Welcome to Gaia! ::

“It’ll be good for you.”

Jana made a sputtering sound around his mouthful — an unfortunate portion of finely spiced and seasoned roast which almost, almost, but did not quite fall from his lips in the process of argument and glowering which followed. Instead, he managed to swallow before speaking up. “You think everything I don’t wanna do is good for—”

“Do not want to do, Janatheil,” his father corrected with a thin frown. “Have you been playing with the serving boy again?”

“An’ who else am I s’pposed to play with?”

“‘And’…” his mother added, though the addition was weary, well aware that Jana was — at this point — not paying heed to her words in the least. “And ‘supposed’ to. Could you at least attempt to speak as though we raised you outside of the country hills?”

“You have a multitude of cousins and other noble children your age,” his father cut in. “We take you all varieties of events. You have ample opportunity to interact with those of some class—”

“They’re all boring,” Jana said. “Or, if they’re not, their parents don’t let you bring me ‘round no more because I’m a ‘bad influence.’”

His parents exchanged looks.

“We think you will enjoy Laesara’s company,” his mother said at length.

“She’s adventurous like you are,” his father added. “And the Wymrith’s have important ties—”

“Everyone has ties,” Jana grumbled. “What if I don’t care about ties? It all feels like a stupid game. With stupid rules. And a whole lot full of stupid players who think that just because—”

“Janatheil.”

“You are thirteen…” his father said. “As such, we do not expect you to understand it all yet—”

“I understand it,” Jana said. “I just hate it. They’re all liars, and boring, and I hate lies and I hate rules and I don’t want to do any of it—”

“It’s a hunt, boy,” his father quipped. “You like hunting, don’t you?”

Jana glanced up warily from a slouched position across the table. He fiddled with his fork, back and forth, spin this way, spin that. “I s’pose so.”

“It will be a good chance for you to get out,” his mother added. “See the countryside, breathe some air outside of the city limits…”

“The Wymriths have many soldiers in their line,” his father went on. “Many with a lot of spirit like yourself. Laesara herself has…” His gaze flicked towards his mate, and Jana’s gaze narrowed a fraction, noting the silent exchange between his parents.

“She is a capable girl of unique upbringing,” his mother said at last. “We really do think you’ll enjoy the experience. Please try to behave yourself…?”

Jana eyed the tip of his fork, tilting it back and forth to catch the light before glancing to his parents. “When have I ever not behaved?”

And so it was that a handful of days later, Janatheil sat atop a bronzed, high-bred hastar, suited in the choicest riding gear and prepared for ‘adventure.’ The evening sun was low in the sky, red-gold and barely above the treetops, already pinking the surrounding lower hemisphere, the air crisp with late summer and approaching fall. ‘Beautiful’ weather in the strictest sense. The grander purpose of the whole ordeal, he knew, was a meeting between his mother and aunt Aliesse with the lord Andorynn Wymrith and his mate, for what purpose he could not even begin to guess other than that it likely had to do with politic, rapport, and favors. Everything was about favors. And lies. Though, Janatheil personally liked to think — or hope — that his own parents were above that particular prong of the noble populous.

He clipped his reins, urging his mount closer to the gleaming white building before him. Pristine. Elegant. Intricate. Everything of the noble orderite upper class was, and he didn’t suppose a private hunting resort — a home in this case dedicated almost entirely to sport and getaways — ought to be any different. But it still looked out of place to him, among the natural wilds. The trees, the rivers, the wind: these things were true beauty. He looked forward to the day he was old enough to explore truly uninhibited and test himself against nature itself.

Until then…

“Lady Narissa and Aliesse Orehian, it is my fondest pleasure to see you here this evening. An honor, to be sure…” Andorynn Wymrith was a willowy man with a warm voice and the sort of smile that could convince a room that the sky was green and rain fell up if that was his aim. Not particularly tall, but narrow in build in a way that made him look taller proportionately. He wore white and gold, like himself — ivory skinned with hair the color of a noon-sun — and he caught Jana’s mother’s fingers in his as she dismounted, pressing a barely-there kiss to her knuckles. After treating his aunt with the same greeting, his eyes — honey-yellow and fiercely observant — flicked to Jana. “Young Master Janatheil, I take it? I do not believe we’ve had occasion to meet in person…”

Jana dismounted, mourning the loss of his ride as he and his company’s mounts were guided off by servants towards the stables. He knew how to take care of his own hastar, thank you very much, but it was a skill for layfolk and he was fairly accustomed to having the opportunity to tend his own beast taken from him. He looked to Lord Wymrith instead. “Where’s the girl?”

“Jana,” his mother criticized, notching her head meaningfully. ‘Introduce yourself.’

Andorynn, however — if anything — seemed privately amused. “My niece will be out in a moment. Her father is having a word with her, if I am not mistaken. Busy as the man is, he won’t be joining us come the morrow for the hunt itself, but he does try to take part where he can…” Andorynn tilted his head a half-fraction, observing before reaching out to just catch beneath Jana’s chin with the tips of long fingers. “You have our great lady’s eyes…and your mother’s,” he said. “They will win you many favors.”

Janatheil eyed the man, their expressions locked for an extended moment before he nocked his chin sidelong, dislodging the other’s touch. “They already have.” His lips twitched, curving up into a half grin. “And they will.” Darting to the side, he only barely heard his mother’s call as he broke into a run across the stretch of grass between them and the house.

“Janatheil, don’t—”

But he was already stretching his wings — large and strong for his age, well-formed and capable of lifting him for short distances — beating them and leaping as he did. Seconds later, he was in a bird’s perch on the rail of a second-floor scenic patio overlook. Hopping over, he dusted his hands over his clothes, tapped his boots to clear the grit from them, and tested the door before slipping in to whatever room it lead to. His mother could deal with the remaining formalities. He wanted to explore the new house he’d be spending the next day or two in.

Janatheil’s initial plans of exploration were thwarted.

At least, to whatever extent replacing exploration with encountering a pretty young orderite in its stead could be deemed ‘thwarting.’ As his gaze tripped down the girl, taking in details — around his age, awash in golds and strawberry blondes with two striking opal blue eyes, like drops of ocean in the midst of a rolling sunset, and an elegant set of attire only a noble could afford — he found he didn’t particularly mind. He tilted his head, and after a moment, flashed a grin and took a step back again to give room for a theatric — if smooth and oft-practiced, despite his personal wishes — bow.

“Evening, yourself, fair lady,” he returned as he straightened, his grin softening but the mischievous glint in his eye lingering eternal. “Janatheil Orehian. I—”

His attention flit sidelong at a particularly obnoxious KAAARRRRRRRKKKK of sound, and he tilted his head to observe the source. Upon landing, he had assumed that the clearly irritable, small reptilian creature was a wild thing, taking up temporary residence on the railing of the hunting abode and cross only because he had disturbed its particularly comfortable temporary nesting spot. On closer inspection, though — and due in part to the fact that it hadn’t left yet and evidently seemed to be under the impression that it had some sort of right to the place — he guessed that it was, in fact, some sort of kept creature.

No matter, he supposed, for the moment. It wasn’t as though it looked threatening. His gaze moved back to the more relevant focus. “I had the pleasure of meeting your scaly little friend,” he said. “But it hasn’t yet given me its name, either.”

Janatheil’s eyebrows arched, casually surprised that the purple lizard seemed — at least vaguely — trained in some fashion. At the noble girl’s latter words, though, regarding his own apparent ‘reputation’, he flashed a broad grin, inordinately pleased.

“Does it, then?” he said. “I must be doing something right. A pleasure with you as well, my lady, and so on and so forth…” His eyes moved over the room, taking in the details before glancing back out to the surrounding forest and woodlands. “A little bird…or, rather, a rather tall and smiley white-gold one — your uncle, I believe? — put me under the impression that we won’t actually be doing anything until morning…supposing that, any suggestions on what’s the least tedious way to spend an afternoon?”

After having lingered long enough on the threshold between patio overhang and the inner room, Jana eventually teetered back out, over to the balcony’s rail again, and leaned against it, his fingers tapping out a brief, restless and rhythmless beat. There, his gaze caught on one of the last hastars being lead into the stables. Wings twitching with a subtle ripple of feathers, a smile edged back up onto his features, and he tossed the look over his shoulder towards his company.

“Do you enjoy racing hastar?”

Janatheil grinned.

Her answer was, of course, expected, and exactly what he had hoped to hear, given what he knew of his company — a baiting lead in the direction he wanted to head for the evening. Little as he paid mind to the dryer bits and pieces of conversation and little as he minded the rules and mannerisms he knew he ‘ought’ to be following, he picked up on them just the same, and tales of wild girl-peasants turned nobility, barbarian mothers, and illicit hunts for a lost heir? What wasn’t to be entertained by? Getting the desired response, however, was no less satisfying, and he chuckled, wings flitting testingly and judging the evening breezes as he eyed the stables.

“Do you need to ask?”

Without waiting for an answer, he let his wings disappear — temporarily — into their tattoos, and hopped up again onto the rail in a low crouch. After settling his balance, he stood, rising to his full height, shutting his eyes, and stretching his arms to either side like a cross greeting the setting sun. It felt good to bask, the evening sun still warm despite the increasing crispness of the cooling air and the surrounding gusts light and teasing. He opened one eye to study his company before giving a parting, lopsided smile.

“See you downstairs.”

He dove.

At thirteen, his wings were not yet large enough to fully sustain him for long, but they were making marked progress, growing with every passing season, and were plenty large enough to facilitate the sorts of dare dives, flips, and stunts that would make his parents’ hair go white sooner than their years intended. He made the most of that. Granted, in want of showing off, he was a touch slow on his timing such that his land, in this case, made his legs object and tingle on impact. But not so rough of one that it wasn’t simple enough to keep sprinting once he made his way down, and make a bee line for the stables.

Janatheil watched as his company descended, following his ‘example’ and speeding the way down with her wings. After a flick of a pleased grin, he finished his trip to the stables, and hummed as they mounted up, mentally sizing up his ride. A good breed, though he would have expected no less from a noble’s stable, and while it wasn’t familiar with him specifically, he was confident he could spurn it into running for him.

“I couldn’t have suggested better myself,” he said at Laesara’s mention of the coastline, and as quickly as that, they were off, starting at a more subtle pace until they arrived at least so as not to draw too much attention to their sunset detour.

The coastline was beautiful.

Seren’s light rippled orange-gold like melted honey across the sea, painting the horizon and tinting the sky rose red. For all that he wanted to explore in his later years — ‘see the world’ and all its splendor — Janatheil had a great love for his homeland, and felt certain, however silly the sentiment, that sunrise and sunset could never be so beautiful from any other shoreline as from those of Serenia. As a slow incoming swell rolled up over the sands, dancing near to his mount’s feet as they padded through the tideline, he spared his company a glance.

“So…” he began, “…to infinity?” Without waiting for a proper answer, he clipped at his mount’s reins, turning and driving it forward, and he was off.

He didn’t suspect it would take Laesara long to give chase, and without a specific goal in mind, the ‘race’ itself was more of a free for all than anything. A chance for wind in the hair and sand under the feet, a racing pulse and a dash through the fading painted light of evening. What it was not intended to be was a test of sword or battle tactic. But the fates, apparently, had other plans, as Janatheil took note of regrettably late seconds after a glint of golden scales from the surround forest line and followed by a cracking boom of electric energy that only barely missed the heels of his mount.

A shrieking whinny and jerk cut into the pace of the run, Janatheil’s pulse immediately picking up for entirely different reasons from the race, and his eyes darted to the source of the attack, only a steady beat from his wings — and familiarity with riding in general — keeping him saddled as his hastar reared. A moment later, one hand still on the reins, his blade was in his hand. How he wished for an imprinted weapon. Going without was becoming ever more of a bother.