Dimetor ~ Hakan's Christmas Bash
What I'd really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys See you later, can I have them please?

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@hyrsamx
Dimetor ~ Hakan's Christmas Bash
What I'd really like, dad, is to borrow the car keys See you later, can I have them please?

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This was not Boranehn's scene and he was pretty sure it never would be. However, this place was Hyrsam's playground. As much as he would have loved to sit around back at the court and pretend he didn't want to be here, he actually did want to be. Most people were sure to wonder why the revenant would be smitten with someone as intolerable as the archsatyr. Nyloth had spoke her piece aloud on the matter as well and he could only give a neutral response that did not have any real meaning behind it. How he felt about the aspect was for his mind and his alone. If Hyrsam wanted to go up there and perform a musical every time something big happened in Rome, then the spirit would be there every single time. After all, he had to get as much time as possible with the archsatyr to himself before the spring equinox rolled around.
As Hyrsam clopped his way off of the stage, Boranehn waited. There was always fanfare that he simply stood there for until it was over. He was used to it so much that it didn't bother him. Nor would it ever. Again, he would most likely be questioned about it and he'd most likely end up confusing whoever he was speaking to enough that they wouldn't even bother wanting an answer any longer. Thankfully, that thought did not stay in his head much longer as Hyrsam nearly passed by him. He tilted his head away from the crowd as he spoke. "When do I get you to myself today?"
There has been a high ever since Midsommar; so many gods, goddesses, and other cantankerous, self-righteous individuals who thought so highly of themselves were reduced to meager entertainment. It was true, the archsatyr was not nearly as powerful as he had been then, but his gifts of deception still knew no bounds, as did his appetite for anarchy. The trials of the Seldarine were laughable, their legacy echoed through the echelons of society, elven, drow, even these mortals climbed over one another to become stronger. In this world you either devoured or you were devoured, Hyrsam was the subversion of this because the more others feasted, the greater his longevity. His birthday would be upon them soon, and it would be a feast like no other; Rome had become overpopulated, it was time to cull the herd.
"Well, let me check my calendar," a satyr produced an agenda and Hyrsam perused it, though there was nothing written in it but stickers that formed hieroglyphics completely unique to the satyr's tongue. "I canceled my appearance on that gaslighter's show, Ellen; too problematic for my image, so it looks like I'm free until noon. That gives us all night." He appreciated the wyvern dragging himself out for this, he knew how hard it was for the dragon to skulk about mediocrity. "Have you been paying attention? Who do you think is going to be the next omega?"
@senatusstarters location: Lupercalia CENTER STAGE notes: the mayor's performance
All these bands and not a single one of them could hold a knot to Hyrsam's performability, his charismability, his uniquability, and his talentability. There was the unsubtle clop of hooves that were decked out in the sort of gems that these lycans could never afford, his satyr entourage in their best Valentine's Day outfits were dressed in synchronous style. Music filtered over the speakers and in a canonically accurate open-chested red velvet suit, Hyrsam took to the stage, actively avoiding eye contact with Caio as he did.
"If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says 15 miles to the… Love Shack! Love Shack yeah." "I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway, Lookin' for the love getaway Heading for the love getaway, love getaway," "I got me a car, it's as big as a whale And we're headin' on down To the Love Shack I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20 So hurry up and bring your jukebox money."
"The Love Shack is a little old place Where we can get together Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee. Love baby, that's where it's at, Ooo love baby, that's where it's at Sign says. Woo… stay away fools, 'Cause love rules at the Lo-o-ove Shack! Well it's set way back in the middle of a field, Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back."
"Glitter on the mattress Glitter on the highway Glitter on the front porch Glitter on the hallway."
"The Love Shack is a little old place Where we can get together Love Shack bay-bee! Love Shack baby! Love Shack, that's where it's at! Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin', Wearin' next to nothing Cause it's hot as an oven The whole shack shimmies! The whole shack shimmies when everybody's Movin' around and around and around and around!"
"Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby! Folks linin' up outside just to get down Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby Funky little shack! Funk-y little shack!" "Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder baby! Bang bang bang on the door baby! I can't hear you Bang bang on the door baby Bang bang on the door Bang bang on the door baby Bang bang."
"You're what?… Tin roof, rusted! Love Shack, baby Love Shack! Love Shack, baby Love Shack! Love baby, that's where it's at Love Shack, baby Love Shack! Love baby, that's where it's at."
Elmas operated the lighting and special effects seamlessly as fireworks dazzled the night sky over Lupercalia, an eruption of synchronous lasers that she'd been assigned the day before and somehow had pulled together with less than twenty-four hours notice. Naturally, Hyrsam was a star, and as he stepped out stage to his adoring fans, a new entourage of fresh satyrs were there snapping photos of him and begging for his autograph.
"They love me, they love me, I know I can't help it." Hyrsam said as he attempted to settle the crowd of adoring satyrs and mortals alike that had begun to gather.
It was often a miracle that Hyrsam didn't have the ability to talk himself to death, his head amassing to burst from all the up selling the archsatyr did of himself. Nyloth smiled, falsely pleasant, throughout her rebirth and resurrection one feeling remained true; Hyrsam was a nuisance she'd come to tolerate. Malevolent, mischievous, and cloven-hooved; as a dark elf she could stomach the first two, but turned her nose up at the last. "You'll make up your own conclusion," she could invoke her honesty upon him, but Hyrsam would twist and meddle as he saw fit and so she concluded the question with a firm statement, though that kindling in her eyes would tell enough to the archsatyr. They say to never meet your idols, but Nyloth's piety was an admirable clause that could not be converted.
"I knew it, I knew she was smitten with you." Hyrsam thought Nyloth would have learned her lesson about marrying Gods, but the heart wanted what the heart wanted. How else would Boranehn have landed a catch like Hyrsam? "Not since Barbra and Neil has there been a better match." He wondered if the rest of the Court knew that Nyloth was fortunate that people rarely believed his words. "Do you think Lloth needs a spokesperson or something? Maybe someone for hair and makeup, I know a very talented homosexual currently in between jobs." It was him, well, it was Raul, but that was just Hyrsam again. "He painted Cher."
If someone would have told Boranehn thousands and thousands of years ago that he would end up loving someone like Hyrsam, he'd probably have called them stupid. Amongst a slew of other words, but that one would have been at the forefront. On paper, the two of them were complete opposites. The revenant was stoic most of the time with a personality that shifted dependent upon who held onto his statue. He'd been so ingrained into drow culture for so long that it felt like all he knew now. Nevertheless, Hyrsam was more extroverted than Boranehn could ever be. The archsatyr was always somewhere doing something or another. Yet, regardless of the kind of people that they were, the wyvern could not have pictured his life without the aspect. He'd never say such words aloud, but he was sure the sentiment was shown through his actions all the same.
Leg hooking around Hyrsam's, he flipped them until the archsatyr was on his back. The last thing he ever needed was for the other to think that they would be in any position where Boranehn wasn't on top. The wyvern would never hear the end of it. "Another demonstration could very well mean anything to you. We still have some time before your birthday, mayor." He pressed his lips to Hyrsam's own again to stop a response before it could begin. If there was one thing to know about the archsatyr, it was that he could talk for hours on end about everything and nothing at all. They could've been spending their time doing literally anything else. And he really had to get Hyrsam's mind off of Titania, Oberon and that damn microphone.
Boranehn turned Hyrsam onto his back, and the aspect smiled in exchange as he craned his neck to press their lips together. His hands slid along the muscular plains of the wyvern's back before they took a firm handle on the other's backside. Boranehn hadn't given Hyrsam the chance to speak, smart, but also bold because idle hands were the satyr's playthings. Hyrsam was hedonism defined as raw and unbridled chaotic mischief. The Gods loathed everything they could not control, and he was the sort of creature just radical enough to make anything possible. Where the two might have stood in stark opposition to one another was the steady blend of what Hyrsam understood fully: Boranehn was far more than what he'd been created to be.
Without the option of spinning a story, Hyrsam let his wily tongue tangle against Boranehn's instead as he used his grip to pull the other closer; if they were already flushed against one another, then Hyrsam let his body sigh effortlessly against the wyvern's. One mouth carved for riddles, another carved for lies, though when they blended together, there was a truth that rang clearer than any bell between them. Hyrsam's birthday was fast approaching, this year would be a feast like no other.

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✿*° ‘° ・
Zahrya couldn't comprehend why his satyr brothers in song would come to the aid of some pesky mortal. They had made music together when the green guests first started arriving, a gesture meant to welcome them to the elven land. Why would they take an interest in this realm let alone one child from it. "Oh dear, you must stop this, please! You'll cause pain!" Zahrya exclaims, waving his hand to conjure a gust to push against the falling man's back, lifting the burden off the satyrs' shoulders. "His hysterics are not worth your time. Let him humiliate himself during a performance on his own. You do not need to help him!" Zahrya says to the satyrs directly.
They hoisted Dimetor to his feet as they took to fanning him after that terrible fainting spell he'd just suffered. The archsatyr was practically beside himself; if the chancellor of Dimetor's Court hated him this much, what must the rest of the archsatyr's subjects think of him? Oh, right, he seemed human right now; that was fine, though he'd win this one's heart the best way he knew how, by force. Dimetor clipped and clopped until he was just a few inches away from Zahrya's face. "Spring Equinox: I challenge you to a performance-off." It coincided fabulously with Dimetor's birthday, "It's my time of the year, you'll have no choice but to be dazzled by my superiors dance moves and vocal talents. The loser has to call the winner Sir for the rest of their life."
This new assistant really was a life saver, Marzia didn't know what she'd had, truly. A successful acquisition, "Find yourself something nice for the holidays, on me." Hopefully it'd be him at the store when she went there, he did love shiny things. "Honestly though, why can't people just let the classics be the classics. You're the best, Elmas." Dimetor said with a wink as he stripped down to prepare for his morning bake in the tanning bed, he liked to feel crisp. "Oh- if Boranehn comes looking for me, send him up." Dimetor settled a pair of bay leaves on his eyes as some of his team sprayed him with authentic brazilian olive oil, pinch of salt: he didn't need much to be a snack. "That's all."
When all of this was said and done for the day, she would have to call her guy who knew a guy who knew someone who could get archival Tiffany & Co. Closing her planner and clutching it to her chest, Elmas offered a nod. The satyr's are not Marzia, they are not part of what had seemed like her never-ending entourage. But they're certainly competent and that is what she cares about, she can admit begrudgingly that they do often make her job easier. "Thank you sir, I will see you in an hour at your spin class." It was just a class full of Hyrsam and then one bike was for her. It'd been a welcome adjustment, Marzia had always been really into aerobics.
END
"I'm learning to discover things that I like about it," tauntingly vague, the Devout always understood that the archsatyr had to be the center of attention and fawning; two things she never felt he was quite worthy of. It was less of hatred, such strong emotion did not serve her, but more of a petulant disdain that arose in some sense of rivalry; frenemies, even. Nyloth rose a brow, acting completely immersed in the story though she knew better than to ever trust a satyr, especially Hyrsam, in their story telling, "You're telling me now for the first time." Saddled with a look of feigned shock, she batted her eyes to appear completely, exaggeratedly, engrossed, "Yidhra made her own bed and she'll lie in it." That was paired with a grin; Yidhra, Titania; though Ayi'ig now lay amongst them, the reign of elves had fallen swiftly as their monarchs passed on, the Devout could only hope their Chancellors were not as adept at picking up the pieces.
"You must be referring to my antics, don't worry don't worry, why yes I'll be in NYC hosting the ball drop I will be returning to Rome come the New Year. Say, do you like football? They gave me season tickets last month after I resuscitated one of their players from the absolute brink of death, the whole team owes me a life debt. I have a whole box if you'd like to join me, naturally you should bring Boranehn too." He knew how much the wyvern liked balls. "Yidhra's dead Nyloth, the only place where she's laying is in the dirty." Hyrsam knew full well that it was just a playful turn of phrase but more than anything the drow were fun to contend with. "I heard a rumour about you, Nyloth." Most weren't true but this one was especially interesting, "While the world was ending you took to the Abyss: did you meet her? Your Goddess."
When Hyrsam spoke, Boranehn often just listened. It was common for the archsatyr to just go on and on constantly about the most random topics. Most of the time, it had to do with something he hadn't been credited for and then the revenant would end up hearing about it for more than an hour. They could've been doing so much more in those few hours than talking about William fucking Shakespeare. Boranehn didn't care about a damn author that wasn't even alive anymore. What was the point of it anyway? He'd never ask such a question aloud though. Again, Hyrsam would go on for hours about it and then a bunch of other topics that he would have to listen to because, unfortunately, he loved this annoying archsatyr.
"I'll show you again how good I am with my tongue outside of riddles." They would switch positions in a moment, but he'd let Hyrsam revel in the fact that he was on top for now. "Titania and Oberon are the last thing on my mind right now, Hyrsam." Again, the archsatyr could go on and on for hours. Boranehn had to distract him somehow so he pulled the other's mouth towards his own to bring their lips together. His hand rested on the back of the aspect's neck to keep him where he was until the revenant felt like changing it up.
At least Boranehn listened most of the time, though he couldn't quite fault the creature for being distracted, the archsatyr certainly was something to look at. They said that love was the measure of how much of yourself you were willing to give up for another, given that the normally stoic wyvern would let Hyrsam talk endlessly, he could only assume that the other loved him a great deal. Concurrently, that Hyrsam ceased his long tales at all to instead shove his tongue down Boranehn's throat was another statement of love entirely. Someone as hooved as him clearly knew a great deal about lust and passion, but love had been a new frontier, how peculiar that he'd have found it in the Underdark of all things.
Boranhen pulled him in and Hyrsam made short work of slipping between the wyvern's thighs, a hand on either side of the other's waist to pull him closer as he did. What had Hyrsam been saying again? Oberon and Titania? He couldn't quite recall now but there was a story for later that Hyrsam would settle on the backburner until they had a moment to breathe again. "You're right, I need another demonstration," the first thousand times wasn't enough, Hyrsam was going to need more proof.
✿*° ‘° ・
Yes, Zahrya knew his presence at these events was supposed to promote togetherness. All the factions and groups of Rome had suffered in their own way, and the collective sacrifice of the Six were meant to bring them all together. Zahrya wanted to keep his mouth shut because he couldn't afford to be divisive, but he had to wonder: did this lump of sentient clay really think himself dazzling? It was offensive enough that he was hogging the spotlight as if a mere mortal could handle unfettered attention from the masses, but to also do so in faux horns and hooves made his whole performance that much more upsetting. Who did this human think he was?
Pouting, Zahrya felt he must bring the mayor down a peg since clearly the crowd was tasteless given the applause his performance got. "Your howling sounded off-key the entire time. Plus your dance moves were lacking. All in all, for a performance it was probably the best a child like you could pull off. You should feel proud to have barely achieved adequacy given your limitations. I found myself unable to look away for fear of missing your blunders." Zahrya even gave Dimetor a cutting giggle, one that while dismissive failed to hide the edge of Zahrya's ire. His eyes gave him away, unable to mask the disgust brewing in them. The mayor was a fool who knew nothing of the disrespect he'd just demonstrated to the Chancellor of Dawn no less. Most frustrating was Zahrya's inability to say he didn't enjoy the show outright despite his critiques. "Did it make you feel special to mock the satyrs with your costume? They aren't jokes for humans to poke fun at. They are an incredibly talented and fun lot. I have seen their performances and I assure you, watching someone like you dress up like them and dance like a fool would make them ill."
The insult that came from his own subject? His own court? Did the child not know that he should be polishing Dimetor's hooves, not insulting them? The sudden slight caught the archsatyr off guard as he suddenly went faint, "No more, please," he fell backwards dramatically but his troupe of satyrs were there to catch him as he fell. Though all satyrs were physically weaker than humans, so they stood there with struggling, shaking limbs as they quaked under Dimetor's weight. Still, he didn't stand, instead their little hooves shook beneath them as they held him there. "it's not-" he trembled, "I don't have my lucky microphone! I can't perform under these conditions!"

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How she vied to avoid this, Hyrsam approaching the Devout before she could dissipate into a flourish of shadows. He'd be in attendance at her wedding, when once she was a pious fey, a sorceress wasting her potent magic upon those who'd come to betray her. Siradyl had long been buried as an identity and calling card, but Nyloth understood Hyrsam's ways; she knew the archsatyr would recognize her no matter what transformations and resurrections were endured. "You haven't changed," noted simply; he'd several identities of his own, change was an inherent piece of him but everything about his personality screamed that he'd been stationary in his impish ideals.
Less of a walk, and more of a light trot, Hyrsam made his way towards the formerly blushing bride. Naturally he'd been to the Underdark, that was how he'd fucked met Boranehn. Though the drow were especially unfun, they did know how to cut loose when the proper incentives were provided. "It's true, I never care anything spare on me." Especially not spare change, he slipped a pair of sunglasses from around his horns, over his eyes. "Killer party, don't you think?" Even as he said this though he was admiring a pair as they fornicated on the dance floor, gorgeous gorgeous work. "I heard about the divorce, if it's any consolation Yidhra was having an affair for years, Kthanid once found her in bed with a gargoyle of all things. Can you imagine? I told her, I told her, I said: if you're going to steal another woman's husband, you should at least cheat on him with something that won't turn your pussy gray. Did she listen though? Of course not, of course not." Hyrsam sighed, it was quite the tale. "Anyways, did you see the gargoyles on the parapets? I think they might be real."
Elmas catches the hooves in both arms and tucked them against her side before penciling in to remember to check what Paris was doing now aside from that delightful Walmart kitchenware. But her brow furrows at the mention of 'the thing' and she carefully flips through a few more pages. Because there were always a few things and she simply looks directly at the list of them. "I got the Embassy to sponsor your holiday party. I got the red paint out of your coat after the last PETA incident," It was lycan wool, it wasn't even fur. Some people had nothing better to do. "And I once again kept Glee from getting remade." It was a yearly thing, someone had to slash hole in Matthew Morrison's tires every so often, smash his modem every now and then. It was a hard job, but she felt like she was doing everyone a public service.
This new assistant really was a life saver, Marzia didn't know what she'd had, truly. A successful acquisition, "Find yourself something nice for the holidays, on me." Hopefully it'd be him at the store when she went there, he did love shiny things. "Honestly though, why can't people just let the classics be the classics. You're the best, Elmas." Dimetor said with a wink as he stripped down to prepare for his morning bake in the tanning bed, he liked to feel crisp. "Oh- if Boranehn comes looking for me, send him up." Dimetor settled a pair of bay leaves on his eyes as some of his team sprayed him with authentic brazilian olive oil, pinch of salt: he didn't need much to be a snack. "That's all."
@senatusstarters location: Hakan's Chrimmus Bash notes: Play That Funky Mayor
It began with a speech, jovial and welcoming as Dimetor honoured the many people that had given up everything for their great city. He then explained that yes, he was but a simple mortal man but the senate had told him everything and he was resolved to make this city a safe place once again - for everyone. He thanked Hakan for opening his home to Rome and declared the party to be an official annual celebration in the Roman calendar, Saturnalia would end on the 23rd and Hakanalia (patent pending) would be held on the 25th.
Naturally, Dimetor then kicked off into a musical number.
"Hey do it now Yeah hey,"
Mayor Dimetor stepped out onto the stage as the music flooded the soundstage, the backup dancers were all meticulously dressed, sequins, tassels, and colour blocking that accented the Mayor’s attire: iridescent body glitter that refracted the neon lights and a pair of horns that everyone would assume were really convincing fakes. While the microphone wasn’t his ideal, Dimetor slid into place as he kicked off the Christmas Bash to end all Christmas Bashes.
"Hey once I was a boogie singer Playin' in a rock and roll band I never had no problems yeah Burnin' down one night stands And everything around me, yeah Got to stop to feelin' so low And I decided quickly, yes I did To disco down and check out the show Yeah they was,"
In the corner of the room Hyrsam saw Boranehn with their arms folded, so naturally he tossed the wyvern a wink as he sang. A synchronous clop trotted with the thunderous bass as the seemingly mortal man and his accompaniment of stringent professionals moved through a clearly well-coordinated routine. Hyrsam had done four tours with Britney, Beyonce was still upset that he’d turned down the Homecoming tour but Honey Balenciaga was a good alternative.
"Dancin' and singin' and movin' to the groovin' And just when it hit me somebody turned around and shouted Play that funky music white boy Play that funky music right Play that funky music white boy Lay down that boogie and play that funky music 'til you die 'Til you die, yeah, oh 'til you die."
Ariadne looked like she needed to loosen up, his treasured friend, Bacchus smiled at her and the various archdruids he saw strewn about the party. To them it was probably a small matter for a God to conceal his presence; now came the shimmy, Bacchus shifted as he waltzed across the stage, Elmas was wearing her signature human hair unit as she expertly played the keyboard. There wasn’t much his assistant couldn’t do, she was highly skilled.
"Gonna play that electrified funky music, yeah" "Hey wait a minute Now first it wasn't easy Changin' rock and roll and minds And things were getting shaky I thought I'd have to leave it behind But now it's so much better (it's so much better) I'm funking out in every way But I'll never lose that feelin' (no I won't) Of how I learned my lesson that day"
Those from the garden were some of his favourites, had they tried the chicken at the party tonight? It was to die for. Because Dionysus was Dionysus he’d put a few drops of blood into each of the wine kegs… And the water as well, he’d also put a lot into the pool. Were people trying not to drink? With all of Dionysus that was wafting through the air, that wasn’t going to be possible. Have fun, go wild, get crazy. Dionysus stuck his tongue out as he backed it up across the stage.
"When they were Dancin' and singin' and movin' to the groovin' And just when it hit me somebody turned around and shouted Play that funky music white boy Play that funky music right Play that funky music white boy Lay down that boogie and play that funky music 'til you die 'Til you die, yeah, oh 'til you die."
The big finish, Soterius got down and started whacking before he and the ace team of satyr dancers vogued into a set of synchronised death drops. The hero of every story, the idea behind every invention, the saviour of everyone: what couldn’t Soterius do? With these hooves? Nothing.
Mayor Dimetor dismounted the stage after riding it hard and hanging it up wet, "Enjoy the show?"
Elmas nods along to everything the mayor is saying, pink sparkly pen moving across the page of her planner quickly. The chicken thing is going to be a problem, she'll have to look into her sources. She'd once gotten several peacocks for Marzia who had felt like putting on a Katy Perry number one day, how hard could finding Venezuelan chickens be? Tucking her pen behind her ear, she flipped the page on her planner and begins at the first line of her notes. "Elon called twice and was told you were too busy to be a part of 'Rocketgate', Kris Jenner's Christmas present came for you this morning and it's in the living room on the coffee table. Taylor sent over a reel of The Eras Tour and we've finally got the projector working." She nods along as she reads each sentence. "I have honey from the bees on Via del Corso on standby, the horse will be found." The ones from the actual Beyhive, supposedly those bees were drinking watermelon. Whatever that meant for bees, she didn't know, but it was rather whimsical.
Giddy, Dimetor clipped and clopped his way into the living room to see the large wrapped box. "She does give the best gifts but tell Taylor that for the last time I won't be joining her on stage, I'm booked." These pop stars couldn't get enough of him, he was the mayor now, didn't anyone understand how much responsibility he had... Or Something. Dimetor tore into the wrapped box and gasped audibly as he pulled out a pair of hooves that were encrusted in pink diamonds. They must have cost a fortune. "Oh Elmas look," he slipped them on and did a little pose, much to the applause of some of his staff before he pulled them off. "they'll make wonderful regifts," he tossed them towards her, "give these to Paris, Nicholai married a Rothschild so she's the poor sister now." As he turned Dimetor suddenly remembered something, he looked back to Elmas and asked, "Where are we on the thing?'
How they had lasted as long as they had was a wonder to Boranehn. Then again, there were plenty of times where they were separated for extended periods of time so maybe that was what it was that kept the revenant sane. He really wasn't sure what their relationship would be like otherwise. That was just something that always went through his head, but the truth was always the same. Boranehn didn't much mind Hyrsam's company. He was far too used to the shenanigans that came with the archsatyr to the point where it became endearing sometimes. The wyvern had been alive long enough to deal with a plethora of people so that just meant he was familiar with many different personalities. Did that make Hyrsam seem any more normal? Absolutely not. The archsatyr was still the most unique of the bunch. Perhaps that was why Boranehn liked him so much. Of course he wouldn't spend his time with someone who was just mediocre.
Maybe mediocre was a good idea sometimes though. That was what he thought as Hyrsam went on and on about the cell phone in his hand. While they were in the middle of something that didn't really require a cell phone. Boranehn would've tried to distract him, but one thing he'd learned about the archsatyr is that it was absolutely best to let him get out what he needed to say or he'd just end up bringing it up again later to finish the story. He heard the click of the camera as he went to turn his head and he would've started speaking if Hyrsam didn't continue first. Every single thing that ever happened in the world, Boranehn knew that the archsatyr credited himself as the thought process behind it. It was barely a surprise to hear that he had given some idea for a cell phone to some guy named Steve. Once the other was finally done talking, the revenant let out a sigh. Then he grabbed the cell phone that he very much didn't know how to use and looked at the picture that had been taken. "Almost nothing needs to be said when you have eyes." He gave a pointed look to Hyrsam as he pulled the archsatyr back down towards him. They were surely in the middle of something. He preferred to get back to it.
It was a nice photo, at least Hyrsam thought so, he'd be revisiting it again later after Boranehn was gone, then again a few more times after that. The revenant had always come as much as he pleased, he also left too whenever he wanted. Hyrsam and him had that in common but whatever the satyr's antics he returned to the wyvern time and time again. That beautiful stoicism was so entertaining when it was broken, when the wyvern's back was arched and he was little more than a blithering mess between the sheets. The riddles did stop eventually, usually when Boranehn's mouth was full though the same could have been said for Hyrsam.
"I do so enjoy your riddles, as proficient as you are with a sword you're even better with your tongue." That wasn't much of a riddle, but he sank towards the other again, a small amount of pressure to lay the revenant back down on his back before Hyrsam slipped between the revenant's thighs. Insatiable really, they'd just finished but were still only just getting started: such was the way of dragons and satyrs though he supposed. Was that a lie? Hyrsam could scarcely tell anymore. "Old Bill based Midsummer Night's Dream off of me you know, he was so fascinated by my charisma and notable antics that he based the entire work off of a small portion of my life. Titania and Oberon, the wedded bliss that never was." Imagine if Oberon had actually married her, Hyrsam thought that the world would look quite different now. Certainly hairier.

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@elmasbayram location: Mayor's Office notes: they're surrounded by satyrs in suits
"On Wednesdays I take my coffee with three pinches of salt and seven shots of cream, Thursdays I prefer brandy, and on Fridays I absolutely cannot be disturbed before noon. The ghost of Nero and I have very heated debates during the witching hour and I need my beauty sleep to recover." Dimetor looked to make sure Elmas was writing all of this down in her cute little planner, she was so efficient. "If Elon calls tell him no I absolutely will not be getting in his rocket, you saw what happened to that submarine. I told them I told them I told them it was a bad idea but why does nobody ever listen to me?" He looked towards the sea of satyrs and waited expectantly before they all began nodding and saying that everyone should listen to him always. It felt good to be their King again.
"You'll need to do the senate thing because if I go there it might just be me in the room and I can't risk that." It was hard for Dimetor to go anywhere without running into himself. "We're going to have to have fresh venezuelan chickens for dinner, I'll taste the difference if they're from anywhere but so this is very important. Lastly I need my baths drawn to a scalding two-hundred and twenty degrees, if it's not boiling then I can't get clean. Please please no hyacinth, it's too triggering I knew I shouldn't have given Apollo that frisbee but here we are. Horse milk and honey will do just fine, see if Sleipnir is available."
@bcranehn location: a wyvern's love nest, court of drow notes: how'd he get in here? well...
Should Dimetor have been here? Probably not, but he had means of getting just about anywhere. A few clops of some invisible hooves and he found his way back to Boranehn once more. Egg's death hadn't taken the toll on the wyvern that Dimetor might have expected, but for a man who occasionally dreamed of eating his own father for roast dinner - unreal - it wasn't hard to imagine why he'd struggle to grieve over the loss of a single Queen. It was a pity that Boranehn only continued to trade hands, now and then Dimetor wondered how difficult it would be to release the spirit entirely from his totem. Aladdin did it for Genie after Dimetor had told him that Will shouldn't be tethered to a lamp.
"Did you know the first cell phones were meant to be used as pleasure devices?" Dimetor said as he held up the phone and turned the camera at an angle that would better capture the revenant's shape. He preferred the other like this, well, he liked him every possible way but this one was his favourite. A quick click and now the evidence was secured on his iCloud forever. "I told Steve that they were going to be a big hit, the whole apple and Eden thing with Eve was an obvious stroke of branding genius on my part." The archsatyr tilted the phone away from his face to gaze at Boranehn without the lens between them, "You look great by the way. This is a good look for you."