#c: hyperion

[spiteweaver]

I’m going to enjoy the contrast between Hyperion, who obeys the Lightweaver’s commands without question, and Dreamweaver, who respects the Lightweaver but questions everything.

They’re both forms of loyalty and faith, but different enough to cause conflict.

[spiteweaver]

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Dawn was inconsolable. Even in the presence of one of the Lightweaver’s esteemed Luminaries, he could not seem to pull himself together. Dreamweaver had tried to drown his sorrows in tea, but no matter how many cups he drained, the tears did not slow. He wiped ceaselessly at his eyes until they were raw with his effort to stem their flow; both Dreamweaver’s handkerchief and his own were soon soaked through.

All the while, Hyperion watched in silence, his perfectly plastic smile never faltering.

Dreamweaver wanted to snap at him, but they had dealt with Luminaries often enough to know that a more tactical approach was required. They poured Hyperion another cup of tea. “Sugar?” they prompted.

“No thank you,” Hyperion replied, lifting his cup to his lips. “Too much sugar is bad for one’s teeth.”

“Radiant Hyperion,” they began, “I understand why you have come; orders from Her Radiance are absolute among Luminaries.”

“They should be absolute among common folk as well,” Hyperion interjected.

Dreamweaver’s smile tightened imperceptibly. “Yes,” they said, “I suppose they should be. Back to the matter at hand, I’m afraid what I don’t understand is Her Radiance’s logic. While the Hewn City Emperor is most assuredly a threat, to cast Her own children from Her favor is--well, it’s quite extreme.”

Hyperion dipped his head, sipping thoughtfully. He put on the appearance of someone who was ruminating, but Dreamweaver doubted he was. Luminaries were not dispatched to ponder their Patron’s motives. “Nothing has been made permanent,” he conceded, “but Her Radiance advocates caution in these troubling times. The lives of Her people outweigh their sensitivities.”

“With all due respect,” Dreamweaver said, “it will be more than their sensitivities at stake. Prejudice against Imperials already exists in many forms across the Continent; additionally, and as you have so helpfully demonstrated, Dawn’s position among my most trusted circle of officials is now being challenged, a position he has held for a full cycle.”

“A precaution,” Hyperion reiterated.

“Forgive me,” Dreamweaver pressed, “I do not mean to accuse, but I cannot help but wonder if this might not have something to do with our recent disagreement.”

Hyperion’s cup shattered in his grasp. Dawn jumped, slumping down so far in his chair that Dreamweaver thought he may disappear under the table. “My apologies,” Hyperion said breathlessly, “perhaps I misheard you. It sounded to me like you were suggesting something unbecoming of Her Radiance.”

“I did not mean to accuse,” Dreamweaver said again. “Merely, I know that Her Radiance has Her moods.”

“This and that are two separate matters,” Hyperion insisted. The untrained eye might think him unfazed, but Dreamweaver noted the subtle clenching of his jaw and brusqueness of his speech. They offered him a dish towel, which he accepted graciously. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ve made an awful mess.”

“It’s nothing,” Dreamweaver assured. “I am relieved to hear that Her Radiance holds no ill will. However, and once more with all due respect, I must decline Her offer. Dawn is perfectly suited to his position, and so he will keep it.”

“It wasn’t an offer,” Hyperion informed.

“Regardless,” Dreamweaver went on, “you will not be taking Dawn’s position as Light Representative from him. I will speak with Her Radiance myself if I must.”

Hyperion opened his mouth to respond, but promptly shut it when he apparently realized he was not going to change his host’s mind. He had most likely never encountered a being as stubborn as Dreamweaver; most Light dragons acquiesced to whatever demands Luminaries brought from the Beacon. Unfortunately for Hyperion, Dreamweaver was not a dragon.

“But it was an order,” was all Hyperion could manage in retaliation.

“If it helps,” Dreamweaver said, “I would be happy to house you here in Feldspar until such a time as Her Radiance deems fit. As long as you do not interfere with the daily lives of my citizens or officials, I see no reason why you cannot serve as Her eyes among us.”

“D-Dreamweaver,” Dawn sniffled, “you--you mean it? I don’t have to--I can still be--?”

“Of course,” Dreamweaver said. “I was never going to let him take your place, Dawn. You should have known that.”

Dawn nodded, but could not muster up the words to thank them. All that came out was another sob, and perhaps something that sounded vaguely like a “thank you” if you tilted your head and plugged your left ear. Across from him, Hyperion’s smile faltered at last.

“You’re too willful,” he said.

“So is Her Radiance,” Dreamweaver retorted. Hyperion’s hands clenched into fists; Dreamweaver was very glad they had not given him a second cup. “I owe Her much, but I am not so pathetic that I would let gratitude decay into subservience. I do as She commands, within reason. This command, to me, is unreasonable, so I shall not obey it.”

“She won’t be pleased.”

“She can take it up with me personally then.”

“That Imperial--!”

“‘That Imperial’ has served this clan loyally and diligently. I will hear no ill word against him.”

Hyperion looked for a moment like his facade might crack. Then he took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly through his nose, and put his broken mask back together. “I can see you won’t be convinced,” he said coolly, “so I will bring your terms back to Her Radiance and return with Her response within a fortnight. If She agrees, I will join you here, in your territory.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Dreamweaver agreed. “I would suggest you rest here for the evening. It’s already quite late; you can begin your return journey in the morning.”

“I would appreciate that very much, thank you.”

Hyperion stood, and Dreamweaver showed him to the door. Dawn moved to join them, but Dreamweaver waved him back into his seat. The two acolytes shared a terse goodbye. “Breathe deep,” said Dreamweaver.

“Seek peace,” Hyperion said, “and do not forget who it is you are bound to, Cataclysm.”

“Do not forget who it is you are speaking to,” Dreamweaver replied, and shut the door with a resounding slam.

[ Like my work? Here’s my ko-fi! ]

[spiteweaver]

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There had been a sense of dread festering beneath Feldspar’s surface since Dreamweaver’s announcement. Many had already begun to take notice of odd happenings here and there prior to it, but now that their suspicions had been confirmed, the air was thicker with unease than before. Transactions in the market were carried out in whispers; dragons kept their young indoors and their eyes on the top of the wall. No one wanted to be the final crack that burst the dam.

Dawn recalled the morning’s proceedings with a lump in his throat. Dreamweaver had requested a second Meeting of the Flights; all had been in attendance, save Plaquemine, who, along with the clan heir, was still abroad in his homeland. All was well across the Sea. It was the first bit of good news they’d had in an eon.

They had each given their reports. Most had been speculative. There was too much happening all at once, and every story they had heard secondhand was as reliable or unreliable as the next. Without a way to filter rumor from truth, they could only play at anticipating the endgame.

Once they had all fallen silent, Dreamweaver had stood. Their head held high, their shoulders stiff, they had announced that the Emperor’s predicted path had been altered drastically. Apparently, something within the Hewn City had caught its attention. It had made its way down along the eastern coast, and up into the City through the area surrounding Thunder’s March. No one had been harmed, to their knowledge, but it was now poised to strike both Feldspar and its allies at its leisure.

“The Lightweaver is in deliberation with Her peers,” they had informed. “If the Emperor is not dealt with by the residents of the Hewn City, then I have been assured She will see to its extermination Herself. Our allies in Clan Aphaster have closed Thunder’s March, and I have instructed the Wardens to evacuate our Gate Towns. As of this moment, the Hewn City is under strict lock-down; no one may enter, and no one may leave.”

It wasn’t the idea of a total lock-down that made Dawn shiver now. Traffic into the Hewn City consisted largely of cartographers and historians, many of whom were swiftly swallowed by the City itself. He was certain someone would complain should the Hewn City remain in quarantine for very long, but thankfully, that fell well beyond his jurisdiction.

No, what he was worried about were the implications. Emperors awoke now and again, but they so rarely ravaged populated areas that they had become more like campfire stories to frighten hatchlings than any real threat. Both of the Emperors that had been recorded in recent history were docile: Silas and Samuel in Feldspar, and a hulking brute in the Warren far to the west.

With time, the stain they had left on the Imperial breed had begun to fade. Now an Emperor had devastated large swaths of the northern plains, and taken up residence in one of Sornieth’s most cursed locations.

It was only a matter of time before something gave.

“Excuse me?”

A finger, lost under copper rings, tapped Dawn’s shoulder impatiently. Already stammering out an apology, he turned to face the stranger, and stopped abruptly.

They could have been a drake or a dam (or a rook, if so inclined); their features gave away nothing, and the cloth across their eyes further obscured their identity. He assumed they were a Pearlcatcher, noting the sandy-colored orb in a sling at their hip, but they appeared to lack the breed’s trademark horns, which would have shown even under their glamour. Judging by the dust clinging to their clothes, they must have traveled a long way.

However, their most distinguishing feature by far was their radiant aura. It was not visible, but its presence was so overwhelming that Dawn moved to shield his eyes regardless. This must have amused them, because they flashed him a wide, pointed grin.

“Are you Dawn?” they asked. Their voice was sweet, but just the slightest bit gravelly.

“Y-yes,” Dawn stuttered, “I am. You’re--you’re not from around here, though. You should really speak with Dreamweaver first, because if it’s residency you’re looking for, they--”

“Oh, I’ll speak with them as well,” the stranger assured. “I thought I ought to do you the courtesy of apologizing first, though.”

Dawn’s eyes darted around the square, searching for familiar faces. He had decided that this person made him very nervous. There was something not quite right about them; he got the feeling they enjoyed his social ineptitude a little too much. “Apologize for what?” he asked timidly.

The stranger cocked their head. “Oh, you haven’t heard?” They tutted and took a moment to fret to themselves before feigning sympathy. “You poor dear,” they said, “you haven’t heard. The Lightweaver’s decided to rectify Her mistake.”

“Wh...what does that mean...?”

“It means...” They placed a consoling hand on Dawn’s shoulder. His skin rippled with revulsion. “Imperials no longer have Her favor, and you’re no longer suited to your position. She’s sent me to replace you.”

[ Like my work? Here’s my ko-fi! ]

[spiteweaver]

Hyperion does have some interesting circumstances. I hinted at them during his introduction; his missing horns play a part in his story and why he became a sycophant to the Lightweaver.

I have to work some things out still, but I’m looking forward to exploring him and his interactions with the clan. I might focus on him quite a bit in the coming months as I integrate him into the lore; I hope y’all enjoy reading his terrible personality as much as I enjoy writing it.

[spiteweaver]

datante Hyperion: aww bless your heart, sweetie. Dawn: *confused crying*

Hyperion saying “bless your heart, sweetie” is absolutely the most cursed concept, and now I must make it reality.

[tasminxregina]

lightwillblindyou

Your Majesty

I am pleased to receive your letter, I ask nothing of you, nothing but one thing, that you keep those with knowledge of this correspondence to a minimum. We were sorry to leave you at such times, my lady wife especally feels remorce over the matter. But my duty and loyalty could not be shifted, if at any time you feel your safety in danger please, seek out our aid. 

Yours ever faithfuly 

Harrold Howell

My lord,

I must admit I didn’t expect such a quick reply from your behalf but I’m glad it is so. I assure you that I do my best to keep knowledge of these letters as minimum as possible. Your seal is always intact when I receive them so I have no reason to believe someone has been reading my letters before me. However, if you have in mind a safer way for us to communicate, don’t hesitate to share it with me.

Believe me I would have been more displeased with you if you decided to stay and your loyalties had changed. I understand the necessity of your departure. My previous complaint was that of a friend who lost not one but two confidants. I’m glad you’re in the safety of your estate and remain true to your beliefs.

Your offer of help is touching my lord. I certainly hope I won’t find myself in such a dire situation but I will keep it in mind should matters get out of hand.

Your friend,

- Tasmin Delacroix

[scottsumrners]