#🔥ᵀᵒ ᶠᵉᵃʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵉᵃᵗᵉˢᵗ ᵐᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵏⁿᵒʷ - Arvis

[fjalarspark]

[ Laugh ] "Azelle... shall we try to hold on to simpler times? If only for tonight?"

🔥⊰⊰⊰ ――

Standing before the photo-artifex yielded now only fear upon his face; lips pressed tightly together, eyes widened if only by a fraction, brows uplifted and tilted, heart heavy, and the smile from his uncharacteristically fun-loving self moments ago a distant memory. Everything, in truth, seemed to him a distant memory, but how could it not when he stood so close to the only person he'd known for the longest time? When he stood so close to his childhood hero, when it seemed that his brother was present and not the maniacal madman who scorched Azelle's friends. Azelle swallowed thickly, the odor of ash never having left his nose, not when Arvis' mere presence provoked in him dire thoughts.

"Arvis," He says at length, gaze fearfully steady on the photo-artifex, desiring only for its operator to snap the device so that he might flee the elder's side. "Evening." It was the best he could offer when such an unpredictable force stood near him, speaking as if Belhalla could not be forgotten, as if Azelle hadn't witnessed the souls of his friends burned to ash.

He swallowed again, inhaling a heavy breath and holding it for some time until he felt that his heart wouldn't erupt from behind his breastbone. He wanted to speak, he did. He wanted to ask what had happened. Why it had happened. Why everything around Azelle seemed to crumble and fall away as if he didn't matter...But he knew that wasn't entirely the truth. Arvis had reached out to him, had asked for his younger brother to return, had even, though Azelle loathed at the time, demanded the Lord Sigurd watch over the younger Velthomer as if he couldn't handle himself! But Azelle knew that wasn't why Arvis was so stern with it, not to berate him, or lessen his self-worth, but to keep alive and with him someone he held dear. In a way, Azelle felt honored, but he wasn't sure he was with the same Arvis that thought that way now.

He forced a smile to his face, awkward and tight-lipped, eyes unsteadily staring past the photo-artifex.

"Only for tonight."

[fjalarspark]

A book bound in simple ribbon is left before his door; a spider lily and card tucked beneath the wrapping. A name is not given; the sender is apparent. The tome is ages worn. Always kept close with pride, and often read to the younger Velthomer in their youth. It tells stories of the Crusader who's blood is shared between them. The blood of Fjalar now the only thing holding them together. The card reads: "You will always be my precious brother. Happy Birthday Azelle."

TW: Sad birthday feels, loneliness (all of which are not very graphic, I don't think. Just don't want to make anyone uncomfy on the dash!)

🔥⊰⊰⊰ ――

That morning, Azelle hadn't risen with much haste...or with much of anything. What was today? Another day. Did it matter that his birthday fell on the weekend and he could therefore indulge in it? No. It was just another day. Another day of studies. Another day of worries.

A sigh fell from his lips as he arose and dressed himself with great reluctance, selecting a handful of tomes and volumes to shove into his satchel to take with him...wherever he was going. The gazebo certainly seemed like an option, but he wasn't entirely sure how many people flocked around it on Saturdays. He didn't want much attention; he'd be quite alright with no attention at all. Sure, today was his day, but today hadn't been his day in years. Naga forbid he ever actually told anyone it was his birthday.

He'd almost stepped on it, too down in his sour thoughts to register much of his surroundings. If he hadn't been looking down with heavy thoughts, he may never have seen it― the crimson hue of the spider lily and the volume whose cover was faded and pages were yellowed with time. At first, it didn't register. A moment. And then another. And then another, and then Azelle couldn't seem to breathe.

He knelt to gingerly take into hand the story from his youth, lowering himself to sit in his doorway, tumulted by a wave of emotions he couldn't quite place. He thumbed over the cover of the tale, gently running a finger over the flower that accompanied it― all of which were key signs of who had gifted him this nostalgic memorabilia. And then the card...

The tears that glistened in his eyes stung, but nothing was more surreal than the very thought of receiving something on his birthday. Of course Arvis wouldn't have forgotten. Of course he'd send something...but Azelle wasn't mad. How could he be? So early into his day, and he'd thought no one would blink an eye. But Arvis? Arvis always seemed to remember his little pipsqueak of a brother.

Azelle sat there in his doorway, tears in his eyes, staring down at the tale of their distant ancestor, and he knew they were kin. Crusaders above, they were closer than simply by their blood, but the younger Velthomer couldn't accept that, could he? He had to go on about Belhalla, had to dwell on things...But here he sat...with a gift from the one person he'd spoken so wrongly of. That wouldn't do.

He stood with haste, uncertain of where he was going, but he was going somewhere. Somewhere Arvis might be.

[fjalarspark]

[ hand ]

🔥⊰⊰⊰ ――

Ever consumed by his eternal trove of volumes, Azelle hadn't quite acknowledged that his professor had arrived, as he kept his gaze cast down, seated himself in the far flank of the room for the very purpose of avoiding his professor; Azelle knew he'd spiral down into something akin to disbelief, and he couldn't bear the thought of collapsing in a room full of his esteemed peers. So, he took the necessary precautions, isolated himself in the back of the room, and buried his nose in his books, never making a peep. It was for the best...for him, at least. Lady Deirdre had constantly urged him to seek out his brother, but he just couldn't.

Azelle startled when a hand fell atop his shoulder, and his breath hitched for a moment, though he never dared to look up. His recent thoughts told him that it was Arvis, as that's who'd crossed his mind only a moment ago, but rationality told him it might just be the greeting of a friend, or maybe even of a peer that he wasn't formally acquainted with yet. The latter two options certainly put him at ease, but what if his rationality was wrong? What if it failed?

'Be confident,' His thoughts told him, but he shoved them aside, exhaling a grievously heavy, bated breath.

He turned his gaze up, and his heart fell. Azelle hoped that the way his hands shook and his feet began to tap were invisible to the man, but he knew he couldn't fool the only person who ever dared to see him as anything more than invisible. Azelle could feel the deceiving warmth of fear claw up in him, besieging his heart and holding it captive. This was too early, far too early to see him again, and Azelle's hold around his tomes tightened, but he couldn't look away from Arvis for the fear that he might do something unaccounted for like he had to the people of Grannvale.

"Arvis."