Kysenn couldn't even stand to watch his student for one second longer. The young priest-mage was managing his seventh failure of the day, this one even more spectacular than the last. The spell was simple and the ingredients were basic. Kysenn was sure that he could pull just about any child in off the streets of Nragser and have them doing the spell correctly within five minutes.

But Ri'za-in was a disaster unto himself. Without a second thought, Kysenn found himself praying for a distraction. He wanted to take leave of his charge, possibly until the urge to bang his head against the wall went away.

"Er, this isn't right..." Ri'za-in glanced back to where Kysenn stood. Yet again the spell had failed, leaving Ri'za-in with a clump of gelatinous goo where a shimmering crystal should have been.

"Try again," Kysenn demanded, his voice unconsciously reflecting his fatigue.

"But I..."

"Try again!" Kysenn replied, only to be suddenly startled by a knock at the door. Before he could even turn to answer, the door swung open and the golden Light came in, her bright and airy robes glittering around her.

"Kysenn, dearest, our lord summons you," she sang, twirling around once before finishing off with a bit of maniacal laughter.

Raising an eyebrow, Kysenn couldn't help questioning Light's sudden appearance. Usually it was Mere or Star who were sent to him. Light was generally better off locked amongst her rooms, bathing in the dazzling glow of years past and her ever-slipping sanity.

"I said, dearest Kysenn..."

"I heard you the first time, Lady," Kysenn replied, suddenly knowing the exact reason for his reprieve.

Ri'za-in was watching them both intently, not noticing that his accidental goo was running off the table to pool and stain his own clothing.

"Then you shall go!" she cried, her singsong voice threatening to wail.

"And you shall stay and watch my student," Kysenn said quickly, bowing and practically running from the chamber. The pair deserved each other, he decided, as he raced through the dim hallways of the chateau.

Just before reaching Dayn's suite, a woman stepped out of the shadows and held up a hand.

"Be careful what you wish for," she said softly before disappearing back into the shadows. Kysenn couldn't help a wince. It had been ages since he had seen his shadow guide, the Spectir Taoura. He had not bothered to summon her often during his generally uneventful servitude.

Still, he did not call her back to him. If he was desired by the lord of the manor, then there was no reason to delay his arrival.

Taoura was still on his mind though, as he knocked. He was nearly oblivious as the door swung open and Dayn himself seemed to have been the one to have opened it.

Kysenn knew that whenever Dayn's servants weren't to be seen, something was up.

"My Lord," Kysenn said automatically. It was a conditioned response after so many decades.

"Kysenn... you wished for some sort of... escape from your current task?"

Dayn's voice was warm and soothing yet at the same time malicious and all-encompassing. No one would ever be able to deny that Dayn had the charisma of a god, even if he lacked the control.

"Life-giver... that new one, he frustrates me," Kysenn explained. "I should wish myself anywhere besides watching him fail at spells that even a commoner could perfect!"

"And am I the 'anywhere' you seek?"

"I did not mean it as..." Kysenn knew it was too late to take back his misspeak. Instead he just stared at the god, his head high. He knew that if Dayn wished something more of an apology, he had no choice in the matter.

Dayn chuckled. It was a deep, rumbling noise that seemed to come from a vast pit within Dayn's strong frame.

"And since you have freed me from the day's torment, what do you wish of me?" Kysenn inquired. He had ideas, of course, as to just what the god might come up with as a fair trade.

"Actually, Kysenn, I have yet to decide. Wouldn't it be best to share a bit of wine with me and sit out overlooking the garden?" Dayn offered, gesturing for Kysenn to follow him to another room.

Kysenn nodded, amused as he watched Dayn turn to open a heavy wood door. The god's hair was the same midnight black as his goddess mother's, yet his had more of a springing curl to it that turned into waves because of sheer length and weight.

Sometimes Kysenn found himself wondering just how difficult of a birth Dayn had been, or if he had just jumped from his mother's vast universal womb without hesitation. The white of Dayn's wings was a stark offset to his dark hair and dark, rich clothing. Yet they did not look unnatural - instead they moved ever so gently with each of Dayn's movements, the same muscle connecting all of his body.

Whether Dayn had singularly sired the entire race of Agassians who still had great white wings or if he had just had a hand in their creation, no one knew for sure. And there was no point in asking the god - surely no matter the answer, Dayn would claim to have bedded every woman who would eventually bear winged offspring.

Or die trying.

"You want them, don't you?" Dayn was offering Kysenn a glass of wine.

Kysenn offered a questioning grunt before feeling quite embarrassed as he took the wine. He hadn't realized that he had been staring.

"You want what was taken from you."

Wincing, Kysenn turned away and quickly downed the contents of his glass.

"Don't deny it, Kysenn." There was something about the way that Dayn said his name that Kysenn couldn't ignore. He knew quite well that Dayn talked to everyone in this way, yet it still held so much power.

"He who had his wings stolen from him..." Dayn set his glass upon a table and circled Kysenn. Kysenn couldn't help but flinch as Dayn's hands descended upon his back, reaching for the scarred lumps hidden by layers of clothing.

"What a curse it must be, to have had your wings stolen from you even after killing your own mother with them... Wronged, aren't you Kysenn?" Dayn brushed aside some of Kysenn's hair and reached for the clasps of Kysenn's outer-cloak. "Those horrid scars... I bet you feel them burn in your sleep. Do you dream of your wings?"

It had been decades since Kysenn could remember crying. Tears did not even sting at his eyes though Dayn's words stung at his heart. He had been but a babe, not even aware of himself when everything had happened. He certainly could not be held responsible for his position in his mother's womb. He never would have meant to rip her open with the strong bone and young feathers of his own wings.

"I do," Kysenn replied, not entirely sure where the day was heading, nor why Dayn was being so cruel.

"Would you... like yours back?"

Kysenn gasped. He knew the offer was true, yet he knew there was an ulterior motive somewhere in the god's line of thinking. The god of life did not do anything without a kickback of some sort.

"I..."

Taoura's warning suddenly sounded in his head. Taoura was a Spectir, a mist-born shadow spirit who knew that which was the truth. Surely if she had come without being summoned just to tell him one thing, it was truly something important.

Dayn was still slowly playing at the clasps to his clothing, Kysenn realized. Either way, he was not leaving the day without giving over his body. Perhaps though, Kysenn thought, it would be the most welcome break he could imagine.

"Dayn..."

He never thought he would find himself guiding the god, pressing his lips to Dayn's. It wasn't just the offer to regain something lost; it was being lost in itself, entirely.

Dayn tasted of the wine and of a sort of magic that could only be described as a delicious sweet and sour blend of sheer power. Kysenn couldn't help but stroke the soft down at the base of Dayn's wings, marveling at how it changed so quickly into strong white feathers that kept their shape and color no matter the situation.

Instead of heading back towards the main room and to somewhere more comfortable, Dayn pushed Kysenn towards the balcony.

"Answer me another time, Kysenn," Dayn said, finally freeing Kysenn of his clothing. Kysenn couldn't help a slight blush. Normally nothing could shake him, but knowing that the god was almost fetishizing the scar tissue lumps where his wings should have been was an unsettling thing. And feeling Dayn's hot breath the instant before feeling those lumps being delicately kissed - it was both humiliating and arousing at the same time.

"Yes, Dayn, I will..."

Beautiful white, Kysenn couldn't help but think, even as he was forced to look out and away as he was pressed against the railing of the balcony. Beautiful white.