A Young God and Their Fae (o/o)

The elder Fae woman grinned, already enthralled by Seon's devotion to Arenwyn. "Indeed, it is quite upsetting. I know we will be without his brooding for quite some time, and Echa will be without her playmate, but…" She drummed her nails along her knee, thinking. Simone cleared his throat and stared at his wife, the pointed gaze meaningful but only decipherable by Venera. "Ah, of course." She fluttered around for a moment, searching for something, then pulled out a parchment of paper and handed it to Seon. Scrawled across it was a messy and scratchy map, place names illegible and drawings barely more than scribbles—she had done her best while rushing to get it down.
"Head to the mountains, the path beginning at the River of Hinae, where Arenwyn's destiny wove with yours." She tipped her head, lime eyes otherworldly in a way as they stared at Seon and surveyed him. "You know of the place I speak of, yes?" She didn't explain how she knew where to look, or how she knew what God—or rather, Goddess—waited within those mountains. "If not," Venera gestured to the parchment, "Aren should be able to direct you using that."

"Once." Venera leaned back in her chair and glanced at her husband, who only let a trickle of worry into his features. She shook her head and focused on Seon. "I have made the journey once. Let me tell you this, to ease your worries." Her hand reached over and rested on the God's knee, patting him once. "Trust me, darling. Aren is fully capable of handling himself, and is even more protected by having you at his side. I would not be trusting him to go on this journey if I wasn't confident he will be okay." Family secrets she intended to keep for now lined the silver of her surety. Wyn knew of their heritage, knew of the stories passed down the generations. If he felt he trusted Seon enough to tell his companion, then she would allow him the chance to do so on his own.
She squeezed Seon's knee and smiled, lips crooked and resembling that of her son's own crooked smiles. "I understand the rumors, and your worries. He will be okay." Her smile widened. "You care a lot about him. I appreciate that. It's good to know he'll have your protection over him."

Venera blinked, realizing Seon spiraling down into a panic. She opened her mouth to say something, to try and calm the God, but something behind him stopped her from saying anything. Instead, she withdrew from Seon and let the events unfold.
Delicate hands slipped over the God's face, heels of palms tracing the lines of his jaw before plummeting. Tips of fingers danced down Seon's neck and circled to their collarbones, then crossed one another until a body was leaning into their back, and arms were encircling Seon in a backwards hug. Wyn rested his chin on Seon's shoulder, nosing his way into the crook of his neck. "You're okay, love. It's okay," he whispered. He had no idea what happened or what Seon was panicking over, but he knew the moment he walked outside that something was wrong. Seon was hurting, and Wyn wanted to help in any way he could. "I'm here." He burrowed closer, holding Seon close. "I'm here."

Wyn hugged Seon to his chest and into his neck, refusing to let go of the God until he knew for sure that he was okay. But for now, he held on tight and murmured repeated reassurances and comforts. Every now and again, he'd press a soft and lingering kiss to Seon's shoulder or neck, always right after a promise that he was okay and safe. His parents watched from the side, exchanging knowing glances. He knew what they were thinking. It was more clear now that the two of them were more than just friends and travel companions. They'd recognize his instinct to act on Seon's distress, despite not having the slightest idea of what happened to cause it. His father often rushed to his mother's side whenever the littlest thing upset her. That's what he had done right here, and his constant smothering only solidified the more intimate turn their relationship had taken. Not that it had been much of a secret before, with them practically cuddling earlier.

Wyn took the map, but didn't abandon his original quest. Instead, he split his attention between the two. Flipping open the map while keeping his face pressed against Seon, as well as keeping it mostly out of view of the God, he darted his gaze around the scribbles and horrific handwriting. His mother may have her beauty and radiant authority, but she sure lacked penmanship. Wyn recognized what she was trying to point them towards, thankfully, so he folded the parchment and tucked it away in the waistband of his pants, then went back to completely holding Seon.
He didn't move away just yet, even when Seon seemed to be feeling a little better—at least, better enough to sit up and start wiping away the tears. Wyn wanted to make sure he was okay. Them putting on a facade wouldn't rid them of his comfort. Not until he was convinced. Venera caught his eye and tilted her head, asking a silent question. He stared back, confused, then nodded when she gestured to the two of them. Not entirely the truth, because he wasn't completely sure if they were together or simply people who have kissed a total of three times within a few minutes. In any case, he and Seon would be leaving soon, so he didn't see it all that prudent to discuss his relationship with them to his parents. If they tried to subject him to the safe sex conversation, he'd declare they needed to leave for the journey ahead—he really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Wyn eyed Seon when he leaned back into his body, gauging his emotions and thoughts. He wasn't too good at it, and that frustrated him, but he still tried. Here and there, he'd lean down and kiss the top of Seon's head, his own thoughts racing. What had caused this breakdown? What could he do to better help Seon? What could he do to lessen the chances of triggering another one? There was so much he didn't know, and he really wished that weren't the case, but unfortunately he couldn't do anything about it without being a nosy arse.
"Of course," Venera chirped, perhaps a little too cheerful. Her eyes locked onto her son, demanding he take care of the God on the road ahead. The look he shot her said he didn't need parental orders to take care of his Seon. She stood and squeezed Wyn in a bone-crushing hug, then Simone took his turn. "We'll miss you both, and wish you all the luck in the world." She even hugged Seon, though her grip was loose and brief, aware that the God was still shaken. Simone refrained from the gesture, though he did nod and smile warmheartedly—a man of few words, as always. Wyn, once free, latched onto Seon's arm and pressed his cheek into their shoulder, still worried but not wanting to smother them anymore in front of his parents.
"We should pack while they go," he murmured, low enough that his parents couldn't hear. "Get some things we need so we don't have to buy more than necessary."

Wyn followed Seon into the house and up the stairs, and turned to face them when they stopped. Something was off with the God, and it killed him that he didn't know what was wrong or how to help. So when he was practically dismissed, he didn't take it personally. Wyn opened his mouth to say something, closed it, reached a hand out with the intention of kissing Seon's cheek, then dropped it and nodded without carrying it out. "I'll be quick," he whispered, then turned and headed into his room.

Rushing around his room, he changed his clothes to something more apt for traveling than his pajamas. Wyn pulled on his black leather pants, the material well-worn and flexible but practically new-looking still. Next was a button-up blouse, the white material clean and actually new. Over it was a leather corset-type accessory that wrapped around his waist and laced at his back. He pulled up a pair of muddy brown travel boots that nearly went up to his knees, also laced. Next was the long velvet cloak, the hood far too large for his head but tended to work wonderfully to hide his face when pulled up. He grabbed some leather bracers and strapped them onto his arms, then moved towards a chest pushed against the wall of his room. Inside was a bag already packed with essentials, including the "essential" jewelry that Wyn liked to wear in a small hidden compartment, along with bags of coin. Next to the bag, which he pulled out, were weapons. He grabbed two daggers and slid them into their hidden sheaths on the top of his bracers, an assortment of throwing knives that went into the corset, and a bow with a covered quiver of arrows. The bow was slung over his shoulder, beneath the cloak, and the quiver strapped to a set of clips on the corset. And all that was left…
Wyn gently lifted the sword left in the chest, sliding it partially out of the sheath. He had never brought this weapon along with him, thinking it unnecessary. A gift from his ancestor, passed down the generations. Even throughout the years, it never dulled, never lost its delicate etchings of interpreted beauty along the blade. A perfect curve, perfect balance, and perfect grip. After a moment of hesitation, he slid it back into its sheath and strapped it to his hip. This time, it just might be needed.
Now ready, Wyn turned on his heel and headed back to Seon. This was it.

Wyn shook his head while tying up his hair, careful to not disturb the braids put there by Seon. "No, I have some preserved jerky I can eat on the way." He surveyed Seon, head tilted. Wyn had to remind himself that Seon was a God, and didn't need to be as prepared as him. It didn't stop him from wishing they had at least something. Something was better than being left with nothing. He'd be viewed as defenseless, an easy picking. But again, Wyn backed off.
"Míría has been informed. I told her to seek out Phorae for company and to look after the house while I'm gone. Obviously my parents know now and will take care of anything else she doesn't get to. All my essentials are packed." He wiggled the bag in hand. "Coin, preserved food, a water bag, clothing, so on. Weapons." The only visible weapons being his bow and sheathed sword. "We should be set to leave now." He wanted to, so badly, reach out and hold Seon, but he had a feeling he wouldn't be welcomed. Besides, they needed to go, and he'd only slow them down by clinging to the God.

Uneasy but not going to argue with the God, Wyn followed, bidding goodbye to his plants and asking them to protect his house. Leaves rustled and petals waved. He'd be gone far longer than his past travels, that he knew for certain, but at least he had the experience of it to keep his head on straight and not flounder in the face of obstacles. His parents knew that, so they only grasped his hand for a second in a final farewell, and he slipped away with Seon to begin their journey.
Wyn trailed slightly behind Seon as they walked, mind switching gears. He'd likely need to hunt at some point, as his jerky and other magically preserved foods would only last them for so long. He had flints for starting fires, and had practiced using his knives to create the sparks. Of course, the hidden coin in the chance of theft. Wyn brushed his fingers over the sheath holding his sword, hoping he wouldn't need to use it—but chances were, he would. At the very least, if he were challenged and need a God's favor outside of Seon, he had it as an indisputable token. Clothing and tailoring equipment. Blankets.
In silence, he mentally went through the list, checking and double-checking. Something to fill the silence, but also put his mind at ease during his little ritual while setting off for a journey.

Watching Seon did nothing to answer his confusion. He had no idea what Seon was doing or thinking as he entered the river, and wasn't particularly fond of the idea of joining them for a midnight bath. So he leaned against the nearest tree, arms crossed over his chest, and watched them stand in the water. For half a second, his mind tricked him into thinking that Seon would start bathing, and he covered his mouth and nose to rub at the instant blush. "I do hope you're not here to brood," he said, trying to hide his flushed complexion. "Because as much as I'm happy with letting you do your thing… whatever this is… I'd recommend brooding while on the move. Y'know. Practicality." His nerves were getting the best of him, leading to nonsensical babbling, so he shut his mouth and shifted his weight to his other leg, itching his calf with his opposite heel. On the road with Seon. What sort of life would that bring? He still didn't know where their relationship stood, so he refrained from assuming too much. How often would they make camp? Would Seon prefer that over stopping at an inn? Wyn usually preferred sleeping in a bed, but he didn't mind the earthen floor. His eyes lingered on the God's clothing. They'd have to change at some point. Wyn doubted Gods were exempt from getting dirty. Smelling, perhaps, but dirt? That had to be universal, and Wyn refused to travel with an unkempt companion that didn't change clothing for something clean.

Wyn tipped his head to the side, watching Seon more closely. His curiosity got the better of his worry, and he started paying more attention after being ignored. If the God were actually being melodramatic, they'd give him a response. But there were no words, muted or joking, and that told him to pay attention.
Seon seemed to be deep in thought and incredibly withdrawn into himself. Meditating? Maybe this was Seon's way of calming down from whatever had spooked them from before. Wyn didn't want to inturrupt anymore, if he had even been heard, so he slid down to the ground against the tree and pulled the hood over his head, keeping himself curled up in his cloak and out of Seon's way. To keep himself busy, he pulled out his daggers one by one to make sure they were sharp, carefully running his fingers over the edge of each blade. Every once and a while, he'd glance up to check on Seon. I hope you're okay, he silently prayed, and I hope I can someday help you be okay.

Seon's voice startled Wyn. A quick and unfortunate flinch left him swearing swiftly and quietly. Little beads of blood rose up from the pad of his fingers and his palm, double and clean cuts stretched across his hand. Not wanting to worry the God, or leave them unanswered, Wyn hid the wound in the folds of his cloak as he stood. "I–? No?" He walked over to the river, cautious of the harsh waters, and stopped just before the God and sat down. Yellow peeked out from beneath his hood, confused. To see Seon better, Wyn used his good hand to pull back the hood, revealing furrowed brows. Now, he could make out the little touches of detail the moon highlighted on their face, as well as the oddly different hue of their eyes. Almost on instinct, he reached out to brush his knuckles over Seon's wrist—again, with his good hand—just to provide that physical presence. "I didn't say anything. What did you hear?"

Once again, cheeks bloomed rose, and Wyn rested his forehead against Seon's shoulder while staring at their joined hands. "Ah. That." No, he hadn't spoken. But he had thought it. Prayed for it. He hadn't realized Seon would actually hear it, and the knowledge that he had sent him into a spiral. Wyn wrapped his other hand around his stomach, palm to body, and cuddled close to the God. 'Others.' He didn't want to think about the implications of that meaning, as well as the suggestion that his simple worry for Seon went above the set standard of care for the God. Wyn bumped his nose against Seon's shoulder, recognizing the tone, and smiled slightly. "It is of concern to me. You're allowed to stay here for as long as you need, love. I'm not stopping you." A quick and simple kiss to the side of their head. "You heard me. I want you to be okay, and if being here helps, then please, don't be in a rush for the sake of time." He didn't want to be that partner that valued punctuality and being on a set schedule over his partner's mental and physical well-being. Wyn wanted to help, and if him encouraging Seon to take just a few extra minutes did that, then he'd gladly sit and wait.

Wyn watched Seon as they zoned in and out, a tiny, slightly sad smile dancing across his features anytime he caught Seon getting lost into his thoughts. Something told him that they weren't thinking anything philosophical or quietly analyzing the littlest thing he saw, but their pensive expression highlighted by the moonlight and water's reflection made them terribly attractive—and Wyn had a front-row viewing. Did it make him just a little guilty for admiring a probably upset Seon? Most definitely, and it sent him into an inner turmoil. Did I deserve to stare?
He didn't need to worry much, though, as that smile disappeared the minute the God suggested he get into the water. Somehow he shifted from awestruck to radiating an air of offence, all with out blatantly changing his expression. "I'm quite acquainted with the tide's temper, and how easily it is for them to move me off my feet."

Wyn didn't know what to say to that. His main concern lied in his past experiences with being thrashed around by ocean waves while supposedly safe on a ship, or being caught in a current while crossing a river and ending up a mile away from where he wanted to be. He and the very respectable element did not get along in the slightest, which he understood and practiced caution when needed. But this river seemed to sing a song of Seon's comfort and safety, and his mind's clarity. In his bid for respect and personal safety, Wyn would be disrespecting that relationship by refusing the God's request.
So he let himself be pulled along, neither hesitant nor eager. "Do not let go," was all he warned, and kept close to Seon's body while eyeing every footstep he allowed towards the river. His injured hand, now stinging something fierce, stayed tucked around his waist, though he kept wanting to hold it out for balance. Seon couldn't know of the injury. He would fuss, and Wyn wasn't the one in need of fussing.