Porcelain teacups decorate

[timewalking]

Date & Time: 12/1, evening
Location: Kirian's office, the clinic.
Characters: Kirian (timewalking) and Boyfriend #16 Rynlan (voidshift)
Summary: Kirian conjures tea and fancy cups.
Warnings: Elfs. Probably one-sided UST.

Kirian stood from his desk, limping across his office. It had been some time since he had spoken with someone on matters not of business, not of impersonal matters. Even sex, the act itself, was always impersonal. And true, he had shared tea with Haytham, but somehow, these seemed more...difficult to keep his walls where they should be.

He muttered under his breath, limping to a cabinet near his desk and pulling on a pair of black cloth gloves. At least he felt well enough today- the past fey days had been marked by pain that he could do little about. He could drug himself into sleeping, but even that lost its appeal years ago. Were he in Azeroth, he would return home, to where "home" truly was, in Quel'thalas. He would visit his sister, allow her to fuss over him for a few days until the worst of it subsided.

But here, he was alone, and the ache in his body was one he could only filch medicines for, unfortunately.

He mostly grit his teeth and just tried to bear it, anymore.

But today was better, and thus he felt the need to treat himself to a bit of company. Truth be told, he supposed he found Rynlan to be agreeable enough. He didn't seem the type to wastefully babble about himself, or to pry, and Kirian appreciated that.

Time would tell, however. For now he was buttoning his gloves and peering at the tablet, frowning to no one.

Comments

[voidshift]

"I'd heard that they were-- about time, if you ask me. I'd thought they were just going to let the skill die out, but then I suppose before that the focus was more on training up Blood Knights."

He can't help but frown a bit, there. Had it not been for that injury, he might have moved on from priesthood, joined them instead-- he's still got the shield Aren had used, back at home, and Ryn's sure he wouldn't have wanted to see it locked up.

But that's nothing to dwell on unless he wants to be in a foul mood for the rest of the damned day. Instead he leans back in his chair, looking Kirian over curiously.

"I'm not certain I'd have taken you for one-- or were you assisting only with the magical aspect of it?"

[timewalking]

"Perhaps I was one, in another life."

Back when he still proudly wore blue and gold.

"I served in the Second War, with the Alliance." And he looks down to his cup, remembering that. Recalling the soldier whose name he would never forget, but he could hardly bring himself to say, anymore. And how foolish he had been. Certainly, he had the years of a man, but he was almost a mere child, with all the naivete in his soul, back then.

"After that, I defended Silvermoon against the undead."

Lot of good that did everyone, he thought, bitterly, though he didn't say it with shame.

"I was injured when Silvermoon fell." There's almost pride in his voice. To Kirian, there is no more worthy way to be injured than defending one's homeland, to fight or something one believes in.

Even his scar, he is not ashamed of. It's doubt, it's pity, that he hates. A scar meant that one survived whatever tried to kill them. They would never be the same, no, but in some ways, it was better to live in spite of that.

He took a drink, smiling to himself. "I'm afraid I'm a bit rusty with a sword. My blades are a bit shorter these days, though..." He gestured, remembering his cane. "...I like to have one close, just in case."

"But no, I was aiding in training the new Spellbreakers in defensive magic and using spells cast on enemies."

He chuckles to himself, quietly, for a few moments.

"My greatest secret, I suppose, is that I'm no great mage. My skills were always more in defensive magic...though I've no skill with the light, either." A nod. "I'm a Magister simply because they wish to bolster their numbers, and because I have a mind for theory. Thankfully, the Magistrix who allowed me to apprentice with her was fairly patient as I bumbled through conjuring."

[voidshift]

"In all fairness, I'd always rather had the impression that a good bit of the Magistry was there more for the paperwork and politics than they were for their skill in magic-- if you'll forgive my saying so. Perhaps I only ran into, ah- less impressive examples."

At that, he gives Kirian a brief look-over, almost but not quite disguising it as plain curiosity-- and his mouth twitches into a small grin. "Though to continue being honest, I certainly can't say I've found you lacking yet. My opinion might have been higher had I run into more magisters like yourself."

Rynlan takes a long sip of his tea, there, quietly pleased with himself. He'd like to think he hasn't lost his touch over the years, out of practice as he is.

"I'm sure the defensive spells are far more useful as it is," he continues on casually, "particularly taking into consideration that we need as many of us living as possible. What good does firepower do us if we only burn ourselves out?"

[timewalking]

Kirian smiles, amused with Rynlan. He was certain he had said much the same to someone, somewhere, and he was hardly a stranger from the casual flirtations of Sin'dorei. He nods, just once, and take a drink of his own tea.

"If only we had more that agree with you. Defensive magic isn't always the most impressive- it's hardly a show of fire that many Magisters prefer. They'd rather have their phoenixes...I'd rather not have a spellblade in my belly."

And he can remember just that, how easily his blade cut through Lightflare's robes, his eyes glowing as the magic reversed itself on him. He burned from the inside, Kirian knew.

He had no regrets for it. Lightflare was the type of man they could use less of.

"I can think of other things I'd much rather have." And he smiled to himself, not meeting Rynlan's eyes as he took a drink. It was only fair.