bloomed-eternalist

[bloomed-eternalist]

Hi! So here's my question: How would you feel/react if you knew someone.. (pardon my scuffle with english for a sec) – has your name? And, are you still Ludovic Valesa? Why go under different name?

And thoughts on the possibilty of other versions of you? Bonus: Have you met the other 'Harbringers'? Thanks! (Also will you show up 'in person'? Like with spites?)

– curious anon

"It is a beautiful and common name to have. As such there is no reason to fret."

"...As for whether or not I am still the fallen heir of Valesa blood, I fear that.. I can no longer classify myself as the past identity. I and the night-nymph were woven into a singular soul and entity, you see.

In a sense, I suppose I am Viscount Ludovic still... Yet also the Eclipse descendant, Ioan Hestios, of equal measure. There is, no line to separate 'us' in this weathered fresco; A fate that I suspect many of Project "Harbringer" face – for any incoming fusions, and have endured before for any old experiments.

It's for this reason I chose to adopt a new name. To separate from my past– Even if my memories are interwoven from those of both 'pigments'."

"On a lighter note: I am currently working on the mentioned 'sprites' in question. The ones you see here are mere placeholders whilst I chisel away and paint proper portraits.

Of course, I could borrow the poses of my counterpart.. However I'm concerned it would create confusion, and make distinguishing us appearance-wise more difficult than it already proves to be. It's for this reason I refrain from doing so."

[bloomed-eternalist]

In the balance...

So it's better visible, first part of 'Weathered blooming ablaze'.

"Hold onto the tether, my liege... A little longer.."

[bloomed-eternalist]

- Bloomed Eternalist illustration

"The petals no longer fall, as the bough blooms anew. Life.. and Death- Opposites blended into masterpiece of beauty. To behold one and disregard the other, is folly."

[bloomed-eternalist]

- Ablaze form illustration -

"Mercy..? Where was it, when my friend was dying? When I begged for aid, Merlin? Ah, yes. Nowhere."

[bloomed-eternalist]

Weathered blooming ablaze

[bloomed-eternalist]

Ask intro – The Fair Gentleman

A delicate clay tea cup sits on its simply ornated saucer, the tall blook-lined shelves lining each wall a humble background. The wooden pallette and paint brushes await patiently on the small table next to the tea cup. Thin, graceful lips upturn, a quietly warm glimmer in the artist's pale gaze. Nothing is amiss, the set-up toeing the fine line between cozily casual and pristinely orderly. It should do quite nicely. ....Except I've nearly forgot to darken my brows. Can't have them blending with my skin tone, can I? One quick minute of corrections later, and the young man nods to himself as he steps back into the quaint room.

This will be fun.

Settling into the improvised chair he'd been carefully working on for two months– The man lightly steeples his gloved fingers. And with a friendly subtle smile of warm welcome, hospitality, he speaks to his 'guest' or 'recording'. A voice faint yet still much audible without need to strain somehow, despite its softness. Breathless, chilly rasp like Death's whisper, and he lowers its pitch a tiny smidge– More silky, not quite dipping into baritone as it skirts the range of counter-tenor.

"Hello, my name is Florent– Also known under my moniker 'The Fair Gentleman'. However, you are welcome to refer to me by name." Nerves flickering from sudden bout of self-consciousness, the urge to pick up the cup with chamomile-mint milk tea flashes... But the mage restrains himself, keeping his posture and overall appearance relaxed. Casual.

"You may send me your inquiries...Or if you merely wish to chat, that is welcomed too. I apologize in advance for my slow pace of replying, as I tend to often get side-tracked or get lost in my painting. Rest assured! I will be sure to answer!" ....And I am rambling.. again. "This is all I have to say, thank you for your attention. May your day or evening be lovely."

[bloomed-eternalist]

Final design of the Bloomed (Blazing) Eternalist!

I drew his eyebrows as dark on the fullbody to not get lost on the not rendered pale skin. Pardon the back view being scuffed, I was rushing to get it done.

"The Eternalist, no longer ailed by his disease nor immortality in its cursed form as Graveborn– Bloomed from weathered. From that day henceforth, the young man took on the name "Florent". His old discarded and purged in the flames of rebirth, as his past lives."

"Rejoice in triumph! For I at long last, hold the bridle of my fate in my hands!" –Florent upon going through his symbolic death, ushered into his new life. A new, different Eternity. Excerpt from character story of Le hônnete éléve.

And he turned the cruel fate of misfortune, that he and his friend suffered— Into fortunate start. A free wanderer leaping into adventures and discoveries, alive.

Catching ablaze, the Fair Gentleman changes his swords to double-headed battle axe as fiery veins go up his arms to his shoulders almost and eyes turn bloody. The emeralds change to rubbies as his outfit takes on a more firebird motif. And his upper jaw premaulers (teeth next to the canines) turn to sharp, hollow fangs while those on the lower row sharpen to canines.

Cheat for artists/fanartists: The patterns on the back of his tailcoat is the same as the one from his regular looks! Simply made into a kind of triquetra! Also the pattern on his shirt is the same as on the inside of his regular state tailcoat!

Simply colored orange and gold-yellow!

[bloomed-eternalist]

Voice for the Fair Gentleman/Fair Son

<| Themes playlist here! |>

Skip to 0:26 - 0:49 to hear this Cryptid's voice! This is the Fair Son's (also referred to as Florent, the name he chose for himself after his ....'rebirth', past as Earl Ludovic and Graveborn burnt away, purged and cast aside.) voice sounds like in his Composed phase. If you were to fight him as a boss, this is what his voice sounds like in Phase 1.

Or can be also from "Chrysalis Suspirii" -- At 2:12. (Plus at the start of the vid!) Where he's annoyed, his voice having a slight drop an octave. And Pirin's voice is the feminine to help add his own shine. Florent/Ludovic alters between making his voice bit lighter and lower/deeper.

And then there's when both get actually pissed off.

The Fair Gentleman's voice drops to this kind of rasp as in the video. You hear him speak in that voice & tone, you should know it's gg's for you + your team. No more warning playfulness like in the two songs above, altering his voice from light to slightly deeper and back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Ablaze, the Fair Gentleman's outfit takes on fiery color scheme with tiny coal fire elements to it. His low ponytail is lifted up - Messy and high a lot like Pirin's, as his arms are no longer with gloves. And have turned red similar to La Signora, with veins going up. His eyes can either stay pearly, somewhat pearly-white and speckled but with the vertical pupils aglow red...Or turn blood-red hue, to near black.

Going very heavily into the phoenix and fire motifs.

[bloomed-eternalist]

Le hônnete élève — Design concept in testing

I want to make him look 25/26 y/o and still wee bit youthful for his age, plus not lose Ludovic and Pirin's traits appearance-wise. (And personality!)

When "Aloof" Florent (The Fair Gentleman) has a sword/dual swords for weapons and when "Ablaze" then he has a battle axe.

"(Rin looks youthful so Florent looking wee bit young for 25/26 checks out.) I just really didn't like the ribbons on his shoes and that darn bow on his neck. >:/ So those went bye-bye! Kinda helps give a more older look, the bow swapped with neck frill and the bow keeping his low ponytail stayed. (I tested how he'd look with his hair up in that messy high ponytail his bestie got going on but hmh. Nope not really. Tho Florent could lift it up like that when he's in his "Ablaze form" that sorta possibly moves away from noble looks, and bit more..."rugged" in a way." )"- Finch

"It all worked in his design to remove the ribbons on his shoes and essentially his bowtie- especially if ya tryna make him look more mature. But also, love Florent with his ponytail low but to see it go up high when he's "ablaze" and I'm thinking it crackles and fires up like flames too" -Meepin

[bloomed-eternalist]

In-depth dive into...The Fair Gentleman

Starting off the bat-- How these two fused, and what aspects of Pirin's kit are going to be locked on.

"Okay- 5th Cryptid fusion go! Pirin/Ludovic fusion. How it happened? Somehow 'Rin got to a near-dead or dying point and Lud tried to heal him but can see it's not enough.

Maybe play with Loss and Truth as most major factors in this fusion. And also Grief.....but also Rebirth.

Main theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2BfTbtBy3Y

Secondary -Battle/Intro theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Usa00-tdODY"

-Yyup. That's right. I had 2 extra theme songs that I could not let go of but no one to assign them to, and Bang! The Fair Gentleman was created! I simply couldn't content myself with passing them to some of the other cryptids. Oh no, no, no.

"Ludovic already is largely about Loss and Grief to begin with. And so this lends really nicely to him being honed on. So. The young Earl has already lost his family and friends because he died and turned Graveborn...perhaps too late. First two Losses. (Family/loved ones & friends being second major blow.)

Besides his own life -Third loss. All in the damn clutches of his wretched illness. Chronic and incurable--"

And here I delve into Ludo's darn mysterious illness.

"I don't think it's mentioned WHAT it is exactly.

Only this: "Having no cure for Ludovic's hereditary illness, the imperial physician predicted that he would not live past 15 years old."

And "hereditary illness, which unfortunately took his life around the age of 15 years." In his Early life summary." -Finch (Don't you love it when devs are being vague? ON TOP of not giving much lore? No I'm not letting it go. >:( |

"And since Tuberculosis is hereditary + highly lethal even nowadays despite being curable-- It was devastating back in the days there was no cure. And a quick search yields me that cure was found for it + other major illnesses by the end of 19th century.

"Ngl. I always thought that Esperia was set around between 16th-19th century."- V

"Esperia seems centered around the Middle ages. So I'll say there was no cure invented YET. Not no cure altogether. And that Lud lived somewhere in, what? 10th Century? (Esperia feels very 12th-18th -at most Century Europe for the Lighbearers namely.)" -Finch

"Me and my bff lean more into the 1800s, because Mikola mentioned ' They'll want to take selfies with me after this. ' in the Song of Strife story

Which hints that Esperia is around the 19th century. Or the very VERY beginning of it" -V/@fgfirenationFirenation

Fair enough. But my point still stands, as according to google, most breakthroughs for major diseases happened around near the end of 19th Century. So.. Yep. R.I.P Ludovic.

"Given Ludovic is heavily vampire aesthetic/coded(?), then I'll go that Tuberculosis ailed and killed him. Adds more layer to him being in the arts. His defeated line: "True...death...How wonderful..." and "Take me to the very end of eternity" feel very....

"Please end my misery/suffering already." to me." -Finch

Next up-- The cryptid's name! And how I came to it!

"Okay I finally got a name for the fusion. "The Fair Gentleman (Son)" in French. And heavy inspiration from La Signora. But not 100% one to one, not nearly as much as Arle anyways." -Finch, merged two paragraphs there.

At first I honestly had no clue what to go with, thought about the Regrator since he's filthy rich and shrewd. And my first line of thought was that both Ludovic and Pirin can be shrewd, manipulative and scheme when they want to or need to.

A good example is how Pirin uses his status as 'Merlin' to get the job done a lot more easily and quickly as opposed to having to... well, deal with a thousand hoops and extra obstacles to get to that task(s). To him, this is a title and a tool for reaching his end goals-- That being, following through and fulfilling his end of the contract Merlin made with him." -Finch

And why create ten times more migraines and hassles, like some masochist- When you can just skip over all of that nicely, and get straight into the main event? Is it ethical? Hm, debatable. Is it fair? Maybe not. But it's a "the ends justify the means" situation. As for Ludovic, he's a cinnamon roll until second notice. (Unless the Developers/Writers decide to pull up and slap me in the face with an Uno reverse card upon Merlin finally meeting this boy in-game properly. Similar to how Viperian has been playable loong before Waves of Intrigue season was dropped, but Merlin only got to actually meet the man during the season's questline. And if the writers decide to go "Whoops! Ludovic is an evil lil tyrant all along! You fools!" I'll be really, really mad. Because look, Sonja? Fine, I'll let it slide. Okay, fine, fine. Alright. But Ludovic?? No. Absolutely not.) So this kid is also possibly bit of a gray area character, that still keeps to relatively good deeds. At least his motives are for a good reason/cause and not unethical. (Looking at you Lilith. I'm side-eying you Writers.) Now in my spin on the Esperia universe/cannon, which is compliant with in-game for the most part, Pirin befriended him. And this stoic, quiet teen simply is chill most of the time....Until you start slandering his (only) best friend, and bonus black points if it's for no good reason.

"I can see Ludovic be seriously protective to his friend, because for one-- I mean have you seen this man? Almost a damn saint!, also his only friend who has no issues with him being undead. Or is afraid of him. Lud simply has already lost everything he had because of his stupid illness- Family, friends, life, everything.

So when he gets a new friend, the fear of loosing that friend and all that's good is heavy on poor boy. Which feeds strongly into his protectiveness, this urge/need/desire to KEEP that friend. Hold on to him, kind of also mirroring how his mind latched onto art as he became Graveborn, it's his only source of familiarity and comfort. And Lud is also fiercely loyal to his best friend, holding him in high regard as shown by the way he refers to Pirin." -Finch

My liege." Very rarely dares call him by name like how the others do. (Vanya, Vanyusha, Vanyo, Ive/Ivi, etc.) It's either "My liege", "My friend", "Ioan" or "Hestios" with him. Even though Pirin reminds him it's okay to call him by name/nickname. Only recently did Ludovic get comfortable calling him "Little Finch" sort of playfully/humorously. Ultimately, this fear and desperation of his, led to their downfall. ..and rise.

And like Signora, The Fair Gentleman or Le Honnête élève, is aloof and cold, stoic on the outside. Clinical even and ruthless at times (Pirin showing through, although Ludovic isn't resisting either so he too influences their fusion), and efficient... Until you bring out his ire. Then it's violent, very aggressive and a flurry of strikes pelting.

Like how she becomes the Crimson Witch in her second phase of the fight. And in the Fair Gentleman's "second boss phase", the elements switch from composed, demure, muted -From Ludovic's mostly unaltered outfit -- To heavy firebird motifs. The fusion "catching ablaze" as both of them unleash their full wrath.

(This moment is like major catharsis for Ludovic, having the freedom to really let out his fury openly instead of hiding it/restraining himself because manners. And aristocracy, proper conduct, etiquette and decorum simply prevents it.

Now? Now he can raise his voice as loud/sharp as he wants. Can summon lilies of fire and send them at his foes, thorns and needle-like spears or charge into the fray directly. It's cathartic, and amazing, and goddammit he's never felt so ALIVE. ..Oh hey a little bit of Pirin's bloodlust showing up.

No more niceties, no more pretenses or playing nice. No. Now, as Le Honnête élève, Ludovic fights back. Viciously so. Maybe even understands Salazer a little bit-- Why the man would laugh amidst battle. Because yes, it IS fun, to rip someone's limbs or pierce through and shred that enemy to nothing. Singe and throw them around like little pawns, let loose.

It's good being able to grow again-- Ludovic reached the same age as Pirin 25/26 years of age. Even though he suspected he'd stay 15. Nooe, the surprise of being 25/26 years of age was a vey delightful. ...And is stuck permanently at 25/26 y/o.

Both with sharp words and blades. Ah, yes- He can be also as snarky, wry, witty and sharp-tongued as he desires. Old Ludovic finally died away for good. That boy of noble blood, of aristocracy, is Dead and done with. Burnt away with the old world, the past, his name, the old status quo.

This new Ludovic, as the Fair Gentleman, is different. And he's here to stay whether people like it, or not. This is how things stand. ...And he has no regrets for becoming this fusion, not anymore.

In fact, if time was re-winded to that point, he'd do it all over again. Make the exact same grave mistake, gladly. As Lud would rather have this, than to watch his treasure wither and perish, forever lost. It's a detriment at the expense on both of them, yes. "The end justifies the means."

"And the song I picked really adds to the story. Gut-wrenching but more grim than the song I gave for the Marionet. Second most iconic

Looking back on 'Rin and the promise he made to 'Vic-- It suddenly is like a prophecy. And in a way both granted each other's wish: Vanya for Lud to be alive, healthy again, free of suffering... And 'Vic for him, to be loved/his friend til the very end and beyond. But also the promise he made to Vanya-- To bring him back from withering.

Both paid the cost, lost everything and gained something greater. (Or worse, depends on perspective)."- Finch

"What's the Fair Gentleman like a as a cryptid though? Like personality wise?"- Mika

" 'Rin and Lud sort of had/have this goofy inside joke/running gag that they're lost twin bros.

Or 'lost royal cousins', a nod to how historically royalty rarely allowed new blood from the outside. So you got lots of striking similarities."-Finch

"So in a sense they're so similar to their original selves, but not quiet. Like there are moments the people who love them can almost forget the horror of them being fused into one, because they always acted alot like the same person before. But there's still something a little off, because this cryptid doesn't have the little quirks that distinguished the two."- Mika

"Ludo was a kind, gentle and stoic, quiet kid. Very mature and wise, knowledgeble for his age. I think I touched on how he loved learning something new all the time, discoveries. He liked being very well informed on the world around him-- Trends, politics, cultures, the current state of things, etc.

And Pirin was the same, majority of his experience from a tough life of survival and adaptation. Besides his own insatiable apetite for knowledge.

So in short: Basically yes.

At most you'll notice Ludovic's still lingering particular enthusiasm to arts. Or Pirin's clinical ruthlessness and affinity for the unknown, animals, adventures and blazing rebellious spirit. Like you tell the Fair Gentleman "This is impossible!"/"You can't do (insert skill/activity/solution to problem)!"

And he'll go ahead and prove you wrong.

"Ти ще ми кажеш." (You tell me.) As in 'There's no such thing as impossible. I CAN do it.' Like how in english there's the "Hold my drink"/ "Watch me." sort of defiant comeback.

And there's no stopping him once this cryptid sets on doing/ pursuing something."- Finch

"The angst potential of people accidentally calling them the name of whoever's traits they're showing most. Like The Fair Gentleman is painting something and Sena goes, "That looks great 'Vic. Love that you're trying a new style." before realizing and quickly backtracking and apologizing. Or they're in the middle of a fight and Sena instinctively yells something like, "On your left,' Rin!" as a warning. All because they're so SO similar to how they were as individuals. It's almost uncanny in a way. With the other cryptid you can kinda tell the exact balance of Pirin + Other, but with The Fair Gentleman it's almost impossible to tell what traits come from Pirin and which from Ludovic. No way to figure out where one ends and the other begins because they blend so well."- Mika

"The kind of 'savage', unruly waywardness and stubborn persistence. The words "Impossible" "Can't" and "Too hard" don't exist. Only "Go! Do it!/Get it!"

...I suspect Lud had his own stubbornness but it was a lot more restrained, subtle. Not as a 'Mule' or devil, and this 'bruttish' as his friend.

Basically-- A french man meets a Balkan man (Namely Bulgarian, since that's what Rin sees himself as to a degree.) Subdued and restrained meets Fiery-blooded/firecracker. Two total opposites.

(La Signora hello again.)"-Finch

[bloomed-eternalist]

| Le Honnête élève - Project "Harbringer" |

His flowers aren't good enough. Even as he despises magic, seeing it as a stain on art, the son of noble blood still tries to work with it--For his friend's sake. But it still does not enough. (First sacrifice.)

"One day, you will not only be stable.. but as close to alive as possible.

No addictive effects or side-effects. Your ailment will be fully countered, like with your condition as a Graveborn, 'Vic." So you, yourself, may not have to suffer constantly. --The promise echoes still though his frazzled mind, doing little to soothe the steadily increasing static hum of panic and despair.

To believe this potion would truly, entirely, bring him back to life-- Set him free of Immortality's clutches, would be delusional and a grave disservice. But what the potion is aimed to do, is counter the effects, symptoms of his ailment. And it will help him not go become unstable so easily anymore. Won't fall apart and revert haphazardly lapse.

And that's more than enough.

Images flash before the young aristocrat's eyes, memories that once held much warmth now embers barely a healing balm. A fire poker jabbing sweetly akin to an arrow of the clock invisible he so desperately struggles to outrun.

And now? Now he has to watch his one biggest treasure left wither.

By the gods, he's trying, everything-- By his powers alone, of healing through his own magic, the lilies, called upon his leftover power through his status as an Earl to get the best medic-- The best physician in the whole region, the Empire.

From village to village, from town to town, to the very heart of the lands of the faction that was once his own. Hurrying as though running for his own life, relentlessly hounded by the merciless mistress. The clock ticking with each second. ....Yet none could do much, if at all.

Every physician, every doctor and medic, shrugged their shoulders. Some were on the verge of outright refusing, however wisely reconsidered.

Tried to call upon Merlin, and when that damn fool refused with peaceful reason-- Then by brute force. Because no way, in all nine damned hells, am I going to let my friend die JUST BECAUSE YOU, decided to be a petty bastard. Nothing. That magic was not enough.

It's akin to refill a large, very tall pitcher, filling it only half mid-way. Restore merely a fraction of the contents. And there's not enough time.

The young Earl is literally racing against time, growing more and more frantic, desperate. Carrying the firebird-wyvern limply resting in his arms, once having blazed so bright, alive with swirling colors. ...now a discolored, ashen shell neither dead- neither alive. A peafowl that has lost all his glory and majestic splendor that lighted a path in the surrounding dark.

Berial tried to help as well, filtrating and adjusting the frequency of his own magic in order to reach a "neutral" level. So to avoid accidentally corrupting the bat.

Bu there's only so much the Jester can give, before dying himself.

The Celestials firmly refused to so much as spare Pirin a glance. And there is no chance of attempting to brute force them into aiding, as with the other Hypogeans. He'll only get killed, and if he dies now? Then no one will be left to help Pirin.

No. I can't afford true death now. Can't let it happen. Not when my friend is suffering, on death's door--

Not when I can reel him out of its vile clutches.

Ioan Hestios, does not deserve to suffer, nor this gruesome fate of withering away in agony. Of ceasing to exist.

And if me suffering in eternity a little longer means He lives, he does not suffer-- Then be it. So be it.

I won't let you wither as I did.

I won't.

Not without a fight. Not now, not ever.

His art, sculptures and treasure trove-- Memories, experience, emotions, knowledge and wisdom. And magic. Learn magic, along with bolster his own, that of Gravecalling. The next best choice for course of action. The other options exhausted and list dwindled... As time resumes cackling with its galloping strides so remorseless. So Ludovic does, snatches and throws away his own disdain, hatred for magic. His own pride. Burns away his own beliefs of magic-- And wholly dives deep into magic. Devotes himself entirely in its name, cause.

Any book, tome, grimoire he could find, get his hands on regardless of school of magic-- Earl Ludovic wastes not a second to gleam the knowledge and wisdom there. From dusk to dawn, all that his eyes saw, mind drank greedily and ravenously in its voracious desire--

Were scriptures, spells and diagrams, charts. Runes, letters and alphabets, arrangements and constellations, stars and planets; The Major Arcana, the Arcanis Minor, transmutation and transfiguration, shape-shift, purification, crystals and jewels, geodes, the Elements, Thaumaturgy...

The Graveborn teen struggles to rapidly become a sponge, rich treasure trove of magic. Accumulating as much of it as possible while fighting to keep himself together from tearing at the seams and kicks his own episodes of destabilizing away vehemently.

By now Ludovic could teach at the Lyceum and Evergreen Conservatory, better than most of the Magistrates together. On Magister Merlin's level and surpassed far beyond.... But paying so very dearly the price.

Hang unto the tether, my liege. A little longer.

The masterpieces and sculptures, placed into the circle's heart of symbols, gaze back at their disheveled creator solemnly. Somberly. Every piece of treasure, of gifts once received long in the past, every trinket, all has been hunted down without relent. Brought back here, pooled into the circle of transmutation, and within the smaller circle- The young noble stands with eyes closed as he recites the incantation with perfection.

The runes flash aglow.

Extracting all the knowledge, emotions, wisdom, experience from all his masterpieces and treasures-- Adding them all to the overwhelming accumulation within himself. And relinquishes it all to the Night nymph on the other end of the spell circle.

Every last ounce, morsel and shred. While hanging onto a thread himself. But somehow those flames don't seem to ever return to their bright, vibrant powerful shimmer of majesty.

At this point, Ludovic's conviction, determination and desperation have overthrown his obsession with complete death. Like how his pursuit was in art. His lapsing, crumbling mind is fixated on this one single goal. The one thing to keep him relatively together.

A little longer... Soon.. Soon you will return from the brink....I promise you. You will live my liege, my dear friend, I promise you. Simply wait, hold on-- Only a little more longer.

....And still, no matter what he does.. The result is frustratingly, devastatingly, the same.

...

It was when they first met, became friends-- And Pirin got a smidge close, throwing his arms around him, giving a big bear hug without thinking--- Only to sharply withdraw and start coughing, wheezing and sneezing his lungs out, to the point of getting teary eyed.

And poor Ludovic's heart was stabbed by a pang of sharp panic, startled, scared he accidentally killed him or will kill him. As if the bat somehow got his sickness too now. Immediately, the undead aristocrat abandons all his painting, brush clattering to the carpeted floor-- scrambling to get a medic or do something--

A hand clasps onto his shoulder, stopping him, as a miserable looking night nymph smiles reassuringly at him. The boy looks down at the short man in fright, barely restraining his voice to remain leveled. Stern, worried, gripping the wrist of the hand rested atop his shoulder and preparing to bolt out the door with Pirin along as he lightly scolds.

"My liege! I need to fetch the medic-" "It's... Okay Ludovic. I'm- Ah! A- nnot d-dying. Or- Ach-" Turns away quickly as he sneezes "- Ill. Just my nose being a- Ah! Ah! Acho! ...Bother." A sniffle, Ludovic blinks at him, utterly puzzled and still very much anxious, offering the man a handkerchief.

"Pirin, your condition should not be disregarded."

"I'm fine, 'Vic, really! It's just, my nose is sharper than a hunting hound's, and when I catch a particularly strong or sharp scent... I cough and sneeze up a storm. Your lilies, are a little strong. Nothing to fret over."

...

The symptoms are, have gotten so very agonizing, and it's like his mind is falling apart-- warping and reverting haphazardly back to his death, to his previous life and the fear, confusion, sorrow he felt.

Despair and desperation, helplessness at the illness that has him ensnared in its cruel, thorned clutches no matter how much he thrashes.

"'Vic."

A gentle, soft and breathless low tenor rasp- Familiar.

The cold hand on his shoulder an anchor, pulling his attention away from the torment.

A lullaby, hummed steadily and whistled quietly akin to a nightingale's lovely melody, a song. Calming. Clarity.

"....Vanya.. I..Remember you..." A light smile of relief, of compassion, kindness. "Welcome back, 'Beethoven'." A soft chuckle slips from his cold lips at the vivacious, teasing nickname of endearment that is a silly play on his own name. A nod to his affinity for music through making a reference to a classical composer, a genius pianist.

And memories trickle back, stitch together properly in sequence into a puzzle, under the song's guidance. Stabilized. Back to new normal, the hand gripping his own to help him rise onto his feet, slinks to rest around his shoulders in a side-hug, to both steady and guide.

"Thank you, Little Finch." "Hey now! What gives?" Feigned scandalized indignance, before moving on.

...

When Pirin showed him a piece of "color mish-mash" and told him it's art as well, Ludovic was horrified. Simply could not agree with him.

"M..My liege, I'm afraid that I strongly disagree. There is no form nor shape to this-... Mess. How-?? How can you call it art...???

There is not a trace of the smallest principles of artful mastery! No lighting, no thought nor intent behind each line and stroke, no composition, only nonsensical swath of colors!"

"Vic, as we established, art is subjective and a form of creation. Capturing a vision or emotion and replicating it onto canvas. By this definition this, too, is art. Albeit lacking shape like your masterpieces."

Smiling with gentle amusement as his friend is left flabbergasted. Mind balking and feels a little defensive, insulted by the mere notion something like this can be labeled as art.

"I- Vanya, please tell me, how pray tell this-" Trying not to get irrationally angry, snappish and point, jab at the abstract THING so horrifically hideous in indignance, and not raise his voice.

"Is art, precisely? It appears I am overlooking a detail."

"Beauty. And expression, my dear friend.

Not every piece has to have a concrete form, intent nor deeper story and message to tell.

Sometimes, it simply aims to capture emotions....Or be purely for fun on a whim, no meaning in it." Lapsing into a long moment of pensive quiet, sparing a small brief glance at the atrocity, the Graveborn artist holds back from making a grimace and shudder-- Turning his gaze away from the offending thing. Resisting the urge to snatch and tear it apart or gag, face paler than it already is.

"...I see. You have a fair point, I admit. However I still refuse to call this.... form of expression, as "art". Even less give as high praise as call said expression a "masterpiece"."

"Agree to disagree." Then tone becomes playful, gleam of mischief good-natured. A gleam that bodes no good, peering down at him from his perch on the ornamented chair at the writing desk in his room, letting and elbow dangle off from the chair's top rail. "Maybe you could try it sometime? It could help you learn something new.?"

Appalled and nearly blanches, the young noble glances over at him from where he stands before his art stand with pencil in hand. Answering weakly in strained voice after loong pause. Dubious, skeptical. "...Perhaps I shall consider your offer."

The sketch of a pale young man with a warm, affectionately playful and serenely tranquil gentleness in his pearlescent eyes rests. A rosella firebird perched atop his disheveled head, peeking at the viewer looking at the canvas, whilst a violet budgie sits nestled in the crook of the man's delicate neck with head tucked into its wings in slumber.

....

Carrying an ashen ''firebird'' cradled close to his chest tight, the fifteen year old Graveborn shambles to the next medic he'd managed to catch wind of. ...Refusing to give up or accept that he'll fail or has already. Braving through the biting frost and smoldering heat, through the pelting rains, in march sure and swiftly purposeful.

To Rustport, through To Cedartown.

The only clue to his turmoil raging, are the dried cold tear-tracks on his cheeks. And the unwavering, infernal wildfire of hell-bent determination in his eyes.

—"Ay kid. Heard you had a problem." - A Syndicate sorcerer called. The Graveborn paused, inclining his head. Go on. Speak, I'm listening.

—"Why dontcha take your friend there and come with me? We've got a project going on, and I think it's just the thing to save your birdie."

—"...A project..?" The weary traveler rasps in a soft-spoken, wary and skeptical yet intrigued near whisper. What does it entail? What if it makes matters worse? Or my efforts for naught?

.....What if he speaks the truth....?

—"Yeah. You wanna give 'im your Immortality, right? Y'know? Keep the rat from kicking the bucket? Well this project's just the right thing!" And so Ludovic accepted with a graceful, clipped tip of his head as wordless permission. Agreed. Because there's no other option left. (He was already falling apart. Only cared about keeping me alive, from dying.)

Little did I know, that I shook hands with the Devil that fateful day?

Received a blessing, and a curse.... Sentenced my only friend, to the same fate as I suffered.

That day, I both saved you....and failed you, dooming you terribly in my desperation, in my devastation, my fear and grief... I simultaneously lost you, and ensured I would not.

The ritual was not outlined in the "deal". Or perhaps I neglected to pay close scrutiny to the much finer, crucial details. The scorching burn tore at both their very beings from the inside, and Ludovic could only hug the spirit tight. Hold onto the wyvern, screw his eyes tightly shut from the agony devouring, hug his one Light close. Solace and consolation to them both.

Even as his physical form collapsed onto the ground like a puppet with strings cut amidst the chant.

Even as the magic melted them both, pushed and crushed them together, melded and stitched, wove and glued them two....

Into one.

Coalesced.

Spirit, very being and core, consciousness. Pried open, apart and reshaped- Sown tight back together into tapestry. Into the final work of artistry, finest masterpiece of eternity. At last suddenly the fires he'd so desperately scrambled to rekindle roared to life, so rife with this sweet life, to majesty, to power, to potential and vibrancy. Burnt with the glare of the sun, the leer of the moon's light. The stars' peer.

Suddenly, the shackles that have held them both back crumbled to dust. (And new binds took their place, holding us pinned in place as a singular amalgam.) Free of earthly and wretched caricature of Immortality. Free of constraints-- A Will-of wisp. A firebird, in all its glory. For eternity, casting light unto the abyss.

Loss, Sacrifice- Gain, Preserve. Death- Rebirth. Wither and Renewal.

Oh how foolish I was, to pursue true death! When beauty was before my very eyes this entire time!

Now I hold Truest of Art, in my very palms! (And am paying the sore price for so, forevermore.)

On this hour, I cast aside my past, my name -Farewell!

To my ailment that haunted me so, to eternity's cruel caricature sister -Good riddance!

Burn to cinders, away the old world, The old order and status quo, Purge my old self, as I purge rot.

From the ashes-- I begin my new chapter, my tale anew unburdened. I am at last, Alive - More than I ever was

Rejoice in triumph!

As I (we) at long last hold the bridle of my (our) fate.