Welcome to Gaia! ::

Lithian covered the cost of the first round of drinks, divvying them up between himself and his company. He had next to no experience drinking, personally, but with five older siblings, he knew enough to make suggestions for what at least ought to go down easily enough, and it seemed that Syrikk’s recommendations at least, came through on the well-recieved end. Whatever Lith ended up with tasted rich and sweet, making it easy to forget that it even contained alcohol to begin with. The slow burn on the way down, though, and the way the heat of it crawled from his gut out to his fingertips, was impossible to miss.

He smiled, and relaxed. There was little better than a beautiful night of budding stars, the surrounding bustle of activity, good cheer, and spirited music, combined with the company of friends. It was hard to imagine, he thought as he settled on a pillar of stone surrounding the statue of some long-dead soldier, that not so very long ago, he had been on the verge of progressing only to adept. Small, inexperienced, and shy. He had barely been able to handle one dragon on his own then.

Now…

His attention flit to Casseth, watching his friend drink and converse with Ara. Now, it all seemed a lifetime ago. A time when he never would have imagined Araceli and Casseth could have gotten along. Never would have imagined so many things.

When he caught himself eyeing the way lantern light danced along the line of Casseth’s throat when he threw his head back to drink, Lithian snapped his eyes away and flushed, frowning. Once, he had found himself only giddy to have Casseth in his presence and share his company. Now, he could not even begin to pretend his interests were anything other than what they were. Brow furrowed, Lithian sipped at his drink, closing his eyes and turning his thoughts to what it had been like to kiss Vyren, forcing himself not to wonder how it might be different, to kiss Cas.

Casseth was unavailable.

And Vyren…

Rubbing a hand over his arm, Lithian suddenly wished the firani were there, if only to have a solid body to lean against, and speak with. Someone who understood exactly what he was and was willing to hold him anyway.

That was the scene that Detraeus entered upon.

When a young woman approached Cas, asking for a dance, Lithian watched, attention following the faint sway to Cas’ step, the broad sweep of his grin, and how readily he pulled her close. He looked good. Happy. And the warm light of the festival seemed at home on the raised curves of his face and edges of his scales. Lithian carded his fingers through the tip of one of his braids, and smiled gratefully at Ara when she approached giving him at least at momentary distraction. At her frown, though, Lithian’s brow pinched. Then, before he could so much as open his mouth to ask, her attention was distracted by their newest arrival. As his attention followed Araceli’s look to Detraeus, Lithian sighed and raised his drink, finishing it with a thoughtful stare.

Curious though he was, Lithian wasn’t sure how to ask what had happened between the two of them to leave such a lasting impression on her without it coming out confused or disapproving. It wasn’t really his business to begin with of course, but he still wondered. She hadn’t even wanted anything to do with Casseth for the longest time, and he was the definition of a warm and positive individual, if she’d been looking for someone to break the stereotypes of what it meant to bear Soudana’s blood. Then, lo these many years later, along walked a brooding archer with less of a sense of humor than a stickpin, and her interest was captured.

It didn’t help that, particularly after the incident with Callum, Lithian felt warier of the men Araceli might choose to surround herself with. Detraeus, little though he knew him, seemed far from a stunning example of Magescian decency and gentility. Lithian didn’t trust him. Standing, he touched a hand gently to Ara’s shoulder.

“I’m going to buy another drink. I’ll let you be the welcoming party for the master of good cheer, hm?” With that, and a very fleeting glance to her cheek, Lithian added, “You look lovely tonight…” and squeezed once, lightly, before letting his hand drop and leaving in search of one of the many vendors providing spirits for the festival goers.

Detraeus, meanwhile, was focussed primarily on avoiding unasked for contact, his shoulders bunched inwards and posture tight as he steered well away from anyone who looked to be swaying inordinately much. He would think it early to see this many drunks, except that he’d often enough seen them in the streets at midday with no festival as an excuse, so he wasn’t particularly surprised. When he spotted Casseth, a fraction of his tension edged out, and he moved in. It only figured, he supposed, that Cas had already found someone to wrap his arms around. Detraeus had no interest in taking part in that portion of the festivities — and, for that matter, was still uncertain what part he even would be willing to join in on — but Casseth had asked him here, and it seemed only appropriate that he at least arrive.

When Araceli’s wave caught his notice, Detraeus felt his cheeks heat, brow pinching in confusion. Why was she still happy to see him, even after what had happened with that insane firani? Had she been drinking already? Or was she, perhaps, waving to someone else entirely?

He glanced over his shoulder, looking for anyone that might have her focus instead. A portly man, flush in the face and clearly unsteady, grinned at him broadly, and Detraeus grimaced, quickly stepping away when the man swayed and making quicker progress over to the outer edge of where Casseth had been pulled in to dance. There, he folded his arms, and allowed himself another glance at Ara. Something in the back of his mind dictated that he ought to at least attempt to start a conversation. Say something. Anything. But that whisper of instinct was far too quiet, drowned out by years of habit layered on top of suffocating uncertainty. He hated the sound of his own voice anyway, and in these settings, he’d probably have to speak above normal to even be heard.

Detraeus tensed, entirely surprised by the contact, and nearly drew away, but Ara seemed determined, and as much as he had come here for Cas, his friend seemed distracted and Araceli was — well — far more interesting than he was ready to admit. Thankfully, she let go quickly after catching hold of him and despite his discomfort with the action, he appreciated the move to a quieter area. He huffed, drawing in on himself, but eyed her, curious.

“Evening,” he said, attention flitting over her dress — fully aware that she couldn’t tell the direction of his gaze one way or not. “I, too, prefer quiet.” He frowned, gaze moving back briefly towards Cas before settling on her scar and then her dress and her drink. He tilted his head, feeling that he ought to continue the conversation somehow even if it didn’t feel entirely natural. “Are you…enjoying yourself?”

“I—” Detraeus blinked, startled completely out of whatever he’d been thinking, her request far from anything he might have ever expected from her mouth. “What?” His attention flit to the dancers, honing in on Casseth in particular: how closely he held the girl in his arms, contact everywhere, nearly inseparable. Shoulders bunching inwards and breath sucking in tightly, he shook his head. “I don’t dance.”

“Well, I do.”

Detraeus jerked his attention over, tensing further still as the strange, tall dovaa from earlier — Lithian — moved up, laying a hand on Araceli’s shoulder. Detraeus narrowed his eyes, glowering as Lithian moved in.

“Your wasted opportunity is my gain. May I have the honor, Ara?” Lith asked, catching her fingers in his and lifting them gently to his lips, though his expression betrayed that he might be looking more for conversation than contact.

Detraeus, regardless, scowled and watched the procession with coiled tension. He didn’t like the foolish dovaa to begin with, and to have his hands on her unnerved him in ways he couldn’t pin down. He wanted him gone, and out of his space and Ara’s. Aloud, he said nothing.

Lithian enjoyed dancing. He didn’t consider himself especially good at it — tall and gangly, combined with a natural tendency towards awkwardness to begin with didn’t translate well into much grace on the dance floor. But he managed, and had gotten better over the years, his upbringing giving him multiple opportunities to practice. Not to mention, the carefree, spirited and ‘roudier’ style of the festival dances on the streets of Eowyn didn’t call for as much grace to begin with.

Thus, as he swept into the music with Ara in his company, he felt fairly relaxed. Not that it was entirely dancing he’d pulled her aside for to begin with. When he had her deep enough into the small throng of dancers, distant enough from Detraeus and surrounded in the protective lull of the music and festivities, he leaned in close.

“You see something in him,” he said, speaking as discreetly as he could manage and keeping his expression a neutral, but curious smile. “Care to tell me what happened in that cave, or do I need to guess?”

Lithian blinked, startled into silence as Ara leaned in against him, her body warm and close. A flush crept up his cheeks as he eyed her, and for an instant, he almost regretted that he would never — could never? — feel more for her than what he did. With the music humming around them though, and the reassuring heat of her in his arms, he was reminded it didn’t need to be more than this. He already cared deeply for her, loved her as a friend, and could be there for her — now — when she clearly seemed to need it. Wasn’t that variety of love just as important?

He thought so.

This in mind, he smiled, dipping to press a kiss to the crown of her forehead. “Sometimes, perhaps not everything has to make sense at once. All things will work themselves out in their own way, eventually, and I—” At that moment, Lithian caught sight of Casseth and Venara, lips locked and bodies in tandem, entirely absorbed in each other’s worlds. His chest bunched, a raw knot of unfair jealousy locking his throat and cutting off his words. He jerked his eyes away, shutting them briefly and shaking his head as his cheeks burned, flushed, frustrated, and abruptly angry — mostly with himself. “I…need—am going to get another drink, would you like one?” he asked, already moving towards the sidelines.

Lithian flicked his eyes away and ordered two drinks, his with extra liquor, before handing one over to Ara. He kept his gaze lowered as he sipped, and then shut his eyes, trying to lose himself temporarily in the warmth of the inner burn as it went down. “Of course I like him,” he murmured. “He’s my best friend, next to you…and I care about both of you very deeply.”