Out of the mid-wood's twilight into the meadow's dawn | OTA

[faithlikeaseed]

Who: fauns fauns FAUNS (and their enablers) (and anyone else)
When: Octeuril 31st
Where: The Haven
What: Somebody set up a trap specifically designed for Fauns. Or tried, anyway.
Warnings: F for Faunery; warnings per thread as needed!


It's a lovely day in Aefenglom and you are a horrible beautiful Faun.

Somewhere between the evening of the 30th and the midnight advent of the 31st, a disused corner of the Haven has turned into a patch of cultivated wilderness. Somewhere a little after midnight on the 31st, and the beginning of the full moons, several Fauns (and one or two others, Monsters and Witches alike) received an enthusiastic if slightly garbled written invitation to come see what awaits.

Gourd vines of all descriptions drape an abandoned cottage, its floating terraces, and half of a nearby house. Flowers in a riot of colors decorate them, some glowing softly and others exuding a fragrant perfume. The fruits hanging pendant or nestled on the ground defy description and beg to be tasted: There are tiny pumpkins no larger than grapes, thin-skinned and sweet, while massive savory marrows lurk in the underbrush to trip the unwary. A rare fist-sized specimen glimmers with enchantment and grants a rush of energy when eaten--along with fleeting, unpredictable changes (horns, fur, hooves) that make one a little more faunish for an hour or two.

Cheap furniture, clotheslines, and hanging sheets have been used to roughly shape the vines into an impromptu maze. The design's irregular, wandering, like whoever planned the corridors couldn't see what he was doing. It wanders in and out of the cottage, pouching into dead-ends and cozy little clearings that might fit two comfortably and three if they're familiar. Some of them have benches in them; others, piles of pillows; and still others are carpeted in thick and flowering moss. Heavy quilts in a riot of colors and patterns can be found neatly folded in the buildings, waiting for chilled revelers to find them. There are also covered braziers for the truly cold, though they seem powered by magic and not by flame.

Food and drink are lavishly if haphazardly provided, spread out through the bowers like a treasure hunt. Casks of mead with cups attendant, bowls of honey candy and glazed nuts, fruit both fresh and dried, and a variety of different sorts of cheese provide an ample repast (so long as one's not hungry for blood or meat). Entertainment's on the guests to provide, with simple musical instruments (mostly pipes, an occasional lap-harp) gracing many of the grottos; others have toys and games, of varieties both innocent...and not...strewn about them.

There are also oddities here and there in the maze, like the bower where someone took painstaking care to tie a half-hundred feathers to the low vine ceiling. Another nook teams with stingless bees of all varieties during the day. What else might await someone who's looking?

Comments

[scowlish]

[Parties aren't really a big interest of Onni's and certainly not a forté, but he hadn't wanted to turn Reynir down when he asked him to attend this thing. At first, he'd been sure he would just bear through it until Reynir was ready to go home, and then be done with it. He hadn't expected to socialize or to enjoy it much, but when Reynir comes to check in with him for longer than a few minutes to have a drink together, he's just gotten up from where he was comfortably settled on a pile of pillows playing kantele, tipsy and quite content with his belly full of candy and sugary nuts.

He can feel Reynir approaching before the Icelander actually makes contact with him - not just because his senses have become a little more heightened after being in the Silent World with only Tuuri to watch his back, but also because of the Bond. It's been easy to track Reynir throughout the party, to feel the manic, crazy energy he'd had for the past few weeks settling and then building slowly into something else pleasant and comfortable and bright. It's foreign to Onni, probably a Faun thing, but it's nice to feel it, the awareness of the feeling drifting around as Reynir moves. When Reynir's arms drape around his shoulders, Onni lifts a hand to pat one of his forearms as the younger man pulls him back against himself.

The kiss is a bit of a surprise, but Onni is tipsy enough not to mind it much at all, not that he has much shame about doing whatever he wants to do even when people are looking. The kiss feels nice and Reynir is warm and Onni exhales, hand still hooked over Reynir's wrist. At first he only grunts softly when Reynir asks him to dance, and then he turns a little to try to look at him, one brow raised.]

I don't know how to dance.

[It's simple, just a statement, but now that he can see Reynir with his hair a little disheveled and a crown of flowers arranged in his hair, curled over his horns, his eyes fever-bright and cheeks pink, he can tell that he's not going to get away with just that.]

But I suppose that doesn't change your mind, does it?

[braidmage]

[ Reynir remembers - because how could he not, even in this distracted state? - the memory of Onni's that he'd seen, that cute boy in his village shyly asking him to dance. The butcher's son, the one that had so clearly been utterly in love with him. And Onni must have refused, then. Reynir knows that, so he knows he will probably try to make some excuse, now. But Onni seems to understand before Reynir even makes his case that he's not going to get out of this as easily. ]

It's not that kind of a dance! There's no fancy steps, all you have to do is have fun and move!

[ Reynir does know more formal dances - ones where he would need to walk Onni through them, teach him the patterns, the steps. For a moment he dwells on that: a future where Onni trusts him and they are together and they have the time, and Reynir shows him the dances he'd learned growing up. His heart aches from the thought of it, from the hope that just maybe that might happen... ]

Come on, come on, you'll love it!

[ He slides free from Onni, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the other dancers. Once they're close enough to the frenetic, joyful music, he takes both Onni's hands in his and just spins both of them around in a tight circle, laughing loud and clear and free. ]

[scowlish]

[When Reynir says that it isn't that kind of a dance, with no fancy steps, Onni rolls his eyes a little bit but a corner of his mouth lifts a little into a slightly crooked smile. All he has to do is have fun and move, hm?]

When you put it that way, I still don't know the steps.

[There's an obvious lilt of joking to it, at least, however true the sentiment might be. But it's also obvious that Reynir really isn't going to let it go, so he takes a moment to resign himself to the fact he's going to have to do it. Glancing around, he tries to see if there's another cup of mead available to down quickly so he can be a little less sober than he is when he tries it, but Reynir is already taking his hand and tugging him toward the other dancers.

Sighing good-naturedly, he goes along with Reynir and hesitates awkwardly for a few moments before Reynir is grabbing both hands and spinning them. It's surprising, and Onni lets out a little squawk of shock at it, but he doesn't resist the tugging either. Instead, he takes a deep breath and he goes along with it, spinning along with Reynir, watching him as he laughs loud and bright in the cool evening air, looking bright and joyful and wild.

Onni has no idea how anyone can be that way. It doesn't make sense, he can't imagine himself ever being that way. But somehow, it suits Reynir, with his wild hair and the horns curling out of it and his green eyes. Onni allows himself to be spun until he's feeling a little dizzy, and then he gives Reynir's hand a tug, lets go of the other, and lifts his hand to twirl him. It's awkward, not well-coordinated, and it's obvious that Onni doesn't actually know what he's doing, but he's making an effort, at least.]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir laughs in utter delight at Onni's squawk of surprise, and then his head is empty, and everything is joy joy joy and the dizzy manic wonderful feeling of dancing underneath the full moon. He isn't someone who spends a lot of time dwelling in his thoughts, but he has never felt this completely mindless before. It is exhilarating, and just the tiniest bit terrifying. But the only thing that keeps it from ever being properly frightening is Onni's presence.

Onni is here, and still has a good head on his shoulders, and Onni is good and strong and Onni will keep him safe, keep him from sinking into any real madness that he will regret come morning. So Reynir is free to just dance and forget everything else.

He twirls at once, when Onni lifts his hand like that, sensing what Onni wants right away. Everything around them is so bright and vivid and perfect, and Reynir tosses his head back, eyes bright as they reflect the moon.

Reynir dances with enthusiasm but no real grace or pattern, just moving his body to the drumbeat of the music, and yet he feels not a moment of self-consciousness. The others at the party might as well not be there, apart from how they enhance his own raucous enjoyment.

And when the song ends in a whirling, whistling chaotic crash, Reynir crashes into Onni, gripping either side of his face and kissing him hard, dizzy and drunk with happiness and smiling. ]

That was perfect!

[scowlish]

[While Reynir might be mindless and exhilarated, Onni isn't...but he's at least quite tipsy, and it's enjoyable enough to spin and dance a little with Reynir. Dancing isn't something he's good at or particularly even enjoys, but there's something about the way Reynir moves and laughs and the brightness in his eyes and the joy in every sway of his hips and shoulders, in the way his braid moves behind him, that makes it enjoyable. For a few minutes, Onni stops thinking about all the people around them or his own discomfort in moving his body this way or anything else - he's focused on Reynir and the hint of madness in his eyes as they reflect the moonlight and the frenetic way he moves.

Some of it comes through the Bond, a little of that restless energy, sizzling like static electricity against his nerves, and Onni twirls him a few more times, giving him an outlet, somewhere safe to throw all of that. When the song ends, Reynir swoops in, closer than Onni had anticipated, and grabs at his face, kissing him hard and deep and impulsive. At first, Onni freezes, but then he kisses back, one hand coming up to Reynir's waist to make sure he doesn't fall over in all his mania, before Reynir pulls back to beam at him like his face is lit from the inside.]

Mmm, if you say so. I think I looked ridiculous. You were fine though.

[A shrug, and Onni glances around them, considering.]

I could use another drink. You?

[braidmage]

[ Reynir has even less of his inhibitions about than usual, and so when Onni says he thinks he looked ridiculous, he doesn't gently argue to him all the reasons that simply isn't true. Instead he just sticks out his tongue, and declares, loud and not caring who overhears: ]

You looked gorgeous 'n hot.

[ But as frenetic as Reynir's energy is, it's ultimately fickle and fairly directionless - so when Onni suggests another drink, he is happy to be directed and nods vigorously, following Onni as he heads for the nearest little table laden with a pitcher of mead. As they head for it, Reynir plucks a few flowers from a nearby vine and, as soon as Onni is standing still, pouring glasses for them, he begins to weave them into a little braid in Onni's hair. It's just a small one, tucked right behind his unscarred ear. The flowers themselves are small and light blue, almost the exact same color as Onni's eyes. ]

I've got a surprise for you.

[ Reynir hadn't been planning on telling Onni about this, yet. But he hadn't had any other plans on when to reveal it, and the full moon is making him bold enough that he figures, what the hell.

On the table with the mead, someone had left some pan pipes. There are musical instruments scattered here and there around the party, people picking them up and playing, together and alone, all around. Isn't it a sign, in a way, that this is right moment - that those pipes just happened to be here, at this exact time?

Reynir picks them up and, waiting until Onni's attention is on them, starts to play. It's clear he's still fairly new to this - there are a few hesitations, a few moments when his breath control falters. But there's no mistaking that the song he is playing is one that he's heard Onni play on the kantele before - a Finnish song, one that had made Onni's face go soft in a way that stuck in Reynir's heart. ]

[scowlish]

[The way that Reynir counters his self-criticism isn't the usual way. Instead of gentle coaxing, Reynir just shakes his head and loudly tells him he looked gorgeous and hot. Onni's mouth opens to protest and then he just huffs out a breath and closes it, shaking his head. There's no point in arguing with Reynir when he's like this, he's said it already when it came to the dancing and there's no use in forgetting it now. So he simply shakes his head and goes along as Reynir drags him over to a table with a pitcher of mead and some glasses.

Onni starts pouring it, and raises his brows when Reynir picks a few light blue flowers and starts braiding a bit of hair by Onni's ear. Reynir has had him use the conditioners and shampoos he uses for his own hair enough that the braid stays in place after Reynir's finished with it, and Onni leaves it be as well. Almost everyone here is wearing flowers or has braids or something like that, so he doesn't feel too out of place with it there, even if it isn't his style per se. Onni takes his own cup and sips at it, holding the other out for Reynir to take.

But instead of taking it, Reynir tells him he's got a surprise for him and then picks up a set of pan pipes that's been left beside the pitcher. Tilting his head a little, Onni watches, curious, as Reynir picks them up and starts to play.]

I didn't know you played.

[It's quiet, and he falls quiet as Reynir continues to play for long enough that Onni starts to recognize the tune. It's something that his mother had sung for himself and Tuuri when they were younger, something that he's played on kantele before, while Reynir was around to listen. Onni's face goes soft, his eyes warm while he watches Reynir play, his fingers dancing over the pipes and his mouth pressed against the mouthpiece. The playing isn't perfect, it's obvious that he's still in the process of learning, but the tune is recognizable and Reynir is playing with confidence and emotion. For a moment, Onni feels his throat seize up, the tightness that comes with the onset of tears, but he doesn't cry, just listens and the overwhelming emotion of it - some bittersweet combination of nostalgia and happiness and grief, though the grief is tempered by the comfort of the song, the memory of when he'd heard it.

Swallowing hard, he keeps watching until Reynir is done, and then he looks at the younger man, his gaze intense.]

That song. You learned it because of me?

[braidmage]

[ For a moment, when he finishes the song and lowers the pipes, Reynir is mute. His heart is hammering and his throat is tight. Some of it might be Onni's emotions, reflecting in him - grief, longing, happiness. But some of it is his own feeling. He isn't sure the gesture will be appreciated. He hadn't asked Onni if it was alright to learn that song. It might not be something Onni wants. Worse, it might not be something that is good for Onni, that will help to stitch up all those deep wounds inside him that Reynir wants so desperately to help heal.

He can't read Onni's expression, can't make out what he's feeling, apart from the mingled intensity of it. Reynir nods, explaining in an honest rush: ]

I only started to learn after I came here. I got lessons with Eliot and then kept on practicing on my own - Jaskier helped some, too. I learned because I... I wanted to be able to play duets with you. If- if you wanted. But I kept it secret at first because I sucked at first and I didn't want to let you down in case I never got any better.

[ He lowers the pipes, setting them on the table and taking the cup Onni had poured for him, drinking a few large gulps of it, trying to settle the uneasy restless hopeful anxious energy that is whirling in his chest. ]

I hope - that's okay.

[scowlish]

[Onni can feel, through the Bond, some of Reynir's anxiety, his anticipation, his worry. He can feel that hesitation, the worry about what Onni might think of this thing he's done, the music he's played for him. Swallowing hard, he watches as Reynir blurts out an explanation for it all. That he'd started to learn by lessons with Elliot and then Jaskier helping him, that he'd learned and practiced so he could do duets with Onni. That he'd kept it secret because he'd been bad at it at first and worried he would never get better. That he hadn't wanted to let Onni down.]

You wouldn't have let me down, even if you hadn't improved. And I'd like to play with you.

[For a moment, Onni watches, his throat still tight and his center twisted up in a way he isn't used to. He feels intensely emotional, overwhelmed with it, but there's not just bad feelings. Usually when he feels this overwhelmed with emotion like this, it's all bad, he struggles to hold it back, he struggles to keep it twisted up inside himself so no one can see how bad he's feeling. But this isn't like that. There's good feelings here, too. The nostalgia, happiness, gratitude.

Shaking his head, Onni swallows again and takes a few seconds to compose himself, taking careful breaths before he speaks.]

It's okay. I like it. I...I'm glad you learned it. It was good to hear.

[It's hard to express how he feels, hard to express all the huge things inside him, and he can only hope some of it is clearer because of the Bond.]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir moves without consciously making the decision to. He can see that Onni is overwhelmed, that words are escaping him for the moment. So he uses those long legs of his and steps in close, bending down enough that he can press his forehead to Onni's, eyes slipping closed. It's a strange gesture, maybe, but Reynir isn't worried about being strange right now. It feels right.

And he can feel it now. That gratitude. The grief and the joy and the other unnameable things in between. Reynir recognizes that feeling. He thinks it is a little like what he'd felt, when Onni recognized him as a mage, spoke to him with respect in a way no one really had before. Talked about his potential. Looked at him like he was someone worth knowing.

After a moment or two of silent pressure, forehead to forehead, Reynir steps back, downing the rest of the cup of mead (maybe it's arrogant to drink it all so fast, but his tolerance has gotten better, since he became a faun). And he lifts up the pipes once more, saying in a brighter, more confident voice: ]

This one's an old Icelandic song. It's one of my favorites.

[ And he starts to play once more, the melody lilting and repetitive but infectious, in the way that some folk songs could be. The sort of tune that would get stuck in your head, rising up in little snippets when you least expected it. Reynir's eyes grow bright with that feverish zeal once more, and he's swaying as he plays, half dancing, dizzy with happiness. ]

[scowlish]

[When Reynir leans in and presses their foreheads together, Onni presses back, his eyes sinking shut, and accepts the comfort of it. There's something about the gesture that's grounding, gives him something to anchor himself to in the tumultuous cacophony of his own emotions. Swallowing hard again, he lets the gratitude for that gesture flow through the Bond, because this is something he hasn't felt in a very long time, this comfort and security. Head swimming, he pulls back when Reynir does, and takes a long pull from his glass as Reynir tosses his own back.

While Reynir pulls the pipes to his face again, Onni keeps drinking, listening to the Icelandic song Reynir is sharing, something from his own childhood and the place he'd grown up. The song is bright and cheerful and lilting, he can tell that he'll wake up with it in his head for the next few days. Everything about it reminds him of Reynir, and he watches as Reynir's eyes go fever-bright again with that manic full-moon energy, his body moving to the beat, nearly dancing as he plays.

Onni watches him, his heart still full of that happiness and gratitude, and the grief slowly falls away as he watches, rapt. When Reynir finishes, he smiles a slow, small, crooked smile at Reynir.]

I like it.

[braidmage]

[ Reynir sets the pipes down; there are a few other songs he's started to learn, but he doesn't remember any of them all the way through well enough to want to attempt them right now. And he's too busy basking in the glow of Onni's praise. It's such a singular and wonderful feeling, being the one who has caused Onni to smile. Maybe it is only a little smile, and maybe his praise would sound faint to anyone who didn't know him. But to Reynir, it is delicious, and everything he needs.

He fills up his glass of mead, tops Onni's off, and then links arms with him, guiding him in the direction of the maze. There is an entrance just near here, and all Reynir wants right now is Onni to himself. The rest of the party can go on around them, all the whirling and laughter and colors and music. He just wants to be near Onni, now, tucked away in their own little bubble of happiness. ]

Let's see if we can find the center. Maybe there's a prize or something.

[scowlish]

[Reynir puts aside the pipes once he's done the song, and Onni can feel the pride and happiness through the Bond in reaction to his smile and his praise and it's strange to feel that. To realize he's had that effect on Reynir. Downing the rest of his mead, he holds the cup out as Reynir tops it up and refills his own cup, then taps the edge of the cup against Reynir's.]

Hölökynkölökyn.

[It's 'cheers' but a little more casual, with a hint of humour. It might not be something that Reynir catches, entirely, but it's something that he notices in himself, that his mood has changed. Usually when he's drunk he's less inhibited, but in this moment the moment of sadness and loss has almost completely passed, and he's happy and a little at his ease. Letting Reynir link his arm with his own, Onni follows as they head into the maze.]

Alright. I thought this thing was a little silly, but if there's a prize, we could get it together.

[A pause, and he leans against Reynir a little more, comfortable and tipsy and a little dizzy.]

This party is better than I expected. Thanks for inviting me.

[braidmage]

The real prize is spending time with you!

[ The words themselves might sound like an exaggeration, but Reynir's voice is wholly sincere. It's the sort of effusive, silly, fawning comment that he might have filtered out on a different night, but not now. He moves closer still to Onni, twining their arms close and linking their fingers. It's easy enough to nestle his head against Onni's shoulder as the walk, though Reynir knows he won't be able to keep it up for too long without making his neck sore. There are occasional disadvantages, to being so much taller. ]

Thank you for saying yes!

[ Reynir thinks that perhaps he had been slightly overestimating his increased alcohol tolerance - or whatever year or batch or whatever of mead they'd just had is particularly strong. He is beginning to feel floaty and warm; that manic fervor has settled just enough to be a pleasant buzz through his limbs, rather than a feeling like he's about to vibrate out of his own skin. ]

Feels good. Being around other Fauns. Being out on the full moon.

[ With a sigh that is bordering close on sappy, he adds: ]

Being with you.

[scowlish]

[When Reynir says that the real prize is spending time with Onni and thanks him for saying yes, Onni snorts and rolls his eyes. It's a little ridiculous and over the top, Reynir saying that, but he can also hear the complete sincerity in his voice, and feel that the emotions are real through the Bond. Taking another sip of the mead he still has in his mug, he just keeps moving along with Reynir instead of saying anything, letting the younger man twine their fingers together and letting Reynir rest his head on his shoulder. It's awkward, moving like that, but he just leaves it be. He'd come to this thing because Reynir wanted him to, and so he's not going to complain too much about actually being here.]

Mm. Well, you're the one who asked me. There'd be no point in refusing to actually do anything here once I came.

[Another long drink from his cup of mead, and Onni makes a soft sigh as Reynir continues, saying it's nice to be around other fauns, and out in the full moon. And then, again, that it's nice to be with Onni. He makes a soft grunt of acknowledgement and nods.]

It's nicer than I thought it'd be. Do you do mazes and things like this in Iceland? We never would in Finland, because it would be a waste of resources, but that wouldn't be such a problem in Iceland.

[braidmage]

[ Reynir thinks about that - a waste of resources. People weren't rich or wasteful in his village, certainly. But how different had it really been in Finland? How could he ever really compare?

And in a way, it recontextualizes Onni and his aversion to having fun, since he sees it as wasteful. Reynir doubts that all Finns are like that - he knows they aren't, because Tuuri - but maybe there is a cultural element to it. ]

We... probably had a lot of frivolous stuff to pass the time that you didn't in Finland, but, no. This is the first maze I've been in.

[ The moon is shining down, and the sounds from the rest of the party grow more hushed as they make their way through the maze. Reynir is just following his instincts, directing them at places where the path splits. Onni doesn't seem to mind much, following his lead.

It's so nice, feeling Onni warm and a little unsteady on his feet, walking right beside him, hand-in-hand. Reynir feels relaxed and happy, and so he just rambles away: ]

One of the old picture books that I had growing up had a story about a hero that had to go into a huge maze to fight a big horrible beast that was at the center. It was always one of my favorites - the art was so pretty, the maze walls and all the plants and everything were so detailed, but the humans were all really simple, like they were just shadows or something. I think it was... I'm trying to remember why the monster was in the maze. That part I forget. But I know the reason the hero wanted to defeat is was the evil king kept it alive by feeding it kids. He would demand seven boys and seven girls every year and just send them in to keep the beast happy.

[ He pauses, and adds with consideration: ]

In hindsight I think I might've had a little crush on the hero of the story.

[scowlish]

Mm, I thought you might. But even in Iceland, a maze does seem a little silly. It makes sense here though.

[Onni falls quiet as Reynir starts telling his story, leading him around the maze, and Onni follows along congenially enough, letting Reynir pick which paths to go down. It's comfortable and companionable and he finishes the rest of his cup of mead as they go and Reynir talks, setting the empty cup absently down on a table they pass that makes up part of the maze wall.

The story Reynir tells, about his picture book as a child, with a monster in a maze and the sacrifice of children - the story itself is a little horrific, thinking about it with an adult's mind. But he can imagine the wonder of seeing those illustrations and reading that kind of adventure as a child. It's something Tuuri would have loved, the drama of an epic mission and being guided through a maze, exploring vicariously through the hero. Probably, even as a child, Onni wouldn't have cared for it much, would have been thrown off by children being eaten and all the dangers in the maze. He'd always been more the type to read non-fiction books about interesting topics, particularly when he knew the end of the story if there was one.

In his tipsy state, he realizes how boring that sounds, and wonders idly how someone like Reynir, who is so full of life and energy could remain interested in him.]

Oh? What was that hero like? I imagine some swashbuckling sort of rogue. That's usually what the heroes in that kind of adventure story are.

[Nothing like Onni, though he's not entirely sure why his drunken mind is comparing himself to the hero.]

watch as i deliberately butcher greek mythology for my own purposes

[braidmage]

[ Reynir, completely unaware of Onni's self-deprecating thoughts, considers his answer to the question, humming a bit and shrugging. ]

Mmm, I guess a little bit? But, like, way less swashbuckling than those sorts of heroes usually are. He didn't just show up and challenge the evil king. He knew that would just get him killed and all those kids would keep getting sacrificed and it wouldn't do any good at all. So he, like, disguised himself and volunteered as one of the sacrifices, so when he showed up to the island with the maze everyone thought he was just a regular guy.

[ His eyes are shining with enthusiasm as he keeps talking, voice picking up a little speed: ]

I mean the whole reason he survived is 'cause he was careful about it. He planned. There was a page where he was deciding what to bring with him, since he knew he only had room to hide one thing from the guards to the maze, and he picked a ball of thread instead of his sword. He figured that when he got to the beast at the center, he could come up with some way to trick or trap it and get the upper hand, but he wasn't gonna be able to outsmart a maze. So he tied the thread to the entrance of the maze and once he'd beaten the beast, he led all the other sacrifices out safely...

[ Reynir trails off, then, glancing over at Onni and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. ]

Ah, sorry, I'm - it's the full moon, and - I'm a little drunk, and I'm talking so much about a stupid kid's book.

a beautiful sight

[scowlish]

[It's a little surprising when Reynir says that the hero of his story is less swashbuckling than most action heroes. Tilting his head, he looks over at Reynir as he continues telling the story, explaining that the hero didn't just challenge the king and his reasons why, to spare more lives, to save the children who would be sacrificed if the hero was killed. That he'd chosen instead to volunteer for the maze and pretend to be a regular person, that he'd been careful about it and planned in advance. Had chosen to smuggle in a ball of thread instead of a weapon, that he'd chosen to use his wits to trick the creature instead of fighting, that he'd needed to know how to get out of the maze afterward.

All of it sounds...surprisingly intelligent, well-planned and thought out to avoid the worst of the danger and limit the amount of fighting. It's not even remotely what he'd expected from a story like that. It's not what he'd have expected from a hero that Reynir would have a crush on - cerebral and cautious rather than adventurous and courageous. Blinking a little, he makes a soft hum and nods.]

Don't apologize. I like listening, and now I'm curious about how it went. Though I'm surprised that you had a crush on a hero like that.

[For a moment, he's quiet, wondering why he'd said something like that, or why he'd even been thinking it in the first place. It's probably the drinking, he decides. But he doesn't walk back the question, either.]

[braidmage]

[ Reynir is relieved when Onni doesn't agree with him and make some joke about how his ears are going to fall off. He looks over, sees no trace of sarcasm or untruth in Onni's face. And Onni isn't the sort to lie to spare someone's feelings, is he?

Reassured, Reynir sighs and smiles. ]

Really?

[ Reynir's smile widens. In spite of the... shift in his relationship with Onni, he doesn't really think Onni is asking that question out of any sort of personal investment. Or, if the thought flickers through his mind, he dismisses it right away as silly hope. Probably, Onni just is making conversation. ]

I don't know what ideas you had about my taste in guys, but it sounds like you're pretty wrong...

[ He sighs, shaking his head. Reynir is hardly hesitating before choosing directions in the maze, going purely on instinct and paying no attention at all. ]

The whole arrogant, reckless hero thing doesn't do it for me at all. There's just nothing sexy about somebody who doesn't take anything seriously, and never thinks stuff through, and gets everybody in trouble for it. I - I know it's probably silly, but most of the time it wasn't the heroes or main characters in books that I had crushes on. It was always, like, the quiet guys off to the side, who actually tried to help people. They still had these adventures and made a difference but they were, like... more serious about it I guess. Pretty much always my friends - 'cause, we all shared books, obviously - would think they were the most boring and I'd just be completely in love.

[scowlish]

[The interest is genuine, and Onni nods when Reynir asks him that question, then continues comfortably following and listening when he keeps talking about the story. Onni hadn't expected so much about what kind of guys Reynir is into but he finds that he doesn't mind having the information. His head is spinning pleasantly and for once his mind isn't spinning itself out in a torrent of overthinking and rumination, so he's comfortable admitting to himself that, for whatever reason, he's interested.

The surprising thing is the type of guys that Reynir says he's into. Not the arrogant reckless hero, because those types of people do more harm than good when they act without thinking, and get people hurt. Then he goes on to explain that he'd always had a thing for the guys in the margins of the stories, the quiet ones who helped people and made a difference without being bold and flippant, but made an effort to be serious and thoughtful about it. It's strange how the way Reynir says that his friends thought those characters were the most boring echoes the way he'd been thinking about himself just a few minutes before, but quantifies it that he'd be in love with those 'boring' characters.

Something in Onni's gut thumps a little in a not entirely unpleasant way, and he raises his brows with a soft hum of consideration.]

It makes sense, I guess. You're more outgoing and impulsive, so that kind of person would balance you out pretty well. It would make sense for people to be attracted to those who could provide what they're missing.

[After a moment, he shrugs.]

Though I guess I can't really speak on that like an expert, it isn't as if I've been in a relationship before, or even tried one.

[Glancing over at Reynir, the thought occurs to him that the Bond actually is the closest he's had to a relationship so far in his life, and that thought makes that thumping flutter happen again. He feels a flush of heat through his face and upper body, and looks away again, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Reynir will probably feel it through the Bond.]

So what happened to that hero in the end?

[braidmage]

[ Reynir's smile grows a little embarrassed, when Onni calls him outgoing and impulsive. But the words don't sound like insults coming from Onni's mouth, even if they might have if Reynir had been the one saying them. That thought hits harder than he'd expected, gives him pause. Onni may have his blind spots, but he can sometimes be a keen observer of other people's traits. And Onni knows him better than... just about anybody, now. So if those are accurate terms about himself, according to Onni, and Reynir's first response to them is to think of them as negative...

Well, he just has a bit of clarity, in that moment, that maybe he should practice a little more of what he preaches, when he tells Onni he ought to work on his self-esteem. ]

C'mon, Onni. You can speak on whatever. You're still - you still know people, you've known people in good relationships and bad ones and you've read books and you're - just - don't worry so much about 'experts' and who can talk about what. 'Cause you're right.

[ Reynir does feel something through the Bond - a twinge of emotion that he can't put a name to. When he looks at Onni, looking away from him and so flushed, he thinks perhaps it is embarrassment, or maybe drunkenness. Both? No, though - there is something sweeter in it, too.

Whatever the feeling is... he kind of likes it. ]

He sailed off, with the sacrifices that were still alive. I'm pretty sure he was supposed to have a ton of other adventures, there were all these ads for other books in the series in the back, but we only ever had that one. So I'm not really sure. I hope he got a happy ending.

[scowlish]

[The words certainly aren't meant as insults - in fact, if Onni is saying that people seek the things they're missing, then those are things that someone could be missing which means they're things they're in need of. He knows that much about himself, that he could stand to be more outgoing and impulsive, though both of those things are foreign and terrifying to him. At the same time, as he gets more and more familiar with Reynir, those same things are the things that draw Onni in, that make Reynir more interesting.

Glancing over at Reynir, he watches him as he says that Onni can speak on whatever because he knows people, that he's known people in good relationships and bad ones. That he's read books. That he shouldn't worry about whether he can talk about this topic because of his experiences. That he's right.

Some part of him, deep down, recognizes that there's a connection there. That Reynir provides things that he's missing, and he provides things that Reynir is missing. That the traits that Reynir had described from the hero in his book fit Onni's better traits.]

Mm. I suppose that's true. I guess it seemed different to me, to apply that to relationships, because they don't strike me as...following any sort of predictable pattern.

[A shrug. He's having a hard time expressing what he's thinking, mind muddled as it is with alcohol. It feels like a maze, as much as the one they're walking through right now.]

The Bond is the closest I've had to something like that, I think.

[But he leaves it at that, when Reynir explains the end of the story, and makes a soft hum in his throat.]

I'm sure if he handled things in that way, he probably had a happy ending.

[braidmage]

[ And just like that, Onni is agreeing with him. Granting that, sure, Reynir is right, and maybe he can speak on this even if he isn't an expert. It is such a little thing, but it still makes Reynir's heart stutter with happiness. Because there was a time, he thinks, when Onni would have dug in and argued. Would have insisted that other people know all about that stuff, marked himself as separate. And now, he isn't, and...

Reynir knows he shouldn't hope, because of that. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't. And yet the excited hope is there, a glowing bright point somewhere deep in his chest. No amount of telling himself he's just reading too much into it all can extinguish it.

He squeezes Onni's hand, when he says the Bond is the closest he'd had to - to what? A relationship? To someone who can balance him out, provide what he's missing? Reynir wants nothing more than to be that person. To soften Onni's edges, be softened by him in turn. To find all the cracks left in him by loss and loneliness and pour love into them until they're overflowing.

Reynir doesn't reply in words. His heart is too full for that, and if he spoke he would probably just say I love you or something silly like that, and he doesn't want to rush things. If there is a chance, any chance at all, that Onni might someday return his affections... he should wait. He shouldn't be reckless. Not when the stakes were so high — when the stakes were maybe hurting Onni by going too fast.

So instead he just bumps his head affectionately against Onni's shoulder, and turns his attention to the maze, eagerness filling him up as he says: ]

Come on. I think we must be getting close to the center, now...