[MythicDusk]

He sat in the old, dilapidated temple. His back had moulded into the stonework, accepted it as part of him. He was unable to move now, even if he wanted to. His bones had siezed and become rock under his sagging skin. He had no need for foo,d for water. The only thing that still worked was his vocal chords, his tongue and his jaw. He no longer saw the real world. Instead, he saw what the gods wanted him to see.

The gods, being the strange creatures they were, often seperated themselves from eachother, each in their own sphere of influence, each ruling over something of their own. Sometimes the lesser gods would be adopted under the name of one of the main gods in order to keep their godhood. But lately, the gods were telling him something knew.

A coup was beginning. The mancers would lose their powers. Gods were being cast down. For the first time in all his communications with the gods, Pallaraeon felt fear. He felt fear flowing from their hearts and souls, felt fear overwhleming him, an urge to run overcame him, an urge to hide and scream the visions away.

He saw so much blood.

He inhaled tightly, felt the cold air touch his rotten teeth, let out a slow exhale as the visions lifted, leaving him in darkness as he listened carefully for anyone approaching. Nobody had in centuries, but without regularity to his day, without a rythm, he would go insane.

The gods would not enjoy it if their main conduit went insane.

Well, perhaps Baelagon would. But he was the god of madness, he didn't count.

[MythicDusk]

Cal wandered into the temple, letting his footfalls sound heavily on the stone, a whistle playing with him as he whistled the tune to a new song. Humans were interesting creatures, styles changing with every generation. Cal liked it, kept him feeling fresh.

He liked to keep up with the styles, liked to try the popular things, liked to be part of the flow of time. A lot of mancers frowned upon him for it, saying things like 'we're ageless and timeless and yet you turn up wearing the most foolish of costumes.'

Cal thought it was a little rude to call flared jeans a 'costume'. But then again, when zippers came into popular use, they said the same thing. Now they all wore zippers. Hypocrites.

Cal rubbed a hand over his chin, his bright and never tamed yellow hair bowing slightly under the snow in his hair. He could feel the coldness already beginning to drip on his scalp. If Rhewi was here, he could pester her into removing the snow. But as it stood, he would just have to deal with the uncomfortable feeling.

He approached the old altar, the stone chipped and worn, but there was no snow or wind in here. A small, stout structure that you would have to look for to find. He stomped the snow from his boots, tucking his thumbs into his beltloops with a grin that he knew the old man couldn't see.

"Alright, Pally?"

[MythicDusk]

Pallaraeon felt his heart rise at the sound of footsteps, at the sound of another voice. It was also nice to know he hadn't gone deaf and blind. Then he frowned slightly at the sound of the voice as recognition set into him.

"Of course, it had to be you, Caledfwlch."

he mostly called the man by his full name just to irk him. If he refused to use his name, he would refuse to use his. It was petty, but Pallaraeon believed firmly in the fact that he had lived millenia in service to the gods and deserved a little spite now and again.

[MythicDusk]

Cal let himself be hurt for a moment, then remembered that he was talking to a crotchety old man who hadn't walked in centuries and probably just wanted a cup of tea and a nice dog on his lap, and shook off the hurt with the image of the old sage and oracle layingi n a recliner in a tartan sweater vest with a cavalier king charles spaniel laying on his lap.

The image was delightful to him, and brought a smile to his lips.

"Now now, Pally, No need to be upset. You want my jacket? You look like you might be freezing your nips off."

[MythicDusk]

Pallaraeon opened his mouth to give a retort. Nothing witty but something incredibly insulting before, over the sound of Cal's smile, over the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat, he could hear more footsteps outside.

Cal turned to see Kinhes steaming gently as the water dried from his superheated skin. Kinhes narrowed his ashen eyes, a small gout of flame echoing from his nostrils to touch his upper lip. Cal licked his lips as he watched the steam.

Kinhes turned his eyes away to look to the seer, his own face as impassive as ever. Whereas the other Mancers had recieved training in their elements, had been taught by their gods and goddesses how to control it all, Kinhes' god was as flighty as a flame, had taught him how to summon the flames but never to keep them from spilling out. The magma still roiled in his stomach at the thought.

He could remember the pain, the feeling of his innards turning to charcoal and ash, the feeling of his blood boiling and his muscles melting before he was reborn from his own ashes. Flame licking his teeth with every word.

He found that if he controlled his emotions, he could keep the flames from hurting anyone, could keep himself from hurting anyone. That was the most important thing, to never lose control.

[MythicDusk]

Pallaraeon said nothing about the arrival of Dewi's favorite. Dewi, the god of fire and heat, and he never stayed long anywhere. Pallaraeon wondered for a moment if he had gone somewhere where he couldnt be contacted. Again.

"Good of you to join us, Kinhes." He said simply, no anger or derision in his voice, just a simple honesty. He couldn't see it, but he heard the rustle of clothes, of the movement of muscle under skin and hek new Kinhes had nodded to him.

He was brutally silent, barely speaking without need. Pallaraeon appreciated that about him. It was so very different to the young man who stared at him in awe.

[MythicDusk]

Cal couldn't take his eyes off the steam, not even when Kinhes turned his eyes to him, his brow furrowing and his lips drawing into a line.

Eventually, Kinhes heaved a sigh, stepping towards the other man and holding his hands out, palm-firts towards Cal, letting the heat that echoed off his skin engulf Cal. He controlled the temperature, manipulated it carefully and delicatley until he heard Cal grunt in satisfaction. It was just a job of keeping the heat in place around Cal now. That was easy.

He glanced over to the other man as he stepped away, his hand moving slightly at his side, keeping the heat like a second skin around Cal's form.

[MythicDusk]

Cal sighed in delight, grinning to Kinhes who grunted in return. "So we're just waiting for Rhewi, huh?" He mused, his tired muscles soothed by the heat Kinhes had given him.

When nobody responded, he felt himself droop, mumbling something about not being appreciated as he somped what was snow out of the heels of his boots, pulling a face at the dirty flagstones under his feet.

He couldn't understand how Pallaraeon managed to stay here all these centuries, by himself. Only people to talk to being the ones inside his head or the rare messages from the gods. He wondered for a moment what they were called here for, before he decided he didn't really care.