the oracle

"Prince of Ashes would imply there are none left to rule; even if Avalon was reduced to cinders, all would still follow your namesake." Solon did not wish to think of a world in which Lusacan succeeded in tearing Avalon to nothingness, but indeed the dreaded dragon of the Night was so close to achieving their dark aspirations that Solon could only look towards a future where Light would prevail despite. Avalon had not been his true home for some time, he'd made many dwellings along the way, and he hoped to inspire many elvhen with this idea; that their core beliefs could not be singed and burned much like their home may come to be.

"Would they? Or is that the pride of a dragon speaking?" Ikaros couldn't help his smile, something that he found came easily enough around Solon. It didn't feel like the light wished for him to be even remotely happy – nor did the future ever play out in pieces that he wished to see. Still, the prince pulled the other closer, like this moment wasn't one he'd seen, but planned to ensure it lasted – that he memorized every part he could before it ended.

Solon cared little for the titles assigned to the prince and even if Ikaros was some common elvhen not marred by his duties for the crown and Avalon, there would still be something entirely magnetic about him. As such, where Ikaros wandered towards the window, Solon slowly followed, eyes panning outward as though he could witness what Ikaros saw through the prince's eyes, “Where are you to next?” He couldn't be sure he'd get a clear answer, though he'd never minded that Ikaros' path was twisted and winding much like the branches of Avalon which once kept him. Despite this, perhaps with the weight of everything crumbling around them bearing on him, Solon asked, “And what if you had stayed after all?” 

He looked at the dragon's hand, wrapped around his own, worrying for a moment that the gift wouldn't be accepted. A small bit of relief as the necklace was taken, something more than just a discarded jewel from the prince. He knew it'd be appreciated, by one who had spent so much of their life ripped away from their home. Ikaros still wished to ensure that retribution would be the dragon's, in any way he could help. The Prince gave a small smirk, though he was not one to be shy, or perhaps hesitate at all. "I have an idea," he murmured, pulling Solon close and pressing a kiss against the other's lips. Soft, a reminder that their time was not promised – not even now.

Her family had headed to the Silverlands as soon as the news had spread, mostly on her insistence. Her parents were guides, so they had known the path to the Silverlands. Shenuvun had been confident that they would make it to Lórien'dal without much issue, but she had asked Harajatish to protect them to be sure. They had asked her to go with them, but she had decided against it. She had long since committed herself to see the world righted, and if she couldn’t, at the very least she could try and stop the infection from spreading. 

“My family is gone ahead, but I have chosen to stay,” she admits, with a small shrug. “I have been working all my life to try and prevent something like this. I couldn’t, so I might as well try and help stop things before they get even worse.”

"You think? Who will carry on the work with the Veil if you're gone?" Ikaros felt like he needed to point these things out to those who thought they could simply die for the hell of it. He knew he could not – Titania would assure that Ikaros was out of Avalon if Lusacan was ever meant to press through. The Prince had thought of himself at his mother's side – for if the Elvhen of Avalon were to fall, he would be the Prince of Nothing. Still, a crown meant little to him at this point, yet it was exactly what pushed him forward.

A smile manifested as Saleba attempted her best effort to enter the cabin only to inevitably excuse herself. A laugh came next, bubbling forth before Solon could stop it, as Ikaros gave some shred of a compliment at the living space. It had been neglected and falling apart when Talisa and he had found it, and though they had fixed it up over the last decade, the last few months had been impossible to retreat back to it and it had fallen into a small but of disarray. 

“I did not know as a Prince you were granted the ability of such lies,” upon entering was the main living room of the cabin, a stunted and broken hearth the centerpiece of the room; a kitchen was conjoined to it but despite any litany of sweets that Talisa had once collected within it, there was no signs of life within the cabin and indeed silence took over with ease. 

"I have a way with words," Ikaros spoke once more, and it definitely wasn't a lie. Still, he had meant his words. It was nice. For very specific reasons. For one, the dragon was here with him, and no one else was. That was definitely a perk in the prince's eyes. He looked over his shoulder at the door, and eventually, he moved towards the window to see the view. "I can't stay long," it was one of those things he always felt like he had to point out. Ikaros, dragged from place to place, moment to moment, trying hard to grasp the present. It always felt out of the oracle's reach.

Matthew Daddario

There is little they can do to stop the blighted remnants of the Dragon of the Night’s messenger, even less they can do to fully disrupt the shades slowly manifesting from the corrupted Eluvian. Nothing much beyond keeping watch, to ensure their leaders are made aware of any changes, to ensure the alarm is sounded when the standstill breaks and the nightmares come flooding in. So Shenuvun stands vigil whenever she has time, watching over the bubbling shadow with a racing heart but determined frown. She is terrified at the prospect of what it’s to come, but she refuses to bow down to the Dark. 

She doesn’t expect company as she watches, so the sound of steps comes as a surprise. 

"Shenuvun," Ikaros greets the other back, though his voice is absent of most of its tone. Avalon was going through a dark time, as the blood of the tree itself began to bleed into every Elvhen that remained within. So many left, the branches emptier than ever, yet still – so many remained. Too many High Elvhen had only known the Laurelin, and would never pass through the Moongate without fighting for their home.

where: silverlands, at the dinky lil cabin that fyren lived in ala hiding from aetheron

when: current timeline

note: you have forced my hand (i have free time and had this idear)

Fyren was solemn, he had stayed within Avalon long after many had fled, but there was currently not much to be done but simply wait for Lusacan to truly creep forth and shatter their realm completely. Dust had collected within the small cabin within the more wooded and obscured area of the Silverlands; it had been some time since both he or Talisa had truly been within it, marking how much had changed since they'd entered Avalon and embraced what they'd once been hiding from.

This time, however, the Steel was not beside him but Ikaros was, and he knew the decision to currently leave was not one taken happily or without some sense of remorse. He tried to breathe some levity back into the situation, difficult considering the blight and darkness which loomed, but Fyren braved a small smile, gesturing for Ikaros to make himself comfortable.

Ikaros, however, was more or less relieved to have a place that was more set with silence and not the reminder of what he'd seen in Avalon. Of what he was always seeing, now. The visions had gotten stronger, bloodier – darker. Everything had multiple endings, and Ikaros had already seen so many of them because of the Kossith.

Still, there was a lightness about the Prince. He carried himself solid and put together, but in the presence of the dragon, his shoulders relaxed, his features softened, and his eyes met Solon's with a quiet gratitude.

"This is...nice."

Even though she was grateful for all those in the haven, for their hospitality she was glad to be free from the place. From the claustrophobia gaze of their eyes. It felt like they were all walking on eggshells around those that came from the kossith vessel. It was understandable though, they didn’t know the horrors that were inflicted upon that ship. That hadn’t been a victim of the wheels turning this time around. Lucky for them. While in the haven though she couldn’t help but look at others, wondering what she would have seen if she had been forced to look at their soul, what had the wheel put them through? Did the wheel have to do this to them, to turn them into the people they needed to be to face the dark one? Maybe it was all par for the course? It didn’t mean she had to like the journey. It didn’t mean she would like the woman she would be at the end of it all; a line had been crossed. how many more would she step over to reach the finish line? 

The journey to Avalon had left like it had taken years but in reality it wasn’t true, the soul seer just didn’t want to admit to herself that even if her body wasn’t fatigued her mind was. Her grandmother Esta had taught the soul seer to fear crossing the line. Nylatheria could see that it was Esta who was scared of what she could do. Scared that the young elven would become detached from the world. It was a valid fear as that is what Nyla had done on the Kossith vessel to protect herself. If it wasn’t for Talisa, Agnes, Deja she would have remained numb to the world. Seen the souls of this world like pieces on a chessboard. Agnes had joined her on the journey, saying that Nyla wasn’t allowed to make such movements on her thanks to the kossith. Cute really. But she couldn’t enter Avalon, so she remained behind in her humble abode in the sliverlands. Nyla had told her she would be away for a few days as she needed to see family, it wasn’t exactly a lie as Lyra was family to her but it was avoidance of the truth. 

Entering a home that was so clearly locked in time now disgusted her. She could have done so much with her time. It was all wasted. What had she actually done to find Lyra? What had she gained? Her hand caressed what was her wife's cloak. Memories of her time with Talisa, how they laughed on the streets, how the other was childlike, flashed before. It had brought not only a smile to her face but tears. They weren't of happiness or grief but rage. A once gentle grip turned vice-like as it ripped that cloak from its stand, puncturing it as she did so. Nothing could stop the tidal wave of emotions as Nyla ravaged the home she had spent hundreds of years preserving. This was a home steeped with evidence of her betrayal. What she had done that night with Agnes fuelled her self-hatred. How easily she had forgotten her reason for leaving Avalon in the first place. She was disgusting, cowardly and weak. She wouldn't blame Lyra for never forgiving the indiscretions she had made.

The Prince didn't normally make house calls. He was busy, recovering in his own time in some way – despite hardly taking respite at all. Still, Nylathria was one of those people that he wouldn't abandon, not now. It was the noise that drew him forward; word of the soul seer had gotten to Ikaros simply because he'd told them to keep an eye out for her, so finding her in her home had been relatively expected. The destruction that followed, however, was unusual.

Nyla was a gentle soul, yet he knew they all had their own pain to deal with. When he entered the destroyed home, the shattered pieces of Nyla's life were on the ground everywhere around them. Things she shared with her wife, the place that held whatever remaining vestiges there were – destroyed by the Elvhen. There wasn't a lot he could say, nor did he know what part of their present Nyla was upset over, but he could offer comfort. Slowly, he got to the ground beside her, on his knees, placing his hand on her back, "Nyla. Talk to me."

"You spoke to a red dragon and are here to tell me the tale?" Solon tried not to laugh, though the action was mostly in surprise, looking over Ikaros as though there were any telltale signs of an attack he'd missed in a dramatic bit. "Some of the most rapacious and cunning of our kind, their breath could fell hundreds if some were reckless enough to stumble upon one." A bit of admiration for the Prince's tenacity was evident in Solon's gaze; it was clear that not only Mythal but seemingly dragons held a sense of dignity for the elvhen prince and what capabilities he held for Avalon's future.

Affirming what Ikaros said, about offering aid to Solon, well the pink dragon's appreciation went without saying. Solon shrugged, he was currently without the armor he'd normally wear in this form, and his shield had been safely secured elsewhere; dressing down felt strange and he held his hands to himself as though seeing this elvhen polymorph of his for the first time in many years. "This identity, he is a warrior, something strong and unyielding. But even my mind can fall prey to weariness - since you've welcomed me here, I've still treated myself as separate from you all as though I should not rest until I create a vision of what once was."

"I'm very...persuasive," Ikaros gave a small smile, mirroring Solon's laugh. It was a melodic sound, something real, and the Prince found himself in the moment more than ever. Too often he drowned in the past, especially in the future, but the present felt all too tangible with Solon at his side. "Trust me, he wasn't impressed with most of us but – he did give me a crown." He'd show Solon the draconic crown he'd received, something very glittery and gold, though the Prince wasn't sure he'd get it back if he did. A small price to pay if it meant Solon enjoyed it.

"You are strong and unyielding, but I guess – like you've told me – sometimes we don't always need to be strong." Ikaros slowed his walk when they reached the Glade, Solon's observation something that he couldn't deny. "My father – he loved this place. It's where he became soulbonded, where Abelas was born. My mother resented him for making her out to be a fool." Ikaros thought of Yavanna, the one person who kept he and his brother together. "Oberon...I can't tell if he wanted to be king so badly that he put aside love until it was too late, or if...I don't know." Ikaros didn't like thinking of all what ifs. Abelas had gotten to see their father, deep within the Feywilds, and now he wore the former king's ring. Titania remained steadfast in her leadership, and Ikaros remained...unsure.

"I cannot honestly say how many of my kind are left," his heart still feels paralyzed with such guilt when he recalls the various dragon bones and the one pink scale he'd recovered when they'd traveled into the eluvian to salvage the prince and his traveling party. "But I know we have not given up on Avalon," Solon could not say that the few dragons he knew would be enough to face this threat, but often the pink dragon was more optimistic as opposed to being a pessimist and he would not entertain any idea of failure currently.

"No one has, but maybe there is a way not yet discovered," stated far too simply when it came to the horrid complications of war which they were yet to face. Each day Lusacan's power seemed to grow as more leaves fell from the Great Tree, and each day was a promise towards their demise and his chilling ascension back upon this world. Solon liked to believe, in his own draconic delusions, that such way had not ever been discovered simply because Solon had not been there when the Cataclysm was at its destructive peak. Such was the mindset of dragons, but he'd seen the remains of those who had gone against the dragon of Night and failed; Solon could only wonder what ambitious fight they had within themselves before they had been incinerated beneath his great maw.

"I have looked...and most are within Blackrock. Away from the rest of us. I spoke to a Red dragon there, when we were approaching an old temple to Mythal." Ikaros thought of the ancient dragon that had stood guard, that had nearly destroyed them for entering. But the place itself was a sacred site, and had proved worthy. "As for Pink dragons...I'm not sure. Abelas has studied many of the creatures who are left here. But I will help you, Solon. Whatever you need from me." The prince usually didn't speak this much, figuring the dragon had the effect on him – he was usually content to listening.

"There is much I could talk about, but have been restlessly refraining from doing so!" Considering the pink dragon had yapped the entirety of the flight here, Ikaros had a big storm comin', but Solon did love to hear himself talk. "If the all-mother has sought you out, spoken to you, I say it is clear the fate of dragons and the Elvhen are intertwined." A weak smile was produced; as excited as Fyren was to heal what was fractured within Falon'din's Hollow, within the Laurelin and Avalon as a whole, the pink dragon did not wish to get ahead of himself and promise things he could not deliver. When they'd ventured towards the fractured eluvian of his home, he had no clue what awaited them on the other side, but Solon had never imagined it would have been Lusacan feeding off of the blighted energy within, waning the power of the great tree and tainting it with his essence. Such fact changed everything, but it did not entirely extinguish Solon's hope, just... rearranged his priorities.

Ikaros had seen the broken and blighted bits of what his home had been transmogrified into, and Solon easily spoke of what it once was; beautiful and mystic, enchanted by the way it melded with their reverence and respect of the dead, "Falon'Din's branch was always dark, but there was this radiant fire which seemed to be the hearth which warmed it from within. With Falon'Din's support, his connection, this radiance was enough for us, but the Elvhen have always been there, Ikaros. Dragons, Elvhen, we cannot be without one another, it's simply what has been and what will be." Even if Lusacan and the other Old God's influence had ruptured such tether in this lifetime, Solon was convinced now, from Mythal's message to Ikaros, that such time would be upon them again very soon.

"I don't think Avalon can survive this without the help of dragons." It was a lot to put on one species, but it was also no surprise the state of Avalon as of late. One branch was hanging on by a thread, and it had been so long since one had fallen, no one alive could remember the chaos that ensued after a branch was cleaved from the Laurelin. But the Prince heard the words of Mythal in his head, his pleading to save his brother's beloved Owlbear, and the price paid for it.

Falon'Din was a shadow of what Solon described. Fill with dragons and spirits and Elvhen, of the drow who were cleaved from the Light, of the Blighted obelisk and its twin in the Underdark, so much cleaved and forgotten, path ways that were shattered, it felt overwhelming to promise Solon anything. Lusacan sat within Falon'Din's Hollow, his tomb and now his resurrection. "No one could ever kill the Old Gods. The Legion can trap them, but how do you kill them?" It was a thought he had that he spoke out loud, not expecting the dragon to have any sort of answer for him. Still, the conversation was borderline depressing, so much reminiscence and trauma that bonded the pair making the Prince feel less confidence and was sure his sex appeal was taking a massive hit.

"I find this to be rather tame of me, so if you are to brood around me you should get used to the fact I can be far, far, far more optimistic than currently!" Solon became rather theatrical then for he had a feeling, much like Talisa, that Ikaros would feel rather unenthused as Solon did this which would bring the dragon a strange sense of delight. He'd always been rather zany, had been fond of telling the best jokes, and was often impossible to dilute this nature from him. In typical dragon fashion, too, finding out that he was vexing to another seemed to only, somehow, further inflate his innate arrogance and pride.

"Tame?" He laughed now, a sound that even surprised himself. Still, Ikaros found the solitude plus the addition of the dragon was more than doing wonders for his wounded soul. He knew dragons enjoyed being praised, or perhaps awed and flattered, and he could see it in the shine of Solon's dark eyes. Those dragons had come for the branch and for Titania, Ikaros knew he had little to do with it, but still – he was one of them who were desperate to fix what had been broken between their kinds. Dragons were once the Elvhen's closest friends and allies, and Ikaros didn't want to ruin the second chance they could possibly get. "Mythal spoke to me, once. When we went to Blackrock, in search of a cure. There are waters there, a pool deep within a temple." He turned to look at Solon now, "She spoke about how the time of the dragons is near. Whether or not that includes the Elvhen, well, I guess we'll have to wait and see." It could mean the massive dragon that awaited them behind the Eluvian in Mythal's Glade, a damning thing to even think about.

Solon found great comfort when Ikaros recited these words, a smile growing on his expression, nodding solemnly. "Each leaf which falls from the great tree does not have to mean the end, plenty hope still lingers, and so long as I stand, there is protection offered to Avalon and each branch within it." Solon did not promise this lightly, and he meant it beyond any political measure of a prince talking with a dragon; simply, he was talking to Ikaros with no titles attached to the elvhen's name. "There will be a day where we no longer will have to rebuild and my only hope is that it is well within your reach," he could not promise that Ikaros would see it in his lifetime, but even Solon had to hope that the next hundred years would be enough to vanquish what had crept forth and tainted the great tree.

He had fourteen hundred years, give or take, unless the blight caught up to him as it had Yavanna. His grandmother hadn't been old, nearing sixteen hundred, and still – it hadn't been enough. Never enough time, and Ikaros simply wished to walk into the Eluvian and bring her back so she could get the burial she deserved. As it was, dragons lived for ages – if not in Ikaros' time, then perhaps it would be in Fyren's. "Are you always this annoyingly optimistic?" There was a lilt to Ikaros' voice, humor finally settling back into his voice. He didn't think he'd have a chance so soon, but there was more than enough sarcasm to go around between himself and the pink dragon.

Solon stilled at that, three solemn words, which encapsulated the weight of everything Ikaros had witnessed and further endured. He did not think that Ikaros choosing to reside in Avalon for some time was the cowards way; community was important and so often Solon vied for more dragons to be discovered, for his community to grown as it had once been. The elvhen were an extension of a more harmonious past, but it was not truly the same and Solon was grateful to know that Ikaros had many throughout Avalon who would support him through each cruel sliver of darkness that tried to entrap the prince.

"If you can believe it, I quite admire the sound of your voice as well," a touch of humor though drenched in truth, for in this polymorph even Solon could not lie. It was as much gratitude as Solon could express without it feeling so heavy; to know that Ikaros trusted the pink dragon with these tenebrous secrets, was something Solon couldn't wholly express, but the pink dragon did his best.

Ikaros didn't think that this was the worst anyone had ever suffered in their life. His time with the Kossith had fractured his mind, pieced together until he found himself again, in a dream state that he still didn't understand, and perhaps never would. The Elvhen crossed his arms over his chest, listening now to Fyren. The dragon had been through more than the Prince could imagine, made to suffer by being severed from his own time, his own home, and still – Ikaros felt like he didn't know the half of it. He'd give the other the space and time to speak about it if he ever wanted, a place reserved for a quiet understanding as the ever brooding Prince was known for.

Ikaros had been on the fortunate side of this friendship until now - he'd never had the opportunity to hear the pink dragons many jokes! A disservice, but one Solon had made up for on the journey back to Avalon. This time, through the recovery of the prince, there was no Old God to sprout conflict and chaos, no intemperate eluvian that pressured them to make haste. Pockets of forests and Lysaran civilizations beneath them, Solon's wings were this massive fixture behind them. As Avalon greeted them, Ikaros was practically swept up in various reunions, all adamant to see the future Avalonian king.

Solon was to make his way back to the Silverlands, check if Talisa had made her way back from Haven, when Ikaros met up with him once more, even going as far to seclude an area for them to simply be. Maybe some small part of Solon had figured Ikaros would be bombarded with further royal duties, vie to see friends who had anxiously awaited his return, and a small part of the dragon, arrogance only lightly tempered when next to the prince, felt surprise that Ikaros had asked him to stay.

Silence had shrouded them in this little pocket of Avalon, a shocking thing considering how much Solon had yapped Ikaros' ear off on the journey; but even now, the pink dragon could see the exhaustion which lined handsome features and even he could practice restraint.

"They did, Fyren," he said quietly, like he didn't wish to admit this to anyone else. He gathered himself and explained it all to the other beside him – every moment, the way he'd been blindfolded, the push of every vision taking over his mind and sense of self until he'd forgotten everything except what he was forced to know. It was not done for pity – the prince would hate that, but for a quiet understanding.

"I don't think I should leave Avalon for long," he murmured after his story had settled, but a tired smile finally pushed onto his features, "Thank you – for listening to me." In five centuries, he didn't think he'd been in a position like this before. Lusacan so close to their doorstep, and Aetheron outside of it, he didn't wish to press – however, he knew that Fyren would understand, far more than anyone else. "How do you do it, then? See the good in this world? When the past tried to take it all from you?"

"It's gone," Abelas said as he held up his hand, "brother-" a pair of earthy eyes, so damp that Abelas might drown, found his brother's. "lets go home." Elris would be waiting, the entirety of Avalon would, in fact, be waiting and the work was not yet finished - but they had time enough to celebrate.

Abelas threw his arms around Ikaros again, this time with a grip so tight he might just squeeze the life out of him.

"I missed you," he said after a moment, words quiet enough between them as he squeezed his eyes shut. He'd never be able to walk such a path laid out before him without Abelas. The path that he'd been forced upon as of late didn't bring him hope, knowing his brother was struggling with the weight of what had been on his hand. He pulled away after a moment, taking Abelas' wrist in his hand as he looked at the space the ring had taken up, "How? Are you well?"

It was quiet, closed off on Ikaros' request, and saved for the dragon and prince who sat upon it now. Ikaros wasn't sure how long they sat, but Ikaros looked down at his hands, mismatched eyes fixed on the ground in front of him as he thought of all he saw. "There were moments I could remember. That I wasn't meant to be what they wanted me to. I saw so much, over and over again." Forced to speak it, say it so it could come to pass. Until he'd become himself again. "I'm not sure who or what answered, what broke me from it. Thank you for taking care of Gwaern. For talking with Saleba. I always have so much to lose, and so little power to protect it all."