not a human at all. Not anymore," she stated, shaking her head. A Lich could toss their form any time they wanted -- if Ellasin desired, her new body could be Finn. She had none of the compulsions of a woman, nor the functions. Instead, this was merely a memento of what she once had been.

"As for the rest, well. My whole life has been a long-winded ceremony," she stated, quite truthfully at that. "I don't mind them. I perform them all the time. This is just a particularly grievous one. I've never seen a wedding go this awfully," she whispered, shaking her head. A part of her... really enjoyed that, though.

"You are right about the third one, though. I do want something from you -- wisdom. The ability to see things for what they are. I want you to be wary of those men, Finnegan O'Connor. I want you to learn what they did yourself. Both of them are quite vocal... they might even tell you, rather shamelessly," she stated, standing from her seat and moving to leave the hall. She did not intend to linger for long -- Fridgar had already pointed her out, regardless of whether or not Alistair distracted him with his seemingly endless libido. This was not a day for an argument, it was a day for a game, one that she'd already begun to win.