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]

[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...