It was midnight in the lands of Aelori. The water washed upon the shore in a never changing rhythm, the midnight blue depths whispered tantalizing secrets of lands and worlds beyond to the sands it brushed. Above the city, the skies shone with stars and glittered like crystal ice, distant and far, unreachable to the mortal and immortal hand. And in the forests that surrounded and guarded the land, life slept and still went on. Trees rustled in the breeze and a deafening silence, teeming with sounds of life, echoed in the valleys and mountains.
And amidst all of this was an elf discontent with what he saw. In the branches of a distant tree overlooking his home, Aven sat perched in a silent vigil. He did not see the sea for it's endless wisdom, nor the stars for their silent beauty. He heard no peace in the earth, for it was deafened by the turmoil within him.
He didn't understand. Or rather, he did understand but wished he didn't. He loved him. And that was a problem. He knew how mortals viewed the laws of love. They restricted themselves to one rule, and that rule Aven had broken. He was in love with another man. Elves saw no crime in that, though the occurence of such a thing was rare. Love...was love.
"Aven?"
His head jerked up at his name. It was soft and whispered, made low enough for only an elf to hear. He recognized the voice, too. Peering over the side of the branch, Aven could see Deomer standing at the base of the tree. His mahogany hair was tinted bronze in the moonlight as he looked around the area for his friend. Look up, Aven willed, already aware of the strange bond they shared. Thoughts could be conveyed between elf and man? In this case, Aven believed that yes, it was so. Deomer's youth was a factor in this, he knew. Although well into manhood, Deomer was still innocent in the ways of the rest of the world. He had never left Lasohr, never known fear or hate in the face of an enemy. His first adventure outside of his home had chanced upon an elf, one of the purest of life forms, and the link was forged.
True to his theory, Deomer glanced upwards through the branches and spotted him. A smile played on his lips as he moved to grab the lowest branch and swing himself up. As he climbed, Aven waited with a worried frown. Why had Deomer sought him out? It was late, he should be resting. Unless there was news from Ericei, Aven reasoned. He had been gone all night, after all.
When Deomer finally reached Aven's perch, he pulled himself up and swung a leg on either side for balance. He faced Aven like this, a small smirk on his lips and eyes twinkling while Aven frowned in confusion. What? He thought, finding his friend's behavior quite unusual.
"Did you know you've been missing for eight hours?" Deomer spoke. Aven rolled his eyes slightly. Is that all?
"The thought had occurred to me, yes. Why?"
"Everyone was searching for you," was the answer.
"I am capable of taking care of myself. I have no need to be coddled."
"I know. The only reason we were searching for you was because Elfal and Malithil had a problem ... with eachother," he laughed, "No one could do anything, not even Lord Ericei, so we searched for you to help since you knew both of them. They both seem bent on killing eachother, though I don't see what chance Malithil has in that."
"A man of words is just as dangerous as a man of weapons," Aven shrugged, "Malithil belittle's him with words, battles of wit. Elfal will not back down from that. They are not dangerous as long as Malithil does not take up a weapon; for when he does, Elfal takes the advantage." While Deomer mused over this, Aven focused curious blues on the man before him. "Is there any other reason you came here?"
Deomer blinked, the question startling him. Had there been another reason? He didn't think so. "No."
"Ah," the light in Aven's eyes dimmed, and Deomer had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps 'no' was the wrong answer. "Well then, it is late, you should leave and rest if there is nothing more."
"I..." Deomer stammered. Words left him bereft of purpose and he found himself complying without even realizing it. Swinging his leg back over the branch, he moved to descend with a last look at the elf, and as he did so, he froze at what he saw. Aven was watching him leave with a sad look in his eye, a look that Deomer could only describe as wistful and mourning. Sighing, he stopped his descent and clambered back atop the branch. "What ails you?"
"Nothing."
"You lie."
"I do."
Deomer looked at his friend quizzically. He did not deny something was bothering him, but it was obvious that retrieving the cause would be somewhat of a task for him. "Do you care to elaborate?"
"I don't."
"Aven..." Deomer sighed, growing weary of his two word replies, "Is there nothing I can do to help? It pains me to see you like this."
Aven raised an eyebrow and leaned back. "It does?" Stray strands of silver hair fell into his face, framing the delicate angles of pale skin. "You need not worry about me, my friend. My problems ... they are complicated and you cannot help." His eyes clouded over and in the moonlight he glistened in a holy glow. Deomer had never seen him look so pristine, so beautiful, and yet so much in agony.
"Aven ... there must be something-" he rose to his feet, shaking his head and balancing himself precariously atop the branch, "anything. Even it is just to talk." He turned around and teetered dangerously while Aven watched him with a careful eye. He could see where his line of balance lay, and seeing that he was in no danger, made no move to help.
But when Deomer tried to move his full weight onto one leg while he waited for a reply, his balance was thrown. A foot slipped awkwardly and the next thing Deomer knew, he was flailing his arms while he tilted off the branch. He could see a blur of silver, and then he fell.
"What ... were you thinking?!" Aven's voice grunted as he struggled to keep his grip on Deomer's arm. "You're mortal, you fool! You stay on ... agh, the ... ground!" He kept his eyes on the man dangling from his grip and tightened his hold. Deomer gasped and risked a glance down. Aven managed a grin. "Would you like to be on the ground?"
"Not the way you're thinking! Pull me up!" Deomer kicked his legs and Aven almost lost his hold on him.
"Don't struggle or I drop you!" he hissed. The kicking stopped instantly and Aven looked around frantically for something Deomer could grab onto. The nearest branch to Deomer was ten feet below him, and another was six feet to his right on the other side of the tree. He didn't trust Deomer's reflexes either way. How the heck did he get up here anyways?!
"Aven...if you're not going to drop me then pull me up!"
"It's a bit ... more difficult ... than saying it, you know. I don't exactly have the best of holds on you right now." Aven grunted. He was in a most uncomfortable position at the moment. Both legs were wrapped tightly around the branch while he hung upside down, Deomer at the end of one arm while the other clung to the branch desperately.
"Drop me then!" Deomer glanced down and measured the distance to the nearest branch. "I can grab hold."
"Deomer, no." Aven growled, though he could feel his grip slipping. Deomer glared up at him.
"Just because I am mortal does not mean I am helpless!" He shouted. Aven winced at the tone in his voice, but he knew there was no way Deomer could handle a ten foot drop onto a branch barely one foot wide. He could, however, and that gave him an idea.
"Deomer, do not let go," he ordered, and Deomer frowned. What was he plann-
Before he could finish his thought, his centre of gravity lifted with his stomach as Aven let his hold on the branch go. Holloring to all seven hells, Deomer found himself plummeting downwards. But Aven was prepared. Righting himself upwards with a quick flip, he wrapped his arms around Deomer from behind and braced himself to handle the extra impact of landing. When they landed on the branch, Aven stumbled back and slammed into the trunk of the tree, Deomer still held tightly against him. He let out a heavy breath, but didn't let go, wanting to give Deomer some time and support to adjust.
"I don't see your interest in trees, Aven," Deomer finally breathed, "I honestly don't." And then he laughed, leaning against Aven and the tree, he laughed. And Aven joined him until both were breathless once more. It was in this awkward silence that Aven realized his hold on Deomer had loosed so that both arms wrapped around Deomer's midsection instead of it's previous death-grip latch onto his chest. And what he realized even furthur was that Deomer's arms had in turn came to rest upon Aven's, with their hands clasped lightly together. Neither one moved, spoke or breathed in this instance of recognition, both scared and shocked and slightly dazed at what they were doing. Aven's heart leapt when Deomer's fingers brushed against his, and he let out a shaky breath.
"Aven..." Deomer turned his head back slightly, and Aven found himself drowning in gold-chesnut depths. Eyes half-lidded, the elf felt his hands fall limp to his side. He could not.
Confused by the sudden turn in his friends demeanor, Deomer turned slowly. A hand found the trunk beside Aven's head for support as he faced him. "Aven, look at me," he ordered. To his surprise, Aven listened. Lifting sad violet hues up to meet his gaze, Aven's lip quivered as he saw the look in his friend's eyes. He knew. And that fact slammed into him with such force as to put mountains and shooting stars to shame. He knew.
How Aven wished he could cry! To let emotions loose without the shifting of one's eyes, of the expression of a visage. To show how hurt and scared he was with one tiny tear without all the fear in the world of what it meant...he looked away from Deomer, his breath becoming shallow and laboured. He hadn't known pain like this in so long, hadn't known what it felt like to love someone since Ionelien. How could he travel with Deomer now, knowing all that he did? Methian help him, he muttered silently, he was acting like some lovesick puppy.
"Aven, please," Deomer's voice was pleading as he moved his hand over to the elf's cheek. Shocked golden eyes flashed up at him, his heart pounded madly. But all Deomer did was smile reassuringly, as if he had the answer to all of Aven's woes and could set things right with a kiss. A kiss....Aven half-closed his eyes as he leaned forward ever so slightly, catching a shaky breath in his throat as his hands raised themselves from his side to rest on either of Deomer's hips. The mortal man caught his own breath, his voice hitched as emotion threatened to take over.
"Think of nothing, Aven," he whispered, letting his own eyes fall closed. His lips brushed against Aven's, a mere taste of immortality. And then he was floating. He could describe it as nothing else. Aven took control, pressing his lips against his and guiding his body towards his own. Deomer could only gasp and consent, his body had left him, or his will had left his body. He knew only the taste of Aven's lips, the tinge of sugar and spice, life everlasting, and came to wonder how he had gone this long without knowing it. It was too pure, too fresh, and too lethargically drowning that Deomer had to break away in fear of doing just that, leaving Aven to torment his neck and shoulder with soft kisses and whispers.
His own lips had found the pointed curve of Aven's ear, and he nibbled lightly to the pleasured moans of his friend. Aven's hand was tangled in his hair, the other supporting and guiding Deomer at the waist. He pulled back, wanting to say something but not knowing what. And Aven's hurt gaze floored him. He thought he was pulling away, leaving him, and he honestly didn't know how to react to that but to kiss him and banish such fears to the cold of the night air. "Alorianyte..." he whispered against Aven's lips, and the elf stiffened in surprise. His eyes were wide as he broke the kiss, his hand resting on Deomer's chest as if to prevent himself from throwing himself at him. He took a shaky breath.
"You what?" He asked, afraid to receive a different answer and yet afraid all the same to hear what he heard again. Deomer brushed the restricting hand away, pulling Aven into a gentle flurry of kisses and carresses. He murmured the phrase again in Aven's ear, and the elf revelled in soaring emotions.
"Alorianyte," he whispered, kissing Aven gently. Pulling away, he rested his forhead against the other's, pausing a moment to catch his breath. He lifted his hands to cradle the face of the elf before him, and he focused his eyes on him. He was beginning to feel...feel what Aven was feeling. He could describe it as nothing else but that. He knew the emotions that coiled around his own were not, in fact, his. They mingled with his, made war with his, and yet they were one in the same. "Aven...what--?" he spoke his question briefly before he found a slender finger upon his lips.
"Shhh," Aven hushed, and in the back of Deomer's mind he heard his voice again, though his lips did not move. 'Merely accept this bond between us.' And then Aven's lips were on his, and he was drowning....
