Elahir
(#46894259)
The Archer
Familiar
Amaranth Moth
Click or tap to view this dragon in Predict Morphology.
Energy: 23/50
This dragon’s natural inborn element is Light.
Male Fae
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Personal Style
Apparel
Skin
Scene
Measurements
Length
0.79 m
Wingspan
1.55 m
Weight
2.07 kg
Genetics
Auburn
Pinstripe
Pinstripe
Camo
Bee
Bee
Sunshine
Capsule
Capsule
Hatchday
Breed
Eye Type
Level 1 Fae
EXP: 0 / 245
STR
5
AGI
8
DEF
5
QCK
6
INT
8
VIT
5
MND
8
Lineage
Parents
- none
Offspring
- none
Biography
Elahir, the archer and Light acolyte, followed Ishkari from their home clan because he couldn’t bear to let her leave. Silently, Elahir worships the pearlcatcher’s every move, and as he prays in the Lightweaver’s sepulchre, his eyes fall on her more than the altar to the deity. At least once a week, after his hunting trips he returns with Ishkari’s favorite foods–all rare, dangerous delicacies–in attempts to earn even the smallest smile from her.
If the heavens ever did speak,
She's the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday's getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week...
x
Touch my mouth and hold my tongue,
I'll never be your chosen one
I'll be home safely tucked away
You can't tempt me if I don't see the day
The pull on my flesh is just too strong
It stifles the choice and the air in my lungs
Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
When I open my body and breathe alive...
x
“Elahir.”
The fae jerked awake. As he sat up, his cheek printed with the cool marble of the altar’s base, he looked around wildly.
“You fell asleep at Her feet again.”
Finally Elahir located Ishkari. She stood some distance off, hand rested on one of the imported Sunbeam pillars decorating the path to the altar. Elahir wanted to scramble to his feet and make himself presentable, but he found himself transfixed by her. She had never, never looked so intently at him. He stared back, picking out the bright highlights of the last candlelight in her eyes beneath her mask–then the candle guttered and went out.
“How devout you are,” she said, and though Elahir thought perhaps she mocked him, his chest twisted up that she spoke to him, finally, just him, and he knew that she could slip her ceremonial dagger between his ribs and he would still love her the more for it. He sat up as she took a few steps forward, the feathers of her gown swishing against the tile.
She paused and looked up at the towering statue of the Lightweaver, echoing the deity’s poise even as she cocked her head curiously. Her hands and mouth were all that was visible beneath the layers of gauzy priestess garb. Elahir tried to stop himself from looking at her lips.
“I’ve been thinking about the worshipers who come to this temple,” she said, without taking her eyes off of the statue. “So many, so devout. This place is known across the Plateau as the place for the most zealous followers of the deities.”
Elahir nodded eagerly, hanging upon her every word. Her voice was like the stream of smoke slipping from the wick of the candles around her.
“Some temples have orders of members. Initiates, acolytes, hierophants, all collected under a code. But it’s forbidden by the Queen here.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile.
Elahir just continued to nod, and Ishkari quirked her head toward him.
“There are no binding vows here,” she began. “Only prayers, only promises. But…”
She trailed off, and Elahir leaned forward, waiting for her to continue.
Ishkari paused a long time. The vague sounds of the bay crashing against the catacomb walls far below echoed in the vaulted ceiling of the temple. Finally, the Light priestess turned to face him.
“Can I trust you, Elahir?” she murmured.
Elahir’s heart pounded so wildly that he could hardly think. He nodded desperately, and finally unglued his tongue to speak. “Yes, Priestess, anything,” he promised in a whisper.
Ishkari smiled–a true smile this time, Elahir thought, and it felt like the beating of his heart would rattle his whole body apart.
“I knew I could,” she said, so quietly it was barely a whisper. Then she crouched down next to him, an excitement he rarely saw in her movements. “Elahir, I want to start a secret Order. And I want you as my first initiate.”
Some part of Elahir knew how reckless this was, how dangerous and blasphemous… but her eyes glittered even without light, and for the first time, she addressed him–more, she wanted something from him. He couldn’t deny her, not now.
“Anything,” he heard himself saying.
She laughed, and for a moment his raging heartbeat stopped–was this a trick? Had she finally decided to rid herself of him, spy him out for blasphemy and throw him from the temple? Was this a cruel joke to break his heart? Yet he only pined for her more. Her laugh was like coarse honey and the wind through the rushes of the Hewn City.
But she rocked back, still giggling, and then reached and tipped her mask up, letting it rest on her forehead. Elahir’s chest constricted. He hadn’t seen her full face since they were both teenagers. She had grown more handsome than he had imagined as he nodded through all her sermons.
Ishkari gave him a mischievous look as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet.
“Let’s do it now,” she whispered.
Elahir couldn’t say anything, only stared, sick with adoration, and nodded again.
Ishkari drew a string of prayer beads from one of the many pockets of her sashes and let it run between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about this for some time, truthfully,” she said, some of her solemnity returning. The beads began to glow slightly, shivering like firelight. “I know the vows by heart already. You’ll repeat them.”
Elahir watched the light playing off her features.
“You don’t care what the vows are, do you? What they entail, what the Order means?”
The fae looked into her eyes, golden-white as marble. Did the truth matter?
“No, Priestess. Only serving… serving…” he wavered between “Her” and “you,” but Ishkari was turning her hands over and over. The prayer beads seemed to be melting as they trailed over her fingers, and she shook her head as she smiled.
“Repeat,” she commanded, and Elahir did as she said.
“I vow my life to Her.”
“I vow my life to her.”
“All my thoughts and soul are Hers.”
“All my thoughts and soul are hers.”
The prayer beads were now one ribbon of golden light, circling around Ishkari’s fingers.
“I lay my heart upon Her every wish, I obey Her in life and death.”
“I lay my heart upon her every wish, I obey her in life and death.”
“I keep the Order’s secrets to my grave, to better serve Her.”
“I keep the Order’s secrets to my grave, to better serve her.”
The light was almost blinding, yet Elahir couldn’t tear his eyes away from it now. The light had formed a band, which she now lifted over his head. It settled around his neck–and it burned. Tears sprang to Elahir’s eyes as he fought back a sob of pain.
“Amen.”
“Amen.”
Suddenly spears of the light emitted from the band–it was a halo, a brand, and its points stabbed into Elahir’s neck. He couldn’t help but scream now, and collapsed upon the stairs of the altar. He tried to pull the brand from his throat, but it burned his fingers too. Holy–or was it profane?–fire seemed to engulf his vision, until suddenly, it all ceased.
He found himself with his head cradled in Ishkari’s lap as she soothed him. Light pulsed in the corners of his vision.
“It’s beautiful,” she cooed, and Elahir turned his head toward the glass windows. In the darkness, he could see the faint pulse of a white brand around his throat.
Art by Fletcher #12117
If the heavens ever did speak,
She's the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday's getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week...
x
Touch my mouth and hold my tongue,
I'll never be your chosen one
I'll be home safely tucked away
You can't tempt me if I don't see the day
The pull on my flesh is just too strong
It stifles the choice and the air in my lungs
Better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
When I open my body and breathe alive...
x
“Elahir.”
The fae jerked awake. As he sat up, his cheek printed with the cool marble of the altar’s base, he looked around wildly.
“You fell asleep at Her feet again.”
Finally Elahir located Ishkari. She stood some distance off, hand rested on one of the imported Sunbeam pillars decorating the path to the altar. Elahir wanted to scramble to his feet and make himself presentable, but he found himself transfixed by her. She had never, never looked so intently at him. He stared back, picking out the bright highlights of the last candlelight in her eyes beneath her mask–then the candle guttered and went out.
“How devout you are,” she said, and though Elahir thought perhaps she mocked him, his chest twisted up that she spoke to him, finally, just him, and he knew that she could slip her ceremonial dagger between his ribs and he would still love her the more for it. He sat up as she took a few steps forward, the feathers of her gown swishing against the tile.
She paused and looked up at the towering statue of the Lightweaver, echoing the deity’s poise even as she cocked her head curiously. Her hands and mouth were all that was visible beneath the layers of gauzy priestess garb. Elahir tried to stop himself from looking at her lips.
“I’ve been thinking about the worshipers who come to this temple,” she said, without taking her eyes off of the statue. “So many, so devout. This place is known across the Plateau as the place for the most zealous followers of the deities.”
Elahir nodded eagerly, hanging upon her every word. Her voice was like the stream of smoke slipping from the wick of the candles around her.
“Some temples have orders of members. Initiates, acolytes, hierophants, all collected under a code. But it’s forbidden by the Queen here.” Her lips twisted into a wry smile.
Elahir just continued to nod, and Ishkari quirked her head toward him.
“There are no binding vows here,” she began. “Only prayers, only promises. But…”
She trailed off, and Elahir leaned forward, waiting for her to continue.
Ishkari paused a long time. The vague sounds of the bay crashing against the catacomb walls far below echoed in the vaulted ceiling of the temple. Finally, the Light priestess turned to face him.
“Can I trust you, Elahir?” she murmured.
Elahir’s heart pounded so wildly that he could hardly think. He nodded desperately, and finally unglued his tongue to speak. “Yes, Priestess, anything,” he promised in a whisper.
Ishkari smiled–a true smile this time, Elahir thought, and it felt like the beating of his heart would rattle his whole body apart.
“I knew I could,” she said, so quietly it was barely a whisper. Then she crouched down next to him, an excitement he rarely saw in her movements. “Elahir, I want to start a secret Order. And I want you as my first initiate.”
Some part of Elahir knew how reckless this was, how dangerous and blasphemous… but her eyes glittered even without light, and for the first time, she addressed him–more, she wanted something from him. He couldn’t deny her, not now.
“Anything,” he heard himself saying.
She laughed, and for a moment his raging heartbeat stopped–was this a trick? Had she finally decided to rid herself of him, spy him out for blasphemy and throw him from the temple? Was this a cruel joke to break his heart? Yet he only pined for her more. Her laugh was like coarse honey and the wind through the rushes of the Hewn City.
But she rocked back, still giggling, and then reached and tipped her mask up, letting it rest on her forehead. Elahir’s chest constricted. He hadn’t seen her full face since they were both teenagers. She had grown more handsome than he had imagined as he nodded through all her sermons.
Ishkari gave him a mischievous look as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet.
“Let’s do it now,” she whispered.
Elahir couldn’t say anything, only stared, sick with adoration, and nodded again.
Ishkari drew a string of prayer beads from one of the many pockets of her sashes and let it run between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about this for some time, truthfully,” she said, some of her solemnity returning. The beads began to glow slightly, shivering like firelight. “I know the vows by heart already. You’ll repeat them.”
Elahir watched the light playing off her features.
“You don’t care what the vows are, do you? What they entail, what the Order means?”
The fae looked into her eyes, golden-white as marble. Did the truth matter?
“No, Priestess. Only serving… serving…” he wavered between “Her” and “you,” but Ishkari was turning her hands over and over. The prayer beads seemed to be melting as they trailed over her fingers, and she shook her head as she smiled.
“Repeat,” she commanded, and Elahir did as she said.
“I vow my life to Her.”
“I vow my life to her.”
“All my thoughts and soul are Hers.”
“All my thoughts and soul are hers.”
The prayer beads were now one ribbon of golden light, circling around Ishkari’s fingers.
“I lay my heart upon Her every wish, I obey Her in life and death.”
“I lay my heart upon her every wish, I obey her in life and death.”
“I keep the Order’s secrets to my grave, to better serve Her.”
“I keep the Order’s secrets to my grave, to better serve her.”
The light was almost blinding, yet Elahir couldn’t tear his eyes away from it now. The light had formed a band, which she now lifted over his head. It settled around his neck–and it burned. Tears sprang to Elahir’s eyes as he fought back a sob of pain.
“Amen.”
“Amen.”
Suddenly spears of the light emitted from the band–it was a halo, a brand, and its points stabbed into Elahir’s neck. He couldn’t help but scream now, and collapsed upon the stairs of the altar. He tried to pull the brand from his throat, but it burned his fingers too. Holy–or was it profane?–fire seemed to engulf his vision, until suddenly, it all ceased.
He found himself with his head cradled in Ishkari’s lap as she soothed him. Light pulsed in the corners of his vision.
“It’s beautiful,” she cooed, and Elahir turned his head toward the glass windows. In the darkness, he could see the faint pulse of a white brand around his throat.
The forest that loved the light too deeply - it sunk, it drowned and died a thousand glorious deaths. Cobwebbed and gilded, thorned and haloed beyond its own means, it found itself caught and held in suspense, all thought of the cool twilight slumbers and misty mountain moors burned away by the object of its praise. How fickle, that fleeting touch! How easily the candles burn to stubs! Too easily does mourning rise into the breast, so easily were you devoured. Pressed flat beneath the altar and the gloriously golden panes of stained glass, whose name will now fall from your lips?
- SilverSilver #428574
Art by Fletcher #12117
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Exalting Elahir to the service of the Windsinger will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.
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