Falling Skies

Twenty Eight

"Jax?"

It's as if Wren is near frozen, body trembling as a chill drips down his spine at the sight laid out before him.

He hasn't changed after all this time. The same goofy expression still plastered across the man's thick lips, an expression that's been there since the two were children so many years ago. His dark eyes are permanently squinted from his smile and cheeks blaze a deep red that threatens to overshadow Wren's own embarrassed flush. A hand inked with decorative symbols comes up to brush away at a stray hair of Wren's, the skin rough and calloused against his brow. Yet he doesn't move away or even react to the movement, shock keeping him still in his place wide-eyed and dumbfounded.

The copper-toned man lets out a sharp laugh, the sound short and quick yet it's boom echoes across the grand room. His hand finds its way to Wren's shoulder once more, his palm alone large enough to encase the fae's entire shoulder as he roughly shakes him, thawing out the remnants of shock that remained. "Wren! I'm glad you're okay, it's been so long I'll admit I was starting to get a bit worried about you."

"I-" Wren starts, voice cracking halfway through. "I can say the same about you, Jax. You weren't exactly in the best shape when I left..." Somewhere in the back of his mind a foggy memory threatens to surface but he pushes it down with a cough and nervous smile. The brief imagery of Jax doubled over in pain is enough to crack his false confidence, his body nervously rocking back and forth, searching the room for anything that can serve as a distraction.

"Well," The boy smiles, tongue rolling against a crooked tooth before flashing a quick wink Wren's way. "thankfully being Alpha Amir means I'm a bit tougher than that. A little poison isn't going to be the thing that takes me out." He laughs, the sound more a cackle than anything else. "Which it seems like you're also not in the same shape as I left you." This time the laugh is more sympathetic than cheery, the sound uncharacteristically soft for his appearance. He points to his own eyes, Wren's gaze dropping slightly as his hand absentmindedly brushes beneath his own burgundy irises.

Jax's focus shifts to Ryder standing quietly at Wren's side, a hint of confusion brushing across his features before it shifts back to general excitement, tattooed hand extending outwards in a jolted flurry. "I'm Jax, I don't believe we've ever met before."

His hand swallows Ryder's, his body jarring in comparison to the boy's lean frame and smaller stature.

"Ryder." He introduces himself, teeth biting at the inside of his cheek in an attempt to quell the tension seeping into the group. "How do you know Wren by the way?"

It's an obvious attempt at espionage Wren notes, dark eyes narrowing slightly with suspicion. Realizing its best not to address the shrouded truths in Ryder's response, he eases up, knowing its best to let the situation unfold as it should and control the damage at a later date. 

The remark manages to slide past Jax's defenses, large shoulders shrugging off the comment as nothing more than a formality. "We grew up together and then it was arranged for me to become Wren's cävīl and now here we are."

"Cävīl?" Ryder questions, brow cocked as he slowly attempts to pronounce the foreign phrase.

"High Priest," Jax translates, thick lips still molded into his seemingly never-ending smile. "basically an adviser to the king is the best way to put it in layman terms."

Wren can't help but shrink into himself, the tension between the two hastily becoming suffocating. It's as if a heat is radiating from Ryder, the room ten degrees hotter than before as a hand runs through his black hair with more impertinence than usual.

"I'm actually set to become Wren's High Priest." He spits out, venom flowing through each word as he bites back his lip in annoyance. "Which, Wren has never mentioned that he had a Priest before now." The deeper meaning behind his words is obvious. A devilish glint flashes across his eyes if only for a moment as he surveys the man's expression, hunting for the slightest falter in his frustratingly cheery demeanor.