Fiesi hasn't properly appreciated the sunrise in far too long. It sets the sky alight, orange swathes dipping the treetops in golden glitter. A flickering candle that soon becomes a roaring fire, casting the darkness away and sweeping in a fresh blue. Or what scraps can be found of it, anyway, amongst the clouds' blanket.

Interlocking his hands behind his head, he lies back. His eyes weigh heavy. Travelling requires rest, and yet he can't seem to snatch more than a little sleep, especially with the stars glaring down at him all night long.

Once the day has fully arrived, he'll get up. Cloudspotting will do for now.

A sigh drifts from his lips. Maybe he'd get more sleep if he was on his way home now rather than trekking back into Cormé lands. Lifting his head a fraction, he makes out the silhouette of Threlkeld, flanked by the final mountain slopes and a cluster of forest. He might even have to stoop as low as buying more supplies from this town. His father could rant for hours about how coin did nothing but corrupt, a way for some Cormé to feel more powerful than others. A different sort of hierarchy, dictated by another, less magical force.

His father. An ache coils in Fiesi's heart. Hopefully his time on the road won't last too much longer, and if so, perhaps he won't need the supplies.

His stomach growls loudly as if to protest the thought.

As he refocuses on the sky, a smile chases away his thoughts. Amongst the brightening greys of clouds, an azure spec is descending, growing larger until he makes out the narrow shapes of wings. Without sitting up, he stretches his senses out, pulling at the thread that binds them together as it grows less taut. A blue ribbon of fire circles his arm.

Within moments, Rigel lands on his chest. His weight is pressed deliberately into Fiesi's ribs. Fiesi shoots the bird a glare over the bridge of his nose.

"Ouch. You must be getting fat."

Nice to see you, too, my dear Enkavmé. Rigel tips his beak forward. And you are not one to talk. Lazily lounging around while I work my wings off.

"Hey, shut up. I'm getting up in a minute." Propping himself up on his elbows, he makes a futile attempt to shake Rigel off. "Or in an hour, what with this feathered pig pinning me against the ground."

There is definitely haughty annoyance in Rigel's dark eyes. I did not come to be insulted. I actually came to congratulate you.

"Oh?" Fiesi frowns. "On what, exactly? Being casually awesome?"

He huffs out a breath, not entirely in the mood for the joke. It isn't like he's achieved anything in the last two days other than failure.

Rigel isn't either, but that is less unusual. Clearly not. He shakes out his wings. You have forgotten.

"I never forget my awesomeness."

A withering sigh drifts through Fiesi's mind. Congratulations on becoming a fully-fledged moron, little Kynig. It is your birthday.

"My..." A laugh escapes him as he gives his head a shake. "How in Aorila's name has that come already?"

Because that is how time works, is it not? Eighteen years ago, the world had the misfortune of producing you, and now here you lie. Still as insufferably idiotic as that day.

Fiesi grins. "You should write birthday greetings more often, Rigel. You clearly have talent."

Rigel stands a little taller. I am widely talented.

Setting his head back on the grass, Fiesi closes his eyes briefly. Eighteen. It's an odd thought. This certainly wasn't the place he expected to be upon reaching adulthood: alone, on foreign ground, still on the same search that has plagued him for all these years. And so close to it, too.

If he'd played things right, he might have arrived home on his birthday. That would have been perfect. After all, there could be no better present than the gleam of pride in his father's eyes when he announced his success, or the thrill of proclaiming to every other Tía how he had, at long last, vanquished their greatest opposition. How justice had been served. How vengeance had been delivered.

How every soul sacrificed had finally been set free.

Fire flickers warmly in his palm as he curls it into a fist. But none of that happened, because he let the chance slip through his fingers. And if he isn't careful, it will happen again.

His eyes snap open, and he sits abruptly. Letting out a startled squawk, Rigel tumbles from his hold, hurriedly righting himself amongst the grass and staring up indignantly.

Fiesi pokes him in the stomach. "You know the best way to celebrate this occasion, fatty?"

Rigel flares his wings as he dodges backwards. I will not respond to that term.

"It's my birthday. I can call you whatever I want."

Birds haven't the ability to roll their eyes, and yet the action ripples unseen along the flame's binding thread. Do tell me your celebration plans, dearest human who I treasure with all my heart.

Jumping to his feet, Fiesi snatches up his pack. "I'm going to save the world. You in?"

For once, Rigel inclines his head in agreement. Always.

As Fiesi slings the bag over his shoulder and starts off along the path to Threskeld, the bird hops up onto his shoulder in a flurry of flaps. A sharp pain drills into his ear. With a yelp, Fiesi jerks his head sideways. "What was that for?"

Withdrawing his beak, Rigel digs his talons in. If you were not such an idiot, the world would no longer need saving. I will not let slide how easily you ruined a perfect opportunity.

The fire around Fiesi's arm flares up suddenly, cascading towards his hand like an ocean wave. He shakes at it, swatting at the bird, although Rigel dodges with ease. "I didn't know he had the dagger, okay? I never saw it. Yes, that makes me an idiot. Can we move on now and focus on creating the next opportunity?"

You are better than that. The serious note smothering the usual chirp to his tone falters Fiesi's step.

"You are forever at pains to point out that I am no better a fighter than a newly fledged chick. Is the birthday thing throwing you off?"

Rigel shifts his wings. You can avoid it all you like, Fiesi, but we are bound together. It is my job to see all you do. And I saw you hesitate.

Grabbing at his cloak, Fiesi clenches his fist around it, forcing down the flame before it can run ravage over his skin. "Your job is not to point out my mistakes."

I rather think it is a large part, especially with one who makes so many.

Halting in the middle of the path, he twists around, meeting the bird's beady eyes. "Not this time. I didn't hesitate."

A soft squawk slips from Rigel's parted beak, his version of a laugh. You forget I can sense your lies.

Fiesi forces a crooked grin. "Alright, clear off. You shouldn't speak to someone with no breakfast like this. If you're not careful" -- he gives the cloak a harsher tug, sending the material over his shoulder and forcing Rigel from his perch -- "I might act on my desires to taste freshly roasted bluebird."

And I am the fat one, Rigel complains, but he glides a circle rather than trying to land again. Fine. I will search ahead.

"Thanks. Let me know if you spot him."

He hovers for a moment, head cocked, surveying, before another soundless sigh twists around the thread and he disappears into the morning sky.

Immediately, Fiesi regrets chasing him off so quickly. The thread tugs at his heart, once again strained by distance. It's a familiar feeling now, but that doesn't make it any less difficult to bear, especially with the added absence of company in general.

He might even miss Nathan, if only for a friendly someone to talk to.

A short laugh escapes him, though its end dies in his throat. He must have reached new levels of loneliness if he is referring to the Anathe, a beast that has claimed so many lives, as friendly.

But it isn't the Anathe he misses. It's Nathaniel, the boy with a surprisingly sweet laugh and a smile that can't decide whether to linger or vanish for good. The boy who likes the snow, and a girl he met in the depths of Polevis's dungeons. That boy isn't one to be hunted. He's one to be saved, just as Finlay told him, perched on those rocks.

Fiesi clenches his fists. But there is no saving him, and there never will be. This is also the boy with eyes like a moonless night, who stares at fire with a craving akin to a starving man laying eyes on food. Desperately, limitlessly, with little care for consequence.

It is that boy who will destroy the world one day, and so it is that boy who has to die. Nathan will simply be the final sacrifice.

Fiesi just needs to be strong enough to take it.

"D'anei étoi svis," he murmurs to himself, and then lets the tight streets of Threlkeld box away his thoughts.

The shadows the houses cast are deepened by the rising sun, bathing him in a thin veil of shade. He uses its ability to conceal as he shirks into the darker parts, though he keeps his chin up and stride flawless. His flame settles unseen in his core. As a woman steps from her door, he offers her a nod and a smile.

Her gaze is wary, but she doesn't look at him. Instead, her head is perked up, and she cranes her neck to peer along the length of the path ahead.

She's listening for something, Fiesi realises, and hears it a moment later. The bustle up ahead, the clamour of voices, the buzz of panic rolling along the street in waves. Muttering a quick, "Excuse me," to the woman, he marches past her, quickening his pace to a jog as the voices grow louder.

Their source soon becomes apparent. A crowd of nearly two dozen people have gathered, startlingly wide awake for this early in the morning, all loudly chattering and pointing towards a stall at the far end of the square. Curious, Fiesi peers around them, then hurriedly ducks back when he catches sight of what has so easily riled them up.

Chained to one of the stall's posts is a Neyaibet soldier.

Cursing to himself, he creeps back into the shadows. Exactly what he doesn't need. The Cormé's kingdom squabbles are getting tiresome, especially with how constantly their input seems to crop up wherever he goes.

He isn't afraid of Neyaibet, but he's already on a tight schedule. Getting caught now could mean giving up the trail.

A man is shoving his way to the front of the crowd, shouting demands that they be quiet. Fiesi watches him with narrowed eyes, waiting, giving Rigel's thread a hasty tug to encourage the bird to keep searching the area. If there are any other soldiers about, they will need to move fast.

The man waves his arms in wide arcs. Fiesi's primed ears pick up his voice. "Has anyone seen Rovena?"

The chatter fades, blank faces turning to one another. They don't have much time for anything else before another voice rings over the square.

"Looking for me, Aiden? I thought you'd want to handle this yourself."

Even at a distance, Fiesi smirks at the barbed sarcasm dripping from the woman's tone. She has emerged from a street nearer the stall, white cloak flying, her dark hair and skin identifying her as of Akurin roots. It isn't uncommon along the border. Yet most people from Akurin do not hold a sword aloft so decisively, or sharpen their gaze with such ease.

She strides towards the now-silent crowd. Aiden takes a step back. "Everyone," she calls, smothering his attempt to greet her. "We don't have time to hang around. There are more soldiers on the way. Please, return to your homes quickly, and hide any weapons you have. If you want to flee town, now -- and I mean right now this instant -- would be the time to do so."

The people are already dispersing before she has finished, the noise rising again as they scramble over each other to reach their respective streets. Rovena makes to follow them, but Aiden grabs her cloak, yanking her back. She spins on him.

"Do you have the kid?" he snaps. Fiesi stiffens.

Rovena's glare is a spear tinted with venom. "The kid," she says evenly, "is currently running for his life. With your pathetic display last night, I suggest you do the same."

Fiesi connects the pieces in his mind. The Neyaibet captain gave Nathan a black tunic marked by silver thread. Seeing as the plan never involved him setting foot in a Cormé town, Fiesi hadn't considered it an issue at the time, but now his blood runs cold. If Neyaibet finds the Anathe before he can, there will be little hope left for the world's fate.

Another reason Nathan should have died when the chance was presented. Alive, he only provides these kingdoms more fuel in their mission to tear one another apart.

Fiesi scrapes his nails over his cloak, pressing himself into the wall of the nearest house. He really is an idiot.

His thoughts have drowned out the rest of the conversation. It must have been rather one-sided to end so quickly. With a jolt, he realises that Aiden is storming in this direction, and hurriedly pulls himself straighter, starting a walk across the square. He meets the man's eyes, murmuring a quick, "Good day."

Thankfully, Aiden is too busy silently fuming to reply. He disappears down the street, leaving the square empty. Fiesi's gaze darts to the path Rovena vanished down. If she was defending him, that surely means she helped him escape.

As he passes the stall, he makes the mistake of looking over at the trapped soldier, and his step falters.

She clearly has the same recognition. Her head tips sideways, chains clinking, eyes brewing a storm. "Well, well. If it isn't Finlay Hunter."

A smile skips to his lips as he turns fully. "Fayre. A pleasure."

Fayre lunges forward, achieving nothing but a rattle from her binds. "Go to hell, you filthy traitor."

He jabs a finger in the direction of a street. "And what, leave you here in all those awful chains?"

All she replies with is a low snarl.

Stepping forward, he moves close enough to trace her jawline. She tips her head up, smoke clouding her eyes from the fire fuelling their glare. He smirks. "Aw, Fay. What have they done to you? That looks ever so uncomfortable."

"Get off me," she growls.

"And I thought you liked this." His touch reaches her lips, and he taps at them, another hand sliding in amongst her tangled hair when she tries to jerk away. "In the tent, under the moonlight. When every--"

Her teeth snap at him, and he snatches his hand back just in time to avoid being bitten. Another laugh tumbles from his lips. Now this is fun.

"You are absolute scum." She practically spits the words.

He gasps, clutching at his heart. "My, Fay. That's quite hurtful, you know."

As he draws his other hand back, she holds his gaze, anger simmering beneath the surface. "The captain doesn't take kindly to traitors," she whispers. "He will take his time over killing you, but he will, once you've paid your price."

"I know you're trying to threaten me, but I'm oddly attracted to you right now."

She scowls. "If you untie me, I'll ensure he spares your life."

Fiesi pretends to tap at his side, deep in thought. She thrashes, though she achieves nothing more than a rattle from her chains. "Untie me, you rat."

His brow raises. "Come on. Be polite about it."

"Fine. Could you untie me?"

"Say please."

She hisses under her breath. "Please, Finlay, untie me."

He smiles widely at her, leaving a long pause before finally parting his lips. "No."

The binds strain against her lunge, her pinned arms writhing so much the metal links must be leaving marks on her skin. "I hate you."

"Lovely." Fiesi steps back, commanding himself to walk away and focus on the task at hand, when a sudden thought rises to the surface. He moves forward again. "Although," he says, slowly, dragging out her hope, "there is one thing you can do for me."

"And that is?"

He leans in. "You can tell me if you've seen a boy around here." The way she freezes only broadens his grin. "Black eyes, black hair. You know the one."

Her shoulders sag with her sigh. "You'll untie me if I tell you what I saw?"

"Sure." If she looks any less likely to slaughter him, which he doubts, but he'll tease out her knowledge before making the call.

"Fine." Head raised, Fayre meets his stare. "He was wearing those magic gloves Captain mentioned. I almost captured him, but then that woman appeared." She snarls. "Weak, classic Oscensi. But she gave him time to get the gloves off. He would have killed me if she hadn't chained me here instead, I'm sure."

An uneasy knot tightens in his stomach. Nathan kept the gloves. Even when they almost caused his death, he persists in wearing them. Fiesi swallows hard, forcing the thought to the depths of his mind. "And where did he go?"

"That is none of your business."

If the new voice isn't enough to make Fiesi tense, the sword hovering in front of his neck certainly does it.

"I'm afraid it is very much my business." Licking his lips, he draws his head back a little, eyes flitting to the blade's edge. He doesn't fear Cormé weapons, but that doesn't mean they aren't painful. And he'd rather not have to reveal his flame out here. It will draw far too much attention, and that is the last thing Enkavmé are supposed to do.

"And why would that be?"

A smirk tugs at Fiesi's lips. "Rovena, is it? May I turn around and speak to your face? I do prefer it that way." When silence lingers, he adds, "Don't worry, I'll keep this lovely neck accessory you've provided."

The sword shifts, turning so that the flat side faces his throat. He spins on his heels, flashing a smile in Rovena's direction just as she returns the blade to its position. It twitches.

"Talk," she says. Her gaze isn't as fierce as Fayre's, but it summons twice the force. More likeable. Here is a woman who knows how to properly death stare.

As a reward, he doesn't dodge an answer any more than necessary. "You can call me Finlay. Former Neyaibet soldier, now a traitorous nomad the likes of this one" -- he hooks a thumb back at Fayre, who audibly growls -- "absolutely despise. As to why Nathan is my business? I take it you know what he is?"

Rovena's lip twitches in the slightest show of amusement, but any trace of it vanishes at the mention of Nathan. "I do."

"I'm special, you see, in that I'm not afraid of him." Letting his flame burn away anything else, Fiesi keeps his grin in place. "We're friends, I suppose. And, if you don't mind, I'd rather like to find him so he doesn't do anything stupid."

Narrowing her eyes, Rovena tightens her grip on the sword hilt. "Funny. Nathaniel didn't mention any Finlay."

"We're in a bit of a rough patch. But you can trust me." He taps at the flat of the blade. "And you can also get rid of this, seeing as I'm not planning on attacking you."

Dipping her head in a nod, she lowers the sword, though it still rests near to his chest. "He's looking for the Oscensi soldiers. I told him to head for Chiva."

"Chiva," Fiesi echoes, mulling over the word, listening to his flame hiss and burn inside. "North of here, is that?"

"North-east." She jerks the blade, and he curses the unconscious backward step he takes. "Will you leave now? I really don't have the time to deal with another kid fugitive."

"Kid?" He straightens his spine. "I'll have you know I'm eighteen now."

She snorts. "So very old." The edge of the blade ripples his cloak. "Now leave."

"Fine. Except..." Frowning, he cocks his head sideways, directing his gaze somewhere over Rovena's shoulder. "Woah. Would you look at that butterfly?"

She remains rigid, expression unamused. It doesn't matter. Quick as lightning, he whips a hand out, pressing it to her chest, letting his stirring flame rush through his veins.

The air races from her lungs. She tries to slash with her sword, but it slips from her grip, clanging against the cobbles. A blue glow emulates from Fiesi's palm, leaking out as it seeps beneath her pale tunic. A faint sting assures him of its work.

Fayre gasps sharply from behind as Rovena falls to her knees. Within moments, she collapses onto her side, motionless, eyes sliding shut. Carefully removing his hand, Fiesi bends down. A quick check of her pulse returns his slight smirk. "Sorry, Rovena," he whispers into her ear, too quiet for Fayre to catch behind. "I like you. You're smart. But I know a lie when I hear one, too."

"What did you do?" Fayre asks, breathless.

Leaping up, Fiesi spins to face her, offering her a salute. "What I always do, Fay. Be awesome and then disappear."

She yells something else as he takes off across the square, but he doesn't care enough to listen for it. Another laugh bubbles out. It falls away with the street, swallowed by the shadows of the forest he emerges into. He pauses for a moment, letting loose a deep sigh. Rovena might not have been telling the truth about Chiva, but it makes sense for Nathan to seek out the soldiers. Or one in particular.

Summoning a spark of blue fire and twisting it over his fingers, Fiesi marches off into the trees, swiftly leaving Threlkeld behind. It won't be long until he finds the Anathe. Nathan is young and inexperienced. The trail shouldn't be hard to follow.

Just as he promised himself, Fiesi is ending this hunt. This time, he won't hesitate.

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

Fun Fact: Fiesi's birthday is 4th December. Make sure to wish him a proper happy birthday when that time comes. I don't know how the date translates into AToD world since I haven't decided what I want to do with the calendar yet, so... it's just *winter day*

Yep, I brought you more Fin! His PoV is so fun. I love his relationship with Rigel, and just generally his interactions with anyone. We must have our brown-haired idiot with a blue... uh, bird--

Better just hope he doesn't find Nathan, I guess :/

- Pup