Nesting Instincts [Aurin]

[Torin Kilvin]

Searing 81, 121

Torin Kilvin walked down the streets with a confidence in his step that had been utterly lacking as Searing had turned to Ash a year gone. He had felt like a boy then, a lost one, as he'd mounted the wagon his old master had paid his passage into the city on. Leaving the only home he'd ever known had been a traumatic experience for the young runesmith.

Torin did not look back on that as he walked now. Now, he looked forward, where his feet, and heart, and life were taking him; to a new home. He hoped anyway. The broken-down forge and shop with a small house attached had sounded ideal when Aurin had told him what the redhead had discovered. The state of the place might have put others off, old, no longer in good repair, but for Torin, it just meant that when he was able (with the help of a trained house carpenter) to put it back together it would be his. Something he had helped make, restored, brought to use again. That felt right inside him. Others had taken a broken boy and put him right again, (mostly), he thought it was fitting that he should work to earn his home.

The money he'd saved so carefully was another way he had worked for his home but not one so tangible. Buying a brand new cottage with a forge and shop might have cost the same, but they wouldn't have felt like he was a part of them. It should feel like he was returning to friends, to a team that worked together, when he came home.

The shop wasn't in the Jeweled Arches, where, as far as he knew, every other runeforge in the city was located, but it was close. It hadn't been a runeforge at all to its previous owner, only a duel blacksmithy. Clearing out what little old equipment was left and installing new things would be a part of earning the respect of his workspaces.

It was, perhaps, foolish to build up such hope and affection for a place he'd never seen before, but he did not know better. Mostly what he knew was worse, without hope, or with only so much to eke out his existence upon.

Turning a corner he caught a flash of copper and cream among the people on the street and grinned. Haste marked his steps as he covered the final half-block to where Aurin stood before a surprisingly nice, iron-bound double door. Taking a step back the blond saw that it was about the only thing that was nice to the shop front and long, crumbling fence that faced the busy street.

"Well, bad man," he greeted, "Have you found a place to keep your boy?"

[Aurin]

It had taken some investigation to find this place and the other potential spots he had shown Torin, but he really did think this was the place. He would get more for his coin because they could fix it up and, in doing so, shape it to their needs. Really, it was all about Torin's needs, but he always wanted Aurin's input and he knew he would spend a fair amount of time here, so he didn't mind sharing his thoughts and the labor of his hands, though he hadn't much training in building things with his hands. They had always been taught to destroy.

A knife balanced from a callused fingertip as he waited, his eyes intent upon it, using his seeing trick to observe how the aether subtly shifted about it as he let his muscle memory respond to the little bobs and weaves. It wasn't all a seeing trick, he realized. He could hear the energy, smell it, feel it. Perhaps that was why he gave the knife a bit of a boost so it flipped and he caught it deftly by the hilt, immediately looking up, hazel eyes locking on the wheat-haired apprentice who was soon to be his own master—well, sort of. His vulpine smile welcomed Torin into his orbit and he fingered the point of his knife for a moment, testing that callus, before he hid it away somewhere upon his person. Aurin did like his secrets almost as much as he liked other people's secrets.

In answer to the question, he hooked his hand around the nape of Torin's neck and pulled him in for a rough, hungry kiss, though he probably wasn't going to sate that familiar hunger out here on the street in front of the Gods and everyone.

"Your castle awaits, Master Smith," he said, voice husky all the same. He pulled out a key with the same deftness as he had displayed with his blade, the key he had procured so the prospective buyer could have a look without feeling rushed. Aurin pushed the key into Torin's hand, symbolically giving him the key to his future, or what Aurin hoped was his future. He had already seen the place and thought Torin would love it, though it might be a slow burn.

He gave Torin's ample rump a possessive slap and stepped up close behind him as if to usher him inside or, perhaps, take him against the gate. Their chemistry sparked at the oddest times.

"I would keep you chained to my bed, but you would whine about being useful," he growled.

[Torin Kilvin]

The kiss in public was unexpected and more exciting for it. The younger man had to clear his throat under dazed eyes before he could pull himself together, and adjust himself subtly before taking the dusty old key and turning to fit it to the door.

The slap had him biting his lip hastily to keep in a sound that would have been inappropriate for the public street they were standing on (at least in the country boy's mind). The position, which might look innocent enough, made fitting key to lock a flustered fumble that Torin had no doubt amused the redhead.

Once the door finally opened, allowing both men to step, Torin practically falling, through, he pushed the door shut behind them and grabbed his mentor for a long moment of expressing how it felt to be near the man he called Master again after what had seemed a long time apart. Only after he broke from the prolonged greeting did his eyes actually begin to take in the room they now found themselves in.

The room was small, dusty, with a leak in one window having made the wood sill swell and a spot on the floor change colors. There were rusted display hooks on the walls that might once have held examples of the blacksmith's trade. A slim counter ran almost the breadth of the room opposite the door, with just enough space to one side to allow someone to pass from before it to behind it. Torin saw the light, from all three windows, how it would set off his work to the eyes of customers. He saw the large bay window with its display shelf visible to passersby. Stepping away from Aurin, momentarily distracted he walked the few paces that made up the entirety of the shop floor, touching nothing, just looking. Stepping behind the counter he found more storage space in cabinets along its length, and a doorway with neither door nor curtain that led back into a storage room much like the one behind the shop he worked in then, only smaller. There was room for basic supplies and to store duplicate merchandise or items too precious to keep out where any eye might spy them.

In the far wall of the storage space, there was another door, plain wood and in need of replacement. It was not locked when he carefully tried to handle and he stepped out into the yard he had briefly glimpsed through the dilapidated fence.

The grass was overgrown in some places, dead in others, there was a vague path worn by feet between the door he'd just opened at the smithy positioned far enough as to not affect the shop with heat or smoke. It was a duel set up, as though there had been two men who worked, both open-sided and sharing their inner wall. There were places on the wall where tools had once hung and the remnants of an anvil long lost to exposure to the elements. The yard was large enough to bring horses in to shoe or deliveries or metal and coke. Stepping into the forge space he found an open archway between the two semi-separate rooms so that one might pass from one to the other without exposure to sun or rain when doing delicate work. His investigation poked into every corner as his imagination filled them with his own things, tools, work, pride.

Turning to Aurin the look of gentle awe that had held his features since he'd started exploring in the shop front crested into a wide grin and he stepped close on feet that spoke of laughter. Throwing his arms around his man's neck he kissed him again, tasting of excitement and satisfaction. It was enough, all of it. He had worried the place Aurin had found would feel grand or so big Torin would feel like a child play at being a man, or so small based on his budget that he'd feel cramped and never able to relax in his work. But it was neither, it was Torin sized, exactly enough and no more.

Breaking the kiss he said,
"It's perfect." At the arched brow that met his exclamation he laughed, pulling mostly away and said,

"I suppose I should look at the house before I buy it, shouldn't I?"

[Aurin]

Aurin had competing desires to claim Torin in public and to keep their relationship a secret; the one stemmed from pride, the other from caution. It was the same with Arry, with Elwes, and with Ashoka. He wanted the people he cared about to be safe from him and those dangers that were likely still stalking him from far off. But the former desire won out at that moment because he was quite proud of Torin. The country boy was doing right by himself, and if Aurin had nudged him and guided him a bit, it was only to make his transitions cleaner and smoother. He would have been a success without Aurin, but he could take some small pride in the help he provided.

He grinned into the next moment, and then let his smile fade into quiet amusement as he trailed the lad.

His trick told him there was a strange something about the place, but he couldn't pin it down. Perhaps the previous owner had been a runeforger and the aether of the place was forever changed. Or perhaps the previous owner had tried to be a runeforger without proper training and left some disturbance in the aether. If all he had to go on was an odd feeling, he would just remain vigilant until he figured out what it was.

Aurin liked the yard. He imagined lounging out there with something refreshing and alcoholic in his hand, watching Torin work without the stifling heat of an enclosed forge. Or perhaps Torin would want more grass, more greenery, to remind him of his country origins and then invite his people over to enjoy his place. That alchemist, perhaps. Maybe Arry and his minstrel would even stop by.

He turned from reverie to the very real face of the young smith just in time to catch the kiss. There was a blush to his aura; Aurin had come to associate it with Torin's feelings for him. There were different flavors for different feelings, but the ones focused on him resonated with him, perhaps for that reason. He tucked a bit of hair back behind Torin's ear fondly.

"You should," he advised. "You'll have to live here as well as work here, and you could at least take stock of how many rooms I'll have to violate you in before it's well and truly christened."

[Torin Kilvin]

The flush in his aura bled over onto his cheeks, a little because of the affectionate grooming gesture, which might seem small but was a lot to someone who'd never had it before. The rest was because he was happy, the flush of excitement, even joy.

He let Aurin lead him through the overgrowth edging the foot-worn path that led from the shop to the unassuming door that led to the main house. It shared a wall with the shop but there was no connecting door. Torin prefered that, as having the chance of a customer randomly wander into his home would make it impossible for him to fully relax there. The interior of the two-story living quarters was significantly worse off than the shop or two forges, making him wonder if someone had used the business parts of the property and ignored the house the most recent time it had been used. The cobwebs and dust covered the floors and stairs that were visible immediately upon entering did not daunt the eager explorer and he stepped past his lord and master, peering up the stairs before deciding the explore the lower floor first. The small door, which he had assumed would lead to a closet instead led to a whole room that might be a suitable office for someone who might use such a thing, or a bedroom. Ideas began to bloom immediately, of sunlight from cleaned windows and a little bed and dresser that Timon might like. An open double-sized door frame led to a large open area that might be used as a dining room or just a common area, there were lots of possibilities. It reminded Torin of the room his first master's wife had used to sew as she watched her children play on a large rag-rug.

A smaller, single-door-sized frame led into the kitchen. Light spilled into the space from windows in three walls and the hearth was large and inviting. Walking over and placing a hand gently over the hearth he realized it was made of lake stones, similar to what was used for hearths in the villages near where he'd grown up. Turning to Aurin he looked as though he might cry, and word were, for a time, lost to him. Turning to the window that looked out over the yard he managed to open it, letting fresh air into the room for the first time in a long time. When the strength of his emotion was passed he turned back and said,

"Do you think the stairs are safe?" It was mostly a joke, but Torin wasn't a light person and the worry he might plummet back to the first floor through rotten wood did occur to him. With an adventurous smile, he made his way back to the entrance and braved the old stairs, finding them sturdier than he had imagined. There were four rooms at the top, though one was quite small, perhaps to be used for storage or a privy chamber? The largest bedroom had a fireplace of its own, similar to the one downstairs but smaller and obviously not intended for cooking. Examining it Torin realized it shared a chimney with the kitchen and raised a brow at the clever design.

"This is it." He said, standing in the middle of the room that would be his, once he could get it properly repaired. Biting his lip he tried to do math in his head, not his strong point outside calculations for Runesmithing, and hoping he had enough,

"I think I can afford it. Though a lot of the repairs will have to wait until I'm earning. I'll have the kitchen fixed, and the bedroom under the stairs, for Timon. I can put a pallet beside the hearth down there and be comfortable until I can have the structure up here checked. The roof I can patch myself until I can afford to have a thatcher put a new one up..."

He spun slowly as he spoke, his eyes half on what he was seeing and half in his imagination, on the ideas he was working through.

[Aurin]

There was a sparkle in Torin's aura when he tucked the hair behind his ear. Perhaps it was the magic trick showing him what he couldn't recognize normally, but it was good to know that little acts of care could have an outsized effect on the young smith. For a man who thrived on secrets, Aurin had been remarkably respectful of Torin's past. Perhaps when the forge and the house were functional, he ought to press for more details. Mere negligence hardly seemed enough to elicit such a response, though what he knew of Torin's trauma was enough to make him want to deal with the man's father. Perhaps he would even share some of his own secrets when they were together in the dark.

Paying closer heed to Torin's aura than his surroundings, he led him to the house proper, then let him lead the exploration. But at the question, he did take a closer look at the stairs and the ceiling. Finally nodding, he said, "I was told the structure was sound, and from what I can see with my trick, it is. The place will take a lot of work and a lot of love, but the bones are strong and it oughtn't to fall apart on you if you take good care of it."

He flashed a confident smile: confident in his assessment and confident that Torin would not only be an amazing runeforger and blacksmith, but an excellent homeowner and steward of his property.

Torin had so many emotional reactions to little details, though Aurin had mostly been focused on his arse as they climbed up to the second floor.

"If you want it," he said with assurance, "you'll have it. Any fuckery with the maths and I'll cover the difference. Now tell me all the thoughts you're having. I want to hear the plans spill out of you. Just don't forget that we'll have to have Timon's room soundproofed so he doesn't worry I'm murdering you."

A foxfire smile promised to make Torin scream, but he did want to hear his plans, not only because he wanted to match them with the reactions in Torin's aura, but because he was invested in this, in all of this, and in the young man whose wheat-blond hair had come loose again. He tucked it back behind his ear, then let his hand rest on his cheek, then fall to his shoulder.

"I want to know everything you're thinking." There was a greedy look in his eye.

[Torin Kilvin]

The tall boy pulled an odd little face when Aurin offered to pay anything he couldn't afford. He was in a strange place where he had his own money, and his own keep to see to for the first time in his life. His teachers had always held his apprenticeship and had thus been responsible for his food and shelter his entire life, or all of it that he could remember. The redhead, his friend, his... Torin didn't have a word for what Aurin was to him, offering to ensure his wellbeing thus only pushed him farther into the realm of 'master' in the blond's head. At the same time, it made Torin wonder if he would be seen as a burden if he kept needing help. The relationship had been formed on his need for a mentor but it had evolved significantly since. There were things he needed, would likely always need, but he wanted to give as much as he was given, in whatever ways he could. An equal partnership in truth, regardless of who took what role.

When Aurin concentrated on him, asked what he was thinking there was only a brief moment of hesitation before the odd little grimace broke into one of his Searing-bright grins.

"Okay, so, this will be my room... or our room, when you're here." He ducked his eyes briefly and blushed, but just kept on going, "The chimney and hearth will need a good cleaning but I've done that often enough." A little laugh emphasized that a lad raised cleaning soot and smoke out of things ought to know his way around a basic fireplace.

"I'll want a thatcher out to see to the roof, and a carpenter to ensure the seals on the windows and such are fast before Frost comes. Gods, that feels close all of a sudden. Until then I'll just bunk in the kitchen, it's almost as big as your cabin so I'll have lots of good associations." The grin took on a slightly wicked cast for the span of a heartbeat before his enthusiasm for his new home took over again.

Leading back through the house he wove out his dreams into the shabby spaces. Timon's room would need to be finished first, so it, the one under the stairs, and the kitchen would need to be in working order by the end of Searing, and the privy, of course. His tools were all either finished on currently being worked on by himself, the stonemason, or Kala, so he could start working immediately upon his return from Starfall if he needed to.

Need or not, he knew he'd be up with the dawn, lighting the first fires in the virgin forge, feeling out the magic written and hammer into his runeforge. Walking through each room he laid his fingers carefully over parts of the walls, mantles, or doorways, as if greeting an old lover, or a new one after a marriage bound them. There was a possessiveness that spoke of care as much as desire, and when he finally, an hour later, ran out of steam for his dreams he turned back to Aurin with eyes somewhere between dancing and swimming with tears. He was not about to cry, but there was something to his aura that wept a little.

"I want you to be comfortable here too," As much or more than he wanted to be comfortable there himself, "I know you have your own home and you should, but... if you want to be in places that belong to me, they belong to you too." Stepping close enough to hide his face by pressing it to the other man's neck he added in a whisper, 'I belong to you too."

[Aurin]

Aurin followed Torin and listened to him, his words painting pictures of a future that was literally magical, but also quite mundane. That sort of life had never truly seemed like an option, or an option to be laughed at. Then again, his parents were thieves and murderers so he knew little of simple joys. There was a heaviness in his heart and in his gut by the time Torin stopped and expressed his more personal wishes and stepped close. Aurin's arms came up around him and held him tightly as if this place was already theirs.

It would be Torin's, of course, but as Torin said—he belonged to Aurin, and so his possessions did as well.

"As you know," he said, his voice awkwardly trying at humor, "I am not much of a one for decoration and home-making." His cottage was spartan in the extreme, but that made the space workable for whatever he needed to do, whether it be sleep or train with his blades—or seduce a young smith's apprentice and wrap him around his little finger and make him his.

"I want you to be comfortable here, and then I'll be comfortable. I want you to be happy here, and then I'll be happy. I know it isn't really fair to put that on you, but that's what I want. If it feels like your home, then it will feel like it belongs to me too, and I'll be comfortable here." His voice lowered, as did his hands. "Just like you belong to me, and I'm comfortable with you." He almost said 'comfortable in you,' but he made an effort not to entirely deflect with humor when he wanted Torin to know that he was cherished even if he couldn't say it in so many words. His hand came up so his fingers could find their way into the hair he had earlier tidied and give it a firm, slow tug.

"Make it yours," he murmured, "and that will make it mine."

[Torin Kilvin]

The look on Aurin's face as he drew Torin closer confused the younger man. It didn't seem sad or mocking, or even wistful, he didn't know what it was but his brown furrowed a little, marring his expression of dreamed up happiness. When he couldn't see the expression any more he listened intently, trying not to be distracted by the warm scent of his auburn lover.

Pulling back enough to show he was paying attention when Aurin's voice turned serious he listened with a little crease between his eyes until he thought he understood. Aurin had worked hard to find a place where Torin would be happy, comfortable, stable. So, what he wanted was for his boy to be those things, to accept and create those things. There was a lot in the other man's past that the blond knew he didn't know, possibly wouldn't understand if he was told outright, but he often felt as though he understood what his man needed.

Perhaps he was wrong, but, unless Aurin was just lying to him by word, look, and deed, constantly, he wasn't getting it all wrong.

"I'll work hard," He said, in his characteristically too-serious tone, "I'll make you proud, I'll make us both proud. I'll make us..." He glanced down and then up again to hold amber eyes with blue, "A home. For whenever you want one." The moment hung in the air with the motes of dust floating in the shafts of sunlight through the curtainless windows before he smiled in the shy way he was learning to flirt,

"I should have it set up properly by Frost. It gets awfully cold in Frost and that room," His eyes flicked upwards in the direction of the room he'd claimed as his own, "is bigger than anywhere I've slept alone. I know I can be a furnace in my own right but I don't know if even I can keep it warm all alone." Of course, he was flushing faintly by the end, but only faintly. Any allusion to the parts of their relationship that had, heretofore, only taken place behind the locked door of Aurin's cottage or deep in the wilderness, would cause him to color even if they were far from explicit.

To cover the deep-down shame of commenting on their sleeping together he kissed Aurin again. They weren't in front of the windows, and even if they had been the fence was tall enough to block them from a view of the street while still letting light in. That was one of Torin's favorite features of the house; that no one could see in. For a boy who had grown up all his life in a tiny town where none of the houses were close enough to each other that anyone was likely to see or hear what went on inside, moving to the city had been a shock and caused him to feel like he was being watched even when shut into his own room.

Pulling away was a lingering affair, which caused reactions that were, while not unwanted, not appropriate to the runesmith's mind. Not yet, at any rate. Clearing his throat he turned toward the kitchen and said,

"If we can get the deal finalized I can get a house carpenter in here before my trip, and move in after I get back." The idea of leaving his first home in the city was welcome, and, confusingly, still a bit frightening. "I've talked to Timon's Aunt about taking over his apprenticeship and she is happy to let me."

In truth, the woman seemed happy with any arrangement that kept another mouth out of her house at no additional cost. He would discuss his encounter with Timon's family with Aurin later in more detail, likely while they were cuddled waiting for sleep one night. "I'll leave just before the end of the month and return just after the beginning of Ash. I'd rather not have to return to the apprentice quarters once I'm no longer employed there."

He laid his plans out plain and open, as was his way once he trusted someone. He'd never trusted anyone as an adult as much as he did Aurin.

[Aurin]

What seemed to be shame darkened the blush in Torin's aura, though it wasn't dark enough to denote the negative version of that emotion. There was also a something about it that Aurin couldn't articulate properly, but he identified it as Torin puzzling him out, trying to figure out what he meant and how to respond appropriately. He loved the look on his face when he was thinking like that, almost as much as the thoughtfulness itself.

"I know you will," he said, perhaps with more confidence in the smith than Torin had in himself.

"And I think I might winter here with you, at least. Spend enough time in here that my scent is everywhere even when you open the windows to the Glade breezes. To remind you of me..." He rocked his weight from foot to foot, taking Torin's solid weight with him in a slight sway reminiscent of dancing. Sometimes he wanted to do normal things like that, but he mostly only ever teased at it when they were alone.

"I'm glad Timon's coming with you. He's a good kid, and I think he might grow into a business partner. He seems to have a head for figures and such more than smithing, but he'll know enough about smithing to be a good partner someday. And that'll let you focus on what you love doing." Aurin was certainly learning to depend on his people for different things—Ashoka with the goings-on in the highfalutin sphere; Elwes in the low places; even Torin had brought the lead that had led to his change of employment.

"So," he asked, already knowing the answer, "is this the place?" Hazel eyes delved into limpid blue pools. "Is this what you desire?"

fin.