Arfur

---

"My gifts mean nothing without you to guide me." Arfur, once of the Clan of Frithsamur in the Southern Icefield, born of the Viridian Labyrinth in the north, settled in the Sea of a Thousand Currents mostly because Von and Otta did. He had never felt any especial connection to the water, nor felt any need to search its depths, but with his old friends by his side strange things began to appear beautiful. Adhara and Aldo offered them sanctuary in the clan they were founding, and Arfur found himself suddenly caught up in the rush of emotion - hope and fear and dizzying optimism - that was Ista in its founding days, and time passed like a dream for him. Arfur had never been a soul of particular ambition. Once the initial whirlwind few years of the clan had passed and life began to settle into routine, he slowly realised that he didn't know what he wanted to do. Adhara was a generous leader. Anything he wished to persue, she said, the clan would accommodate. The world was at his feet, and he had no idea what to do with it. After three days of fretting, Lafiris dragged him away to a little-used cavern of the lair, and settled in to wait. She had only been hatchling when he'd first arrived, but quick-witted and cunning as she was, her cool and collected nature had provided an excellent foil for his worries and they'd become excellent friends. "'Anything I want', she said. What does that mean?" "I presume it means you can pick and choose," Lafiris replied without missing a beat. Deadpan as ever, it was difficult to tell sarcasm from sincerity with her, and he told her so. "Whatever. Why don't you try thinking around it."

"How?"

She shrugged.

"What does the clan need, right now?"

Still in its infancy, Ista was short of several positions. Clan Guard, scouts, lookouts, fighters. Warriors and protectors, for the most part.

"But I can't be a fighter. For my clan I would... There is..."

"There are lines you don't want to cross," she finished, nodding serenely. "And you're terrible at fighting, anyway."

"Not all of us are built for stealth, Lafiris."

She pretended to ignore the compliment, but he saw her feathers shift with pleasure, even in the half light. The movement threw her shoulder into stark relief in the torchlight and he winced. There was a deep scrape across her humerus, flushed an angry red, which her claw shifted across automatically as he stared.

"It's nothing."

"Nothing? It looks like you tried to tangle with a shattered serpent. What did you do?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I just got caught in the kelp beds, that's all. It pulled me down and I hit a rock."

There was a brief pause as they glared at one another, his claw resting on hers, against her shoulder. The flame from the torch sprang up suddenly, responding to the cooling of the stone around it as the tide rose beyond the lair's walls, and the moment broke. Lafiris looked away first and dropped her claw.

It was, thankfully, not as bad as it had first looked. It was angry, yes, and had most likely bled a great deal, but it was already scabbing over. It didn't seem to be infected, either; a considerable plus. But Arfur was nothing if not thorough in his tasks, and 'mostly alright' was not what he wanted.

He pressed his claw against her shoulder and focused deep within himself. Life magic was a rare gift, even amongst those born to the Gladekeeper's guidance. It felt like peace, deep down; a well of stillness and possibility. He found it and pushed down his arm. Somewhere, beyond himself, Lafiris gasped as the spell sank into the wound, and he brought his other claw up to hold her still, spreading his wings and pinning her against the wall, until the prickling of the scrape fell away, and the Life magic could find no more to work against.

"There now, that wasn't so bad."

She tilted her head, white eyes as inscrutable as ever, though her ruff gave away her amusement.

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

"Insults? When I helped you? Shame on you."

"That's not what I mean." She settled back down, folding one forearm across the other and waited for his mind to catch up. "Let's try again: what is it that this clan still needs?"

Arfur blinked. Then, slowly, he began to smile.

---

Arfur is one of the clan's two healers. Strong in the use of Life magic, he is often called upon on the battlefield, though this is his least favourite moment for healing. Bringing those back from the brink of death, while ultimately satisfying, is unsettling for him, as his magic brushes the folds of the World Beyond in doing so, and each time it is harder to pull away.

Adhara and Von - now clan deputy and micromanaging more of the clan than he'd care to admit - begged him to accompany them in training, and so he learned a few offensive tricks as well. While Merlin tends the day-to-day wounds and illnesses of the clan, therefore, Arfur is the clan's Battle Mage: its last resort and desperate measure. He wishes to always be useful, and therefore often pushes himself far beyond what he is comfortable with.

He will serve, he will help. And he will be remembered for it, he reminds his friends, when they caution against overdoing it. No act is entirely selfless, after all, and the desire to live in another's mind, perhaps long after he himself is gone, may be the most selfish wish of all.



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