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[Eridanus]

Day 63, Winter of 512 AV
Evening
The Kelp Bar

"This is obviously a resurgence from the previous one!" A young, brash-looking man with the eyes and swagger of a sailor declared, looking around him carefully before he turned back to his conversational partner. "It's almost as if we're cursed, I tell you. The first round was bad enough, coming on the tails of that damn Djed Storm. Now, this is a goddamned armageddon, I tell you."

The creature opposite the man listened carefully, even his serious demeanor not detracting from his impossibly beautiful countenance. So beautiful, in fact, that it bordered on surreality and might even seem otherworldly to the point of being frightening to the more timid.

"Thank you, Tim," Eridanus answered gravely, patting the incensed man on his forearm. "I appreciate the danger you took in coming out-"

"Ain't no danger. Plague or no plague, a waveguard's gotta do a waveguard's gotta do. People getting desperate, and the next thing you know all sort of phonies selling hope appear. Then you have crime. If I must die, then let me die in the duty of Zeltiva."

"You will do no such thing," The ethaefal said gently. "Be careful and always cover yourself up."

"Of course," The waveguard snorted, though the filth on his multi-layered bandages on his forearm was evident. It was a precautionary covering to avoid exposing any skin that might be susceptible to the plague should it suddenly cut and the wound left open to the air. "You and your kind are the only ones unaffected. I guess that the diseases of this world doesn't affect you who come from another, huh."

The tinge of jealousy and envy did not go undetected.

"Zeltiva used to be my home when I studied in the University, and it always will be. I will liaise with the University scientists and see what I can do-"

"Which is the only reason why I agreed to meet up-"

"I am a man of my word. Now, do not let me further detract you from your work."

With an abruptness that those unfamiliar with the man would find rude, the rough-looking sailor left the table, looking around disgustedly and making sure to keep an open space between him and everyone else.

Not that it was difficult when everyone else was doing the same thing.

That man, of course, was Timothy Frothline, a svefra waveguard sworn to protect the law and order of Zeltiva. A brash and often rude man, but one with unquestionable loyalty and honor, and selfless duty when it comes to his beloved city.

The atmosphere in the pub was more muted than usual. Those who could, tried their best to stay at home, away from the dangers of contagion. Those out were covered from head to toe, whispering to another on their own urgent and covert businesses. Eridanus was the only one who sat wearing normal clothes, his celestial form unhidden and exuding fae glamor.

He rubbed his temples, processing what had happened so far. There was a plague before that happened after the Djed Storm of Spring 512, that was what he gathered from the interview with Timothy. Yet, it was natural since the Djed Storm would destroy infrastructure, and the lack of hygiene along with the pollution of the aftermath would do so. Then it faded and all went back to normal. Then it struck again all of a sudden, this time with the vengeance of an accursed wraith.

This time, it was more contagious and far more fatal than ever. The entire city's social and economical structure collapsed in a span of weeks or days, and even Maria's embittered pleas only had the most minimal of effects. Eridanus had plans to travel elsewhere from Zeltiva, but seeing his beloved city like this tore at his heart. He could not leave it in such a state, especially when he was in such a unique position to help it.

He remembered the plague that afflicted the Syliran camp after they left Zeltiva. That was the outbreak of the initial plague. It was there that he learned that his ethaefal nature rendered him immune to mundane diseases. He could not be afflicted by pathogens belonging to the mortal world.

And that was the empowerment that could not go to waste.

What should he do? Perhaps, visit the Infirmary? The University? The brightest minds were there, maybe they might be researching into a solution? He was no doctor, but he was a decent mage, but if there was any magic that he could throw to find a solution or to investigate the cause, he would gladly do so.

[Valo]

This time he wouldn't succumb to the charms of this abominably enchanting substance. A sip would do him no harm, as long as it was just a sip. And perhaps another another sip, merely a sip. Sips like this however had a habit of turning into mugs. One mug would do him no harm. What would two mugs do? The artist was ever so determined not to give into temptation this time. Too often did he find himself in situations of pure humiliation, ones that failed to stop short of endangering his life. Sip, two sips, a mug perhaps but no more. Why did this foolish artist continue to drink this vile concoction however? The answer, though simple, eluded him and would continue to do as as long as his ego would cloud his self judgement. For Valo had little self restraint. When alcohol was concerned, he was like a child playing with fire, he'd continue dipping his hand into the raging tongues until nothing but bare bone would be all that is left. Such charms within such a foul substance. Saltness with almost unimaginable appeal.

Comfortably he sat upon one of the strained stools, tucked away somewhere in the dim void of the Kelp Bar. A mug at hand. Moments of relaxation with this good old friend of his, the kelp beer, after a long day of work. Frivolous is the work of an artist, yet draining, thus he slumped by the wall beneath his curtains of scarlet, a man of alabaster skin and genuine beauty. Though his own appeal was human bound, thus matching not with that of the single most magnificent being he had ever the pleasure of laying his eyes upon. A man, it must have been a man, conversing with such magnitude to his word - even the word being that of otherworldly beauty in the prying eyes of the artist - with a Wave Guard who had been simply dimmed by hie creature's radiant appearance.

Again the artist's lip dipped into the liquid in his mug, the salty taste that rolled down his throat and into the pits of his interior, leaving nothing but a strange after taste. There was something profoundly disgusting about it, but at the same time so very interesting that he found himself indulging in that peculiarity of taste. Eyes thrust passively into the floor, the very relaxing of feature which rendered his appearance that of a man in a daze. Ears however remained focused on the conversation that took place. Something no doubt regarding the pestilence, for even the Kelp bad did not escape it's mighty wrath. The desolate place, so void of the blooming hustle and bustle of clientèle which he was so very sued to.

Alas the wave guard abandoned his beautiful companion, exiting in roughness of manner, leaving the creature who seemed so very bold in wake of the illness that roamed the streets. Boldness that seemed almost as if he fathomed no fear of it. A vulgar gesture to the demon who slew men women and children alike in no quiver of emotion, a mockery of it with his dress. Another sip as the artist glanced momentarily in the stranger's direction, before dropping his eyes once more. Something within him, no doubt that very love of elaborate aesthetic that every artist beheld, beckoned him approach the beautiful stranger, perhaps strike up a conversation. But no such thing took place. For now he would remain watching.

[Valanir]

With a bruised cheek, Valanir's face was far from perfection as he was heading his usual nightly route along the coast. Crime had shot up. His once beautiful view had degraded into piles of flesh and soul feces alike. Whatever the cause for this plague, it seemed that he had way too much divine blood in his veins to simply succumb to an ailment of the body. Still his past alteractions with the city's ugly face still hurt as he tugged his right arm closer to the torso. There was never the time to find a proper healer, nor the money. he would need to get it looked at soon enough. Death was everywhere. There was no need for him to become part it.

There were bodies everywhere, and there were some who didn't even realize just what it was they were as their corpse hands helped them crawl over the dirtied street. Winter and death, the season had not only come to slay the current year, but also there were whispers of this season being anger from the gods that had come to strike them all down in form of disease and pestilence. Breathbane, Lifetaker, Nuitizer (his personal favorite)... people already had way too many names for what seemed to cause their deaths. Some could still remember how it was during the previous insurgence of the plague, but most such people took their que and left as soon as they were able upon noticing signs of it appearing again. Few left were fanatics, lunatics, loyalists and drunks. Neither of them served much purpose to Valanir so far. At least they would get to die where their hearts bled for all these years. Yet the ethaefal couldn't shake off the terrible feeling of this not being a curse of the gods, but a gift to one among them. Not so long ago even he asked for help in reaching more of his kind. Not long after people started dropping like flies. One thing was certain - whatever caused the plague was kinetic and therefore either a monster, something sentient or even worse so, something imported from one of the many places Zeltiva had routes with prior to this mess. This must've been the case because the plague had came and went away once already. They didn't stop it back then either, but it still stopped after a while.

His hand hurt like a petchin'... then he'd lay eyes on a man that caused him to nervous up. Clad in Waveguard uniform, this man had clearly been staring at him for quite some time. The cloth cladded fool had guts to come outside in these conditions, but that wasn't what bothered Valanir. Then the official would slowly come over, as if he had some purpose with the ethaefal. "Never thought I'd see another of you so soon. Are you here for the same purpose as Eridanus?" previously uninterested eyes now flickered heavily upon the man. "Yes, if you'd please as to instruct me of his location, it'd be much appreciated" the voice was so polite it seemed inhuman... but was it really, was he really going to see another ethaefal? Could it be that amidst all this rubble Leth found a way to send another of his sons to help this stray child find a way? He wanted to believe it so and waited a good long while with nothing but patience for the awkwardly semi-mumified man. The man seemed semi suspicious, but he still seemed wise enough to rise a hand and point to the Kelp Bar behind him. It didn't take Valanir long to simply pass the man with a curt nod and a non audible but mumbled thank you.

One, two, three and he was at the door, causing some awkward stares from those sitting nearest to the door. A few even mumbled something like fool or petcher upon witnessing his unprotected skin, but they were not the reason for his visit. And there he was! A son of Leth in the flesh! Hardly containing his euphoria, Valanir would rush to the table to sit across the man. Stopping at the last second he'd extend a hand in greeting. "Greetings brother" this must've been the mentioned Eridanus, there was no way he was lucky enough to find two ethaefal in one room at once after not finding any for so long. "Eridanus, I presume? I'm Valanir, it's a pleasure." still waiting on the man to reach to him, Valanir wouldn't sit before he knew if his kin welcomed their meeting.

[Eridanus]

As Eridanus brooded on this affair - not even realizing the intense gaze of a long-haired artist nearby; that was the extent of his worrying - a sudden voice broke through his thoughts. Rattled, he glanced up irritably, the ugly expression doing nothing to mar his perfect visage.

Only to see a being exuding such powerful glamor that he cannot exist in this world. Indeed, the horns probably was the most distinguishing factor, but the tiny connection the two fallen had caused Eridanus to simply feel what the other man was. An ethaefal, and a fellow son of Leth. It was only after this realization that he realized that this unknown man had called him by his name.

"At your service," The mage smiled and bowed calmly, even if his internal state was a little surprised he kept a neutral demeanor. It was a natural attempt to not show his cards especially in cases of imperfect information. And by the fact that this ethaefal already knew his name and knew where to find him, it already signaled the existence of his imperfect information.

A screwed up way of thinking, sure. A mercenary way of thinking, sure. But it was this instinct that kept him living throughout centuries of human politics and betrayal.

"What do you seek of me, Valanir?"

[Valo]

It was then the the door of the kelp bar swung open with an agonised creak of the old wood. Abandoned at once as a second being of great beauty stepped though, rushing to the one who was named Eridanus, as Valo overheard from their conversation. Valanir was the newcomer, who introduced himself with such magnitude to his excitement that it seemed his chest could hardly contain it. Graceful, more so than a simple human, with horns that would fluidly beside his feature. A juxtaposition of elaborate fantasy against the grim interior of the Kelp Bar. The contrast of complimentary colour, rendering the couple a focal point of the situation.

What a terribly peculiar world it was that he lived in, for the streets had not the habit of simply crawling with Etherfel. These beautiful creatures did not simply sprout up like fresh floral buds in the spring. For the complete 23 years of his life, the young Inarta had not met a creature of such luminous magnificence, despite travelling around Mizahar more than one would dare to wish for. Yet by some peculiar stroke of luck, by the questionable will of the gods, two such beings were now present before him. More magnificence than he could imagine, there simply and casually, for the artist's beauty craving eyes to prey upon. It seemed that within this sickness, such surreal encounters lingered all the more often.

Still he simply observed the unfolding situation. Curious. Simply curious. Unwilling perhaps to join. Happy to watch from afar, to simply observe that which would make a fabulous work of art. A walking work of art.

[Valanir]

The brother he never had was too stern to his liking. Too rigid to welcome his newfound kin. What was it about Valanir that kept this glaring ethaefal at such a distance, he couldn't fathom. Still, it was better to get straight to the chase. He had met uncooperative kinsmen before, and therefore knew it was simply a matter of finding mutual interests regardless of motive that would drive these broom spined individuals.

"I came here seeking help from another one of us, yet I've been unable to find any for longer than I'd like to admit." then he'd try to explain just how it was that he found Eridanus in the first place, albeit awkwardly "That's where you're mummified friend comes in, guard's unifrom and all, he told me where to find you. I think he assumed I was there to help with whatever task it is you have." and then a bit of hesitation, not all ethaefal were even as good as morally grey, but in spirit of his cause he would agree to most things "I don't see a reason as to why he'd be wrong. I'm willing to help your plight brother, to the best of my ability." and an exhale before getting to the heart of the matter "That is of course if you'd agree to sit down and have a rather peculiar talk afterwards. There are matters no one can understand alone... there are questions..." and then he'd stop as cryptic as he was nervous. There could be fould ears of enemies afoot. Hopefully the other offspring of Leth could understand the unvoiced urgency in his voice. The city was dying, and even if they themselves were seemingly immune, these were dangerous times. Eridanus was too rare a find to simply be left on his own.