Apr. 20th, 2012

not_sinister: eli and nait forever (Default)
For Eliathanis and Naitachal, the tunnel had started out with cardboard sides, but they'd lost the other people in the panicked exodus. Around them was only the mist, and the tunnel had changed, turning in places to dark stone, and now, to a stranger, featureless mist that nevertheless glowed. It was uncanny, and Naitachal had already lost Eliathanis to death once, and once was too much already, so he wasn't risking a repeat.

The White Elf had never noticed, or seemingly remembered his own demise, guarding Naitachal's back during the attack from those humans that the traitorous princess had instigated, after pretending to be the niece of a count. A count, who, it turned out, was also the traitor, who'd aided her in her attempt to turn the nonhuman races and humans against each other..

Spirit or not, the dark elf refused to let go of his friend's hand.

He could not forget the sight of Eliathanis' corpse on the funeral pyre. For all that Eliathanis was solid, in his heart, Naitachal feared that if he let go, he would lose him again, and now, with the Bar gone, it would likely be permanent.

No. Not again. He'd had to pick up the pieces once before. This time, where Eli would go, he would go too.

The first indication that they were no longer in their own world was that the sky was a sunless glowing twilight, and all around them, a forest-turned-city grew. Their approach was registered by four guards at this city's gate, armored fantastically in silver.

"Sanctuary, please." The dark elf necromancer surrendered his pride and begged, pushed beyond his limits, and frightened, faced by the unknown at every corner, and knowing, with the spell they threw over him to discern his nature, that he did not belong here in this dimension. True, his magic resonated, stronger than ever before, drinking in the ambient magic in the vicinity like a drug. True, he felt stronger already. True, Eliathanis seemed more solid, which was a godsend.. but this was not his realm, he couldn't give them an appropriate response to their query of who goes there, and he didn't want to turn back. Back was the tunnel and an uncertain fate. He wasn't risking that. Wasn't risking going anywhere else, either. Not without Eli.

"Our home is lost. We have no way back. I beg for sanctuary."

***

Eliathanis had been worried for Naitachal when he'd first registered the other elf's convulsive grip on his hand or wrist. He'd never been willing to let go, not once, and from Naitachal, who was normally flippant and independent, this behavior worried the pale elf. He'd tried to calm him down, allowing him to hold hands, or remaining in constant contact with him, to try to reassure him with a touch that things would be fine, but it hadn't seemed to work as well as it had the first time.


And Naitachal stubbornly, steadfastly refused to even explain it. Any mention of it caused the dark elf's brow to furrow and his grip, which loosened to a comfortable level at times, would tighten until it almost hurt. Almost.

Eliathanis was made of sterner stuff than that. He wasn't one to panic, and trusted in the gods' decisions. He knew he was a goodly elf, and by his beliefs, this meant he had nothing to fear; by those same beliefs, he knew Naitachal would meet him again one way or the other.

Naitachal may have been flippant, annoying, obnoxious and too sure that he was intimidating for his own good, but the dark elf meant well, and Eli loved him, in his own way.


This world was strange to him, and he instinctively knew it wasn't his, not really, but it seemed fair, even if it had no true sky. He could see perfectly well and the buildings he saw, half -tree, half stained glass or carved wooden panels, were lovely. The streams and meadows that intermixed with the grove buildings looked fair to him as well. He hoped it was hospitable, but he wasn't as badly off as Nait thought him to be, and he was more worried for his frightened friend than he was for himself.

*****

The gate guards looked them over curiously, inching backwards from them as if hey had a plague, which worried Naitachal further. And then the call was sent out to bring the news to their King and Queen, Oberon and Titania.

These newcomers didn't wear anything any elf they'd ever seen, wore, for they wore iron on them and though this... Eliathanis looked much like them, his holding iron in the form of ornamented steel...Well, it pretty much said neither of them was the traditional elf. It also meant they couldn't use Gates.. which were the teleporting means normally used by the inhabitants of this realm.

Which meant they'd have to meet the king and queen after being relieved of the death-metal, the guards informed them, asking that they shuck off their iron weapons, ornaments and in some parts, reinforced-armor.

...That was a lot of iron, the guards had been shivering and avoiding. A lot. Iron was death-metal to the people here; merely touching it would burn them, which was why Eliathanis and Naitachal had to disarm themselves, as the four armored guards, taller and stronger than they, had moved away from them, surreptitiously avoiding the aura their iron armor and weapons gave them until those artifacts were removed and wrapped heavily in cloth. Lots of cloth.

Each of the two had been fully armed and armored; and they ended up putting them in sealed wooden, silk-lined chest, bound with spells, before they were approached by the now less traumatized guards, who, in gratitude for their willing disarming, offered them a place to sleep, a small tree-home that they could stay in, until the king and queen returned to Elfhame Logres.

*****

Naitachal was stunned to see the elves conjuring up food and drinks, fresh clean clothes, and what amounted, in his mind, to a lovely piece of habitation. A bit heavily ornamented and in plant and animal patterns rather than the skulls he was used to, but nevertheless, Naitachal decided, as he and Eliathanis began to explore the new house given to them, this was a most intriguing use of magic. He wanted it. Wanted it a lot. It was.. never-endingly useful.

He would have to ask if they could settle in, and then, perhaps he could ask if he and Eli could live here. And learn. And for once, being able to learn magic wouldn't involve death, dead people, or musical notes.

****
Sometime later, they were questioned by a pair of healers, here to ascertain their own health. The healers were stunned to realize that not only could these two elves both handle iron; but the black skinned one was both a necromancer.. a horrible vocation... as well as an accomplished Bard. That was unprecedented. Bards, true Bards, could make magic with their music; and their testing Naitachal proved him to be quite.. adept at both.

Stunning and frightening. Naitachal's bearing and clothing didn't exactly lead to a comforting impression, though, from the way he held on to the white skinned elf, as if the white elf was the most precious thing in the world to him, the healers would have guessed they were lovers.

Or perhaps that was just their wishful thinking.

****
not_sinister: eli and nait forever (Default)
Apparently, Elves here cannot hold iron. Who knew?

Naitachal and Eliathanis certainly didn't. The King, Oberon, and his Queen, Titania, apparently rule over two courts, and Naitachal finds both of them supremely intimidating. They practically ooze power, and the way Titania gives Naitachal interested looks, disturbs the dark elf more than he can say. He tries to give as little information as possible, because of this, but apparently they have truth spells. Really strong truth spells.

Naitachal is very not pleased with this. His tactful declaration that he's hardly worthy of her interest does soothe the Queen's feathers, and he thanks his ancestors that she doesn't seem too interested in pushing him, or Eli, into bed with her.

Particularly not when her husband was looking at them so speculatively too. Who knew iron-resistance was so valuable? Naitachal didn't. That's why he's currently trying to fend off an elven mage who wants to draw his blood and Eli's for experimentation.

Although, if it would gain them something.. Perhaps he should look into this further. Just a bit. After all, he doesn't want to be empty handed, does he? And this magic that they use, that makes things real, out of thin air is utterly fascinating. Perhaps.. a trade of information?

*****

Naitachal is displeased to find out that the same things that make him insensitive to iron, are the same things that mean he will never be able to duplicate their matter-construction deeds by himself. This means he has to find other ways to, it seems, earn a living. So far, he's found himself getting along with some of these 'sidhe' so as to speak, and he's getting even better at Bardic magic, which is in his view, scant consolation for his inability to master the conjuration skill. Sure, it impresses these elves, and especially the ladies, but it's not as practical as say, being able to make clothes appear from the air, as these people can, right down to what he's been told are their adolescents.

And another thing that drives him around the bend is, that he's apparently so much younger than they. Like a baby, apparently, on the relativity. So is Eli, really. He's not sure if he's pleased to be called a prodigy, pleased to be chased after by women, or frustrated to be indulged and cossetted like a child.

No, wait, even the latter has positive attributes. He didn't exactly get a good childhood before, anyway. Well, as long as they don't start baby talking him, they should be just fine. It's gotten to the point that, as he swaps song after song from way back home, he's showered with things whenever he uses his magic to entertain an audience.

The appreciation from pale skinned elves, when he's more used to being their scapegoat and the thing that flaps in the night, is fascinating and rather.. addictive, though that way of thinking is something that he feels sheepish about.

At least the food is good, the people are nice enough to make a lot of it for him, he's got a nice place to live, permanent hot water, clothing is plentiful,  and more importantly to his peace of mind, he and Eli are treated with respect.

Eli's enjoying himself putting pedophiles out of their misery with this 'Wild Hunt' they keep talking about.. Odd that he's the one who's doing the nonviolent vocation nowadays while Eli is showing .. unusual glee in the hamstringing of cruel humans.

All in all, he'd be perfectly happy here.. If he only knew what had happened back there, after they left.

Oh, and if Titania would only stop giving him those interested glances. She's gorgeous, but so inhuman and so unearthly that it's giving him what he's reasonably sure are 'the creeps'.

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