Daven sat quietly in the gazebo watching the sunlight trickle through the treetop to the forest floor. Lost in thoughts known only to himself as the gentle sway of the branches above made the rays upon the grass dance in a waltz known only to the wilds of the world. Just as the sun set and the beauty of the world slumbered beneath the light of the moon, the facts were as equally inevitable in his mind.
His people were dying out.
Their long lives paired with the ability to ponder their actions and consequences a slow and inescapable doom all its own. They were by design a race that cataloged and kept notes of the passage of time as well as deeds. The annals they kept in their care the only true sign that they existed to those that could never hope to read the trees as well as they could. To mold the very trees to which they so dearly held close and discern the nature of its shaping.
The trickle of water against the bank, splaying sunshine against the structure behind him in a radiant display that only nature could produce, shook him from his pondering into another trail of despair. What could one person do for a race that was stagnating in their own home. He may have been granted the title to rule over the sparse numbers they held, but watching in silence as his people slowly passed into the dark of night was not how he had hoped to see the future.
The solar orbs hanging from the tree limbs above him gathered light from the stray sun beams that glistened through the foliage. Those in the thicker parts of the canopy were already beginning to glow like the grubs that would eventually turn into the moths that left incandescent trails behind them as they fluttered through the night sky.
Breathing deep the spring air that was alight in the glow of life left him feeling, untouched by the blessing of such a bounty. A small cough brought him from his musing, focusing his attention on his assistant that had joined him at some point or another. She stared at him, the light giving her typically white hair a flaxen color.
"Valyriel." He spoke quietly, as though the world itself would condemn him for a raised tone. A brow cocked at him, obvious able to discern exactly what he had been enthralled with before her arrival.
"My lord, if you wish to wallow in anxiety and misfortune, it would do you well to at least pay more attention to your surroundings. Taranel finished brewing some tea, if you would like some before it becomes cold, I suggest you do more than act as one of the monoliths in the home of our ancestors." Valyriel teased him before slowly turning away as he stood with exaggerated care.
"He always has a way of steeping that outshines even my best efforts." Daven admitted with a touch of chagrin in his voice. Valyriel did not bite on the lure he had placed before her, at least not at first. It took nearly half the ascent of the staircase up to the main hall to finally lose the internal battle of ignoring the quip that presented itself so readily.
"I believe it is known as patience and attention, my lord." Valyriel smiled only a fraction, but Daven was grinning like a small boy at the success of making her crack a grin. She was several centuries his senior, and the most grounded person he had that readily called him friend. That also came with a hearty resistance to his never ending gloom filled perception of the world.
She had been as much a mentor for him as a friend, through both difficult lessons, and being a pillar when others had fallen away. Most described the pair as brother and sister, or at the very least related, even people that had met them only once. Their relationship was built on centuries of being vigilant for one another, from both other people and themselves.
They ascended the stairs into the receiving hall, joined by Taranel, patiently waiting for them. The man was skilled with brewing, an alchemy teacher and adviser for the young king since a young age. Not nearly as long as Valyriel, and no where near as reliable. Taranel was always one to err on the side of caution and taught Daven to do as much as well. That did not carry over with his words however, just his brewing techniques.
"Was he silently staring off into the wild, as though-" Taranel began as Valyriel made a sound of annoyance, passing him by while he turned his gaze to their king. "Mehris wouldn't-"
"Silence." Daven snapped, eyes sharply focused on the other elf. Valyriel swiveled and stopped an arms length from the other man, not entirely sure what role she would have to fill in that moment. Caught between the pair, Taranel played his only card.
"The tea. I've already had to warm it once. Twice will scald it." He kept himself from stammering. It wasn't fear of Daven that made him cut short his comment, it was the fear of what his words might do to the their king. They had been meant to keep him from acting so incredibly predictably, not an arrow of spite. Alas, he tended to miss both his target and purpose.
"You might as well have invited her here Taranel, the way you buried yourself. Huh." Elova huffed, knocking her shoulder into his as she passed by Daven and followed quickly behind Valyriel. Elova had been assigned as his personal guard shortly after Valyriel had been made his nanny and lead tutor. She was an excellent hunter, and a deadly archer. Taranel opened his mouth to explain, or at least try to form words before Daven raised a hand to silence him and watched his mouth close.
"Enough, I just want to sit, quietly. And enjoy your tea." Daven sighed, exasperated beyond reason at the display so early in the evening. Taranel opened his mouth again, blew out a breath and nodded. He rubbed his hands together as he walked with Daven into the main hall. The ladies had already taken their seats and poured their own cups, leaving Taranel to serve Daven.