Commission: Gehr’ir of the Tovenares
A commission for @taelyff of Gehr’ir! It was fun to write about a character and their backstory, viewed through the past.
Word count: 2253
Rating: T
Characters: Gehr’ir of the Taelyff (belongs to @taelyff )
Want to commission me? Check out my commission page here!
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WRITTEN BY taediuswrites.tumblr.com.
“Thank you, pa!”
The child smiled wide up at Gehr’ir, his hands clasped around a small wooden charm. On either side of its face, runic geometries rest, a faint silver glow rippling through the engravings. In truth, it was a simple charm, crafted with relative ease. But to one with a yet-naive mind, it might as well have been an artifact of great power.
In response, Gehr’ir offers a smile back. One hand reaches forth to pat the kit on the head, a brief shifting of that limb ruffling their dark hair. “Of course, child. Now, wear that around your neck when you sleep, and your nightmares should no longer haunt you. Should ever the glow fade, simply return to me; I will renew the enchantment.”
To this, the child perks up. A low sound, a quiet purr, rumbles in their throat. How common it was for a miqo’te to enjoy such plain affections; the youth could not keep it back, even if he tried. But he does not stay forever; the faintest beams of sunlight began to pour through a slightly-parted gap in the canvas of Gehr’ir’s tent, the sign that the time to sleep was fast approaching. With a nod, he parts from the Tovenares’s grasp, waves a hand, and departs.
This left Gehr’ir, once more, in the silence of fading night. Even after the young one departed, he could not- and would not- wipe the smile from his features. It was his talents which brought on this display of clear joy, and these days, that was one of the greatest pleasures that he could have. A life free of troubles, a chance to bud and sprout into something beautiful. Everyone deserves these, and the young most of all.
Strange, comes the Keeper mage’s thoughts, right ear flicking idly, that I am the one delivering it. Lips curl into a quiet smirk; pale eyes turn now to that gap, where the rays of sunlight struggled to crest the horizon and shine their brilliance onto his humble abode. Forward he leans, so that his dark-trained eyes might peer past, and to the outside. Through this action, he could see a newly-illuminated tree not far from his tent. The leaves were turning, losing their verdance; where emerald once stood proud, orange and yellow and red were creeping in. Autumn. A solemn season for all, but especially him and his.
It was in autumn that the Taelyff separated from the hustle and bustle of life and its varied preparations. Where most began to hunker down and stock their supplies- of course, they would, but not now, not so soon- these Keepers instead sat alone and gazed upon the past year. What happened? What went right…and what went wrong? Where could they improve upon their failings, and how could they keep their successes from rising too high in their heads and inspiring undue, haughty pride?
As a member of the Tovenares, the wise mages of the Taelyff, Gehr’ir was not above these rules. He, too, must turn his mind inward. With his obligations complete, he now had the chance to meditate upon his past.
And where else to visit first…
—
“And where do you think you’re going?” a feminine voice calls out behind him, strict and demanding.
A groan slips past his lips, and slowly, the teenage Gehr’ir turns around. “Out. I’ve got things to do, remember?”
‘Things’, of course, being the duties expected of him. He was a young man, hitting his prime- but a summer or two more, and nothing could stop him. As a man of a Keeper tribe, this meant one thing in particular: visiting other tribes to offer himself. In more ways than one.
The idea was exciting to him. It was not so, to his mother, Gehr.
“You have so much potential, and you’re just going to go- waste your life?! I have so much to teach you, to-”
“Yes, mother.” A hand rises to wave flippantly in the air. How many times had she tried to convince him of this? He knew well his role, and held no shame in it; in fact, the prospect of laying with many others was something that gave him a thrill unlike any other. “I know, I know. I’ll be back around eventually anyway, so just-”
“Just what? Wait for you to waste your life away as some- brainless breeding male? My son deserves better!”
His ears fall flat against his head, tail hanging limp. How many times had he heard that phrase, ‘brainless breeding male’? She had her grievances with it, but even so… “Was all Siir taught me not enough, mother? I know what I’m doing!”
“You-”
Too late. He was already off, taking to a near sprint into the woods. He had to get away.
–
A frown pulls down at his lips. That…was not his finest moment. But, who could truly say they were proud of who they were as a child? Never mind the fact that his mother was, indeed, trying to force him into the role. To forsake what he thought was his duty not only as a member of the clan, but as a Keeper- and strip him of any sense of independence.
To wander, to be free to act as he wished, and to not be restrained by the trappings of culture. For a time, he thought this a good life.
Not all good things last, he learned. His eyes flick down, through his room, taking it in. A ray of breaching sunlight falls upon one place in particular: his bed.
At times, when he thought of a place to sleep, he could not help but remember…
—
Gehr’ir sat at the edge of the bed in the inn room, eyes turned back to his partner for the evening. He was a man grown, now; he could make his own choices, and chose very…liberally. A Xaela man lay sleeping on the other side of the bed. For him, as it was for most of this world, the night was a time for them to rest. For someone like himself, a Keeper of the Moon, it was the prime time to be awake and alert.
Though he had someone to share his bed, he never felt more lonely.
It was not that the Xaela had underperformed. Quite the opposite, in fact. Those dark-scaled au ra were known for their stamina and ferocity in all things, be it on the field of battle or in the comfort of a bed. The flirtations smouldered; their touches kindled the growing flame; their horizontal dance burned like a bonfire, carving a beacon in the fading daylight. But for all that strength and passion, their union was but a passing thing. Come the morning, no doubt this warrior would move to their next prey, or perhaps to their duties.
Deep inside, no matter what, Gehr’ir knew they would not stay. They never did.
Bright, yet weary, eyes flick up and down their form. Dark skin, ebon scales. Rippling musculature. A stern, strong appearance, even when at rest. He would make for a good partner, especially if their emotions ran as deep as the well of their lust. But Gehr’ir would not ask for that. Far be it from him to demand such. They had only met this night, and shared this flickering passion due to drink and the heat of the moment. How could he ask after someone so transient, when he was transient himself?
The moon was high. In the silence of the darkness, he slips his clothing back on, and leaves the inn room with nary a word.
—
…How long had it been since he did such a thing? Laid with someone for a cheap, quick thrill? Not nearly as long as he would like to think it was.
These changes in his life were recent, all considered. It was within the past turn that the village changed, that its protections fell, and that he came into his role as a Tovenares. Some habits were hard to break; at times, when he sat alone, a pang of longing ran through his chest. A longing to leave, once again- to spread his wings and fly away from these obligations and demands of the clan.
But he knew he could not. He would not. His life here was different from what he had experienced that long time of travelling, following his loins instead of his heart. Desire was one thing, and it was transient as those who shared his bed for swift-passing nights; what he knew he wanted, deep within himself, was another entirely, and to deny that would be to deny both his duties and his very nature.
…Well, to an extent. He was still a rather loving person. He simply put more thought and emotion into those he chose to share his intimate time with.
Gehr’ir flicks a finger. Silvery sparkles dance between his fingers, a slight show of magic for himself and himself alone. Through this, a faint smile graced his lips once again. These magics of his could do much and more- as a Tovenares, he worked to soothe the minds and spirits of others, but one of his talents was unique to them. The ability to walk through dreams. No matter the distance, the time, or circumstance, all had to sleep. All had to dream. It was in the times they did that he could visit even the most distant of lovers, to ensure they do not forget his touch.
Not that this was an easy thing to cultivate. It was not even a turn ago when he pondered these very powers…
—
The silence of the darkness was ever-comfortable to him. But a turn ago, in the swift-approaching cold of autumn, Gehr’ir stood in a grove, deep within the Black Shroud. All around him, leaves were falling, one by one; orange, red, and yellow danced across the currents of wind, bid on by nature and nature alone.
This was the location where he would choose to see just how well the lessons taught to him long ago had stuck.
A deep breath is drawn in. Bracing, he thought, eyes drifting shut. It would be a good primer for his focus. Magic came in many forms, this he knew. His travels taught him of the magics of the world, even in passing, from lovers and ale-sodden mages and otherwise. But it was not their magic he was going to practice. It was his.
Arms lift up to his sides; palms turn to the heavens. With eyes still shut, Gehr’ir takes a long stride forward- a far pull of his leg, to land further than a single step ahead. His center of gravity is made to shift, and so he pulls forward in a faint leap. Both feet land gracefully on the ground, and he pivots. Arms pull close, laying hands over his chest, as he turns, spins, twirls. Around once and again, he goes, left leg lifting to rest a little higher up his leg- then it drops down, to stop his circular motions. His breath is released, but not for long; another is pulled in as the whole of his upper body contorts to leap once more.
It was a dance for him, and him alone. The Taelyff’s magics came in many forms, but dance was among the strongest. Through dance, one could attune themselves not only to the world, but to others around them. A dance lifted the spirits, made clear the mind. If he could not do this…
Focus, Gehr’ir. A hard breath is exhaled as his feet glide across the ground once more, sending him bounding forward like a gazelle mid-stride. It is at this very moment, stepping across the ground, that he begins to feel something within him-
Power.
Magic.
Brows shot up. His feet were carrying him faster than he expected, yet he does not stumble or trip. No, instead, he glides forward, approaching a tall oak at breakneck speed. Grinning wide, he does all that his mind could tell him in this moment: to keep running, to leap- to let the winds carry him. Bare feet land on the bark, a swell of light green pushing him on. Vertical, now, he does not stop in his dance across the trunk. Each step, extending long, carries him up and up and up and then, a bough is his to snare in his hand. Clutching, the Keeper flings himself off with a spin around…only to float, slow and steady, to the ground below.
When his feet touch the ground again, steady and sure on soil, the magic fades.
I can do this.
—
Gehr’ir’s hand clutches, the sparkles fading back to the aether once more. He could do this. He was doing this. Not through the forceful demands of his mother, or any dismissive claims of a world who did not understand his people, or aught else. Through his own strength of will, passion, and devotion, he finally found a place amongst people who loved him, and the power to see them protected.
Rising now, the Keeper carries himself across the way, to run a hand across the canvas of his tent. With a flick, the sunlight peeking in is silenced, left to the outside. The comfortable darkness came once more. And though none could see it, his smile was maintained, now and throughout his rest.
Finally, he was happy.
WRITTEN BY taediuswrites.tumblr.com.
