Kethryll'ia Iliyanbruen Lécuyer

Heir [ Apprentice ] | Male | Eighteen | Mentions : His Mother, Cyrus, Esen, Other Apprentices ( indirectly ) & Akith’ki

The young man stood apart from the celebration, in a way he wasn't in the mood to be an honored guest. He felt a bit more somber, though his father sacrificed himself for what could be seen as a noble cause - it didn't rest well with him. Not to mention, him and his father parted on less than accepting terms which bore a hole in his heart. And he pursed his lip in discomfort, he should be happy - celebrating with the others, but here he was lingering in the shadows, trying his best not to be seen. It definitely was a pity because he quite liked how he looked tonight, his mother had certainly made him look more elegant than reflecting a warrior. His hair was braided into one thick plait ; fragrant flowers and flowering herbs decorated it, and then he had gotten a crown of flowers from one of the younger clan members as a gift and he couldn't say no. The little one had put on the puppy dog eyes, and he was rendered helpless against them ; and the young male was adorned with golden tribal facial paint, and on his exposed back, there was a giant golden sun - it was intricate, one that clearly took time to paint and it had to be one of his favorite body decorations. His mother had even went so far as to pierce his ears, and the fangs of a unnamed creature stuck out from them, and he wore golden bracelets on each of his arm, and they were all the way up to his forearm, each being carefully crafted . And to set off the look were the golden hoops adorning his neck - they were a bit heavy but they were beautiful, it was a gift - from his father, before their relationship soured. And he touched the metal absentmindedly. The sounds of chatter and laughter reached his ears, he was glad the clan was in high spirits. Maybe he should try to be in them as well, and stop sulking in the corner. This was a celebration of things to come, their future, he couldn't change what had been said and done between him and his father before his death, but he could at least try and honor him in these trails. And that is what he is going to do, make sure he achieved his best at these trials. He peered around the corner, and softly smiled at the sight of his clanmates.

Esen looked about two seconds from passing out of awkwardness, and he felt her pain, he probably should go say hello. He then decided to make his move, he walked over to find his mother - the Chieftess. A polite smile plastered on his face, and his posture straightened - he walked smoothly as he reached his destination. The soft jangles of the bells on his sandals being muffled by the thrumming of the drums. His eyes, lazily scanned the crowd again, wondering if he would notice anything new, and he spotted Akith’ki , one of his peers, and he took in the young man's appearance, and couldn't help but think he cleaned up rather nicely for the event. Even from where he stood, he could see the features of him rather distinctly - he had grown taller from the last time he saw him, and he had a bit more muscle to him. Thes lb heat of the day causing sweat to outline it more obviously on the older male, he couldn't help but feel the heat rise in his cheeks, was it the fire and humidity of the late evening - yes, he would have to blame it on that. And if one said that his face was turning a shade of red because of embarrassment at the silly thought then he'd be denying it. He noticed a beautiful depiction of the sun on the male, it being in a locker vermillion hue, different than his golden one, but definitely beautiful. It was a curious thing that both of them had decided to wear sun markings, he was probably thinking too much of it. Was the fumes of the smoke getting to his head ? That's when he was met with the amethyst colored eyes of the male, they seemed to sparkle as the light of the pyres caught them, not to mention the reddish undertones of the males earthen hair was more visible under the light, and he couldn't help but being frozen under the other's gaze, their eyes locking for what seemed like an eternity in his mind, his lips pursing, and he could feel the heat slowly traveling to his ears and the thrumming of his heart matching the sound of the drums, shit, he mentally curses, a rare thing, he had been caught staring, if asked later about it, then he'd blame it on the light of the flames and mead ( even though he hadn't even had a cup just yet ). He shamefully turned his face away, and made it a point to make himself disappear, and he found his way to the table where the food and drinks were, and gingerly grabbed a cup of mead. He couldn't let these thoughts plague him, he had more important things to focus on, and besides - this was just wishful thinking on his part, it was one-sided - right ?

He took a swig of his drink, and his finger anxiously tapped the cup - the sweet liquid traveling through his mouth, and a slight satisfying warm burning sensation came afterwards. It was a good feeling, one that made him feel a bit more relaxed - and he took another taste of the drink, before he eventually finished it , and then another, until he was halfway through his third cup of mead. He stared into the amber liquid, and regretted his decision immediately. Rather than drinking this, he probably should he focused on eating, after all he was getting a bit peckish at the moment - and so he quickly downed the rest of his mead , and made his way over to the food. And that's when he realized much to his horror, that Akith’ki, whom at this point he has been trying to avoid was there and eating a piece of meat. He could feel the sweat of his anxiousness starting to form, and he decided to play it cool and so he calmly walked over and got himself some of the bird as well. He bit into a piece of meat, and hummed in satisfaction as the flavors met his tongue - they had outdone themselves this ceremony. And he bounced a little on the hells of his feet, still feeling a bit jittery. He then found himself aimlessly looking around the crowd, and that's when he spotted Cyrus, slinking around the shadows - and his eyes narrowed slightly, the man was staring at his mother and he didn't seem to have a good expression while doing so, moreso one that showed irritability. And he could feel his blood boil at the sight, he felt the urge to go and pour a drink on him, but his mother wouldn't approve at all and he didn't want to resort to petty actions during a time in which they were supposed to be celebrating and enjoying themselves. It would be quite the selfish thing to do at that moment ; he had to keep his composure, and he would do so - not to embarrass himself or his family by acting unsavory.

He exhaled an annoyed breath ; trying to calm himself. And continued to eat his piece of bird, he looked at Aktith'ki , and stood silently for a moment, unsure why it was so hard to start a conversation with the male. But he needed to, after all it would be awkward if he didn't - especially since they were mutual friends with Sarolta. And besides it would be impolite to just stand there and say nothing. So he would attempt to do something. He gave a playful nudge to the side of the taller male as a way to get his attention .

" You excited for the trials ? " he asked plainly, a slightly excited in his tone - his voice sweeter than normal, maybe it was the mead taking its affect but he did feel a bit warmer, " I know I am, while it may be about bringing an ancient tradition back. I just want to bring honor to my home and family ; and maybe, just maybe, we may be blessed by the dragons to achieve our full nature again. After all, why should we be punished for the haughtiness of our ancestors. " he spoke, a slight bitterness in his tone, but also a slight hint of hope there as well, he turned to the male, a smile on his face, " I hope I'm not rambling, I may have had a bit too much mead, " and he gave a mischievous laugh before cleaning himself down, " so, what are your thoughts on the events to come ? "

Sarolta Cimmerian

Apprentice | Mentions: Aelion

Indirectly: Akith’ki

Sarolta moved gracefully to the beat of the drums, her body swaying effortlessly amid the celebration. She was a vision of captivating beauty, adorned with fragrant flowers that mingled with her natural dark scent, creating a heady blend of perfume that drifted on the warm night air. Her porcelain skin was accentuated by intricate body paint, a mesmerizing display of reds, purples, and blues that swirled together in fluid patterns, highlighting the graceful lines of her lithe figure and the powerful precision of her movements.

For a brief moment, Sarolta seemed to float with the music. The mead she had consumed earlier infused her veins, fueling her movements and heightening her senses. Her eyes were closed and her mind was quiet, fully absorbed by the rhythm of the music and the surrounding laughter. She swirled and twirled, her feet carrying her faster and faster, lost in the dance. As she spun, the reds, purples, and blues merged into a deep, rich purple that gave the illusion of bruises scattered across her porcelain skin. The effect was both striking and unsettling

As she danced, Sarolta felt the weight of someone's gaze on her. Opening her eyes, she met Akith’ki’s intense stare, their eyes meeting across the crowd. For a few fleeting moments, she held his gaze, her movements becoming even more deliberate. But just as quickly as the connection was made, she was swept away by the crowd, disappearing back into the sea of bodies.

It didn’t surprise her when she collided with a random body in her path, her rhythm faltering for just a split second before she regained her composure. Her pale green eyes locked onto Aelion with a mixture of challenge and amusement. "Aelion," she purred, her voice smooth and measured, each word laced with an underlying edge. She took a step closer as his bitter tone echoed in her ears, her vibrant paint and floral fragrance mingling with the air between them. Her hand floated up to his shoulder, plucking a stray petal from him with a touch that was light and deliberate, her fingers lazily gliding down his arm.

Her head tilted slightly, a predatory movement. "You may think that distancing yourself will keep you happy," she paused, leaning in closer so only he could hear, "but we both know that's not how this works." Her tone softened, almost mockingly, as if the matter was both familiar and frustratingly simple. At his remark, her grin turned feline. “And as for watching where I’m dancing,” she extended a painted hand toward him, her voice a subtle purr laced with sharpness, “well, as if you could do any better. Why don’t you come and show me?”

Eirlys was a buzz with energy, the festive atmosphere fuelling her happy mood and diminishing her worried thoughts. After all, it was an evening to relax and celebrate before she accompanied the rest of the apprentices on the trials. So far, her favorite part of the festival has been where they all get adorned with various flora and colorful decorations. She had taken to mentally naming each of the flora during the more formal part of the celebration, taking pride in being able to identify nearly all with ease. Her mother had helped her to get ready prior to the festival, painting designs that paid homage to Eirlys' grandmother using colors of black, green, and white. Her pierced ears were decorated with delicate silver earrings that had small black feathers dangling from them.

She had spent the early part of the festival being a more presentable little lady, thanking anyone who wished her luck on the trials, etc. But the rhythm of drums was making her feet itch, spurring her to break from the other apprentices and approach the younger clan members. Some were already having fun, dancing to the music. She easily joined in as she kept with the beat, laughing along with the young ones. Nearly all the flowers in her raven hair had fallen out from the movement though she didn't mind.

Perhaps it was childish of her to join them, to act so carefree. However, this was the only way to fight the troublesome thoughts at the back of her mind. She was trained, and skilled in a few aspects, though that did little to ease her nerves regarding the trials. Her vibrant green eyes scanned the area for the apprentices, noting where they were for the moment. They were a strong group, well-rounded too. Hopefully, she wouldn't let them down. And more than anything, she prayed that they'd all return together.

Her gaze subconsciously sought out the familiar figure of her grandmother, her mind knowing that just simply seeing her calm nature would soothe Eirlys overthinking. As much as she wanted to go to her grandmother, she refrained from going to the Elder with her unnecessary fears. Tonight, she’ll have fun. Tonight, she wouldn’t worry. Or at the very least try not to worry too much. And she wouldn’t let her doubts ruin the fun either.

Having made up her mind, she sought out her best friend and fellow Shaman apprentice, Syllivanna. She left the young ones to their dancing, now being quite parched and hot. She grabbed a mug of mead, taking a tentative sip before heading over to Syllivanna. “Hey, Sylli, having any fun?” Her tone carried the sincerity of the question, while she had her usual playful air about her.

Akith’ki Terosh | Apprentice | Mentions:

Directly Kethryll’ia Indirectly Sarolta, Aelion,

That was when Akith’ki felt the nudge in his side, completely taken by surprise, the man jumped slightly, his hands moving to his front, half forming a guard before he realised who it was. His purple eyes snapping down to the younger man, his shock at the sudden appearance of the nobility clear on his face. He turned his body to face Kethryll’ia as the heir spoke, he had to crane his head down slightly to be able to see the man properly. He gave a small, appropriate nod of his head in respectful greeting to Kethryll’ia. Listening attentively to his future leader’s words as they came, and came they did, the young man was rambling a little. And at that thought Kethryll’ia commented the same before giving a laugh to accompany his words. Akith’ki shook his head adamantly, he would listen to whatever the man wanted to say to him, out of respect and perhaps something else he wasn’t aware of.

“I believe that it will be difficult, there is no doubt about that. But the opportunity to develop into esteemed members of our tribe together is a blessing.” Akith’ki attempted a smile, but it ended up crooked and not quite wide enough. He did not spend much time talking to others, beside Elariel and Aelion. Not many people approached him, not that he minded. He suspected his father’s constant looming presence had something to do with that. He looked across the clearing to where his father was glowering at the Chieftess, now left alone that Catori had departed to join her warriors. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, he reached a hand up to his jaw and shifted the skin there, relaxing the muscle along the sharp bone.

Aelion’s gaze remained steady as Sarolta closed the distance between them, her movements deliberate and confident. He stood still, unmoved by the challenge in her pale green eyes, even as she reached up and plucked a stray petal from his shoulder. Her fingers glided down his arm, the touch light and deliberate, almost mocking in its tenderness. He barely reacted, only the slight tightening of his jaw betraying any sign that he’d even noticed the gesture. It was typical of her—bold, unafraid to test boundaries. Aelion resisted the urge to brush off the lingering sensation of her touch, keeping his expression neutral.

Sarolta’s voice echoed in his ears as she leaned closer. Her words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Aelion considered simply walking away. It would have been easy enough to leave her standing there, hand outstretched, waiting for a response that would never come. But then she smirked, that familiar feline grin, and extended her painted hand toward him with a challenge in her voice.

He’d spent the entire evening trying to escape, seeking a quiet corner where he could clear his head from the noise, the pressure, and the overwhelming thoughts that refused to leave him alone. But now she was here, blocking his path, refusing to let him slip away unnoticed.

The memory of their last confrontation still lingered in the back of his mind, the bitterness, the sharp words exchanged. The hatred. He didn’t need to be reminded of how things had changed between them. It was easier to keep his distance, to pretend that she didn’t matter. But Sarolta had always had a way of pushing him, of forcing him into situations he didn’t want to be in. And this was no different.

Aelion’s first instinct was to refuse. He wasn’t interested in this game, this back-and-forth that had defined their interactions for so long. But something stopped him. Perhaps it was the way she looked at him, daring him to rise to the challenge, or maybe it was the sudden realization that walking away now would be admitting defeat. He didn’t like losing, especially not to her.

With a short, resigned breath, he reached out and took her hand, his grip firm but impassive around her own. “Fine,” he muttered, his tone edged with reluctance. The grip was light but not affectionate, more an acceptance of a challenge than a gesture of connection. He wasn’t here to dance with her—he was here to prove a point, whatever that point might be. This was just a dance, nothing more. He would go through the motions, prove his point, and then move on. There was nothing more to it. But even as he told himself that, he could feel a familiar tension gnawing at him, a tension that had always been there whenever Sarolta was involved.

They began to move, falling into step with the beat of the drums that pulsed through the air. Aelion kept his movements precise, controlled, refusing to let her see anything more than what he wanted her to. He wasn’t doing this to rekindle their old friendship or to indulge in whatever game she was playing. No, this was about proving her wrong, about showing her that he wasn’t affected by her presence, that he could keep his distance even while being this close.

He kept his eyes upon her out of sheer stubbornness. He wasn’t about to let her see any weakness, any hint that her presence unsettled him. He knew what she was doing, trying to get under his skin, to draw out some kind of reaction. But Aelion wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. He’d built up walls, strong and unyielding, and he wasn’t about to let her tear them down.

The rhythm of the dance pulled them closer, their movements more fluid and in sync as the music swelled around them. It was just a dance, and when it was over, he would walk away, leave her behind, and find that quiet corner he’d been seeking. But even as he tried to convince himself of that, there was a part of him, deep down, that knew it wasn’t that simple. Sarolta had always been more than just a friend, more than just an enemy. She was a challenge, a force that he couldn’t quite ignore, no matter how hard he tried. And now, here she was again, drawing him in despite every instinct telling him to keep his distance.

Sarolta’s movements were graceful, her steps light and seemingly effortless, but Aelion matched her pace with a deliberate precision that left little room for error. He wasn’t here to admire her skill or to get lost in the rhythm of the music. This was about holding his own, about showing her that he wasn’t the type to be easily rattled, no matter how close she stood or how confidently she moved.

Here he was, dragged back into the thick of it by the very person he’d been trying to avoid. Sarolta’s presence was a complication, an irritation he hadn’t planned on dealing with tonight. And yet, he found himself here, locked in this dance with her, his body moving almost on autopilot as his mind wrestled with the weight of his own thoughts.

Every time Sarolta’s hand brushed against his, every time she moved closer, he forced himself to maintain that stoic façade. There was a part of him that wanted to shove her away, to retreat back to the solitude he craved, but that would be giving her the satisfaction of seeing him flinch. And Aelion didn’t flinch.

The crowd’s murmurs and laughter buzzed around them, but Aelion barely registered it. His focus was on maintaining that distance, on keeping whatever was simmering beneath the surface from boiling over. He wouldn’t let Sarolta get under his skin—not tonight, not ever. Whatever connection they had once shared, he was determined to bury it all beneath layers of indifference and detachment.

His grip on her hand remained steady, guiding her through the steps with an almost mechanical precision. Or was she guiding him? He couldn’t tell. The challenge she had issued, that sly invitation to prove himself, had been met, but Aelion wasn’t about to let her think she’d won anything. This dance was a battle of wills, a silent contest where neither would emerge victorious, but neither would back down.

As the dance continued, Aelion couldn’t help but notice the subtle changes in Sarolta’s expression, the way her eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t dwell on it, though. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his concern. She had her reasons for challenging him, just as he had his reasons for accepting, but beyond that, he refused to read into it.

When the dance finally neared its end, Aelion’s grip loosened slightly, signaling that this little encounter was drawing to a close. He kept his gaze locked on hers, his expression still unreadable. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air, but he wasn’t about to break the silence first.

As the final beats of the drums echoed through the night, Aelion lingered for a moment before releasing her hand, moving it instead to a loose strand of her hair. Curling it around his finger, he blinked before taking a small step back to reclaim his space. He gave a curt nod, a gesture that could have been an acknowledgment of the dance or simply a signal that it was over. “There,” he said, his voice low and flat. “Satisfied?”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, already intent on making his exit once more. This time, he was determined to find that quiet corner, to shake off the tension that had only grown since the dance began. Sarolta had wanted to see if he could do better, and he had, but Aelion wasn’t about to linger. Perhaps he would find Esen, or even Syllivanna. They always were a safe space for him, and he needed that now. Or maybe he’d search for Akith’ki, who was practically a brother to him, having grown up together. Then again, a quick glance his way told him that Akith’ki was occupied, currently speaking to Kethryll’ia. Ah, there. Timah. He could approach her, but oh, she looked deep in thought. Did he want to disturb her?

As he walked away, he pushed down the thoughts that threatened to rise to the surface, the ones that questioned why he had agreed to dance in the first place. He told himself it was just a matter of pride, of not letting her have the last word. But deep down, buried under layers of denial and stubbornness, Aelion knew there was more to it. He just wasn’t ready to face that yet. Not tonight.

Alvaerelle Wynzorwyn