Obsession is the height of passion, but what does one do when they find themselves enthralled with their enemy. Talamayas Sol loses his mother when he stumbles upon a mage in the deserts of his territory, and he is plunged into a despair he's never...
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Wren's gaze spiraled into the wall of the mage complex room they had given him. It was sparsely populated with a bed, a bookshelf, his medical equipment of course, and the cold bench he sat on. There was heat in the room, but Wren felt cold, and it washed over him in waves each time the panic attack renewed. The mages had decided to call Talamayas here to talk prior to the meeting for the alliance. They couldn't have all this blowing up in their faces on the day of, and it didn't matter if it was today, tomorrow, or the next to Wren.
It would be the same.
Vice hadn't said anything to him since he'd made the spell for Tala to go back home, just sat there on the bench next to him as invisible as always. The most he'd done was express his displeasure at what was happening by tugging on Wren's mage attire with frustration earlier. It also wasn't like Wren had tried to converse with him. Vice was loyal to Tala, body and soul, and Wren was just a play thing, a pet that Tala had allowed out of his cage for a year. Vice wouldn't console him, nor would he protect him or care when Tala turned on him.
A soft knocked echoed on the door, and Wren sat himself up with a groan of pain.
"Enter," Wren said.
The door creaked while Wren tried to figure out what the mages wanted now. They'd been over his relationship with Tala backwards and forwards. Some things Wren had omitted, like how they slept and bathed together, but others they had prodded him for so that they knew what their leverage was. With an alliance with the vampires at stake, the most important had been if Tala owned him by vampire law. After all of these years, Tala had never bitten him, and they certainly weren't that physical, so Wren was owned by no one.
Instead of the normal acolytes who'd been grilling him, the pleasant navy weave of Silvia Copse's short hair peaked past the old anti-magic door. It had been the longest year since he'd met her, and without her, he'd still be in the dungeons. Wren had a fondness for her, the fervor she threw at anyone with ears, the compassion she held for even vampires like Talamayas, and the sheer force of her will to stand next to her vampire mate and refuse to fall in line with the rest of the mage's beliefs about their kind.
"Silvia." Wren had expected another Levisca mage, but the woman was more than welcome. While the complex here was full of so many old souls, something young and willing to change and fight for peace was nice.
As soon as Silvia saw him trying to sit up for her, she sat on the bench in a flash of concerned movement. A chuckle escaped Wren as he knew Vice had to have darted away to not get squished, but it was so light that he himself couldn't audibly perceive it.
"Not expecting me?" Silvia asked seriously, almost as if she might walk out and make an appointment.
"No, but I'm happy to see you," Wren said genuinely, his gaze softening as his thoughts of the girl smothered his worries about Tala for just that long.
