Obscene Symphony

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron stood once Varis was in place, adjusting his weight as sublty as he could manage until he was something resembling comfortable. Luckily for him, Varis was surprisingly light; he probably wouldn’t feel so light two or four or six hours from now, and his fingertips still dug into Aaron’s shoulders like little tent spikes, but at least for the moment, carrying him was easy.

“In front of us, Master, set into a tree,” he replied, closing his eyes for a moment. He refrained from his usual deep breath—Varis was fond of telling him he did an awful lot of breathing and he didn’t need another sharp comment right now—and took just a second or two to centre himself, banish his lingering frustration and focus. “Tiltoure.”

Though the rest of their surroundings remained unchanged, the writing on the sign showed itself, glowing blue just as it had in their practice classes. He briefly wondered if he could conserve energy by de-activating his spell and re-activating it anytime he came across something that looked like it didn’t belong, but quickly brushed the idea aside. For all he knew, instructions might be written on trees or rocks or something now and then, and he didn’t want to risk missing them for the sake of a shortcut.

“The sign reads: Dancing lights in the sky illuminate the way. Follow them closely and you'll find your way. There’s also a drawing above it indicating the cardinal directions,” Aaron reported thoughtfully, reading the sign over a few times. Riddles? Already? He’d never been a great fan of riddles, but now apparently they insisted on appearing everywhere; his dreams were riddles, Varis’ little tests were riddles, half of what the Princess told him were riddles—why this, too? He thought it was the extra credit instructions that were meant to be puzzles, not the directions themselves. What would happen to a student who was proficient in Dark Eyes but hopeless with riddles?

He suppressed a sigh. They were only a few minutes into this—once more Aaron cursed the absence of his watch—and he shouldn’t get himself worked up so soon. Even if he did find himself siding just a little more with Varis’ criticisms of this exercise.

“Dancing lights…” He looked around the area curiously just in case there was some glaringly obvious indicator of his direction, but of course, none appeared. Dancing lights… the only light aside from the glowing sign were the thin shafts of moonlight filtering down through the trees, but they couldn’t be his guide; they were everywhere. Part of him thought it might be a nod to the bright lights at the staging area, but they must have been too far away, because there was no sign of those, either. Not that they needed to be miles away to be hidden, with how thick the surrounding forest was.

Aaron rolled his eyes. He was overthinking this, surely. That certainly would be fitting for him. Either that, or the proctor severely overestimated his riddle-solving skills, which he supposed couldn’t be ruled out either. Dancing lights in the sky… the stars? No, that wouldn’t be fair; the stars were obscured by the canopy, and he doubted their instructions would be that demanding. The moon, then? He wouldn’t exactly call that a ‘light’, and it was just as obscured as the stars were. Obviously it wouldn’t be the sun, but what else was there?

“Oh,” his eyebrows shot up when it came to him, and he had to inwardly tease himself a bit for struggling. “I think it’s referring to the Northern Lights, Master,” he updated. Surely that had to be it. At certain times of year, if you were lucky, they could be seen from Noila Castle, and it was the only heavenly body Aaron could think of that could be described as ‘dancing’, let alone associated with a cardinal direction. Plus, there was no way they’d provide a compass if it wasn’t meant to be used to solve their riddle.

“North it is, then,” he concluded, smart enough not to phrase it as a question but also smart enough not to set off until he got the OK from Varis.

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron withheld his sigh of relief when Varis let him go, and equally contained a painful hiss as the feeling returned to his fingers and he rolled up his sleeve to assess the damage. His forearm was a splotchy mess of redness, and just like William, he could already see marks left by Varis’ fingers. He grimaced. That would probably be a nasty bruise in a night or two.

A flash of indignation, however, distracted him from the throbbing in his arm as Varis admonished him. Contrary to the Count’s remarks, Aaron did have a high pain tolerance; he was accustomed to taking hits and continuing his assault without skipping a beat, letting pain clear his mind of the haze of adrenaline and keep him alert and in the present. But that didn’t mean he was interested in trudging through a cold forest for six hours with a marble vice clamped around his arm! And Varis attributed the inherent fragility of a human body to a lack of discipline on Lucan’s part. Ridiculous; Aaron recalled a particularly gruelling phase of his training where each session began with a broken nose, just to teach him how to take a hit without losing his focus. Hell, every other session ended with cracked ribs or broken fingers, and even the ones that didn’t were never painless. He had a burgeoning dependency on life magic because of it, for stars’ sake! All of which Varis knew perfectly well. He’d seen his medical records.

But, Varis’ insults needed not be true for his purposes, and Aaron got the message loud and clear. He had thought that the Count would have appreciated being told if he was damaging his assets, but apparently not. Lesson learned. He did feel a twinge of guilt over it—in retrospect his phrasing may have come off as accusatory, especially with Varis in the mood he was in—but it was best just to learn and move on.

“Of course Master, pardon my griping. I meant no offence,” he replied dutifully, stepping in front of Varis and kneeling facing away, as ordered. The prospect of Varis literally riding him for the duration of the exam was… iffy, to say the least. Sure, being reduced to a beast of burden was demeaning, but Aaron had been learning to value his dignity less and less during his time with Varis. No, his principal concern was why Varis didn’t think it was demeaning to himself to possibly be seen being carried by his mage like some kind of stubborn child.

But that was his prerogative, and Aaron wouldn’t argue. He tried to look on the bright side; at least this way he could probably travel faster than if he was concerned with guiding Varis’ every step alongside his own. He turned to reach behind him, taking Varis’ arm as gently as he could manage and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Here I am, Master.”

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron had no time to be appalled at Count Benjamin’s little joke before the proctor’s voice rang through the clearing once again, announcing the beginning of the exam. They were told to keep close to their partners—not difficult considering Varis would probably take his arm off completely before he let go—and soon enough, everything was gone.

The spell was unsettling, to say the least; for an impossibly long instant, all light, sound, sensation, everything was torn away. Aaron had no concept of where Varis was, where he was, whether he was moving or still—he hardly had a concept of being at all. All he knew was the chill, unlike any he could describe, until their jarring foray between time and space came to an equally jarring end in the middle of the forest.

It took Aaron a second to regain his bearings, planting his feet into solid ground and swaying a little as he quickly re-learned which way was up. Of course, the pain in his arm dragged him back to reality pretty quick, too. Varis must have tightened his grip during the trip; he tried to move his fingers, but to no avail, his hand curling stiffly into a fist as Varis pressed on his tendons. He could feel his pulse thumping against Varis’ hand, and the tips of his fingers were starting to tingle, but what occupied his attention the most was that the pain had graduated from "bad, but tolerable" to very distracting.

Varis didn’t seem to realize what he was doing, going off on a continuation of his earlier tangent about the Princess’ flagrant disregard for his position as a noble rather than readjusting his grip. Aaron had to admit, he was almost flattered that the Count saw him as a sympathetic ear. Maybe he shouldn’t have felt too special, as Varis was generally in the habit of airing his grievances to anyone in earshot, but Aaron would take what he could get. Besides, Varis was keeping pretty close as he fumed—surely that meant he trusted him a little, right?

He didn’t miss the rising pitch in Varis’ voice, and did his best to console him, though his voice did betray a bit more of his pain than before. “Well, Master, now you’ve asserted yourself as the only noble courageous enough to stand up to Her Highness. Maybe she was unmoved, but I’m sure your determination did not go unnoticed by the rest of them.”

Hoping that would be enough to distract from Varis’ panicking for the time being, Aaron took a moment to try and gather his surroundings, looking around before he activated his spell. As always, he could see everything clearly; they were deep in the forest with no one else in sight or earshot, and the only sign of life was a sign embedded in the tree in front of them, currently blank. He imagined whatever instructions it bore would reveal themselves once he activated his spell, but there was something rather more pressing to take care of first.

“Master, please, you’re hurting me,” he finally conceded (a little more pathetically than he would have liked) as the pain in his arm grew too great to ignore.

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

That perfect smile Lilie gave him made Aaron’s little facade of nonchalance worth every bit of energy he put into it, but there wasn’t much time to savour the warm feeling in his chest as a flash of red caught his attention. It was Varis, at long last, clearly blinded and being led over by—oh, why did it have to be William? Aaron had barely caught sight of the man since that embarrassing display on opening night, and now that he finally got the chance to see him again, it was under equally (or perhaps even more) unfavourable conditions. Aaron had hoped he’d get the chance to see William without Varis around, maybe set some records straight about what he might have heard floating around about him throughout the term, but it seemed that fate was habitually unkind.

But there was no time to dwell on that. Varis was making his way over at a snail’s pace, but every step he inched closer felt like the slow build of an approaching storm. He kept his composure dignified like he had on the bus, but Aaron was no stranger to the waves of absolute hatred that rolled off his master when he was forced to hold himself together; Varis was seething. His expression was carefully neutral, but tension still shone in every feature of his face (not that his pitch black eyes weren’t enough of an indicator already) and for all the stately confidence he forced into his steps, his grip on William was iron.

It took a conscious effort not to back away when the pair finally arrived—not that Varis would know, Aaron supposed, but it was bad form nonetheless. Still, he felt an awful lot like a man in the path of a freight train. His suspicions were confirmed when Varis finally released William; Aaron could see the shadows of bruises just starting to form on William’s forearm where the Count’s fingers had been. For his part, William didn’t react, but a flash of guilt and irritation both rose up in Aaron nonetheless.

He took Varis’ arm when it was offered, guiding the Count’s hand to his forearm similarly to how he’d been holding onto William. He regretted it immediately, having to bite back a hiss as Varis latched onto his arm with inhuman force—good lord, no wonder William had bruises—but there was no time to respond before Varis launched into a speech on the shameful complaisancy of the masses. William shot Aaron a flat look full of some combination of exasperation and disbelief; he almost looked like his mother when Dora and Clara bickered, and here Aaron was, caught in the middle of it. He returned William’s look with a pained apology written all over his face, though he didn't dare voice it; he was sure the embarrassment clear in his eyes was enough.

“Absolutely shameful, Master,” Aaron concurred quietly, nodding his silent thanks to William as the man returned to his duties. He glanced around sheepishly, vainly hoping that no one else noticed Varis’ display, but of course that was too much to hope for. His little speech, while directed at Aaron, had been loud enough for most everyone nearby to hear, and drew looks from a few mages down the line (and presumably their vampires as well, even if they couldn’t quite face the right direction to listen in). Aaron caught Lilie’s sympathetic look and returned what he hoped was a reassuring one, but which was probably more apologetic than anything, before turning his attention back to Varis.

“We’re about to begin, Master,” he informed him, carefully filtering the pain from his voice as his arm was slowly crushed. “Are you feeling alright?”

_{Trying his best to quell Hurricane Varis @Achronum}

Of Blood and Magic

Try as he might, Aaron just couldn’t force himself to focus, distracted by everything from the halting steps of blind approaching vampires to the nervous shuffling of the mages who met them. Weird, normally he had no problem filtering out distractions when it was time to perform, but he supposed the past few nerve-fraying weeks were finally catching up to him. At the worst possible time. Why did things always seem to go sideways for him when the stakes were highest?

Eventually he conceded, figuring (or at least hoping) he’d have an easier time snapping out of his fog once they were transported into the forest and the pressure was on. It was just as well; magic wasn’t something he could wrestle into submission, and he supposed concentration was no different. Instead, he resigned himself to a few more idle moments, looking down the line of mages as they were each reunited with their vampires, one by one. Count Benjamin didn’t seem happy about his impairment, but took it in stride; he heard a disproportionately loud laugh from where Max stood with Eris, no doubt veiling his nervousness with humour, and Countess Marivaldi found Madalyn as he’d suspected she would. But what caught Aaron’s attention the most were the pairs beyond the end of the line, mages and vampires he didn’t know, or had only seen in passing.

Surprisingly, not a single vampire looked happy to be blinded; perhaps that shouldn’t have come as a shock, but with the way he’d seen some of the lowborn purebloods or the Embraced carry on with mages like peers, Aaron was surprised that none of them thought of the practical as an exciting venture with their mage or something. Maybe there was something poetic in there about how vampires inherently craved control, but far be it from him to find it. What was more captivating, however, were the mages. Their attitudes varied far more than their masters’, ranging everywhere from nervousness to excitement to complete disregard. A few caught Aaron’s eye who looked a little more mortified than the rest, pale and skittish as their vampires approached them. Aaron couldn’t hear anything said, but from his limited view there were one or two who shrunk away from their vampires’ words, looking like their lives flashed before their eyes.

Aaron shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and he pulled his eyes away and down out of habit. His heart went out to them; they probably faced the same ire he did if they steered their masters wrong (or even if they didn’t, and their vampires were simply stirred to rage by the concept itself as Varis was), but more than likely with a different result. Aaron had an irritating habit of occasionally slipping into self-pity no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, but even then he knew very well there were plenty of mages who had it far, far worse than him; after all, Varis was the only Sinnenodel on campus, and rare were traditionalists outside of his House who resorted to words rather than swifter and more painful means of correction. Aaron only hoped for those mages’ sakes that their nerves didn’t overcome them tonight.

Mercifully, a voice pulled him out of his head, Count Benjamin calling over a hearty wish of good luck. Dire thoughts or no, Aaron found it difficult not to grin at the Count as he tried to face the right direction—he was a little off, too far to the left and a bit too high—before wishing luck to the rest of the group as well. His faith was appreciated (not that it really meant much to anyone but his own mage) but the word “capable” stood out almost comically from the rest. Aaron was sure he meant it in good faith, but there was no doubt Varis would be grumbling his objections to that idea if he heard it.

“Thank you, Count Benjamin,” he called back in a cheerful tone that was only a little bit faked, “and good luck to you too—not that you’ll need it, I’m sure.” The last part was directed more to Lilie, and he even threw in a little wink for good measure. The grin he flashed her was mostly cosmetic, sure, but there was no need for him to bring the rest of the line down with his burgeoning dread.

_{@Bert Macklin @Hero}

Of Blood and Magic

Lilie’s return greeting put a more genuine smile on Aaron’s face, though after a quick glance over he forced his eyes forward. Now was not the time for admiring thigh-high boots and unbearably cute earmuffs—it was time to get his head in the game. A bit of pleasant conversation and Lilie’s enthusiasm had at least helped reduce his headache to more of a dull throb, and the ringing in his ears from Varis’ earlier shouting had largely calmed down, but the fatigue weighing on him mixed with his usual dread anytime Varis was angry could still pose a problem for his concentration.

He took a few deep breaths of cold air to bring him back to the present, focusing on the task at hand. Six hours of maintaining Dark Eyes. He could do that. His original plan had been to cast the spell intermittently to look for signs and use his natural night vision for the rest, but upon learning that the directions could be anywhere (not to mention these puzzles the proctor just brought up) he knew it wouldn’t be a viable strategy. No matter; he had no problem casting the spell, and his affinity training had been building up his magical stamina at a good pace as well. Guiding something as surprisingly stubborn as light required a constant flow of energy, and he could take it further and further every night. This would be no different.

Cautious excitement for a new challenge was energizing, and Aaron was feeling much more awake just in time for Max to come stalking by, mumbling about recordings and tantrums. Aaron recoiled on reflex when his earring was swung—it didn’t hurt per se, but it didn’t feel good to have his earlobe yanked on either—recovering just in time to glare daggers at Max as he found his spot, expression darkening. So much for his recovering mood.

But Aaron’s anger was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same tired resignation he’d just managed to get rid of. Yes, wonderful, just the reminder he needed, as if he could ever forget the swirling ball of spite and vitriol he’d be guiding through the forest tonight. And moon only knew what mood he’d be in after it was all over, Aaron noted with a turn of the stomach. He almost wanted to tell Max that there’d be no need to record anything, as he was sure everyone in earshot would get the full Sinnenodel experience, but even in his state he recognized that disparaging his master like that would be a step too far.

“Good luck to you, too,” he murmured sourly instead, carefully untangling his earring from his hair.

_{@Scribe of Thoth, mentions @Hero}

Obscene's Scratchpad

Lilie’s return greeting put a more genuine smile on Aaron’s face, though after a quick glance over he forced his eyes forward. Now was not the time for admiring thigh-high boots and unbearably cute earmuffs—it was time to get his head in the game. A bit of pleasant conversation and Lilie’s enthusiasm had at least helped reduce his headache to more of a dull throb, and the ringing in his ears from Varis’ earlier shouting had largely calmed down, but the fatigue weighing on him mixed with his usual dread anytime Varis was angry could still pose a problem for his concentration. He took a few deep breaths of cold air to bring him back to the present, focusing on the task at hand. Six hours of maintaining Dark Eyes. He could do that. His original plan had been to cast the spell intermittently to look for signs and use his natural night vision for the rest, but upon learning that the directions could be anywhere (not to mention these puzzles the proctor just brought up) he knew it wouldn’t be a viable strategy. No matter; he had no problem casting the spell, and his affinity training had been building up his magical stamina at a good pace as well. Guiding something as surprisingly stubborn as light required a constant flow of energy, and he could take it further and further every night. This would be no different.

Cautious excitement for a new challenge was energizing, and Aaron was feeling much more awake just in time for Max to come stalking by, mumbling about recordings and tantrums. Aaron recoiled on reflex when his earring was swung—it didn’t hurt per se, but it didn’t feel good to have his earlobe yanked on either—recovering just in time to glare daggers at Max as he found his spot, expression darkening. So much for his recovering mood. But Aaron’s anger was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same tired resignation he’d just managed to get rid of. Yes, wonderful, just the reminder he needed, as if he could ever forget the swirling ball of spite and vitriol he’d be guiding through the forest tonight. And moon only knew what mood he’d be in after it was all over, Aaron noted with a turn of the stomach. He almost wanted to tell Max that there’d be no need to record anything, as he was sure everyone in earshot would get the full Sinnenodel experience, but even in his state he recognized that disparaging his master like that would be a step too far.

“Good luck to you, too,” he murmured sourly instead, carefully untangling his earring from his hair.

_{@Scribe of Thoth, mentions @Hero}