#caelendras

[lydianah]

3 thought bubbles for Aran!

“Where the hell has he been? Oh, it’s probably my fault for not calling.”

“Oh, Light, that stump is huge. Don’t think about it...”

“Did I just hear him call Cael ‘Sir?’ That’s... HAH!”

@arandoros ( @caelendras for mention)

[caelendras]

Trick or Treat - Caelendras: Phantom by @mischiart

Caelendras's Spooky Season offering, their OC, Caelendras...Phantom of the Karazhan Opera!  Did he get tricked or treated?

[arandoros]

Mind Over Magic (Part 3)

((Part of an ongoing storyline regarding Arandoros’ past. Involves arandoros and caelendras directly, could involve others! Feel free to poke at either of us if you’d like information. Also, read Part 1 and Part 2 before anything else!))

There was a bit of recoil in his posture when his and Cael's eyes met, but Arandoros didn't back down. No, this was going to be quite the uncomfortable experience, and a bit of awkwardness or surprise was almost welcome compared to what he somehow knew was coming. He gave a nod at Cael's inquiry. "Yes, that was his name. I make it a point to remember every name of anyone I've met more than once." He ran his hand over his eyes one more time, then let it fall back to the table, clasping with the other. "His name was Solaris, and he was my Enchantment instructor."

When Cael continued speaking and divulged his tutoring of Solaris, Aran leaned forward with slightly widened eyes. "You...you -trained- him?" he asked, sounding surprised. "I didn't know what sort of magic he dabbled in, but there was something rather unfamiliar about it. It was nothing like what my mother taught me when I was a child."

The gaze Cael put him under wasn't exactly unfamiliar, but he didn't shy away from it. He'd been to a number of doctors and specialists by now, which meant the look was one he'd grown used to. None of them, of course, had found any sort of cure. They'd suggested things from medicine to alcohol, some even suggesting he indulge in some sort of illegal. None of those solutions had worked, of course.

"Now I am curious to find out if my suspicions are correct. Would you like me to attempt to find the trigger tonight, or would you prefer we do that on a separate occasion?" Cael asked, that gaze still on him. It was as though he were being analyzed, a project for a professional.

It was familiar, but it wasn't comfortable. Some of the professionals he'd sought out in the past had attempted a magic-based probing of his mind. His body, however, simply had rebelled, not allowing much in the way of discovery. With this in mind, Aran looked down into his tea, a small shrug rolling through his shoulders. "I don't know."

He took a sip, staring down into it as he continued. "In the past, any time someone has tried to dive into my mind, to..to figure out what's going on, my body simply lashes out. I've broken arms, fractured noses...even kicked someone so hard between the legs that their mouth started bleeding." He winced a bit, shivering--he'd received a kick of quite some power between his own legs a few months prior, and that was certainly no picnic. "So unless you have some sort of system of restraints, I..don't know how easy that particular search would be."

There was no hesitation in the mage's voice when he replied, but what he said sent shivers down Aran's spine.

"Well, I do have the ability to put you in arcane chains," Cael suggested, "but that would hurt like hell for you. Would you rather I wait for Lydianah to be here to do it? I have a feeling that she could hold you prone if it comes right down to it." Aran's brow quirked as he suspected teasing, knowing his and Lydianah's past, but when he looked into the man's eyes he could tell there was a deadly seriousness to his words. Finally, Cael spoke again. "The only other option I can think of is one that involves putting you into an unconscious state, and even then there is no guarantee that whatever it is that is blocking your magic would not simply wake you up."

For a moment, the chains actually sounded like quite the plan. And somewhere, somewhere buried incredibly deep in the back of his brain...somewhere that the curse hadn't affected him, an idea began to brew in regards to the chains. But it was nothing even remotely relevant to this situation, and in truth he didn't even notice the seed that had been planted. Cael's words quickly debunked any possibility of the chains being used, and Aran simply shook his head. "If we can't think of anything, we could try the chains, but I'm loathe to unless it's absolutely necessary. Though, now that you mention Lydianah..."

He slowed, bringing a hand to his chin and scratching gently. "I've seen her render people immobile, unconscious even with just a single touch. I bet she's even done it to me in the past...that might be the best route, since you've mentioned it."

Cael took another sip, Arandoros staring at him as the mage set his cup back down. "Then why don't we set up a day when all three of us have some hours to spend, and I will go delving into your mind after she has worked a little of her own brand of magic on you. It may take a while to find the trigger, but I will do my best to find it as fast as I possibly can."

Aran's teacup had fallen empty, and in truth he was glad of that. He wanted to be out of here--simply the fact that magic took place in here as often as he knew it did sent his skin crawling when he thought about it too much, and he was fairly certain Caelendras was ready for him to leave as well. When Cael spoke, his suspicions were confirmed. "Do you need a refill?" he asked politely, but on a once-over, Aran discovered he actually looked rather dirty. It was as though Aran had interrupted the man in the midst of his work.

Truthfully, this entire affair had exhausted him. All he wanted to do was go back to his apartment--there was no way he was subjecting Naivaria to this. In fact, he almost hoped that next time they saw each other, she simply wouldn't ask about what he'd been up to. Knowing her that wouldn't be the case, but a man could hope for the impossible every so often.

Aran shook his head at the offer of tea, instead standing up and stretching. They'd hardly been there more than a half hour, yet he felt like they had been for hours now. "No, I think I ought to head home. I need to think, and prepare for next time." He gave Cael a smile, one that spoke of his own exhaustion, but also his tentative gratefulness. "Thank you for helping me with this, by the way."

With a somber tone, Cael responded to his thanks. "I live to serve," he said, standing. "I will nail Lydianah down long enough for her to listen to me, and then perhaps the three of us can come to an agreement as far as our next meeting is concerned. Steel yourself, though; if it hurts you, this is going to be unreal. The hope, of course, is that it yields results so that you do not have to go through this pain for much longer."

As they walked toward the door, the mage continued. "Now, I see that you are tired, and I am sparkly enough to step up on stage somewhere and begin performing. So I am going to give you the friendly advice to go home and get some rest, and take your days to think on it while I go upstairs and wash this dust off." He smiled then, something unnerving about it as he stepped out the door.  "And don't thank me yet."

[ lydianah naivaria for mentions]

[caelendras]

Mind Over Magic (Part 2)

[[Part of a series of posts regarding arandoros and a personal plot. Read Part 1 first!]] [ lydianah, secretlyshadowy for mentions! ]

"You're a smart man, Caelendras,” Arandoros had said. “You know this isn't about that trick you showed me at the reception." Ah, Lord Phepenos’s wedding reception, when Cael had caused all of the cake plates to jump away from Aran’s hands when he reached for them. That was a fine trick, and one that had brought him a fair amount of amusement. But Arandoros was correct; that was not the first thing on his mind when he’d answered the door and found his unlikely guest looking down at him. Another sigh was heaved by the blacksmith and he rested his face in his hands, staring at the table. Caelendras was not certain what kind of issue the man was dealing with, but judging by the almost defeated look on his face it must have been one he had struggled with for some time. The silver-haired magus merely waited, knowing that no amount of gentle prodding would bring out Aran’s issue any faster. The man had gotten this far. He’d come to see him. He would not stop now. The silence between them stretched on for almost a minute before Arandoros spoke again. "I... I literally can't be around magic. My body rebels against it, my mind seems to go into self-destruction mode when I'm around it. And I don't know what to do: being drunk doesn't fix it, drugs don't fix it, sex doesn't fix it." The man’s admission had Cael’s eyes thoughtfully finding the bourbon while ideas whirred in his head. He found it odd that someone of their ilk might simply repel magic; it was far too ingrained in their existence to shut out completely. Finally, after battling with a few possible causes, he brought his slender hand up to slowly slide the saucer with his own teacup aside and lean his elbows on the table. Fingers laced together to form a flat surface, upon which he rested his chin. "Well that is a shame," he drawled, a slow smile fixing itself on his lips. "In my experience, sex fixes many things." Aran didn't break his gaze, even as he made his joke. In fact, the joke actually made the blacksmith grin a bit, and Cael caught Aran’s eyes narrowing at him. "Oh, don't get me wrong. It still has quite the impact..but it doesn't take the problem away." He sighed, shaking his head. "I just don't know what else I can do." That was his cue to get serious and that smirk disappeared, replaced by a professional mask that seemed to suit the man all too well. “Is this something that has been happening your entire life, or did it develop at a specific time? If it is the former, I may not be able to help you. If it is the latter, however… can you remember anything that you might have come into contact with during that time that might have seemed new or out of place? An object, a person… even a location is helpful.” Another frustrated sigh greeted Cael’s inquiry and he listened closely to Aran’s answer. "That's the thing. When I was a child? I loved magic. Gods, even before this started happening I had an affinity for it. I could wield the Light like nobody's business. I've even healed myself a few times after an accident at the forge." He shook his head, one of his hands balling into a fist. "It didn't start until...what, four years ago? Something..." Aran shook his head, The tendons in his neck standing out before he slowly relaxed again and squeezed his eyes shut. "I was in Dalaran when the lady Proudmoore ordered the arrest of our entire people that were in the city at the time." Eyes opened and Aran looked at him, as though begging him to not ask for more details. He knew he must, and that knowledge did not make Cael feel any better about it. "Something...happened during the escape, and almost immediately I felt such a pain--considering it was Dalaran, I'm not exactly surprised." A visible shiver ran through the blacksmith’s body, accompanied by a grimace. "Now? I can't even cast a single thing, and I feel real physical pain if there is magic used even in my vicinity." Aran’s words only served to tighten the magi’s lips into a frown. That look that the blacksmith gave him… there was pain there, and he knew all too acutely that kind of grief. “Ah, yes,” he breathed, looking down at the table for a moment. “The purging of Dalaran. I was lucky to escape it myself, not having been in the city for quite some time. Others were not so lucky. I sympathize with your plight.” Cael's words of sympathy did nothing to soften the pain—that even he could see—but at the very least he looked somewhat relieved to know that he wasn't the only one that had at least been affected by the mage-bitch's decision. All the same, it had indeed happened, and the remembrance had them both inspecting the bourbon in silence. He would have liked to think that it was out of respect for those who had died there, but really it was that topics like this drove people to desire any means to soften the blow, and one such vice sat before them on the table. Neither reached for it. He did not tell him of those colleagues he had known to have perished in that particular horrific event—it was not relevant, and would not serve his purpose here tonight. That was why he thought long and hard on his next words. “It seems to me that whatever it was that happened during your escape is the key to unraveling this mystery ailment.” "It's the only thing I can think of that triggered whatever is happening," Aran agreed. Cael’s eyes drifted upward to watch Arandoros’s face again. “Did you encounter any hostiles on your way out of the city? What am I saying, of course you did; they were running the Sin’dorei down left and right. Was there anyone in particular that stuck in your mind, or any objects that seemed strange to you?” There had to be something. A ward? A person? Some enchanted object? Cael's last question was met with a jerk of the blacksmith’s eyes up to his. They flashed in silent warning that had the magi’s ears pricking. Ah, so there is something, he thought. Soon enough the auburn-haired man took a breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly. Breathing seemed to be important to Aran when it came to keeping himself calm. "There was... there was one person," he said with difficulty, speaking through gritted teeth. "I was in a panic, and on my way… on my way out, I killed her." There was no ceremony, no grand pause given; it was as though the man needed to get the words out as quickly as possible. "That was when it happened, and no I don't remember anything besides that. I might as well have blacked out." “And do you believe that this woman might have been the trigger point?” he pressed gently. His first question didn't get any sort of response out of Aran beyond an intake of breath. It was clear there was a new kind of pain going through the man at this point, something beyond the physical that the magic had brought to him. But he'd come here for a reason, and Cael had a feeling there was some kind of link between what had happened that day and what he was suffering through now. “Keep in mind, Aran,” he continued, “that for me to diagnose this situation, I am going to need all the information you can give to piece together the puzzle. I will need to poke around at you with magic too, to see if I can locate the cause. If we are lucky we can unravel whatever it is that keeps you from it. If we are less, then we may need to find out who or what did it. There is little way to know for sure, but rest assured I will do the research and try my best.” It was at that point that the teapot whistled, and Cael stood up to retrieve it. He took great care not to use magic now—even hunting for a glove he hadn’t used in forever to grasp the pot’s handle and bring it over. He poured his own cup first, and then settled the pot on the table and picked up the bottle of bourbon, pouring it into Aran’s cup until it was about a third full and then filling the rest with water before he settled the tea packet into it. “Stir that well, and let it steep for about a minute. You are going to love the result—oh.” He moved away from the table and came back with a small jar of honey, a bit of which he also poured into each of their cups. “Trust me, it is the cherry on top, so to speak.” If Aran was feeling particularly talkative he waited until well after the tea was poured. Fingers stirred just as Cael had directed, and though he opened his eyes and looked right up at Cael, the steam that rose between them partially obscuring the set of his lips, Cael knew that there was something that this small interruption had done for him. Perhaps the distraction was welcomed, or simply the fact that Cael had not treated him as if he had some life-threatening illness. That was a trick that many healers had learned. Often times, if one did not make a big deal out of an illness and knew what they were doing, the patient was much calmer for it. When he settled in again he dipped his tea bag into the cup and allowed the herbs to do their work as he stirred. “So, getting back to our conversation,” he began, unwilling to relent. “Tell me about the woman. What stood out to you about her?” Cael had a feeling that it didn’t really make this any easier, but at least the edge seemed to be taken off. Aran stirred as he answered. "She was my wife," he said blatantly. "Or at least, she was before our people split. Legally we were still attached, and...damnit, I didn't know it was her!" he suddenly exclaimed, jaw clenching and stirring all but stopping. Cael’s spoon paused in its circular motion as well and he felt his silvery brows arching high in surprise before he could school his expression into a calmer one. After a long moment the magus simply tapped the stem of the spoon against the rim of the cup—the sound loud in the tense quiet that had fallen over the table—and set it aside on the saucer. In that same motion his arm swept out and found the blacksmith’s shoulder, squeezing gently. It was a habit he had picked up from Lydianah, and the look that he gave him… well, there was no pity in it, but it was sympathetic. Aran had begun to stir his tea again, hardly reacting outwardly when Cael's hand reached his shoulder. The look in his eyes suggested that he was struggling inwardly with something else, though. It appeared as though he was trying to calm himself, or reason out a way to proceed—or not proceed. They were on the right track, though—he could feel it in his gut. So, seeking to open him up again, he spoke. “I trust that you did what you had to in order to survive. If she knowingly attacked you, then it is not you that needs forgiveness in this.” He scooted closer now, his own tea forgotten for the moment. “I need you to answer me honestly. Sometimes the mind does things to shut out certain traumatic parts of a person’s life when they are grieving or have intense feelings of guilt. Do you feel deep down that this is something that is a possibility?” The blacksmith stopped stirring and took another long, slow breath in and out, looking to the mage. "I..no." He shook his head. "All that happened that day was escaping, finding one of the dead guards' axes...killing her, and my departure from the city. I was suffering tunnel-vision, yes, but I remember it with stark clarity." Caelendras did not mind that Arandoros was having a hard time, but nor did he take any pleasure in that fact. He simply continued in his line of questioning in as calm a manner as he could. “Was she heavily involved in magic? The reason I ask is not because I believe that your memories have been blocked out, but because I believe the possibility is there that your adverse reaction to magic is due to the emotional trauma you have suffered. Narrowing down the causes is part of solving this puzzle.” "She'd trained under my mother," Aran replied, then after a moment added, "My mother was a tutor in all things arcane. Analya was her name," he said at last for clarification. Cael nodded to the tea cup. “It should be good to drink now,” he said gently. The blacksmith brought his cup to his lips, not affected whatsoever by the high temperature that was indicated by the steam--he worked in a forge, after all. He was used to heat. But he gave a soft sound that showed he did indeed appreciate the result, just like Caelendras had predicted. "Gods, it's been so long since I've sat down and had a good cup of tea.." Caelendras returned his attention to his tea, taking a testing sip before adding just a tiny bit more honey to his cup. His face remained professional, but inside his mind was churning out possibilities with this new information that Aran had presented. For the most part he spoke them aloud. “She was an arcanist, then,” he mused, and looked Arandoros over with an assessing gaze.  “And I do recall an Analya. Delightful woman, and very knowledgeable.” Cael watched Aran for a moment longer, thoughtful. When Cael spoke of his mother Aran actually smiled for a moment or two as if recalling the woman fondly. "Oh, she was one of the best. Never went a day without having a student until she retired. The Kirin Tor even approached her about a spot, but she didn't want the rules and regulations and red tape to tie her up more than she already was." He gave another chuckle, but it was relatively humorless. Cael sighed. The bourbon was doing its job; already Arandoros seemed less tense than he had minutes ago. “I know it is painful to discuss, but whatever insight into the situation you can give to me is welcome.” He paused for a moment, taking another sip of his tea. “If there is nothing else, then I will poke around myself with what you have already given to me in mind. I cannot promise that it will not be painful to you, but it will be necessary if there is actually some sort of trigger in place.” His eyes then moved to Cael's again and he nodded. "I know, and I am trying. There are... two other things that I can remember which might be linked." His voice was coming more regularly now, confirming Cael’s suspicion that he was relaxing into the topic. He continued to listen as Aran spoke, taking in all that he could. He hadn’t found the piece that really stood out to him yet. "One,” Aran continued, “I do remember that there was someone else. A man, I think, in robes that looked familiar--probably Kirin Tor robes." He shook his head. "I should know his name, but I can't." Then another breath, and this time he spoke with closed eyes. "The second is that... shortly after Lydianah and I arrived home from one of the Pandaria campaigns we were on, I discovered letters. Letters showing proof that my wife had been stealing money from me for the better part of five years prior to her leaving. And when she left, it was to live with my former instructor in Enchanting." Where there should have been betrayal in his voice, there was instead numbness. Cael commended him for that—if his own wife had cheated on him before she died, he might not have handled it quite so calmly even years after the fact. Cael leaned forward in his seat. “So your wife… she left you for this other man’s favor, and you say he was your enchanting instructor?” "Yes," Aran said simply, taking another sip of his tea. Whether it was the bourbon or simply the natural aromatic powers of the tea itself, or that Cael's technique simply was better than his own, it was working. Even though the content matter was obviously still upsetting, the lines etched into his forehead from thinking about it had diminished significantly. “If I were to rationalize,” Cael pressed on, “I would say that the possibility of your malady happening from either the man or the instructor is rather high. Can you remember whether you began feeling that pain while she was still alive, or after she had died?” He knew he was treading the line now, and he only hoped that Aran had relaxed enough not to simply get up and leave because now the magus was intensely curious on top of wanting to help Lydianah’s friend. Aran's eyes took on that emotionless absence from moments prior as they opened again. The question brought a shrug from his shoulders, and for a moment Cael could not help but think that it was all the blacksmith could to do avoid feeling anything about it. "I don't know… I think it was after she was killed. Almost immediately after." “I see,” Cael said, and then he shifted the discussion away from the woman, mind whirring. It probably was not her, then, but the man. "And do you remember anything about your instructor or the man? A name, an appearance? Anything?” The blacksmith closed his eyes with a furrow of his brow in an effort to remember. "His name was Solaris," he said. "I remember he was...pale, often looking sickly--he didn't spend much time in the sun. Darker hair, almost black and artificially dyed that way. Skinny, but with a surprising amount of strength to be able to carry all of his materials." That name caused his ears to radiate forward and his eyes to suddenly find Arandoros's face--but the red-head had not yet opened his eyes. When Aran did open them again their eyes met. "Solaris. Are you certain? Because if so, I know that man. I trained him in enchantments. Gifted, that one, but he was not a magister. He was a priest--at least, he was when I knew him." Bingo.

[arandoros]

Mind Over Magic (Part 1)

The sun was slowly going down as Arandoros made his way through the Silvermoon Gates. He’d been at his shop all day, and it was with tired eyes that he made his way back home for the day. His steed was trustworthy as always—he hadn’t given her a name, but she knew him and he knew her simply by looking at her.

It wasn’t home that he was headed for, unfortunately, but the former Silverstorm Arcanery. It was now known as Emberflame Arcanery, and its current owner was the one Aran sought. He wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to learn that trick he’d pulled with the plates, but that wasn’t the nature of this visit.

No, he needed Caelendras the enchanter. Caelendras the man he figured could at least help him figure out what was going on with his mind. It was getting more and more difficult to ignore it; magic was a big part of sin’dorei society after all, and was becoming more and more that way with everything happening in Draenor.

So he arrived on the doorstep, knocking firmly three times, but not entering. He was oddly nervous.

He could see the door read 'closed,' but as a fellow shop owner he figured the man would still be taking care of some sort of business. And sure enough, shortly after he'd knocked, he was greeted by the silver-haired man he'd grown to know as Lydianah's friend and, apparently, a skilled magic-user. There was no sort of aura about him, or at least there was nothing overtly obvious, but Lydi had mentioned before that the man had been a professor in Dalaran at one point or another. Just the thought made him uncomfortable, but he needed the man's help.

"Ah, Master Sunforge. Long time no see," Caelendras said with a smirk. "What brings you to me so late?" He leaned against the doorframe with some ease, both keeping him relaxed and ensuring the door didn't close, bumping his rear instead.

“I told you at the after-party,” Aran said with a bit of a smirk of his own. His arms crossed and brows rose, tilting his head. “I want you to teach me that trick. Oh, and please, not Master Sunforge. Reminds me too much of my father. For you, it’s Arandoros, or even Aran.” He didn’t step forward, knowing how frustrating it was when someone showed up after hours.

That being said, his voice soon adopted a more serious tone, as did his face. “I hope I’m not too late, but…I had a request. A problem, I guess, that I thought you could help me with.” He sighed, almost looking deflated. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late…but can I come in?”

At first, Aran wasn't sure if he was going to say yes. He'd really only been in the man's presence a handful of times, the majority being when he came by to visit Lydi at the shop and found Caelendras within. But eventually, the mage stood upright and held the door open, gesturing widely in invitation. He though he saw a moment of mourning in the man's eyes, but he smiled at Cael while the man spoke.

"By all means, Arandoros."

Once the blacksmith had passed by he closed the door and locked it again, waving a hand to pull the shades down. Perhaps it was that he did not know the nature of Aran’s problem, or perhaps it was simply habit, but the man was a magus and saw no harm in using his magic thusly.

The door was closed and locked behind him, likely to keep prying, unwanted customers from entering. Aran knew the drill pretty well, and would have smirked had he not gone rigid. He turned, eyes locking on the magically moved shades. His body gave an involuntary, unpleasant shiver that he had to suppress simply by tensing his shoulders for a few moments. Eventually he was able to relax somewhat, but that had been enough to put him on edge.

"Make yourself comfortable," Caelendras said ironically, though he probably didn't even know what he'd done. He gestured to a small area that housed a table and three chairs, but paused and glanced to the blacksmith. "Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps?"

“Tea sounds nice,” Aran said with a nod, though it was rigid. “I need something to relax myself,” he said in explanation as he walked toward the table gestured to. The shiver had culminated in a spike of pain behind his right eye that he wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with, but a gasp punctuated the end of his words nonetheless, as did a rubbing of the spot with an open palm.

He groaned as his ass found a seat, leaning forward on his elbows and staring at the wood of the table. “Strong as you can make it,” he said in request, moving his eyes to watch the mage. Gods, did he hope Cael could help. He was sick of not knowing if a certain evening was going to go well, determined only by whether he encountered something magical. And walking through Silvermoon was almost a guarantee, at least during the day, that magic would impact you.

"Or would you rather have a real drink?" he heard Cael ask in a teasing tone, as though he simply thought Arandoros was stressing about something small. "Perhaps one with a shrimp on the rim? Or I could lace your tea with bourbon."

Another shiver rolled up the opposite side of his spine, another spike of pain behind his other eye. He could still see, and so his pained gaze moved to the mage, practically glaring at him as he worked his magic. But his back was to Aran, so he couldn't see the pain. Why couldn't he just...just arrange the tea without his conjuring tricks??

"What kind do you prefer? I've green, black, chamomile, herbal, lemon, citrus, and mint."

More magic was used, and now the pain was drifting down the back of his head toward his neck. Shoulders locked and jaw clenched, Aran's hands had come together, fingers white-knuckled as he tried to suppress the pain.

"Unless you really would prefer I pour you a stiff one. In that case I have bourbon, whiskey, a few bottles of Dalaran Red, a dry Blush, and strawberry wine."

The more magic that was used, the more it affected Arandoros. The headache hadn’t quite gone away after the initial, albeit minor, cast to bring the drapes down. It had certainly intensified, if nothing else. Arandoros almost didn’t even hear the first question, and he answered it through gritted teeth. “Green is fine,” he said, then gasped again. “Lace it with bourbon. A good bit of bourbon.” He took a long, slow breath and exhaled, trying to calm himself down, and it did work. “No..not completely alcohol…it wouldn’t help.” He closed his eyes, jaw working and the muscles in his neck clenching. “Just…tea with bourbon. That’s all.”

“Tea with bourbon it is,” he said, and blessedly stopped using his magic to prepare. Little did Arandoros know that those would be the best words he would hear all evening. With them, the pain completely lifted from his form. His body shuddered, loosening muscles that shouldn't have been so tightened, and even forced a sigh from him. He smiled, relishing in the heaven of having no magic worked around him. After wiping his eyes vigorously he looked to Cael, realization dawning. Once the magus had called everything down from the shelves it was his hands that worked, pulling out packets, bringing cups over, and settling them along with saucers and spoons on the table with the packets already in them. ~Thank the gods,~ Arandoros thought as Cael sat down.

The bourbon was settled in the middle of the table before Caelendras simply said, “The water will take a bit to boil. Why don’t we begin our chat in the meantime?” He spoke softly, clearly having seen the relief that had crossed Aran's features. Did he know, then? "Something tells me this is quite the unpleasant thing.”

Aran's eyes rested on the bourbon in the middle of the table, blinking a few times. He then shook his head firmly, as though denying himself the drink that Cael seemed to be offering. "Yes, that chat sounds like a good idea," he said with another sigh, looking directly at Cael.

[ caelendras and lydianah for mentions. And a little teasing jab at secretlyshadowy :3 ]

[arandoros]

Send ‘💇’ for your muse playing with my muses’ hair

This had been an eventful week for Aran’s breaks. Normally he’d been allowed to simply sit on his bench and eat his Pandaren cuisine in peace, draw and get right back to work. But no, this week he’d been asked a couple of rather -embarrassing- questions about people he’d called friends as of late, and when asked about Caelendras’, he became suspicious.

As soon as he looked down into his food, though, he darted out with lightning-fast reflexes and pulled the hood back, revealing one suspicious, mischievously grinning…Naivaria! He didn’t react at first, simply looking at her and…blinking. Just blinking.

Then he flushed, both cheeks and ears turning a shade of crimson to rival his hair. “Wait..” he said, glaring. “Why did you even want to -know- all of that?” he asked, but soon sighed and looked again to his food. And that was when she reached out to stroke his hair, sifting it through her fingers.

He visibly relaxed, air deflating out of him as she soothed him with that grin still spreading her lips. “You got me,” he said with some exasperation. “I’m impressed, Nai.”

[ naivaria ]

[arandoros]

‘Stay.. please.’

Arandoros lay awake, arms resting behind his head and eyes glued on the ceiling. It was much further away than his own bedroom’s–more than likely because he wasn’t in his own. He stayed with Naivaria tonight in her room within Lady Devonshire’s estate, and the evening had grown too warm for cuddling to be an option after she’d fallen asleep. So, covers completely shed and Naivaria sound asleep beside him, he’d had time to think.

And it was blessed. This was one of few nights he and Naivaria had actually been able to enjoy together considering how busy work had kept him these past couple of months, and their conversations ranged all over the place. He’d told her a bit about what he’d been up to lately, what work had been keeping him late with, and even his investigation into his past. It was nothing yet, but Caelendras and he had agreed on a future appointment, so it was progress.

Soon enough she yawned, and within ten minutes of that first yawn she was unconscious, her tiny form curled up against and partially onto him, Arandoros’ arm wrapped around her shoulders. Eventually, though, he had grown too warm and gently extricated himself, content to know that she slept comfortably beside him. But that hadn’t lasted long.

No, soon enough there were soft sounds coming from his lover, and not of the pleasant sort. Her brow was furrowed and body shaking, breath coming in short gasps. Finally her eyes darted open and she looked around, terror striking her. On seeing that Aran was fully out from under the blanket she clutched at his arm, looking him pleadingly right in the eye. “Stay…please,” she whispered, burying her face in his side and shifting closer.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, curling around her in response and pressing a protective kiss to her hair. “You know I’m not going anywhere,” he said, one hand soothingly stroking up and down her back. “It was only a dream. You’re safe now, I promise.”

[ naivaria, theladydevonshire, caelendras for mentions]

[lydianah]

≑ my muse wakes up in your muse’s body (anashae)

Early morning light assaulted the backs of her eyelids so fiercely that they turned a pretty shade of orange even as she attempted to squeeze them just a bit more tightly shut. She could see every vein that coursed through them. Groaning, she turned over to snuggle into the blankets and allow the backs of her eyelids to fade into darkness again. There was something to be said about the blindness that accompanied opening groggy eyes to stare directly into the sun. She had no desire to encounter that today. She had not since school--

With a start her eyes popped open. Her bedroom window did not face the sun in the morning!  Looking around, she found herself in a place that was entirely too unfamiliar to her. Even if the bed was nice, she knew better than to assume that anyone else here was. Who had moved her, and why?Panic surged through her and when she realized that she was not restrained in any way she rolled out of bed. Bare feet found the floor and she began moving, looking around for any sign that she might have been dragged in here. How odd; she had no idea where she was or why she was there. All she’d remembered was having a glass of wine and talking some things over with Cael before she’d gone to bed.She stopped when she saw Anashae. The woman peeked around a corner at precisely the same time and they both jumped away from each other. When she moved to give her former commander an imploring look and lean in to whisper to her, she spotted the bed behind Anashae’s head and realized that the woman wasn’t here with her. The woman was her. Looking down at herself now, she caught sight of creamy pale skin and... nothing else. She was naked. Oh gods, what had happened? Her eyes darted around the room and she began scrambling, shuffling through things for something to cover herself with. This was too much. What had happened? Where was Anashae? Was she in her body?Oh gods. Caelendras. If Anashae had woken up in Lydianah’s body and come down into the shop... well, Cael would likely be in trouble if she decided to act before speaking. She needed to get dressed and--A knock sounded on the door and she froze. She had not come up with anything yet. “Just a moment!” she called, hoping to the gods that she could find something quick. She would likely be on the other end of a death stare or worse if she ran around naked or showed Anashae’s body off to anyone who chanced upon her.“I know you cannot still be sleeping... come on, now. I made you something to eat before you try to tackle your day.” The man’s voice was muffled. Had he heard her at all?“And I said just a moment,” she called back, this time louder.She heard muttering outside the door, and then the sound of the doorknob turning caused her ears to prick straight up. He was opening it. Looking around, she made for the only thing she could think of--the bed--and she dove under the sheets just as the man stepped into the room. “Sun’s Light, I’m naked!” she exclaimed, clutching the blankets to her chest just in time to avoid exposing herself to whoever this was.

The next moment she was gasping, her eyes flying open. Her head was pounding, and this time she was sitting up in her own familiar bed, and Caelendras was standing there with what looked like some kind of foul liquid in a glass clutched tightly in his long fingers. He stared at her, surprise and then amusement settling into his features.“You most certainly are not naked,” he replied with a lopsided little smirk, “though I am willing to bet that you were having a fairly interesting dream if you thought you were.”Moments passed while Lydianah processed her surroundings--even held out an arm to look at her own freckled skin. After a moment, annoyance surged through her. “What if I was?” she asked as he came to perch himself on the edge of her bed.He only raised his brows at her. “Then you would be naked and drinking this. Trust me, it will help with that headache. You drank the entirety of that bottle of Red last night, and I just know you are hurting for it right now. You never sleep naked though; not anymore.”She relaxed a fraction. He was right; she always elected to wear at least something to bed in case she had to spring out of it quickly. It was only a dream, she thought with a sigh, reaching for the glass. Reminder to self: Stop drinking too much wine.[ anashae ]