The moment Lanfearys opened Ithan's diary, he realized the error of his ways. He saw her write in the book every now and then, binding it with a chain and closing it with a key afterwards. She insisted it was a necessity - the King of Winter had power over minds, and she needed a way to etch the truth into something he could not affect. According to her, the fae was tricked into giving away his dominion over flesh, so it was flesh she used when making her book. Garbed animal skins for the pages, sinew to bind it, her own blood to write in it.
She tried to keep it safe, especially from Lanfearys - no wonder, considering what he told her - but even she needed sleep. Unfortunately, he failed to convinced her to sleep with him, and the traps she set always woke her up whenever he tried to sneak in. That called for Plan B; he pretended to be injured and unable to escape to Faerie - the latter even wasn't a lie. She bound him with a cold iron chain, a really kinky-looking gag, and placed him in a circle that could probably hold a fae, but wasn't a problem to him. After a really spirited interrogation, she left to gather herbs for some ritual, leaving him alone.
That was his chance! He slipped out of the ropes, carefully left the circle and rummaged through her bags. Fortunately, she left the book there rather than take it on her hunt. The moment Lanfearys opened the book, his satisfied smirk vanished, replaced by confusion. Of course. She was writing in a language he was not familiar with.
He would have to look it up later. He carefully turned every page, memorizing their contents quickly. His nearly eidetic memory would be of help, and perhaps one of the libraries had a dictionary of barbarian tongues. He was worried that Ithan would return soon and find him, but his fears were unfounded - he finished the entire book. The original plan was to get back into the restraints and see what she had in store, but he wouldn't be able to slip back into the rope. That was troubling. Unless...
He flung wide the window, letting the frozen air of the north inside. The wind blew in, throwing the salt making up the magic circle into disarray. Lanfearys smiled, a new idea coming to his mind. The dwarf would come and find that the King of Winter has freed his servant. Now, for a final touch... He picked up one of Ithan's knives and closed his hand around it, opening a vein. He used the blood to draw a warning on the door. It would be his grand finale - he was already growing bored a bit with her.
His performance was a resounding success. Ithan left so fast, it left the Starstriders quite surprised with her sudden absence. Lanfearys had to work hard to stop himself from smirking whenever she was mentioned. His reputation really didn't need another hit - it was hard enough finding new targets as it was. He was getting bored.
After seven more rejections and no hope for proper entertainment, he headed to the library. Of course, he had to wait for the lorekeeper to be distracted in order to sneak in - after what happened, she threatened to cut some choice limbs off if she ever saw him again. Mutilation was not on today's schedule.
Of course, it meant that he would get no help searching for dictionaries. He always preferred getting his information from people rather than books, but at least books wouldn't refuse him because he lied. Or tricked others. Or did a variety of amusing things that they had narrow-mindedly considered wrong.
Translating the pages took him a few weeks, but it kept him busy. It was engaging enough, but couldn't really compare to playing with people. He was a socialiser, not a scholar. He was only doing this out of boredom, and to try to wring every last bit from Ithan, even after she was gone. He hoped for some insight into her thoughts, but it was mostly a record of her pursuits and notes on the King of Winter.
But there was one tidbit that he found especially interesting. A ritual to see into the Faerie and possibly spy on its denizens. That intrigued him. The fae did not share his people's morals, perhaps they'd be more interesting to play with. An entire new culture, with its own intricacies, customs and ways... Perhaps this was an avenue he should take.
Finding most of the items required for the ritual was simple enough, but one was problematic. A mirror that has never reflected anyone. The only solution he could think of was having it made from scratch - and it wasn't something he ever learned. He ended up commissioning a glassmaker - put on a good show of paranoia, too, ranting about how this mirror was meant to see him and him only, and reflection of anyone else would 'spoil' it. It was wrapped in cloth when delivered to him, and he hoped that the craftsman was careful enough. It was time to put the mirror to the test.
The ritual was to be done under an open, clouded sky. He carefully set the mirror on the floor of his balcony, circling around to avoid being reflected in it. The necessary herbs were being burned in a nearby brazier as he chanted the incantation, his voice low and betraying some of his expectations. The smoke was low, coiling against the floor, covering the surface of the mirror wholly. The final word out of his lips, he completed the ritual and looked down.
Into the Faerie.
Neese felt the magic coiling in the air around him, and it wasn't the sort of magic he was used to feeling around fairy... it felt like mortal magic. Frowning faintly, Neese looked around, but it took him a moment for it to occur to him to look up.
Ahh... he was being spied on. Neese smiled, something wicked, like a glint of light off a blade. That was interesting. He turned around, still looking up at the face peering down at him. "If you're going to intrude on my home," he said, "you aught to at least introduce yourself."
Neese's home was a spindly castle. The rooms and halls inside all looked grand - save the servants and slave's quarters, but they were only less grand for being plain, not poorly made. The room he happened to be in at the moment was wide open, set with chairs around a round platform. Upon the platform was a beautiful creature - it shimmered in the changing light of the room. It had six legs, feathered wings, and horns that looked like polished ivory on it's face. It was some manner of animal, though it looked intelligent somehow. The thing was chained down to the platform and the others in the room appeared to be studying it - one was sketching, one painting, and others scribbling notes. Neese hadn't been as interested in the beast, except that it was lovely and he wanted to posses it, so the others had some here to learn about it.
Standing up on his chair, as if it made a difference, Neese reached up toward Lanfearys, and threw the mirror. He grabbed a hold of the mortal's collar and pulled him down threw his portal. He smirked. Silly mortals... they always forgot the details -- it mattered quite a lot if portals were just windows or if they were doors, and if they were one way or two way. Mirrors were doors for Fae.
On the other side, Neese set Lanferys on his feet, and straitened his collar. "I do apologize," he said, thought it wasn't true really, "if I frightened you... however it's exceedingly rude to peer into someone's home, uninvited." That part was true. He tilted his head slightly, looking over the man now standing before him. The portal overhead was still open, and Lanferys would be able to see the cloudy sky above where he'd been looking down from a moment ago.
"Welcome to my home," Neese said making a sweeping gesture with his arm - his movements more smooth and fluid than was possible for mortals - there was grace even in the slightest of his movements. "May I ask, why is it you were peering down at me?" He raised an eyebrow slightly, "you do not look familiar - I do not believe we are acquainted."
The castle in the Faerie was quite grand. Lanfearys was quite glad to have already come upon the highest echelons of fae society - or at least something that looked like it. He examined every creature in the room - the strange being on the dais and the others studying it. Was the beautiful beast one of the native existences of Faerie or something that was captured from the world of mortals? Ithan mentioned that.
It took him only a second to realize that one of the fae was looking back. He didn't look too angered at the invasion of privacy - he appeared to be more amused and intrigued, actually. Lanfearys leaned forward, his face almost touching the surface of the mirror. He didn't care about the requirements of the ritual right now; he wasn't reflected anyway. The fae used this opportunity to pull him in.
That was unexpected. But he liked unexpected - it was new and intriguing, and that was better than boredom. Perhaps he should be more concerned about getting yanked into a completely new world, but all he could feel was excitement. It wasn't like he would miss anything or anyone about the homelands anyway - perhaps a little break could do him some good. He suppressed the instinct to start looking around - he didn't want to give an impression of some wide-eyed fool.
The fae was right - some breach of hospitality on his part was involved, and he should apologize. He might not care about people, but he wasn't a barbarian! "You are absolutely right" he admitted. The fae seemed to be speaking his language - or perhaps it was him whose tongue, now suffused with the magic of the Faerie, conformed to speak the words its masters would understand. Either way, it didn't seem like communication would be a a problem.
"I must ask that you forgive my intrusion" he began, putting on his most charming voice. "I must have used the wrong herbs in the ritual. I will make certain that the person responsible is punished." Just in case the fae could read his mind, he decided to do something to the herbalist once he got home.
If he got home.
"I am called Lanfearys Fellanell" he introduced himself, completely unconcerned about giving his name to a fae.
Oh mortals! Even this sort who lived 'forever'... they were so silly in their thoughts and ideas. "I know your kind," he said, switching to Lanfeary's native Starstrider, just to see his reaction. Even compared to these, exquisitely beautiful, if Neese did say so himself, creatures, were short lived compared to him who had lived so long he'd forgotten how many years he now claimed. Nothing short of iron could kill him... and only iron or salt could bind him, and salt couldn't even kill him... nothing so damming or restricting as the harmonizing of a soul would ever restrict him.
He was free.
"North giants," Neese chuckled softly, being more than a head taller than him, was easy. "Starstrider." Neese gave the man his version of a devastatingly charming smile, which couldn't be helped to to posses a good deal of mischief, and some sense that he was up to something very much not good for anyone, except perhaps, himself. "Beautiful," he brushed his long, slender fingers down Lanfearys' chest, as if he had the right to touch him, "but always too caught up in finding your other halves to throw yourselves away on.
"Why were you looking into Faerie?"
The fae's words were perfectly comprehensible, as if he spoke Lanfearys' language. But did he truly, or was it the magic of the Faerie that allowed the elf to communicate with its denizens? This mystery was something that could fascinate a scholar or vex Ithan, but to Lanfearys was far less intriguing than the tongue that spoke those words.
It seemed like the fae knew of his people - even called them giants. It was new - the elf never had a frame of reference to compare himself to. Ithan claimed to be a dwarf, a people small of height but stout of stature; so he saw her as short rather than acknowledging himself as tall. But he couldn't fail to notice that he was larger than not just his host, but also all the other fae gathered within. They seemed more interested in the creature in the middle of the room. As much as this ostracism hurt his feelings, he could understand it - there were mortals all over the world, should they want for any; but this being looked unique.
His ego was salved by all the attention his host so generously lavished upon him. The hands-on approach might have been considered an invasion of privacy by others, but Lanfearys would sooner eat a whole nest of icewasps than complain about an attractive person putting their hands on him. The compliment helped, too. And while he would be all too eager to discuss standards of beauty with a fae - one capable, at least according to Ithan, of both changing shape to suit any whim and hiding beneath a glamour - he couldn't help but prioritize responding to the dig at his people.
Oh, it wasn't motivated by some misguided patriotism or being offended by the truth. It was simply so rare to meet someone of a similar mind. Among his fellow Starstriders, the only ones who would agree were in denial - which lost its luster once he broke down the walls they built around their pain and saw what lay beneath.
"That's quite a limiting view of the world, isn't it? I couldn't agree more. There is such a dizzying number of people in the world, to say that one person alone has meaning is not just incorrect, it's downright insulting!"
Neese tilted his head, as if seeing something he hadn't seen before, when he looked at Lanfearys. "Mmm..." he nodded his agreement. "It is limiting, and ignorant."
When Lanfearys didn't pull away or recoil at his uninvited touch, Neese moved closer to him. "You may call me Neese," he said, Lanfearys had given him something after-all - something given in return was warranted... a name for a name, and a little information, "and I prefer the freedome to chooses my own fate... but if you don't prescribe to your people's silly notions of finding the other halves of their souls, Lanfearys," he said, leaning in just a bit closer, fully invading the Starstrider's space. "Tell me what is it you do spend your time searching for?" In his experience, everyone was looking for something.
Neese... That was a strange name, but perhaps only by Starstrider standards - or perhaps by mortal standards. Of course, Lanfearys kept this opinion to himself - there was no point insulting his host right now.
The question was one he could answer, but that it was asked to begin with revealed something interesting. Neese either couldn't just pull the information from his mind, or was unwilling to. The elf agreed with this philosophy - not just because he had no useful powers that could do his work for him. He would never refuse a chance to acquire what he wanted by words alone - finding the cracks in a person's heart, the weaknesses that would yield what he needed. Just taking his objective was bypassing all the fun - it was like foregoing a multiple course meal only for the end product of manure.
He smirked, leaning into the physical contact with almost practiced ease. "There's a lot I search for" he confessed. It was a bit evasive, but completely true. "It's a far more worthy pursuit than focusing one's efforts on one purpose only, wouldn't you agree? An open mind casts a wider net - and the more someone searches for, the greater a chance of succeeding in finding at least one."
Oh, how delightfully alike were the two of them. It was in the journey that the pleasure was found, the destination and the goal, was just an outcome... which could be entertaining, but was always brief and fleeting. Neese brushed his long, slender fingers against Lanfearys' cheek, until his fingertips brushed against his hair, before letting his hand rest lightly on the elf's shoulder. It was an intimate gesture, and the two of them were very close now, however, the touch seemed somehow almost casual when he did it.
"I do indeed agree," he said. "Especially with the number of years your people can count. The options might be endless."
A part of him felt a bit envious of the time the Fae had at his disposal. As a Starstrider, he would live just as long, but his experience was just beginning. But he was never the kind to bemoan the past when there was the present to attend to - and such a worthy present to live in!
The Fae was getting handsy, and Lanfearys was of a mind to reciprocate. He was always up for messing around with someone attractive, and this time it had the extra spark of novelty. He reached up to entwine their fingers together - he wouldn't be surprised to find out that in this short time, the other managed to change the number of digits attached to his hand - or turn them into thorns, just because he could.
Lanfearys would have done the same.
Neese smiled, his lips parted slightly, and he almost licked them. He didn't grow a new finger or turn them to thorns, but they moved in an unnatural way. So that, even with their fingers twined together, he was able to brush his fingertips against the palm of his hand. "But you are a curious one, aren't you," he leaned in closer. He hadn't gotten handsy yet.
The fay lord stepped closer yet, so the toes of their boots touched, and tilted his head to the side, looking Lanfeary's up and down with an appraising eye. He glanced sideways then, some of the others had started to watch them - not all of them - but a few seemed curious or amused. Neese had always enjoyed toying with mortals.
This was certainly a different experience than what he was used to with his fellow Starstriders - he couldn't quite name it, not yet, but it felt strange and eerie. Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him - if he expected the Fae to feel bizarre, his senses could match his thoughts. Even more so in the land of the Faerie - Ithan mentioned that the mutable stuff of the realm frequently changed to match the thoughts of mortals who wandered inside.
"What is the purpose of immortal life if not to experience all there is in the world?" he smiled. "I imagine the simple humans have their hands full trying just to survive, but it's such a bland, base existence, barely superior to an animal."
"Immortal... mmm... I do suppose you are compared to them," they did die though - even if not from old age. There wasn't much killed a fae, at least, not his kind, unless they were run threw with iron and salted. "Thought I will say humans can make interesting play things," then again, so could this creature standing before him.
"Tell me," he said, leaning in closer still, so that his lips nearly brushed Lanfeary's ear, "what would you like to experience in this world. Perhaps I can be of assistance to you." Everything he ever had to offer though, came with a price tag attached. He slid his free hand across the back of the Elf's shoulders, and down to the small of his back before pulling him toward him so they were touching along the plains of their bodies, though they were off center from each other by a few inches, with their heads beside one another, instead of nose to nose.
The room around them shifted, and then they were facing a different wall - but in the same room, the perspective now was a little off, odd... like the angles in the room were not quite right. Lanfearys now faced a tall, full length mirror which gave him a view of his own face and Neese's back side in the reflection. The fae lord smirked against the elf's cheek, and then turned, so he too faced the mirror, their hands still twined together, he walked toward the mirror, expecting the Starstrider to follow.
This whole situation made him consider the pecking order of immortality. Lanfearys always believed himself to be superior in this regard to the few travellers that made their way to the frozen Starstrider homelands. All of them, without exceptions, were subject to the tyranny of age and time. But as prideful as he was, he couldn't help but feel inferior to the Fae. Neese's words hinted at uncountable knowledge and experiences, and he moved with confidence and grace that made him appear to be more than just a natural part of the world - it was as if air itself drifted to fill his lungs, like a devoted servant waiting on its master.
Well, if a superior being made him such a gracious offer, it would be rude to refuse. Of course, Lanfearys was no naive fool to take everything at its face value - all sentient creatures had their hidden agendas and every bargain had its other side. If Ithan's notes were to believed, this applied to the Fae even more than to mortals.
"It is true, there is little I know about your world and your people, and what I know comes from an untested source." He didn't believe Ithan was just a ploy to get to him - it would be too much effort, and she would have to be a hell of an actress. But his suspicious nature has served him well, and he would not abandon it for one madwoman. "But what would this favour cost me? The colour drained from my dreams? A year of my lifespan? The first thing I set my eyes upon once I return home?"
Neese was leading the Starstrider toward the mirror. "Most people from your world would say the same," Neese said, "at least, if they were being honest. But then, I suppose, it's hardly your fault... Your ignorance. Did you know... your world was made before ours, but we were given life before the people of your world." Small secretes, and it seemed that Lanfearys didn't realize the first exchange had already been made.
The Fae lord looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "Afraid of the cost?" he chuckled softly, and then stepped threw the mirror, taking the elf with him. Funny that, that they were called elves -- sometimes fae were called elves, or fries. "That's wise of you... but what if I offered to give you something instead of taking something away?"
Neese grinned, as they stepped out of the reflection in a window into another room. It was a lavish sitting room that they stepped into. In this room, they were alone. He turned, so he was face to face with Lanfearys, and tucked his fingertips inside his collar, brushing them against the elf's neck. "What would you ask of me?" her arched what was near to his eyebrow as he had - the leafy projection from his face. "If you could ask of me anything?"
Was he afraid? Perhaps he should - Ithan has made it clear that the Fae were dangerous, far more than a mortal could ever be. Perhaps he was - the worst an angered kinsman could do was to kill him, but the dwarf's notes hinted at creativity and cruelty that would leave even the harshest tyrants impressed. But in the end, Lanfearys couldn't find a hint of fear within his heart. His words were motivated by habit, a competitive nature that made a bargain out of every conversation and enjoyed the art of socialization far beyond the simple exchange of information. Would any cost be too steep for him to accept? That only the future could tell.
He considered the Fae's next words carefully. Lanfearys enjoyed accepting gifts, and it tickled his pride pleasantly to know that someone thought long and hard about what to give him. What bargain could be made when one side's benefit was to give, rather than receive? Perhaps he should have read all of Ithan's notes before making his attempt to look into Faerie, but he didn't mind learning through experience. As a matter of fact, it was even his preference - dry words on a page or a lecturer's droning voice taught him little but the limits of his own patience.
"Well, I would probably benefit most by asking for infinite wishes, but it was always such a boring choice." As much as he enjoyed winning, taking the path to victory was just as important as its destination. He also had a feeling that if he disappointed his fickle host, Neese could just disappear, having lost his interest. He was tempted to play into the Fae tradition and ask for something in return for an answer, but perhaps it was too early.
"That's quite a hard question to answer" he confessed. "It would require me to prioritize one pleasure above all else - which is something I find not just difficult and unrewarding, but also wrong to begin with. I am not one of the short-lived mortals who can only truly experience one or two wonders of the world in what little time they were given. I would... have everything."
Neese curled his fingers tighter about Lanfearys' collar and used it to pull him close. They were very near nose to nose, the warm puff of his breath brushed against the elf's face when he breathed. Neese smelled of rich soil, and good, green earth... he smelled, like fresh air after a cleansing rain. The fae lord smiled, seeming pleased with his answer, leaning closer still, so that his lips brushed against the elf's cheek until they found his ear.
"Even I do not posses the power to grant you everything, but... I could grant you the means to seek everything on your own..." His lips fell lower, below Lanfearys' ear, to just below his jaw. "True immortality, life that would never face death." He smiled deeper and pressed his lips to the underside of the elf's jaw, the leafy projections on his face ticking against Lanfeary's cheek and neck. Such a gift would come at a steep price though.
As much as he'd have liked to have kept a cool head in the moment of temptation, to properly savour it like a dish served cold, he couldn't help but be captured by the grandeur of what he was offered. True immortality, not the small amnesty from age his people were given. He'd be eternal, as constant as the stars and the sky that bore them. It would be a way to get what he wanted, to have everything.
He stared into the Fae's changing eyes, feeling the rustle of his leaves beneath his fingers. Perhaps he should play coy, hide his interest, try to bargain as if he was not wholeheartedly convinced, but his intuition was clear on the matter of how futile it would be. He was dealing with someone clearly accustomed to mortals, someone who probably made his offer to countless lessers before. While Lanfearys was proud, maybe even to the point of arrogance, he didn't think he could trick Neese.
"Has anyone ever refused such an offer?" he asked. The words just slipped through his lips, unbidden. He didn't think of posing the question, but he'd be glad to hear the answer.
Neese grinned, his teeth grazing the delicate skin of Lanfearys' neck. "Mmm... to be honest, I've never made the offer before... I'm not in the habit of offering something more than once. However, it is a rare occasion that someone doesn't accept a gift from me.
"For something so special though," he tilted his head slightly to the side, "I would require something in return - three favors owed, for me to call on you in the future." He tilted his head further, at an odd angle so he could look up toward Lanfearys' face. "What do you say, child of the stars?"
He leaned back, one of his arms wandering to play with the leaves on the Fae's body. It was such a new experience, so different from the smooth, almost predictable skin and hair that he was accustomed to. It was worth it to visit this place for this alone, but at this point, he would have judged it to be one of the least interesting elements of his visit to the Fae realms. How could he not? This offer was something that deserved his full consideration.
Hearing that this offer was unique did please him in some fashion - and not just his pride. From what little he caught of Neese, he could tell that the Fae was used to dealing with mortals, and it was probably something he felt very passionately about - he had to, if every offer he made was unique and special, tailored to whomever he deemed fortunate enough to receive it. Perhaps it was a source of pride to the Fae as well, such insight and endless fountain of ideas.
As fascinating as the offer was, the price seemed almost lacklustre in comparison, something the elf could have heard from mortal lips just as well - at least at a first glance. He realized that while it might have seen bland, it probably was due to lack of context, this insidious spice upon which most pleasures depended. It was like judging a book by three sentences torn out of its pages at random, misjudging them to be the entirety of what it had to offer, and daring to pass judgement. Those three favours were probably a part of some larger plan, perhaps something Neese set in motion before Lanfearys was even born, a scheme spanning centuries and different planes of existence, maybe even aspects he was not capable of considering. How long has he been waiting for a convenient mortal to show up and take a role that has been prepared for him? Or perhaps it was only a clever amendment to the plan, taking advantage of the temporary opportunity that showed up? The Starstrider had a feeling that the Fae wouldn't answer if asked.
Lanfearys would try to find out anyway, of course.
He wanted to see his face now - he wouldn't be able to read it, even if the Fae showed their expressions the same way mortals did. But before he turned around, Neese twisted his neck in a way that defied anatomy and reason. Convenient and eerie at the same time, and while Lanfearys always liked to consider himself rather flexible, he had to admit that this feat was beyond his capability and that he was jealous.
"Hmmm, I wonder what kind of favours would those be..." he mused. "Probably the kind that I am not allowed to know before accepting the bargain." Were they something he would have otherwise refused? The thought only made him more interested. He enjoyed deals, taking them to the limits, twisting the letter of the agreements until they served his spirit.
The Fae Lord had skin also, and it felt warm, and just like the normal kind that humanoids had, but it blended out on the edges of his limbs and face into leafy protrusions, and at his major joints (elbows, knees, shoulders) even into bungles of twig like protrusions. It wouldn't be hard to imagine either, that one could snap a peace off of one just like a twig on a tree --- though if the elf was wise, he would not give into such a temptation.
Neese grinned. He gave much, he took much, but he kept his secrets close all the same. "I find that the very best things in life come with the highest risks," he chuckled, a depth of mischief sparkled in his eyes and seeped into his tone. "If you're not willing to accept the risk, there will be no reward."
That was quite fair - immortality was a wondrous gift to grant, and that Neese offered it so freely and quickly spoke volumes about his power and perhaps also fickleness. Lanfearys was willing to accept a mystery - he would just have to investigate it for himself. He did not mind being a part of a larger plan, but he always wanted to know more, to do more. Perhaps it was an act of supreme greed on his part: he was being offered the greatest gift, but still it was not enough. It was his nature to never accept, to always hunger.
But he refused to be a slave to his passions, he would be their master. The spiteful temptation to say no just to experience this rush clouded his mind, but he would not reject true immortality for a few minutes' pleasure. Perhaps he was being manipulated, but he never minded - if he got too tangled up in the webs and could no longer cut himself free, it would be his own fault for being too weak to wield the blade.
"I accept" he spoke. "But you knew that I would, didn't you? I have accepted your gift the moment you first offered it - speaking those words were just a formality." He ran his hands down the strange texture making up Neese's outer layer - skin? bark? It was smooth, but hard and deceptively dangerous. Starstrider evolution granted Lanfearys rather tough skin, but one careless motion saw the side of his hand run too close to a sharper ridge, drawing blood. The elf just laughed.
"So be it - I shall seal this bargain with my blood. I will see those three favours done."
"Mmm..." Neese's eye's sparkled with mischief. He lifted lanfearys' hand toward his lips, and licked the metallic red fluid from his palm. "So it shall be." Simple as that, it was done. There was no ritual or series of gestures or words to be spoken, simply Neese's will.
"My contract cannot be broken," the fae lord elaborated, "you are bound to me now, until such a time as I have called in all my favors. A thing for a thing is the only way." He grinned, "But I think that's enough of that now..." Neese turned his head, and brushed the tip of his nose along the ridge of the Starstrider's cheek bone.
Lanfearys frowned, expecting... well, not what he received. He wanted more fanfare, more pomp, something grand and magical, a moment of unparalelled awe. He understood that a being like Neese could probably command pure power without the need to cajole it with chants or gestures, but there was more to those theatrics. The end may justify the means for a novice practitioner, but with an eternity at one's disposal, the means held a value on their own. While he acknowledged this to be irrational and illogical, he would have considered the deal they've just struck to be more significant if it was accompanied by a sudden fanfare, the darkening of the sky, or a burst of colours he's never seen before. In the Fae's eyes, was the elf someone worthy of immortality, but not even worth a little sparkle? Should he feel insulted?
Still, at least he got some tongue action out of it. Now he could brag, not that he would. He far preferred boasting about his own accomplishments, rather than the others'. "Well then, I'm not so arrogant as to demand compliments over the taste of my blood," that was a lie, he completely was - but he always found the flow of his words more important than the truth contained within. "But if I am to live forever, I have to put some effort into self-improvement. Is there a way to alter the composition of my blood?" he asked, as his hands snaked around the Fae's body.
The Starstrider probably should have been insulted. It was not so special a thing, or even unique a thing, for him to offer such gifts --- and take in return. In fact, his meddling with mortals was a rather well established game Neese liked to play.
Neese chuckled softly. "Oh, I don't know that you could really alter the taste of your blood, even if you wanted to, but there's no need to change it." There was something primal about blood - like water, like birth, like death, like sex. As Lanfearys slipped his hands around Neese, he leaned in closer to the Starstrider until they were touching along the lines of their bodies.
So there were some limits to the Fae's knowledge! Lanfearys was quite pleased with himself to have stumbled upon it. Neese was surrounded by such a nimbus of power, offering wondrous gifts and commanding great magic, it was quite easy for a mortal to mistake his power for infinite. Perhaps he should keep it in mind. The temptation to become lost in his awe and submit to the magic of Faerie was strong, but half the pleasure was always testing the limits of his strength, seeing how long he could resist.
His hands began to wander the expanse of the Fae's body. Perhaps it was a waste to try and memorize the texture and shape of what could be transformed with but a thought, but the sensation itself was worth it... for now.
Oh, even Neese so vain and confident, frankly, full of himself, as he was, wouldn't say that his power or his knowledge was infinite. He was not all knowing or all seeing. He was not all powerful -- that said, compared to the normal mortals of the world, he might as well have been, in his opinion, and often theirs.
"Mmm..." Neese reacted openly to being touched, enjoying the slide of fingers against his flesh that in some places was more like the skin of mortals, and in others more like leaves or rough bark or sharp thorns and fragile twigs. He moved in the subtle ways that one feeling pleasure at another's touch did - leaning in slightly here, pulling back slightly there, but never actually increasing the distance between them, which at this point was basically only the barrier of the fabric that Lanfearys was wearing, sense Neese was dressed in not but a loin cloth.
He still held, in his hand, Lanfearys' hand which a moment ago he'd sampled the Starstrider's blood from. He moved his hand, so his fingers brushed against the leafy "mask" that covered the upper portion of his face, and then he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth before slowly drawing it out again.
At this point, face to face, bodies pressed together, and especial with Neese barely clothed, the fae's physical reaction to his attraction had likely become evident a long time ago. The fey lord took a step forward, pressing Lanfearys back, then another, toward one of the sofas in the room. He was accustomed to taking what he pleased, often, without asking, and thus he acted so, but there was always a catch - whenever he took something, whatever he took, he always gave something in return. Weather or not that turned out to be a good thing for the other being involved was often up for debate, but with Neese it was always an exchange, never a one-sided taking.
He couldn't deny, the turn the events took was quite pleasing - although after being offered immortality, Lanfearys was willing to even sit through Fae equivalent of construction work. But perhaps he was being unfair to Neese - so far the Fae has shown no boring or annoying traits, and of course judging a completely alien being by (relatively) mortal standards might be a silly thing to do. Might.
He could ponder and think later. He was never the kind to engage in cerebral pleasures when there were pleasures of the flesh to take - the latter tended to be more fleeting and immediate in nature. He didn't break eye contact even as they moved - he didn't need to see what the Fae was pushing him towards. It probably was nowhere as interesting.
His attention was directed fully at Neese now. As he was guided towards the sofa, he pulled closer at the Fae with hungry mouth and grabbing hands.
Part plant, part mammal was not just in the way Neese looked. One could, in fact, break a twig off of him and it would look like a twig, mostly, depending on how close to his flesh you broke it. That meant his body temperature didn't match that of mortals, or even Star Striders. Starstriders tended to run hot because of their increased metabolism, compared to lesser mortals, and Neese's body temperature was noticeably lower, warm around his core, but cooler as you got further out to the fringes where his pant-like appendages (or were they really bits of plant matter woven into his body) were. His skin's texture also changed from sooth and supple, not unlike that of a humans, to the roughness of bark or the waxiness of leaves.
Neese liked the warmth of Lanfearys' body. He leaned in when the elf pulled closer, slid a hand down the collar of his shirt and inside it, cool fingers, searching along his skin. The Starstrider's shirt unfastened of it's own volition as Neese's fingers hungrily explored the expanse of Lanfearys' neck and chest, making way for his exploring hand as a servant made way for a passing lord.
The fae's surface (skin? bark? Lanfearys' vocabulary was rather inadequate to the task of describing it, even after reading all of Ithan's notes) felt strange and incompareable to anything he's ever experienced. It was much colder than what he subconsciously expected; colder even than what he remembered from the few starless that he had the opportunity to sleep with. He wondered whether Neese had no blood to warm his flesh, and was tempted to bite down and see if he could find any. The temptation was strong, but in this case biting uninvited could have consequences more severe than just physical retaliation. The Starstrider was never too fond of having to think long-term, but he was willing to make this sacrifice.
He was about to help him out with the buttons of his shirt, but one look was enough to bend it to Neese's will. Well well well, it looked like there were still people in the world whose mere glance could cause shirts to open and trousers to fall (all in due time, Lanfearys supposed). The Fae seemed to enjoy the body heat, moving in closer. There was more to the elf than just a convenient source of warmth, and he was determined to show it.
His tongue and lips traversed the strange surface of the Fae's body as his hands latched onto what provided purchase. Lanfearys liked to think that he was quite good with his tongue - both physically and verbally - after all the practice he had, it would be rather troubling if he didn't!
Neese made a deep, throaty sound of pleasure when Lanfearys' mouth and tongue moved across his body. The wet warmth on his skin, followed by cooling trails when his mouth moved on was delectable.
When they reached the sofa, the Starstrider would find himself suddenly, and without stepping around, facing the other way, so that while they two were still facing each other, positions relative to one another unchanged, it was the Fae Lord with his back to the sofa. He let himself fall back to sitting on the couch and then stretched out on it, taking Lanfearys' with him. The leafy appendages and twigs rustled as he fell into place, with Lanfearys' on top of him, like leaves blown in the wind.
As they settled, the couch's proportions changed, so it was comfortably wide and long enough for the two of them to fit laying across it.
Neese's hands were sliding lower, past Lanfeary's hips. The Elf's pants slid off easily, ahead of the Fay's reaching fingers, as if they wished to be free of the body they covered. In his natural form, the Fae Lord had normal male genitalia, but Starstriders were not "normal" in this regard, he knew... able to procreate with any sex of any sentient species. Something that made them vaguely more interesting than other 'mortals'. Neese, himself, could have sex with any gender, and physically represent himself as any gender, but he couldn't procreate with a male. This, however, was nowhere near his thoughts at the moment. Right now, he sought only the pleasure of another's touch, the release of letting his body do as it pleased.
Even if he closed his eyes and focused only on the tactile sense (a beginner's mistake - only a fool would bereave themself of the full experience. It was only acceptable if the chosen partner's body was so unpleasant to look upon that it would detract from the situation), Lanfearys would never be fooled into thinking that he was with a different partner. The taste under his tongue lacked the sting of salt that he was accustomed to, and the texture as well was unlike anything he had prior experience with.
The strangeness extended beyond his senses. The Fae seemed content to just let the Starstrider do as he pleased, choosing to influence the environment rather than the elf. As they slowly approached the furniture that Lanfearys tentatively decided to define as a sofa, suddenly it appeared behind Neese. No, it didn't move from its place in the room - it was their position that changed. And the Fae didn't even make any movements - he was truly the master of this realm, to make it respond without any outside prompts.
As the sofa began to shift to accommodate them both, Neese began to take a more active role, focusing more on the Starstrider now that his alterations to the environment were complete (Hopefully. Lanfearys liked to consider himself open-minded, but playing the decorator during intercourse was crossing a line a little. The things he'd do for eternal life...). The Fae had no need for mortal decorations such as clothing, but the elf still had to comply with society's distaste for nudity (a sacrifice he was willing to make, considering how much fun he had with fashion). But, at the moment, his clothing was no proud expression of his aesthetic, but an obstacle - an obstacle his partner wasted no time removing. The Starstrider's attention was still focused on him, but every now and then he shrugged off more garments that were still in their way.
Neese was a selfish kind of person, even if he believed that give and take were equally important, however he was quite attentive to those things that caught his eye, so long as they managed to hold his attention at least.
The magic, was for him, without thought, and so he was focused on Lanfearys, and not the furniture. When the elf was finally free from the confines of his clothing, Neese relished in the warmth of his flesh. Cool fingers and twig-like extensions pressed against warm skin. Without thought, Neese's body changed, slightly, to accommodate their nearness, the sharper, longer twig-like appendages shrinking down and disappearing when they threatened to poke or scratch the elf in a way that might be uncomfortable.
Neese pressed a knee between the Starstrider's legs, enjoying the way his warmth enveloped him. One of his hands moved, cool fingers and leafy appendages trailing down Lanfeary's chest, over the curve of his hip, and brushed against his man-hood, with a teasing, light touch.
The notes he read described the Fae as fickle and capricious, and this particular specimen fit it quite well. As much as the elf tried to remember the small details of Neese's body, they changed under his exploring fingers, twigs melting back into the bark. A part of him envied the Fae - Lanfearys only had one body to inhabit, and while he was quite content with it, he couldn't help but be aware of its limitations. This body would not change, not even age, the closest he could get to altering it would be colouring the skin. How boring must the static mortals seem to the Fair Folk, imprisoned in such an inflexible cage!
Still, Lanfearys was not the kind to let others influence his opinion of his body - he's worked to keep it in shape he would be satisfied with, and chose his clothes and jewellery carefully in order to accentuate what he deemed important. Of course, now very little of it remained, having taken place on wherever the Fae left it. It served its purpose and little was left to ponder about it.
The Fae's bold movements were at first rewarded just with with a widening of the eyes and a few gasps, but soon it became harder for Lanfearys to keep his lazy, relaxed front. Perhaps his pride was behind that attitude, unwilling to give in anything more than was earned; or perhaps it was one last gleam of his self-preservation instinct, ensuring that the Fae would not consider him easy prey.
Lanfearys was unwilling to just passively lay there, at least this time - he was very curious and eager to explore and enjoy the novelty of the experience. Neese's movements were precise and skillful enough to imply that either he had previous experience with mortals (perhaps less with Starstriders, as evidenced by his earlier comment). It was also possible that the Fae were - or, more likely, chose to - resemble mortals in this regard. Or was it the other way around? No matter - the elf was glad, in a strange way: at least some of his experience could apply. He moved with renewed confidence, and- ah, it looked like he got a reaction.
Static indeed, and, excepting brief periods of amusing, Neese found them mostly boring also. For now, this one served to entertain him. How long that would be the case, remained to be seen.
Indeed he did get a reaction from Neese, and when then were both spent - more than once - Neese leaned back and sighed, as sound full of satisfaction. "I should return you," he said off hand. He had, actually, stolen Lanfearys from his plane of existence, after-all. The Fae also didn't like mortals puttering around in their world if they weren't slaves or bound by some other means.
"Or would you like to stay a little while?" his favorite pet, until he got board of the Starelf?
Return him? The thought hasn't occurred to Lanfearys - he rarely was the kind to think his actions through, unless they were a part of a longer, more complicated plan. The con and the subsequent ritual were, but he's given no real thought to what came next. He didn't think he should have - for all he's known, Ithan would have turned out to be some paranoid waste of time. And once he first glimpsed the world she was speaking of, well, there were far better sights to contemplate than the picture his thoughts painted, and far better company to be kept than imagination could provide.
While his attention has been mostly on Neese rather than the surroundings, he was not foolish enough to think that an exit would be as simple as walking through a door - not that he's seen any doors in this realm to begin with. He was brought here by a master of this land, and departing without his leave would probably be exceedingly difficult.
He considered the situation quickly - he didn't want to bore the fickle Fae with long pondering; Neese could probably read his mind as easily as ink on the page anyway. Should he return? Was there anything he should tend to? He had some cons going on, but putting them on ice for now would not hurt the overall result. Perhaps being whisked away into a new, exciting land was the best choice, after all. Ithan's notes mentioned that time in that realm passed differently, described cases of people stolen away for one night who returned to find a world hundred years older. While Lanfearys could not hope for an entirely new population of victims to play with, not among the long-lived Starstriders; perhaps his disappearance would make them think he was gone for good, and not warn any new children about him.
"Is this an offer? I shan't refuse; from what little I've seen of this realm, it is far more fascinating than the Le'raana I've known." His words would probably fall a little flat, it was the lot of mortals to be captivated by any shiny novelty. But there was enough sincerity in them to ring true, and enough connection to be felt. After all, even though some Fae chose to travel to this mundane world, they would still return home.
It was an offer, but with Neese there was always a catch. "Be careful if you wonder the castle then," he said, "no everything in these walls is safe." He wrapped his fingers around Labfearys' wrist then and one of the twig-like appendages sticking off his wrist grew soft, then actually grew, and fast, like a vine and wrapped itself around the Starelf's wrist several times before breaking of. "My kind," he said... and far were quite carried as a rule you wouldn't find another like Neese, likely, but he was speaking in generalizations. "Don't like mortals poking around their world unless they belong to someone."
Neese has just makes him, claimed him as properly.
If the Starelf cared to try it, the 'bracelet' would shift and move for comfort as he moved, but he'd find it quite impossible to remove. "That will grant you my protection form others," it also served as a bit of a one way beacon by which Neese would be able to find him in this realm or the mortal plain.
Lanfearys recalled the other Fae - just glimpses, presences in the background he saw but didn't really notice. Neese's presence, even in this fascinating new world, had some kind of a gravity to it, drawing his gaze and his attention and not letting go. Was it the force of his personality, or the natural charm all of his kind possessed? The elf didn't exactly have a lot to compare, but he knew what option he preferred.
Now that they were brought up, he couldn't help but wonder at the makeup of the Fae society. If they were lesser creatures, servants or thralls of the master of the castle, there would probably be no need for him to worry - they would only turn on him if he incurred Neese's displeasure. But his words implied that they were to be considered on equal terms, and wielded enough power to be able to pose a threat. (There was also the option that the fickle lord did not care for the no-longer-mortal enough to use his power to protect him, but Lanfearys never liked to wallow in self-derision.)
He watched as the hungry vine grew out of the bark covering the Fae and reached for his arm. His only reaction was to extend it closer, curiosity as always prevailing over the sorry remains of his self-preservation instinct. He would stop needing it soon anyway. The stem split into several smaller ones and twined around his wrist, weaving around each other in some kind of a strange braid. He tried to trace a path of a single thread through, but the shapes and turns it took were beyond his comprehension, as if his eyes were not enough to fully perceive it, as if it wove through more than just three dimensions.
He lazily pushed his finger between the vines, holding tight onto one thread and trying to pull. He was curious what would Fae do if he tried unraveling it or taking it off - it would surely be something more original than telling him not to. The thread came off as the elf kept pulling, and pulling, stopping only after three coils wounded around his boots. It was pretty clear that the length he saw earlier was non-indicative and he could waste his entire immortal life trying to unwind it, to no avail. He wondered if he could push it off his arm, but it was an endeavour even more puzzling. He felt it slide across his skin, the hand he used to grasp the twisting vines moved forward, but it never moved past his wrist, all while his arm didn't even seem to lengthen. It made his head hurt.
He laughed. "Well, this is a rather original method to keep mortals in their place." He wrapped a strand of his hair around his finger and pulled. He's heard quite a lot of poetic similes and metaphors about it from those who fell under his charm; at this point he could proudly declare that he was more than an expert on anything that resembled it in any way. On a whim, he wound the lock around the coil of vine making up the bracelet. It accepted the tribute graciously, pulling it closer and weaving a thread of whitest silver through the shades of green.
Nees smiled, he liked things in their proper place. He also like to possess things. He could be quite a vain, possessive, covetous creature. "It means you're mine," he said, "but it does not mean I will keep you, or that you lack free will, or even your ability to choose to come and go. Actually, it will grant you passage from this castle to your realm and back again threw any mirror. It is a part of me," it was, quite literally, after all, "and grants you a tiny fraction of my own magic, in allowing you passage."
Among the Starstriders, any person but their destined Resonance saying "You're mine" to someone was a huge breach of etiquette, and therefore something the elf tried several times. At first, he relished breaking the convention, the scandalised expressions, the gasps, the tittering... then he used it to test the waters, even had some people say it to him. He didn't mind, quite the opposite - if he belonged to someone else, that meant this person was responsible for all Lanfearys has done, the same way an owner of a knife would be blamed if a child found and used it. Quite a lot of people resolved to view him this way: as a dangerous force that could not be reasoned with, but was everyone's duty to mitigate.
He wondered how far he could stretch the patience of the Fae, how far would they allow him to go before he exceeded the limits mortals - even mortals favoured by Neese - were permitted. Would they simply throw him out, back to his world and out of their hair (or equivalent thereof)? Not likely - their senses were attuned to magic, they would recognize the vine bracelet and the meaning behind it. Was there anything wicked enough he could do to make them try and disable it?
It was a question he would like to see answered.
Neese hardly cared about that taboos of lesser people, he hardly paid attention to those of his own people, excepting those he had to or desired to.
Oh... they would not likely disable it. Depending on what he did, others would be quite well within their rights to punish him themselves, if the Starstrider's offence was large enough. Then... if it was more minor, he'd be handed over to Neese so he could deal with his misbehaving pet however he deemed fit.
"Oh, do you like that?" Neese asked, observing Lanfeary's reaction to his explanation. "You find freedom in being possessed?" Some people did. Others found it more like oppression. Neese found freedom in... well, the freedom to do whatever he damn well pleased whenever it pleased him to do so. "Interesting."
"Ah yes, all the demons keep telling me that" Lanfearys agreed flippantly. Perhaps there were some limiting aspect to possession, but he still had time to find out about it. He'd have all the time in the world, as a matter of fact. Still, he couldn't help but be slightly flattered at being called interesting. As much as he'd like to think that he was past his contrarian phase, and has kept only the habits that he found not just scandalous but also beneficial; within his heart beat something that found perverse pleasure in being complimented for it - after all, few of his people would ever grant him this boon. An original compliment for an original trait, how fitting.
Well, Lanfearys was gifted with a keen sense of when to hold them, when to fold them, when to walk away and when to run - he never liked to have overstayed his welcome, not accidentally at least. And while Neese was fascinating and alluring, their pact was a sure guarantee that the Starstrider would see him again. For now, there was this wonderful realm of marvels to explore.
***
"I have to admit, sometimes I envy you" Driven Colour acknowledged. She didn't communicate through sound the way many others chose to, she conveyed her meaning through motion and transformation alone. The movement of air around her, the bleeding of one hue into another, the swirling patterns in seven dimensions were the language she's chosen. "I imagine mortals must provide you with plenty of amusement; why else would you play with them so much?"
A shade of lying blue expressed her curiosity - not even a judgement on her part, just an acknowledgement of this oddity. It quickly dissolved into a mire of crumpled leaves, marking a shift as merited by proper respect. "I met your most recent plaything. They actually tried to bite me - well, that's a guess on my part, I may have mistaken something else for their mouthparts. I almost considered allowing it - perhaps a separate tour of their innards would reveal a morsel of this appeal they seemingly have..."
Neese made no attempt to stop Lanfearys when he made his leave. He enjoyed what he wanted from him when he was there, and didn't so much a wonder where he'd gone to when he left.
--
" They are quite amusing," Neese agreed, "so complex, and yet, in the end, so very simple." He liked to play with them as see how they danced in response to his actions and offerings, and he liked to watch the consequences play out across their lives.
Neese hummed. "He might have been trying to kiss you, not bite you," he offered, "He does seem to enjoy exotic bed partners." Neese smirked.
The dreadful glass around Driven Colour glittered in eminence, expressing appreciation at his insight. It yet lacked the flicker of understanding, showing that while she accepted his words as true and would not contest it, she yet did not fully understand it. Perhaps she had no faculties to, but it was not something she'd regard as a flaw in herself.
"Kissing." The rising rain swirled into a sundered pool, blooming into technical mauve as Driven Colour expressed sounds into hues to match his words. "I might have heard of this ritual."
Her shadow curled up from the floor and rose to embrace her before fanning out in a front of asymmetric wings, expressing her contentment at being able to hold the conversation despite lack of familiarity with the subject matter. "Is it an exchange of sustenance? A servant of mine boasted of having once spied mortals feeding. She claimed that they use their mouthparts to do it. How quaint."
Neese chuckled softly. "Oh, they do use their mouths for eating," he canted his head, "and so do I." As if in example he picked up a date from a nearby dish and tossed into his mouth and chewed and swallowed it.
"They also use their mouths for kissing," he pressed his fingers to his lips, and then smirked as he pulled they away, "and other pleasures of the flesh. Kissing is often a initiation for sex or a show of affection." Or both. It was hard to explain to a being who didn't exist so much physically. Did Driven even feel physical pleasure?
Driven Colour extended further, closer to Neese, but leaving the space the etiquette demanded. The torn flame flickered into dusty lilac as she watched him eat, although the glimpse in the mirrored gray suggested that she was far more interested in the shape the bitten date took. The white pulp beneath the peel seemed to catch her attention, to the point of reminding her of something she'd forgotten in the sea of flameless shadow.
"I have no designs on your mortal" Driven Colour assured him in a wheel of royal umber. "I shall leave you to... your matters." In a storm of grave ash, she disappeared. At this point, she was but one of many Fae who have seen fit to speak with Neese concerning his guests. Most of them were peers - servants would adapt rather than bother their master. The other higher Fae, who had no wish to play his enemy at the time, would visit him if only to assure Neese - or Arlan, as it was a matter of etiquette - that they would not be interfering with his plaything.
As long as they didn't name or permanently damage his beautiful toy, Neese didn't really care if they had designs for him. He did like how others went out of their way to assure him they had no enmity with him though. It was a show of respect of fear and it greatly flattered him.
He chuckled softly. "Oh, I don't mind if you play with him a little," but then the fickle being of light was gone. Just as well. This conversation had made him wonder what his starstrider was up to though. He reached out to the little part of him that was now also part of Lanferys, it worked like a beacon that Neese could follow as easily as thought. He was await where the little twisted bracelet of vine was, just as he was await of where his own hand was. He stood, and looked inside his glass of wine, at his own reflection, then stepped threw it. He stepped out from the nearest reflective surface to Lanferys.
Oh, how different those always-changing lands of Arcadia were from the frozen wastes that the Starstriders called home! Proud as Lanfearys was of the architectural marvels that his people have constructed, he would never have expected to behold such wonders. And even though his eyes drank in the feast that was this land, his heart acknowledged the true treasure of this realm was not the nature, magnificent though it may be, but its masters. The Fae were as fickle and wonderful as Ithan claimed, truly a kind superior to those they called mortals.
Of course, Lanfearys himself was quite fond of the true mortals, those beholden to the tyranny of time. Their lives were so short, just enough for him to have some fun. His own kind were harder to toy with, with their long lives and excellent memory. But the Fae? The Fae were magnificent; even should the beauty and wonder of their appearance wear off, their nature would remain. How little they cared for all of the Starstrider's plotting and manipulation! Perhaps he should have felt offended, but instead, he felt invigorated. This was a challenge he'd love to face: learning about the foreign passions and thoughts of these fascinating new people, finding out how to play them. Then would come the composing of his living symphony, carefully selecting the players, the delicate art of fine-tuning the instruments.
And then, the chaotic crescendo.
But perhaps he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe it was to be expected; it was the lot of his people to seek beauty and surrender to it. But there was another obstacle for him to surmount: the shifting environment around him. It has been quite long since he had to contend with the world as anything else than a stage where he played his plot out. Fortunately, this realm's nature was far more than the dreary, frustrating terrain mortals had to contend with. Why, the very problem he faced at the moment was something straight out of a poetry book: flames dancing upon the surface of water. They did not burn him, but as long as they were alight, he could not walk upon the waves. Each step just had him land on the bottom, just as he would in a standard lake. And he couldn't have that.
The most wondrous - and, probably, most troubling - part of the problem was that his mind was neither used to nor evolved for thinking along the rules of this world. While it was sure to keep him entertained, though never to a point toying with someone sentient would, it might also prevent him from achieving resolution before he got bored.
Yet before he even set on an approach, let alone made his move, the flames parted. Not for him, although he was definitely conceited enough that the thought occurred to him. The waters refused to reflect the canopy above, shimmering instead into a rather familiar shape. He recognized Neese, of course - but having spent some time in this realm, he knew better than to trust mortal senses that could be easily deceived, and physical appearance that was beholden to the will and whims of the Fae. But even if he could be fooled, Neese's magic would not be. Even before, when he was exploring the wonders of this realm, sometimes the bracelet on his wrist would shift and change, with no apparent pattern or reason. Now once again it welcomed its master as the vines curled into a five-dimensional braid, glowing at the proximity.
"Those flames part for you alone?" he questioned. "No, give me no answer. Figuring it out is part of the fun." He wondered if he should greet the Fae, but welcoming Neese to his own domain seemed gauche even for Lanfearys.
The Realm, like it's people was drenched in old magic. To say the Fae lands were sentient was not entirely correct, however; neither was it entity wrong. Parts of the fae lands moved and changed of their own will, if not true thought and awareness of self... they responded to the people and things around them with something that mimicked intelligence.
Neese smirked. "...No, give me no answer.." How refreshing that Lanfearys preferred the challenge of the puzzle to the ease of an answer, even still. Leaves rustled and bark rubbed as he reached out his fingers, uninvited, and touched the bracelet in f vine as it writhed around the starstrider's wrist. Some of the bits of vine parted and curled around his fingers - as an old of his... parted, and pleased to be reunited with him might take his hand into theirs and twine their finger. Then, as he pulled his hand back, they rejoined the other bits and twins round his wrist again.
"It's time you returned to your realm," Neese said. "Fae do not age the same as mortals, and time here does not change the same way... staying too long can be ill advised." He cocked his head and gave his pet a sidelong look, again appreciating his ivory skin and the attractive likes of his body. He brushed his fingers down the side of his neck and let his fingertips play at the small hollow where his collarbones met.
"Besides," he said, "I've business amount the mortals." He gave a sly smile. "There's someone in need of one of my gifts."
Neese greeted him with a smirk and then almost immediately turned his attention to the bracelet. Perhaps Lanfearys should have been offended, but the way the vines reacted to their master's presence was quite interesting to watch. And, should he desire to play the greedy beacon of attention, this was a wish easily satisfied elsewhere. For now, he would be glad to bask in a different kind of exclusivity: being the only mortal here. While it was entirely possible that some other Fae might have also pulled someone through what separated their worlds, he's seen none around, and that pleased him. Of course, he would not disclose any of those thoughts - the only people satisfied with their lot in life were cowards who dared not dream bigger.
Glad though he was to see Neese again, the Fae's words were far less pleasing. Lanfearys' lips curved into a pout at the thought of leaving this realm, when he's only just begun to sample its delights. The warning about the passage of time concerned him not. Even without the blessing he received, he would not be subject to the tyranny of time. And he was quite stoked by the prospect of testing his immortality against a realm that cared little whether a wayward mortal lived or died.
He was about to protest, but Neese's words caught his attention. That was something new and interesting - did the Fae intend to use Lanfearys as an intermediary, a part of the process? Playing with lesser mortals was something the Starstrider was quite adept at, although he suspected that the Fair Folk employed a completely different host of methods - ones he would be interested to learn and perhaps incorporate into his own.
He decided to complain sometime later. He had a feeling that the vines on his wrist that marked him as Neese's mortal, might allow him re-entry to this realm anyway. And even if it didn't... well, he's found his way here once, he could conceivably do it again. For now, he would take advantage of this fascinating new opportunity. He leaned forward, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "And what part would you have me play in that?"