![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Wow, it's past time I updated this. Terribly sorry for the long delay.
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
January 16th, 1980
“It will certainly be quieter now,” Titania said as she handed him books to be shelved.
Azriel, perched on a ladder at the third highest rung, blinked in confusion. He tipped his head to glance at her before turning back to work. Last day or not, no one could accuse him of slacking.
“Quieter?” he questioned, unaware that he'd been particularly loud.
Titania chuckled. “Not that you were noisy, Azriel. But I rather enjoyed our conversations.” She handed him another volume, one bound in a blue cover.
“Ah.” He made a noncommittal noise in this throat. “For a minute there, I thought you meant Kieran's many spontaneous visits.”
Amusement curled Titania's lips. “No. But you certainly have a point.”
Shelving the last volume, Azriel carefully climbed down. “I’ll miss our conversations as well,” he admitted as Titania helped him unclamp the ladder so it could be safely removed and stowed away.
“There is one benefit now though,” Titania said as she helped him navigate the ladder back to the storage closet.
Azriel closed and locked the door behind them, handing her the key. Something he would no longer need.
“Oh?”
Titania grinned. “I'm no longer your superior. We can be friends if we like.” There was a gleam to her eyes that wouldn’t be too out of place on Kieran’s face.
“How true.” Azriel found himself smiling as well. “In that case, Kieran’s never one to miss an opportunity for celebration. He's throwing another party tomorrow night. Are you interested?”
“I won't be intruding?”
Azriel shook his head, falling into step beside her as they headed back to the main foyer. “No. Kieran loves to collect strays, as he so elegantly puts them, and he thinks you're charming.”
“He does?” she sounded both surprised and amused. “Well, in that case, I can hardly turn down the invitation.”
“Good. We'll be at Isley's Pub sometime after dark. I don't suppose you'll need directions.”
That earned him a look. “I don't think there's a resident of Grayshire who doesn't know of Isley's Pub.”
“You may have a point.” Azriel chuckled.
Titania glanced past him to the uncovered window which revealed a rapidly approaching night. “Shift's over,” she put in a bit reluctantly and returned her gaze to Azriel. “Heading straight home?”
Azriel retrieved their cloaks, handing Titania hers first. “No. I'm to meet Lord Adair tonight.”
His uncle, like Kieran, had become a constant visitor to Azriel during his shifts. Luckily, Titania had never seemed to mind. Nor did she ask any questions about why such a high-ranked man would come to visit a mere grunt.
Titania slid into her cloak and tucked it close to her frame. “That's nice. I half-expected Kieran to have claimed you.”
“He knows when to bow out,” Azriel replied with a smirk and turned to help Titania with the closing procedures.
Which mostly involved snuffing out the lanterns and candles, leaving only the few globes lit. Those magically powered lights would last until the next shift came in, saving the records from being sealed in complete darkness.
“Are you to start in the Archives on Monday then?” Titania asked as they headed to the front door, one hand digging in her pocket for the massive ring of keys.
Azriel shook his head. “No. I have a week's gap between the two postings.”
“A vacation? However will you survive?”
“I don't know what I'll do with myself,” he quipped, amused by her teasing. She was one of the few who dared to do so.
The heavy door shut with a solid thunk, and Titania quickly locked it. Her hand pressed over the door, activating a light barrier spell. Crime wasn't actually rampant here in Grayshire, but it was better to protect the records now then regret not doing so when it was too late.
“I have an idea.”
Azriel flipped the lapels of his coat higher, protecting his neck from the biting chill. “Oh?”
“Meet me for a drink after work one day this week.” Titania pulled her dark hair out from under her cloak and settled it over her shoulders.
He gazed at her for a second before nodding. “Certainly.”
“Good. Just come by whenever's best for you.” Titania squeezed his arm warmly. “Have a good night, Azriel.”
“You, too.”
He watched her depart into the evening, flecks of snow brightening the night. And making it colder as well. And to think, before Kieran, Azriel couldn't communicate with anyone. Oh, how his world had changed.
Azriel turned in the opposite direction Titania had gone, heading to Shian where he was due to meet Lord Adair and perhaps a lady of his uncle’s acquaintance, too.
o0o0o
April 30th, 1980
It had started to rain, but luckily, it was a light drizzle. Warm, too. Kieran grinned as he tilted his face toward the sky, feeling the wetness on his cheeks.
“They won't call off the festival, will they?” he questioned in a tone of a young boy.
“No,” Azriel answered with amusement. “Nothing short of a torrential downpour and frequent lightning would lead to that.”
“Good.” Kieran returned his gaze to the path in front of him, one that wound out of Moriarty and into the surrounding forest. “So explain this to me again. That book didn't list this holiday.”
Azriel expertly navigated the path, despite the encroaching vegetation and decreasing visibility. “It goes by a different name in the books. Our ancestors called it Walpurgis.”
Hmm. Well, that explained why Kieran couldn't find a reference to May Day. He vaguely recalled skimming through the entry on Walpurgis but couldn't remember any of the details.
“I know there's a bonfire,” Kieran said slowly, “but nothing else.”
Azriel chuckled. “Many of the traditions have been forgotten over the years, but the main one remains – the dance of ribbons.”
“A dance?” Kieran could hardly contain his shock.
Azriel… Dancing?
“Around the bonfire or in groups. And later around the May Pole.” Azriel’s lips curled at Kieran’s stupefied expression. “The latter’s usually performed by children. After the feast, they wind colorful ribbons around ceremonial pole. That’s usually near dawn, however,” the brunet explained, voice gone far too scholarly.
Wiping off his glasses, Kieran urged Azriel to continued. “What's it mean?”
“It welcomes summer and thanks the gods for spring,” Azriel replied with a smile at his friend’s eagerness. “The May Dance is to signify the longer days and the shift into warmer weather.”
Kieran ran a hand through his damp hair, taking it out of the soggy tie. “Interesting. It almost sounds familiar.”
“A lot of the old rituals are really similar.” Azriel glanced back at Kieran. “I'm surprised you were allowed to come.”
He waved a dismissive hand, then reached back to retie his hair. His face was too mischievous for his own good. Especially now.
“Mama thinks you're helping me study, and what Marduk doesn't know won't hurt him.”
Azriel chuckled. “I suppose you'd better enjoy that freedom now. You won't have it next year.”
“Ugh. Don't remind me.” The younger man made a disgusted face. “Yonah’s already complaining, though that's nothing new. Harper's probably the only one excited.”
“Has she made her decision for after graduation?”
Kieran smirked. “Yep. The Brigade. Spec Ops, no less.”
Azriel's eyebrows trekked upward. But really, it wasn’t that surprising.
Kieran nodded in agreement. “Her parents weren't too pleased. They want her to take over.”
“What about her brother?” the brunet questioned softly.
“Darren?” Kieran shrugged. “He doesn't have a head for business.”
Azriel ducked under a low-hanging branch and held it aside for Kieran. “And yet Harper chooses her own path,” he allowed.
“Yes. A bit like someone else I know,” Kieran said, fighting back a shiver as leaves dumped water on the back of his neck.
“Why the Brigade though?” Azriel asked.
Kieran shrugged. “It's the furthest she could get from being a merchant, I suppose.”
“What about you?”
His friend cast him a sideways glance, but Kieran just smirked.
“Isn't it obvious?”
Azriel looked at him pointedly. “I know what your father would want of you. But what are you considering for yourself?”
“My passion has always been for science,” Kieran answered honestly. Though he considered passion a word with too little meaning to explain his yearning. “Where else would I go but the Jeode?”
“You could go solo. Open a private laboratory.” Azriel paused as the path split, only to choose the one branching to the right. “You aren't required to operate within the constraints of the Jeode.”
Ahead of them, Kieran could make out flickers of light, probably from lanterns and huge fires. A sure sign that they were close to their destination – a small village named Martika that was actually quite close to Meropis.
“How many successful private scientists do you know?” Kieran asked, but he didn't give Azriel a chance to answer. “There’ve been none. No one will hire a workshop that's not been sanctioned by the Jeode.”
The brunet lifted a brow. “Not even one that operates under the Azura name?”
“That would be too much like riding on Marduk's carriage wheels,” Kieran said with a shudder. If he was going to rebel against his father, it would do him little good to rely on the Azura name afterward.
“Even so,” Azriel put in as they stepped off the forest path and into a narrow clearing. “I wouldn't discount independence as an option. You have the talent.”
Warmth flooded through Kieran’s innards. He glanced away, inexplicably embarrassed.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “So... uh... where’s the bonfire?”
Azriel smirked at him. “Town center. Just follow the music.”
Now that he concentrated, Kieran could hear the music. It was a jaunty blend of flutes, drums, and panpipes. A joyful beat that made him tap his feet.
Excited, Kieran rushed past Azriel, letting his ears guide him. Martika was a small village, a cluster of barely forty buildings huddled in the midst of towering grey oaks and black pine. All of the houses were dark, their occupants likely at the celebration. And the closer Kieran got, the louder the music and the stronger the scent of burning wood.
Unfortunately, it was also wetter. Without the thick canopy of trees, the rainfall was heavier, quickly dampening Kieran's hair and clothes. He splashed through puddles, muddy water splattering his boots. His father would kill him if he saw, and even his mother would be aghast. But Kieran didn't mind one bit.
They emerged from between two buildings and stepped into the open center of the village, where a gigantic bonfire blazed brightly. The heat emanating from it washed over Kieran's face, the smell of burning wood even stronger. Kieran watched, thrilled, as dozens of scantily dressed men and women danced around the flames.
He could hear laughter all around, blending with the cheerful music. The urge to join in the festivities was almost overwhelming, particularly when Kieran caught a whiff of the feast. He barely noticed the rain anymore.
He whirled, grabbing Azriel's arm. “Come on. Let's dance!”
Not unsurprisingly, Azriel resisted.
“I'm not one for dancing.”
“Why else would you come?” Kieran asked, tone dangerously approaching a whine. He tugged on Azriel's arm. “You'll look more out of place if you don't. Come have some fun.”
Again, Azriel hesitated. “I really don't--”
“Please?”
Okay, that time it really was a whine.
The resistance ceased; Kieran nearly whooped in triumph. Azriel never could resist the puppy eyes, as evidenced by his defeated sigh as he allowed himself to be dragged forward.
“If I step on your toes, you can't complain,” Azriel commented loftily.
“You won't,” Kieran replied with utter confidence.
The look his friend gave wasn’t quite a glare. “If I trip and we fall in the mud, you can't complain about that either.”
Kieran burst into laughter. “I'm sure you're not that clumsy.”
“You'll see,” Azriel muttered.
Kieran chuckled again and finally succeeded in dragging his dance partner amongst the other churning bodies. Watching hadn't discerned any particular style, so Kieran figured they were all improvising. Easy enough.
He listened for a moment, trying to catch the rhythm. His foot tapped the ground, mud churned by other dancers, and then Kieran caught it. The steady thump of the drums, the pattern of full beats, half-beats, and quarter beats. He grinned, bobbing his head in time with the music.
The musicians hit a solid note, and Kieran slid his foot out along with it, easing into the first step. He kicked out with his other foot, then whirled in a perfect match to the cadence of the song. He grinned, a sharp bark of laughter escaping him as he repeated the sequence, adding a few extra heel taps here and there.
He lifts his hands, fingers splayed to catch the rain. He rocked his shoulders, the music squirming around in his gut. He whirled and twisted, mud splashing up all around him, soaking the bottom of his pants. Kieran laughed as another spin left him facing a young woman, who locked elbows with him.
“Shall we dance?” the stranger asked, voice thick with the dialect variation more common in the outlying villages.
Kieran grinned. “Of course.”
More drums joined the ecstatic beat, and Kieran's unnamed partner whirled him into a spin. Giddy, Kieran followed her lead, trying to match the complicated footwork. It was a series of taps and kicks, a fast cadence that almost seemed out of step with the music, yet matched the implied rhythm.
It was a struggle to keep up but Kieran tried. Step, kick, heel, kick. Spin and twist, kick, kick. His partner released him with a skilled turn, only to lock opposite elbows. Again and again, he performed this maneuver, turning the world into a whirl of rain and orange fire.
Laughter bubbled up around Kieran. Other dancers were clapping. The slushy stomp of feet joined the music. Bodies whirled in constant motion.
In the middle of a complicated spin, Kieran's partner was whisked out from under his nose, leaving him dancing alone. He pouted a moment, watching her twine with another woman who had far more skill than Kieran. Which was all right, he supposed, as he had Azriel.
Except…
…Where was Azriel?
Kieran spun, peering through the press of bodies and the harsh contrast of dark night and bonfire. Finally, he spotted his best friend on the sidelines. Azriel must have fled there the instant Kieran released him.
“Come on!” Kieran shouted, though it must have been swallowed in the noise. He beckoned Azriel with a lifted hand.
Across the way, his best friend shook his head.
Kieran's eyes narrowed. He beckoned again.
Azriel didn't move.
Kieran had no choice but to go retrieve him. Again. So he did, pushing and easing through the crowd until he managed to arrive at Azriel's side. He planted his hands on his hips, looking at his friend accusingly. He didn't say anything.
“I'm not a dancer, Kieran,” Azriel put in firmly, but he shifted afterward.
“No one cares,” Kieran replied with a huff. “We're here to have fun, aren't we?”
“I'm having fun,” Azriel said, but his tone wasn't convincing.
Kieran set his jaw. “Dance with me.”
Azriel sighed. “That pout isn't going to work this time.”
“I don't pout.”
“You don't?” Azriel arched a brow. “Sulk then. Whatever you want to-- Kieran!”
He grabbed Azriel's arm, pulling him back toward the bonfire and the dancing strangers. The music was calling, humming in his blood, and Kieran was determined to answer it.
“You're going to dance,” he decided with finality. “And you're going to have fun.”
Azriel was far too reserved to struggle and make a scene, which made this easier for Kieran. He didn't let go, certain that his best friend would flee if he did. Just like before.
Kieran chose a place in the middle where there was room for two more dancers and stopped.
“Now,” he said, turning to face Azriel. “It's not that hard. Listen to the music.”
Azriel looked tense. He held his body stiffly, and his eyes flashed with annoyance.
“I can hear it just fine.”
“But you're not listening to it.” Kieran closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “You have to feel it.” His foot started tapping of its own accord.
“Kieran.”
Azriel’s voice wasn’t quite a command, but it was damn close. And far too close to the tone Marduk preferred to use for Kieran’s comfort.
“Just try it,” he said, and it wasn’t quite a plea.
Azriel sighed. “Here?”
“Where else?”
Kieran opened his eyes, watching as Azriel stood there like a statue. Ugh. Not helping.
He huffed, frustrated, and stepped closer. “Feel the rhythm.” Kieran squeezed Azriel's hand to the beat of the drums.
Azriel twitched but relaxed marginally. He was still less than thrilled, but it was a step in the right direction.
“Now what?”
Kieran grinned. Victory!
“Tap your foot. Lift your shoulders. Sway. It doesn't matter. Cut loose and do whatever.” He suspected it was the cutting loose part that Azriel was struggling with.
“Look,” Kieran said. “I know you've got rhythm. I've seen you do magic. Just follow my lead.”
He took a step to the left, kicked up with his heel, and hopped a small jig back to the right. Then he looked at Azriel expectantly, a challenge in his eyes. He knew if anything Azriel hated to fail.
Jaw setting, Azriel stiffly copied the step, like it was embarrassing him greatly to do so. Kieran bit back his laughter but allowed his grin.
“Good. Again.”
Kieran slid to the right, bounced on the heels of his feet, and stomped once. Azriel copied him, less stiff this time, his face set with a grim determination. As though Kieran had given him a most difficult task.
It was ridiculously cute.
Kieran squeezed Azriel's hand and dragged him into a spin, slow enough that he wouldn't trip but still enough to keep the rhythm. He added a few steps here and there, just to make it interesting, and inwardly cheered when Azriel matched them.
Huzzah! He was learning!
The music built and swelled around them, more dancers joining the fray. Kieran kept his grip on Azriel, leading him into more steps, each more complicated than the last. He watched as the brunet finally loosened up, and the tension vanished from his frame. Kieran could barely contain his victory dance.
And then, new dancers came, steps intricate and beautiful, half-clothed bodies glittering in the rain and firelight. Half of Kieran's attention was dragged away, caught by the twirling sticks capped with flames. They danced in a wide circle around the fire, bodies sinuous, batons expertly cleaving the air and leaving streaks of orange-white in their wake.
The drums picked up a faster cadence, one even Kieran was hard-pressed to match. But he didn't give up. Nor would he let Azriel escape either. They stepped and kicked and spun amongst the rest of the dancers. Mud kicked up around them, the bonfire a constant flicker, and Kieran was treated to the rare sight of Azriel both smiling and laughing when he tripped and nearly face-planted in the mud.
Azriel didn’t seem to care now, and Kieran just laughed with him as everyone who’d seen merely grinned and kept dancing.
It was then, of course, that the sky opened up. What once had been a light drip became a drowning pour. The bonfire hissed and crackled as the clouds above gave an ominous rumble. The music stopped, the dancers paused and all eyes turned upward with building suspicion.
Lightning split the night, streaking white-gold across the black expanse. Behind it, the clouds rumbled with enough force for Kieran to feel it in his gut.
He turned to Azriel, water dripping down his face. “Does this count as dangerous?”
“It does to me,” Azriel replied and moved past Kieran, heading away from the fire. “Time to go inside.”
It seemed most of the celebrators shared Azriel's opinion. They were heading in a steady stream to a nearby building which was nearly three times the size of all the others. A community hall perhaps. Whose doors had been flung open wide in invitation. Kieran's stomach grumbled, hoping this was where they’d hidden the food.
Around the sputtering bonfire, only the fire dancers were brave enough to remain, spinning to a music only they could hear.
Inside the building it was warm, toasty, and noisy with all the chatter from the excited people. No one seemed to care that they were all dripping on the floor while beyond the open door, a storm raged with loud crashes of thunder.
Kieran quickly caught the scent of warm bread, meat pasties, and fruit pies. His mouth watered as he followed his nose to a row of tables lined up against the back wall. A line had already begun to form, and Kieran promptly plopped himself at the end. Azriel had followed, albeit at a more sedate pace.
“You're soaked,” he said as water trickled down Kieran's face.
His glasses were helplessly spattered and fogging in the humidity. Kieran promptly removed them, rubbing at the lenses with his wet sleeve. He squinted at Azriel.
“So are you. I think.”
That made Azriel laugh again. “Can you not see at all?”
“You're blurry.” Kieran grinned. “Luckily, I already know who you are. I’d never forget such a handsome face anyway.” He reached toward what he thought was Azriel’s cheek to give it a pinch, but he missed by a mile.
His best friend, that traitor, chuckled. “Are all the Azura half-blind?”
“Seems to be the case.” Kieran returned his glasses to their rightful place, though the lenses were still smudged. “You know,” he put in conversationally, “you're not that bad of a dancer.”
“Which is the same as saying I'm not that skilled at it either.”
Kieran waved a hand. “Bah. Semantics.” He peered at Azriel. “Thanks though for giving it a try.”
Azriel didn’t make a face, but it was a near thing.
“You didn't give me much choice.”
“And you could have easily gotten away if you really wanted to,” Kieran accused, but he was distracted as they moved up several steps in line, inching closer to the food. His belly gave a gurgle in perfect time to a burst of thunder.
“By now, I've learned how useless it is to resist,” Azriel said dryly and nudged him with an elbow. “It’s so easy to be overwhelmed by you.”
Kieran's cheeks burned. It had nothing to do with the humid heat wafting from a super-sized hearth.
“Well... at least you learned something.”
Azriel laughed.
****
a/n: Next update after Christmas! I'm going to update as much as I can before the New Year hits. Feedback is always welcome.
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
----------------------------------------
The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Sixteen
----------------------------------------
The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Sixteen
----------------------------------------
January 16th, 1980
“It will certainly be quieter now,” Titania said as she handed him books to be shelved.
Azriel, perched on a ladder at the third highest rung, blinked in confusion. He tipped his head to glance at her before turning back to work. Last day or not, no one could accuse him of slacking.
“Quieter?” he questioned, unaware that he'd been particularly loud.
Titania chuckled. “Not that you were noisy, Azriel. But I rather enjoyed our conversations.” She handed him another volume, one bound in a blue cover.
“Ah.” He made a noncommittal noise in this throat. “For a minute there, I thought you meant Kieran's many spontaneous visits.”
Amusement curled Titania's lips. “No. But you certainly have a point.”
Shelving the last volume, Azriel carefully climbed down. “I’ll miss our conversations as well,” he admitted as Titania helped him unclamp the ladder so it could be safely removed and stowed away.
“There is one benefit now though,” Titania said as she helped him navigate the ladder back to the storage closet.
Azriel closed and locked the door behind them, handing her the key. Something he would no longer need.
“Oh?”
Titania grinned. “I'm no longer your superior. We can be friends if we like.” There was a gleam to her eyes that wouldn’t be too out of place on Kieran’s face.
“How true.” Azriel found himself smiling as well. “In that case, Kieran’s never one to miss an opportunity for celebration. He's throwing another party tomorrow night. Are you interested?”
“I won't be intruding?”
Azriel shook his head, falling into step beside her as they headed back to the main foyer. “No. Kieran loves to collect strays, as he so elegantly puts them, and he thinks you're charming.”
“He does?” she sounded both surprised and amused. “Well, in that case, I can hardly turn down the invitation.”
“Good. We'll be at Isley's Pub sometime after dark. I don't suppose you'll need directions.”
That earned him a look. “I don't think there's a resident of Grayshire who doesn't know of Isley's Pub.”
“You may have a point.” Azriel chuckled.
Titania glanced past him to the uncovered window which revealed a rapidly approaching night. “Shift's over,” she put in a bit reluctantly and returned her gaze to Azriel. “Heading straight home?”
Azriel retrieved their cloaks, handing Titania hers first. “No. I'm to meet Lord Adair tonight.”
His uncle, like Kieran, had become a constant visitor to Azriel during his shifts. Luckily, Titania had never seemed to mind. Nor did she ask any questions about why such a high-ranked man would come to visit a mere grunt.
Titania slid into her cloak and tucked it close to her frame. “That's nice. I half-expected Kieran to have claimed you.”
“He knows when to bow out,” Azriel replied with a smirk and turned to help Titania with the closing procedures.
Which mostly involved snuffing out the lanterns and candles, leaving only the few globes lit. Those magically powered lights would last until the next shift came in, saving the records from being sealed in complete darkness.
“Are you to start in the Archives on Monday then?” Titania asked as they headed to the front door, one hand digging in her pocket for the massive ring of keys.
Azriel shook his head. “No. I have a week's gap between the two postings.”
“A vacation? However will you survive?”
“I don't know what I'll do with myself,” he quipped, amused by her teasing. She was one of the few who dared to do so.
The heavy door shut with a solid thunk, and Titania quickly locked it. Her hand pressed over the door, activating a light barrier spell. Crime wasn't actually rampant here in Grayshire, but it was better to protect the records now then regret not doing so when it was too late.
“I have an idea.”
Azriel flipped the lapels of his coat higher, protecting his neck from the biting chill. “Oh?”
“Meet me for a drink after work one day this week.” Titania pulled her dark hair out from under her cloak and settled it over her shoulders.
He gazed at her for a second before nodding. “Certainly.”
“Good. Just come by whenever's best for you.” Titania squeezed his arm warmly. “Have a good night, Azriel.”
“You, too.”
He watched her depart into the evening, flecks of snow brightening the night. And making it colder as well. And to think, before Kieran, Azriel couldn't communicate with anyone. Oh, how his world had changed.
Azriel turned in the opposite direction Titania had gone, heading to Shian where he was due to meet Lord Adair and perhaps a lady of his uncle’s acquaintance, too.
April 30th, 1980
It had started to rain, but luckily, it was a light drizzle. Warm, too. Kieran grinned as he tilted his face toward the sky, feeling the wetness on his cheeks.
“They won't call off the festival, will they?” he questioned in a tone of a young boy.
“No,” Azriel answered with amusement. “Nothing short of a torrential downpour and frequent lightning would lead to that.”
“Good.” Kieran returned his gaze to the path in front of him, one that wound out of Moriarty and into the surrounding forest. “So explain this to me again. That book didn't list this holiday.”
Azriel expertly navigated the path, despite the encroaching vegetation and decreasing visibility. “It goes by a different name in the books. Our ancestors called it Walpurgis.”
Hmm. Well, that explained why Kieran couldn't find a reference to May Day. He vaguely recalled skimming through the entry on Walpurgis but couldn't remember any of the details.
“I know there's a bonfire,” Kieran said slowly, “but nothing else.”
Azriel chuckled. “Many of the traditions have been forgotten over the years, but the main one remains – the dance of ribbons.”
“A dance?” Kieran could hardly contain his shock.
Azriel… Dancing?
“Around the bonfire or in groups. And later around the May Pole.” Azriel’s lips curled at Kieran’s stupefied expression. “The latter’s usually performed by children. After the feast, they wind colorful ribbons around ceremonial pole. That’s usually near dawn, however,” the brunet explained, voice gone far too scholarly.
Wiping off his glasses, Kieran urged Azriel to continued. “What's it mean?”
“It welcomes summer and thanks the gods for spring,” Azriel replied with a smile at his friend’s eagerness. “The May Dance is to signify the longer days and the shift into warmer weather.”
Kieran ran a hand through his damp hair, taking it out of the soggy tie. “Interesting. It almost sounds familiar.”
“A lot of the old rituals are really similar.” Azriel glanced back at Kieran. “I'm surprised you were allowed to come.”
He waved a dismissive hand, then reached back to retie his hair. His face was too mischievous for his own good. Especially now.
“Mama thinks you're helping me study, and what Marduk doesn't know won't hurt him.”
Azriel chuckled. “I suppose you'd better enjoy that freedom now. You won't have it next year.”
“Ugh. Don't remind me.” The younger man made a disgusted face. “Yonah’s already complaining, though that's nothing new. Harper's probably the only one excited.”
“Has she made her decision for after graduation?”
Kieran smirked. “Yep. The Brigade. Spec Ops, no less.”
Azriel's eyebrows trekked upward. But really, it wasn’t that surprising.
Kieran nodded in agreement. “Her parents weren't too pleased. They want her to take over.”
“What about her brother?” the brunet questioned softly.
“Darren?” Kieran shrugged. “He doesn't have a head for business.”
Azriel ducked under a low-hanging branch and held it aside for Kieran. “And yet Harper chooses her own path,” he allowed.
“Yes. A bit like someone else I know,” Kieran said, fighting back a shiver as leaves dumped water on the back of his neck.
“Why the Brigade though?” Azriel asked.
Kieran shrugged. “It's the furthest she could get from being a merchant, I suppose.”
“What about you?”
His friend cast him a sideways glance, but Kieran just smirked.
“Isn't it obvious?”
Azriel looked at him pointedly. “I know what your father would want of you. But what are you considering for yourself?”
“My passion has always been for science,” Kieran answered honestly. Though he considered passion a word with too little meaning to explain his yearning. “Where else would I go but the Jeode?”
“You could go solo. Open a private laboratory.” Azriel paused as the path split, only to choose the one branching to the right. “You aren't required to operate within the constraints of the Jeode.”
Ahead of them, Kieran could make out flickers of light, probably from lanterns and huge fires. A sure sign that they were close to their destination – a small village named Martika that was actually quite close to Meropis.
“How many successful private scientists do you know?” Kieran asked, but he didn't give Azriel a chance to answer. “There’ve been none. No one will hire a workshop that's not been sanctioned by the Jeode.”
The brunet lifted a brow. “Not even one that operates under the Azura name?”
“That would be too much like riding on Marduk's carriage wheels,” Kieran said with a shudder. If he was going to rebel against his father, it would do him little good to rely on the Azura name afterward.
“Even so,” Azriel put in as they stepped off the forest path and into a narrow clearing. “I wouldn't discount independence as an option. You have the talent.”
Warmth flooded through Kieran’s innards. He glanced away, inexplicably embarrassed.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “So... uh... where’s the bonfire?”
Azriel smirked at him. “Town center. Just follow the music.”
Now that he concentrated, Kieran could hear the music. It was a jaunty blend of flutes, drums, and panpipes. A joyful beat that made him tap his feet.
Excited, Kieran rushed past Azriel, letting his ears guide him. Martika was a small village, a cluster of barely forty buildings huddled in the midst of towering grey oaks and black pine. All of the houses were dark, their occupants likely at the celebration. And the closer Kieran got, the louder the music and the stronger the scent of burning wood.
Unfortunately, it was also wetter. Without the thick canopy of trees, the rainfall was heavier, quickly dampening Kieran's hair and clothes. He splashed through puddles, muddy water splattering his boots. His father would kill him if he saw, and even his mother would be aghast. But Kieran didn't mind one bit.
They emerged from between two buildings and stepped into the open center of the village, where a gigantic bonfire blazed brightly. The heat emanating from it washed over Kieran's face, the smell of burning wood even stronger. Kieran watched, thrilled, as dozens of scantily dressed men and women danced around the flames.
He could hear laughter all around, blending with the cheerful music. The urge to join in the festivities was almost overwhelming, particularly when Kieran caught a whiff of the feast. He barely noticed the rain anymore.
He whirled, grabbing Azriel's arm. “Come on. Let's dance!”
Not unsurprisingly, Azriel resisted.
“I'm not one for dancing.”
“Why else would you come?” Kieran asked, tone dangerously approaching a whine. He tugged on Azriel's arm. “You'll look more out of place if you don't. Come have some fun.”
Again, Azriel hesitated. “I really don't--”
“Please?”
Okay, that time it really was a whine.
The resistance ceased; Kieran nearly whooped in triumph. Azriel never could resist the puppy eyes, as evidenced by his defeated sigh as he allowed himself to be dragged forward.
“If I step on your toes, you can't complain,” Azriel commented loftily.
“You won't,” Kieran replied with utter confidence.
The look his friend gave wasn’t quite a glare. “If I trip and we fall in the mud, you can't complain about that either.”
Kieran burst into laughter. “I'm sure you're not that clumsy.”
“You'll see,” Azriel muttered.
Kieran chuckled again and finally succeeded in dragging his dance partner amongst the other churning bodies. Watching hadn't discerned any particular style, so Kieran figured they were all improvising. Easy enough.
He listened for a moment, trying to catch the rhythm. His foot tapped the ground, mud churned by other dancers, and then Kieran caught it. The steady thump of the drums, the pattern of full beats, half-beats, and quarter beats. He grinned, bobbing his head in time with the music.
The musicians hit a solid note, and Kieran slid his foot out along with it, easing into the first step. He kicked out with his other foot, then whirled in a perfect match to the cadence of the song. He grinned, a sharp bark of laughter escaping him as he repeated the sequence, adding a few extra heel taps here and there.
He lifts his hands, fingers splayed to catch the rain. He rocked his shoulders, the music squirming around in his gut. He whirled and twisted, mud splashing up all around him, soaking the bottom of his pants. Kieran laughed as another spin left him facing a young woman, who locked elbows with him.
“Shall we dance?” the stranger asked, voice thick with the dialect variation more common in the outlying villages.
Kieran grinned. “Of course.”
More drums joined the ecstatic beat, and Kieran's unnamed partner whirled him into a spin. Giddy, Kieran followed her lead, trying to match the complicated footwork. It was a series of taps and kicks, a fast cadence that almost seemed out of step with the music, yet matched the implied rhythm.
It was a struggle to keep up but Kieran tried. Step, kick, heel, kick. Spin and twist, kick, kick. His partner released him with a skilled turn, only to lock opposite elbows. Again and again, he performed this maneuver, turning the world into a whirl of rain and orange fire.
Laughter bubbled up around Kieran. Other dancers were clapping. The slushy stomp of feet joined the music. Bodies whirled in constant motion.
In the middle of a complicated spin, Kieran's partner was whisked out from under his nose, leaving him dancing alone. He pouted a moment, watching her twine with another woman who had far more skill than Kieran. Which was all right, he supposed, as he had Azriel.
Except…
…Where was Azriel?
Kieran spun, peering through the press of bodies and the harsh contrast of dark night and bonfire. Finally, he spotted his best friend on the sidelines. Azriel must have fled there the instant Kieran released him.
“Come on!” Kieran shouted, though it must have been swallowed in the noise. He beckoned Azriel with a lifted hand.
Across the way, his best friend shook his head.
Kieran's eyes narrowed. He beckoned again.
Azriel didn't move.
Kieran had no choice but to go retrieve him. Again. So he did, pushing and easing through the crowd until he managed to arrive at Azriel's side. He planted his hands on his hips, looking at his friend accusingly. He didn't say anything.
“I'm not a dancer, Kieran,” Azriel put in firmly, but he shifted afterward.
“No one cares,” Kieran replied with a huff. “We're here to have fun, aren't we?”
“I'm having fun,” Azriel said, but his tone wasn't convincing.
Kieran set his jaw. “Dance with me.”
Azriel sighed. “That pout isn't going to work this time.”
“I don't pout.”
“You don't?” Azriel arched a brow. “Sulk then. Whatever you want to-- Kieran!”
He grabbed Azriel's arm, pulling him back toward the bonfire and the dancing strangers. The music was calling, humming in his blood, and Kieran was determined to answer it.
“You're going to dance,” he decided with finality. “And you're going to have fun.”
Azriel was far too reserved to struggle and make a scene, which made this easier for Kieran. He didn't let go, certain that his best friend would flee if he did. Just like before.
Kieran chose a place in the middle where there was room for two more dancers and stopped.
“Now,” he said, turning to face Azriel. “It's not that hard. Listen to the music.”
Azriel looked tense. He held his body stiffly, and his eyes flashed with annoyance.
“I can hear it just fine.”
“But you're not listening to it.” Kieran closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “You have to feel it.” His foot started tapping of its own accord.
“Kieran.”
Azriel’s voice wasn’t quite a command, but it was damn close. And far too close to the tone Marduk preferred to use for Kieran’s comfort.
“Just try it,” he said, and it wasn’t quite a plea.
Azriel sighed. “Here?”
“Where else?”
Kieran opened his eyes, watching as Azriel stood there like a statue. Ugh. Not helping.
He huffed, frustrated, and stepped closer. “Feel the rhythm.” Kieran squeezed Azriel's hand to the beat of the drums.
Azriel twitched but relaxed marginally. He was still less than thrilled, but it was a step in the right direction.
“Now what?”
Kieran grinned. Victory!
“Tap your foot. Lift your shoulders. Sway. It doesn't matter. Cut loose and do whatever.” He suspected it was the cutting loose part that Azriel was struggling with.
“Look,” Kieran said. “I know you've got rhythm. I've seen you do magic. Just follow my lead.”
He took a step to the left, kicked up with his heel, and hopped a small jig back to the right. Then he looked at Azriel expectantly, a challenge in his eyes. He knew if anything Azriel hated to fail.
Jaw setting, Azriel stiffly copied the step, like it was embarrassing him greatly to do so. Kieran bit back his laughter but allowed his grin.
“Good. Again.”
Kieran slid to the right, bounced on the heels of his feet, and stomped once. Azriel copied him, less stiff this time, his face set with a grim determination. As though Kieran had given him a most difficult task.
It was ridiculously cute.
Kieran squeezed Azriel's hand and dragged him into a spin, slow enough that he wouldn't trip but still enough to keep the rhythm. He added a few steps here and there, just to make it interesting, and inwardly cheered when Azriel matched them.
Huzzah! He was learning!
The music built and swelled around them, more dancers joining the fray. Kieran kept his grip on Azriel, leading him into more steps, each more complicated than the last. He watched as the brunet finally loosened up, and the tension vanished from his frame. Kieran could barely contain his victory dance.
And then, new dancers came, steps intricate and beautiful, half-clothed bodies glittering in the rain and firelight. Half of Kieran's attention was dragged away, caught by the twirling sticks capped with flames. They danced in a wide circle around the fire, bodies sinuous, batons expertly cleaving the air and leaving streaks of orange-white in their wake.
The drums picked up a faster cadence, one even Kieran was hard-pressed to match. But he didn't give up. Nor would he let Azriel escape either. They stepped and kicked and spun amongst the rest of the dancers. Mud kicked up around them, the bonfire a constant flicker, and Kieran was treated to the rare sight of Azriel both smiling and laughing when he tripped and nearly face-planted in the mud.
Azriel didn’t seem to care now, and Kieran just laughed with him as everyone who’d seen merely grinned and kept dancing.
It was then, of course, that the sky opened up. What once had been a light drip became a drowning pour. The bonfire hissed and crackled as the clouds above gave an ominous rumble. The music stopped, the dancers paused and all eyes turned upward with building suspicion.
Lightning split the night, streaking white-gold across the black expanse. Behind it, the clouds rumbled with enough force for Kieran to feel it in his gut.
He turned to Azriel, water dripping down his face. “Does this count as dangerous?”
“It does to me,” Azriel replied and moved past Kieran, heading away from the fire. “Time to go inside.”
It seemed most of the celebrators shared Azriel's opinion. They were heading in a steady stream to a nearby building which was nearly three times the size of all the others. A community hall perhaps. Whose doors had been flung open wide in invitation. Kieran's stomach grumbled, hoping this was where they’d hidden the food.
Around the sputtering bonfire, only the fire dancers were brave enough to remain, spinning to a music only they could hear.
Inside the building it was warm, toasty, and noisy with all the chatter from the excited people. No one seemed to care that they were all dripping on the floor while beyond the open door, a storm raged with loud crashes of thunder.
Kieran quickly caught the scent of warm bread, meat pasties, and fruit pies. His mouth watered as he followed his nose to a row of tables lined up against the back wall. A line had already begun to form, and Kieran promptly plopped himself at the end. Azriel had followed, albeit at a more sedate pace.
“You're soaked,” he said as water trickled down Kieran's face.
His glasses were helplessly spattered and fogging in the humidity. Kieran promptly removed them, rubbing at the lenses with his wet sleeve. He squinted at Azriel.
“So are you. I think.”
That made Azriel laugh again. “Can you not see at all?”
“You're blurry.” Kieran grinned. “Luckily, I already know who you are. I’d never forget such a handsome face anyway.” He reached toward what he thought was Azriel’s cheek to give it a pinch, but he missed by a mile.
His best friend, that traitor, chuckled. “Are all the Azura half-blind?”
“Seems to be the case.” Kieran returned his glasses to their rightful place, though the lenses were still smudged. “You know,” he put in conversationally, “you're not that bad of a dancer.”
“Which is the same as saying I'm not that skilled at it either.”
Kieran waved a hand. “Bah. Semantics.” He peered at Azriel. “Thanks though for giving it a try.”
Azriel didn’t make a face, but it was a near thing.
“You didn't give me much choice.”
“And you could have easily gotten away if you really wanted to,” Kieran accused, but he was distracted as they moved up several steps in line, inching closer to the food. His belly gave a gurgle in perfect time to a burst of thunder.
“By now, I've learned how useless it is to resist,” Azriel said dryly and nudged him with an elbow. “It’s so easy to be overwhelmed by you.”
Kieran's cheeks burned. It had nothing to do with the humid heat wafting from a super-sized hearth.
“Well... at least you learned something.”
Azriel laughed.
a/n: Next update after Christmas! I'm going to update as much as I can before the New Year hits. Feedback is always welcome.
