(Untitled)

[aut_augur]

It has been something slightly more than fifteen years since he finally buried Gregor. It had been difficult between them since he'd begun edging up to fifty, had only gotten worse over time. Petty fights about worthlessness and age and beauty and, mundanely enough, money and infidelities, things that... simply did not concern Jast. His lack of

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[gerfaucon]

Perhaps sensitive to the little thing's thoughts, Niarkhos allows him to lead, does not mind this forfeit if only because he's offered the rare opportunity to observe from behind. The soft slope of narrow shoulders, long spine from nape to lower hips, the way the earth curls under each forward step in warm opening to their treasured warden. Always a creature of movement, of future and progress and home, the bird finds the change enthralling, finds Jast's silence less intimidating or uncomfortable and rather sufficient, all that has to be said already spoken or patient enough to wait. Words aren't nearly necessary where they have wind and sky and dreams to communicate.

He has memories of the stars, gleaming jewels over rivers and garden fountains, pale glittering pockmarks in the dark fabric of midnight flight. His brothers and sisters often quarreled over names of constellations, devoured competition of wit as only siblings could, argued over Orion the hunter and Ursa Major the Great Bear, hoped one day to find a gyrfalcon nestled among those eminent leaders paving diamond talons through the route of sky. Niarkhos always gave into such bickering and chatter, always fueled the flame of his brothers' ambition and soothed the doubt of his sisters' logic, felt responsible for their hopes and aspirations.

For now, he rubs the pad of a rough thumb over the fleshy center of Jast's palm and pushes thoughts of falcon stars from his head, focuses on the feathery dark hair and hidden eyes ahead. Daylight waxes brighter. "My favorite has always been the North Star," the bird purls thoughtfully. A symbol of navigation, one he can rely on.

jesus. LAST ONE, I SWEAR.

[aut_augur]

Jast turns and smiles back at him brightly. The image of Niarkhos following Polaris across the skies is a comforting one to him. Perhaps the bird will always come back. A nice thought, but a bit silly. There are more things than just losing one's way that can keep someone away. Jast should know that best of all. He doesn't feel it is worth the effort to brood on that subject though.

He can smell a rogue seaberry bush nearby and pulls his friend along to it, plucking up a handful of small orange berries. They're delicious citrusy little things that survive long into the winter. He picks out a juicy one carefully and pushes it straight past Niarkhos' lips, pausing there with an amused expression to see if he will object.

/pats affecionately

[gerfaucon]

Gilded eyes go wide at the press of the berry against his mouth and he opens to it, grazing teeth over those fingertips, a little furrow of bewilderment along the high arch of brow. It crunches between pearl eyeteeth and Niarkhos swallows after a moment, tastes the tart juice on his tongue. As a carnivore, it's not something he is accustomed to eating and the perplexity is almost comical on the prince's face.

"A treat of yours?" he asks, reaching to pluck a few more from the branch and rolling them curiosily over the dips and grooves of a cupped palm.

murrr

[aut_augur]

Jast looks really exceptionally pleased at his interest. Puffed up like a gleeful little sparrow with his eyes glittering. He pokes at the ones in his hand, picks two and devours them. He shakes his head in answer to the question.

"People brought them from across the sea." They're strong plants, could grow anywhere, but from what Jast understands, humans are too used to assuming all winter berries are inedible to them. He knows better, the plants themselves are happy to tell him. "The birds are spreading them, seed by seed."

[gerfaucon]

Niarkhos smiles in return, feels the wave of delight and leeches from it his own sense of joy. It's nice, under the pale layer of daylight slowly warming them against winter's presence, with the small circle berries in his palm, light and flavorful on his tongue. A change he lets himself grow accustomed to, coaxed by Jast's zeal.

"I'm still unused to that, people bringing seeds. Before, it was always the other way around. Seeds bringing the people and the animals to them." He sounds thoughtful, rolls another berry between fingertips, presses it to Jast's mouth with a reflection of playfulness.

[aut_augur]

He accepts the little fruit onto his tongue. Recalls past talks they've had, a promise to eat in the morning that he has long since been made good on. But he remembers the bird's words about staying safe. That sentiment is important to him, he thinks, and it is one he had almost forgotten, staying safe, taking care. He feels... very light and happy and he knows he owes all of that Niarkhos, to his bright memory and gleaming gold streaks across the sky.

"Your age is showing," he chirps out cheekily. There's undeniable affection in his voice. He wouldn't trade the prince's stories for anything.

[gerfaucon]

At the remark, the prince only laughs, a musical trill that fills his throat and pushes out in golden peels. He clears the rest of the berries from his palm and marvels, again, at the strange taste so different from meat. It's not something he'll partake in often, not when long travel requires the protein and warmth and full stomach only animal can provide. But it's a sweetness he will learn to associate with Jast, innocent and pure immortal boy.

"I try not to let it. But you caught me," he humorously admits, shakes hair off his brow and winds his arm around the little thing's waist, tugs him into step with a slight nuzzle into that pale slope of shoulder.

[aut_augur]

Jast is growing used to this, content and happy to be touched. He wraps his arms around his shoulders, fingers finding the exposed skin at the back of his neck, petting there, holding on. Eventually he threads up into his hair, teasing tangled windblown strands that he carefully plucks free of snags. Niarkhos is so warm and his arms are solid around him. He doesn't feel anything like Gregor or Fallen or Mist, he's much stronger than any of them. He smells different, clean, warm, faintly spiced.

"I like it," Jast murmurs softly. He closes his eyes, leaned comfortably into him.

[gerfaucon]

He supports the other's weight against his own, lulled by the fingers on the back of his neck, in his hair, gently tugging apart tangles of tawny gold. It soothes the perpetual ache in his chest, being in this little one's company, fills him instead with a sense of belonging and familiar compassion, warmth and joy. Niarkhos hums wordless phrases into the boy's skin.

Even if it only lasts until they're separated, he finds himself warming under Jast's touch and doesn't quite want to let him free, not for a bit, as long as this goes. The prince tips his head back, far enough for bronze lashes to flutter over auric eyes, fingers stroking along the little one's upper back, following bumps of vertebra in a lazy path. He lands a feathery kiss on smooth lips, barely-there enough to feel except for the heat of their shared breath, a promise of strength and safety.

[aut_augur]

Jast sighs into him, lips parting mostly out of surprise. He is touched by the softness, the faintest tickle of air. He wants to be this close, in these arms that had protected him from the pain of the death and destruction of that strange dream. It protects him from a decade and a half of loneliness now. Jast's hand curves along the side of his neck, under the strong line of his jaw. His gentle play at catching this bird.

[gerfaucon]

Likewise, his own loneliness and burden of solitude is eased this way and he feels a smirk blossom against those parted lips, drawn to the natural fragrance of him, something like moist earth and cool breeze. Niarkhos' jaw tenses into the touch, relaxing again with an easier expression, and he rubs soothing paths over the little one's back through the fabric of his shirt before he leans, seals their mouths with gentle but firm pressure. Less breath and more substance, skin, this time.

[aut_augur]

They had been so casual with one another until this moment. Soft, teasing brushes followed by quiet laughter. Perhaps Niarkhos' smirk makes it the same now, but Jast would rather not think so as he presses into him. He cannot quite stop the way his heart opens like a flower. It is the innocence in him; he cannot help but find the magic in all living things and this one especially intrigues him. Proud, unmistakably regal, strong. His independence, his travels, even these things that separate them make Jast feel closer to him. Make the sense of entanglement safe, for it will never have the chance to become restraining for either of them.

He... hopes it's all right to want this kiss now though. Because he does and he holds onto it dearly.

[gerfaucon]

He hasn't felt this closeness in decades, possibly centuries, has never found a balance between human company and avian company. It's such a relief that the passion seems to burst from him, hand opening to a flat palm between narrow shoulder blades, the kiss stays solid but not overwhelming, letting Jast keep his handle on this as he wishes. The prince croons something between them, nothing more than a musical hum locked into the back of his throat. He treasures the moment, keeps it warm without prying too deep, eventually tilts his head to the side to break it. He's afraid his fervor and affinity for this child might ask for more than can be offered if he chooses to keep going. Niarkhos' mouth feels cold, cheek grazing the little one's chin.

[aut_augur]

Jast's fingertips twitch hesitantly, but they do not move. This has been enough, he is satisfied with this. His eyes open to look out over the field and the line Niarkhos' shoulder and neck. He's already been given more affection than he ever could have deserved, and it is all quite enough. If he lingers there close a moment longer before he steps back, it is only because it is warm and comfortable.

"Where will you go next?" he asks softly, eyes piercing royal blue, expression open and soft. It is a formality, perhaps, to inquire after a friend's plans, but... it is different for Jast here. It is their ritual now, the spell they've used to cast the loose threads they've wound around each other; unwittingly or not.

He asks because he will be waiting patiently for the next time the bird chooses to appear. Quiet and content, but waiting nonetheless.

[gerfaucon]

There are times when Niarkhos blood slows into a crawl and nothing but the fast cut of air against his feathers can clear his head, stutter his heartbeat up to its normal rapid pace. It's those times he realizes how important every speck of kingdom magic is in his body, cannot fathom what it would be like bound into either avian form or human form. He's heard of horror tales like that, creatures not unlike the gyrfalcons who knew skin or scales or fur or feathers only to lose them. It's a frightening prospect.

Easily falling into the rhythm of their ritual, the prince steps over cool grass that tickles bare ankles and turns his eyes onto the distant horizon. "Somewhere far from here. It's a long journey but the blackbirds seem eager to accompany me for a small portion of it. And I'm sure I'll find other friends along the way."

They are never journeys alone, but they are still lonely, the company of birds only goes so far. Niarkhos hums something at Jast, a musical sound.

[aut_augur]

Caught up in back and forth, me and you, Jast trills back to him unthinkingly. It puts him at such peace to have someone who can sing back to him. He'd sent his thunderbird back over the mountains even before Gregor has gone, and he admits here that he has missed singing to his pet. They had sung strange beautiful harmonies together, the eerie twining of his twin throats and the ethereal sounds he could wring from his body. He remembers an evening on a rooftop, the old thing that had possessed him and used him to tell its tale. He remembers Niarkhos' voice had been quite sweet in its own right. Jast smiles fondly.

"Many friends," he agrees, perhaps too infatuated to believe others could not find the prince as fascinating as he does. He watches the sun and the horizon shining in tawny eyes. He is terribly fond of the wild pieces of this creature.