This is getting a bit longer than anticipated, so I figured I'd start posting! No porn in this part yet, but it's coming ;)
--
Legs shaking, Vanyel slowly lowered himself into the secluded hot spring. He was alone and didn’t bother suppressing the wince as the hot water stung against scrapes and bruises. He’d spent the day out on patrol with Moondance, then faced off against both Savil and Starwind for a grueling combination of physical and magical drills. His head still rang a bit from imperfectly deflecting some of the later mage-bolts—he knew he hadn’t been working at his best, and he was paying the price in aches and pains.
Out on patrol, Moondance had mentioned in passing that of course Vanyel would have to leave k’Treva soon. The casual words had struck Vanyel like a lash to the face, though he knew better than to let it show. Moondance would want to talk over the slightest hint of unease—a whole lot of talking and not much listening to Vanyel, to be honest—and would end up prescribing a heaping dose of well-meaning advice.
It would probably even be good advice, Vanyel admitted to himself in the safety of the green-wreathed spring. He just didn’t particularly want any advice at the moment.
He’d always known he’d have to return to Haven eventually. For the past month, he’d even known that preparations ought to be starting soon; he was about as trained as he was liable to get without starting actual Heraldic duties like riding circuit. And he was about as recovered as he was ever liable to get from Krebain’s attack, and Tylendel’s—
But Moondance’s words had removed the abstraction from the concept. Vanyel wasn’t sure whether the return to Haven or the departure from k’Treva Vale filled him with deeper trepidation. Whether he most feared having to prove himself against suspicion or having to leave the strange comfort of this oasis. And he didn’t quite feel up to figuring that out yet.
Instead, he’d chosen to soak his troubles away in a hot spring rather off the beaten path, tucked away near the edge of the Vale border some distance past his borrowed ekele. When Moondance had pronounced him recovered enough from his various trials to live alone, he’d been offered use of a low-slung ekele away from the busy center of the vale. Vanyel had gladly accepted; though he’d been tentatively making some acquaintances among them, he still found the Tayledras overwhelming at times. They were at once more aloof and far friendlier than the people of Valdemar.
Vanyel was starting to like them all well enough—he envied the freedom with which they carried themselves. He wasn’t sure, however, that any k’Treva besides Starwind and Moondance actually liked him.
But he’d come to the pool to stop thinking, he chided himself. Vanyel closed his eyes and leaned back against the warm stone edge, so the water lapped beneath his chin. The heat sank slowly through him, loosened his sore muscles, eased the tension between his shoulderblades.
He drowsed, succumbing to the caress of water and steam, until he heard voices approaching along the path.
Vanyel flinched, mind alert on reflex, but in a moment he relaxed. He recognized some of the voices—Nightraven’s low, sardonic tones; Summerwing’s bright laughter; and the others must be more of their group of scouts. Vanyel had spent some time out in the wilds with them, learning to track and hide in the changeling forest, and if he had more time to spend he thought they might have become friends.
If they cared to befriend a scrawny outClan mage, of course. Vanyel sat up on the ledge, so the water only came up to his sixth rib, and slung his arms up along the rim. He had to resist the urge to cross his arms, curl up small in the water. He was still unused to Hawkbrothers’ open-minded approach to nudity.
The group of scouts, led by Nightraven, paused when they rounded the corner and saw him. There were five of them, all in various states of dishevelment—they must be newly off patrol.
“Well, if it isn’t Vanyel k’Valdemar,” said Summerwing with a grin. His hair, dyed gold and brown, swung in a long plait over his shoulder. “Mind if we join you, wingbrother?
“Go ahead,” said Vanyel, drawing his arms back under the water. He tilted his head back and looked up at the interwoven greenery. The patterns shifted with the wind and glowed with sunlight, enough of a distraction from the sounds of five Hawkbrothers stripping down.
Nightraven slipped into the water first, directly across from Vanyel—who couldn't help a glance at the lean tan-gold limbs and sculptured abdomen. Though only in his mid-twenties, Nightraven was widely rumored to be next in line once the current scout leader stepped down.
The other scouts settled into place around him; pale-eyed, distant Frostfall on his left, russet-skinned Summerwing on his right. Summerwing sat rather close to Nightraven, and Vanyel would have sworn their legs touched under the water. He didn't know what that might mean--they could be shay'a'chern, sure, or just very close friends. Tayledras social norms were very confusing.
Skywolf sank in next to Summerwing, on Vanyel's left. The youngest of the group, just a few years older than Vanyel, and not much taller. He wore his mid-brown hair loose and shaggy down to his shoulders. He glanced at Nightraven as he sat, as if asking permission, but Nightraven didn't seem to notice.
Riverdream completed the circle, settling in between Vanyel and Frostfall. He was dark-skinned and dark-haired, as soothing a presence as his name would suggest.
Skywolf asked, “So what were you up to today, Vanyel? You look about as beat up as we do.”
That opened an easy enough conversation, and Vanyel found himself swiftly drawn into a trading of the day’s stories. They winced in sympathy when he outlined his parries with Starwind; he returned the gesture when Summerwing stretched to reveal the bruises along his ribs. As they talked, Vanyel slowly forgot his self-consciousness, forgot to compare his pale, thin limbs to Frostfall’s broad shoulders, his dark-circled eyes to Riverdream’s clear gaze and aquiline features. Skywolf asked him again to recount the time he slew the Colddrake, and this time when he told the tale, it didn’t hurt at all.
In a quiet moment, Nightraven leaned back and said, “So.” The late afternoon sun caught along the golden angles of his face. He dyed his hair so deep a brown it seemed almost a mottled black, braided tightly back. “Moondance says you and Wingsister Savil won’t be roosting with us much longer.”
Oh. Vanyel's heart sank with the reminder. He summoned up a shaky grin. "That's right," he said. "Duty calls, and we can't hide away up here forever."
"It's too bad," said Riverdream. "We'll miss having the both of you around."
Vanyel steadied his smile, but looked away. That was kind of him to say, but he didn’t—
"He doesn't believe us," said Nightraven, lips quirking—as close to a smile as he ever got.
Skywolf frowned. "Why not?" he demanded of Nightraven. When he received only a indolent shrug, he turned to Vanyel, leaning close to look sternly in the younger boy's eyes. "Of course we'll miss you, little goose."
Vanyel felt himself blushing, and awkwardly pushed his hair back behind his ear. Being dragged so directly from a sulk was not something he was used to--and was he imagining it or was Skywolf leaning awfully close? "Thanks," he managed. "That's very kind of you."
"Nothing kind about it," said Frostfall. "You cleared out the Colddrake queen and that ass Krebain, and you're damn useful on regular patrol."
Summerwing laughed. "And you give Starwind and Moondance something to focus on besides each other. Honestly, I was getting sick of them being so insufferably lifebonded all over the place."
"You sing really well at gatherings too," chimed in Skywolf.
Nightraven rolled his eyes at that, but Vanyel found himself oddly cheered. He barely knew these men, but they seemed to genuinely like him. Perhaps even beyond the obligations of wingbrothership. "Thanks," he repeated. "I'd assumed I was more of a burden than anything else, really."
Riverdream reached out and touched his shoulder. His golden eyes seemed to glow against his dark skin. He said softly, "We're all burdens from time to time, Vanyel. As things go, you've been a light one." His fingertips lingered, trailing down his arm and under the water before pulling away.
Skywolf reached to touch his other shoulder, then wet warm fingers along his jaw were turning him back to face the young scout. "A very cute burden too," said Skywolf, grinning like the sun, and suddenly his lips were soft on Vanyel's, soft and sweet and true, and Vanyel's eyelids shuttered in the moment of bliss.
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FILL: 5 Hawkbrothers/Vanyel - "The Freedom of Friendship" 1/?
Date: 2015-08-26 06:40 am (UTC)--
Legs shaking, Vanyel slowly lowered himself into the secluded hot spring. He was alone and didn’t bother suppressing the wince as the hot water stung against scrapes and bruises. He’d spent the day out on patrol with Moondance, then faced off against both Savil and Starwind for a grueling combination of physical and magical drills. His head still rang a bit from imperfectly deflecting some of the later mage-bolts—he knew he hadn’t been working at his best, and he was paying the price in aches and pains.
Out on patrol, Moondance had mentioned in passing that of course Vanyel would have to leave k’Treva soon. The casual words had struck Vanyel like a lash to the face, though he knew better than to let it show. Moondance would want to talk over the slightest hint of unease—a whole lot of talking and not much listening to Vanyel, to be honest—and would end up prescribing a heaping dose of well-meaning advice.
It would probably even be good advice, Vanyel admitted to himself in the safety of the green-wreathed spring. He just didn’t particularly want any advice at the moment.
He’d always known he’d have to return to Haven eventually. For the past month, he’d even known that preparations ought to be starting soon; he was about as trained as he was liable to get without starting actual Heraldic duties like riding circuit. And he was about as recovered as he was ever liable to get from Krebain’s attack, and Tylendel’s—
But Moondance’s words had removed the abstraction from the concept. Vanyel wasn’t sure whether the return to Haven or the departure from k’Treva Vale filled him with deeper trepidation. Whether he most feared having to prove himself against suspicion or having to leave the strange comfort of this oasis. And he didn’t quite feel up to figuring that out yet.
Instead, he’d chosen to soak his troubles away in a hot spring rather off the beaten path, tucked away near the edge of the Vale border some distance past his borrowed ekele. When Moondance had pronounced him recovered enough from his various trials to live alone, he’d been offered use of a low-slung ekele away from the busy center of the vale. Vanyel had gladly accepted; though he’d been tentatively making some acquaintances among them, he still found the Tayledras overwhelming at times. They were at once more aloof and far friendlier than the people of Valdemar.
Vanyel was starting to like them all well enough—he envied the freedom with which they carried themselves. He wasn’t sure, however, that any k’Treva besides Starwind and Moondance actually liked him.
But he’d come to the pool to stop thinking, he chided himself. Vanyel closed his eyes and leaned back against the warm stone edge, so the water lapped beneath his chin. The heat sank slowly through him, loosened his sore muscles, eased the tension between his shoulderblades.
He drowsed, succumbing to the caress of water and steam, until he heard voices approaching along the path.
Vanyel flinched, mind alert on reflex, but in a moment he relaxed. He recognized some of the voices—Nightraven’s low, sardonic tones; Summerwing’s bright laughter; and the others must be more of their group of scouts. Vanyel had spent some time out in the wilds with them, learning to track and hide in the changeling forest, and if he had more time to spend he thought they might have become friends.
If they cared to befriend a scrawny outClan mage, of course. Vanyel sat up on the ledge, so the water only came up to his sixth rib, and slung his arms up along the rim. He had to resist the urge to cross his arms, curl up small in the water. He was still unused to Hawkbrothers’ open-minded approach to nudity.
The group of scouts, led by Nightraven, paused when they rounded the corner and saw him. There were five of them, all in various states of dishevelment—they must be newly off patrol.
“Well, if it isn’t Vanyel k’Valdemar,” said Summerwing with a grin. His hair, dyed gold and brown, swung in a long plait over his shoulder. “Mind if we join you, wingbrother?
“Go ahead,” said Vanyel, drawing his arms back under the water. He tilted his head back and looked up at the interwoven greenery. The patterns shifted with the wind and glowed with sunlight, enough of a distraction from the sounds of five Hawkbrothers stripping down.
Nightraven slipped into the water first, directly across from Vanyel—who couldn't help a glance at the lean tan-gold limbs and sculptured abdomen. Though only in his mid-twenties, Nightraven was widely rumored to be next in line once the current scout leader stepped down.
The other scouts settled into place around him; pale-eyed, distant Frostfall on his left, russet-skinned Summerwing on his right. Summerwing sat rather close to Nightraven, and Vanyel would have sworn their legs touched under the water. He didn't know what that might mean--they could be shay'a'chern, sure, or just very close friends. Tayledras social norms were very confusing.
Skywolf sank in next to Summerwing, on Vanyel's left. The youngest of the group, just a few years older than Vanyel, and not much taller. He wore his mid-brown hair loose and shaggy down to his shoulders. He glanced at Nightraven as he sat, as if asking permission, but Nightraven didn't seem to notice.
Riverdream completed the circle, settling in between Vanyel and Frostfall. He was dark-skinned and dark-haired, as soothing a presence as his name would suggest.
Skywolf asked, “So what were you up to today, Vanyel? You look about as beat up as we do.”
That opened an easy enough conversation, and Vanyel found himself swiftly drawn into a trading of the day’s stories. They winced in sympathy when he outlined his parries with Starwind; he returned the gesture when Summerwing stretched to reveal the bruises along his ribs. As they talked, Vanyel slowly forgot his self-consciousness, forgot to compare his pale, thin limbs to Frostfall’s broad shoulders, his dark-circled eyes to Riverdream’s clear gaze and aquiline features. Skywolf asked him again to recount the time he slew the Colddrake, and this time when he told the tale, it didn’t hurt at all.
In a quiet moment, Nightraven leaned back and said, “So.” The late afternoon sun caught along the golden angles of his face. He dyed his hair so deep a brown it seemed almost a mottled black, braided tightly back. “Moondance says you and Wingsister Savil won’t be roosting with us much longer.”
Oh. Vanyel's heart sank with the reminder. He summoned up a shaky grin. "That's right," he said. "Duty calls, and we can't hide away up here forever."
"It's too bad," said Riverdream. "We'll miss having the both of you around."
Vanyel steadied his smile, but looked away. That was kind of him to say, but he didn’t—
"He doesn't believe us," said Nightraven, lips quirking—as close to a smile as he ever got.
Skywolf frowned. "Why not?" he demanded of Nightraven. When he received only a indolent shrug, he turned to Vanyel, leaning close to look sternly in the younger boy's eyes. "Of course we'll miss you, little goose."
Vanyel felt himself blushing, and awkwardly pushed his hair back behind his ear. Being dragged so directly from a sulk was not something he was used to--and was he imagining it or was Skywolf leaning awfully close? "Thanks," he managed. "That's very kind of you."
"Nothing kind about it," said Frostfall. "You cleared out the Colddrake queen and that ass Krebain, and you're damn useful on regular patrol."
Summerwing laughed. "And you give Starwind and Moondance something to focus on besides each other. Honestly, I was getting sick of them being so insufferably lifebonded all over the place."
"You sing really well at gatherings too," chimed in Skywolf.
Nightraven rolled his eyes at that, but Vanyel found himself oddly cheered. He barely knew these men, but they seemed to genuinely like him. Perhaps even beyond the obligations of wingbrothership. "Thanks," he repeated. "I'd assumed I was more of a burden than anything else, really."
Riverdream reached out and touched his shoulder. His golden eyes seemed to glow against his dark skin. He said softly, "We're all burdens from time to time, Vanyel. As things go, you've been a light one." His fingertips lingered, trailing down his arm and under the water before pulling away.
Skywolf reached to touch his other shoulder, then wet warm fingers along his jaw were turning him back to face the young scout. "A very cute burden too," said Skywolf, grinning like the sun, and suddenly his lips were soft on Vanyel's, soft and sweet and true, and Vanyel's eyelids shuttered in the moment of bliss.