Lingering Threats [Yshvold]

[Aurin]

The Low-City
62 Ash 121

It had been a month since he and Elwes had gone down below the Midden following a line of inquiry that ended in quite the mess. They had escaped with their lives and the life of an unlikely ally, Yshvold. The boy wonder had been coy about his living situation, which Aurin couldn't fault him for. Elwes had stayed behind in Hahseu to cover tracks and keep an ear to the ground. The man and the boy had warily accompanied each other to the surface lest the bogeyman be laying in wait between the Midden and the fairer smelling parts of Kalzasi. They had given each other ways to get in touch, Aurin's more concrete than Yshvold's, but again, he couldn't hold that against him.

Now various lines of inquiry had taken him down to the Midden despite his better judgment, and he had new information regarding the key. It had been about a month since they had parted, and he didn't know whether the boy was alive, too proud to ask for help, or just doing whatever he had to do to survive, but Aurin went down into the Low-City with both his tricks in play. He wore the mask of the person he had been down in the Midden, though he had revealed his true face after the fact. He also let his semblance trick reach out to the world around him to feed him information his senses might otherwise miss. He didn't know if the kid could see through his glamours, but he knew he could eat them, so it was largely a matter of semantics.

All the same, he went out there into the evening like a torch for Lysanrin senses, wondering if Yshvold would sense him first or he might feel the familiar cadence of the boy's aura first. It was less a matter of pride and more of a curiosity. Knowing was half the battle, and Aurin liked knowing things.

Elwes kept an eye of the Low-City for him more than she went down into the Midden, and she had sent word of a vigilante who spent their evenings in the Low-City, especially in certain neighborhoods. He didn't know that it was Yshvold; if it wasn't, then he would find out and kill two birds with one stone—not that he wanted to kill Yshvold or any vigilante. Far be it from him to judge.

Even if he had tried to judge Arcas Reborn.

And lived to tell the tale.

[Yshvold]

The day had been fairly quiet, suspiciously so for his tastes. Yshvold didn't know if the guards had posted more patrols to look for him or if his usual antics had garnered some sort of fear from the deviants that preyed on the weak. Either way it wasn't his problem.

The cold was his problem. Sure it wasn't chilling or biting now but it made sleeping outdoors rather uncomfortable, especially without a bed to sleep on and only the spoils of combat to keep him sated. All he could do is curse his own actions and weakness to not be able to do more for his lady and now he must repent.

Yshvold turned over on his trash pile, that was remarkably more comfortable than he thought it would be, and looked out from his alleyway to the few people that still roamed the streets as day was nearing its end. He wondered if he would see any of them later in the night, as helpless lambs or hungry wolves, and sighed. Maybe what he was doing was pointless after all, no one seemed to be getting better from surviving their ordeals because of him and everything seemed to just keep repeating.

"This is boring." He whispered as he put his arm under his head and let his eyes slowly close for a nap before waking for the night to come.

Sleep was not as restful as it should be. Every night he would wake more tired than when he laid down and it begun to show in his movements. Little mistakes here and there landed him in disadvantageous stances and positions, if he wasn't more careful he might end up dead. Sleep however was not what he was getting at this time.

For at this moment he saw something that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Creeping threads of aether slowly rolled through the entrance of his alley and forced him to jump away. Feeling and probing all in sight, and very familiar.

"Aurin..." Yshvold growled in disgust. He did not hate the man, in fact he might respect him in some regards for his ability, but this magic of his made him think less of him for the nature of it.

Maybe he should give him a reason to not use this magic, to feel around like some sort of fetishist. He wasn't exactly sure how it worked, but a giving a guess wouldn't hurt here. If the man was looking for him then he'll let him find him, and give him an earful for this eyesore of aether.

Yshvold slouched his shoulders and let his mind empty as he slowly moved towards the feeling threads. He remembered the feeling the monster gave him, and the dream he had, and let out all of the murderous intent he could as the first thread touched his face. While it was not as strong as the monster, it was still black and hateful. Giving out the intention to make someone stop their actions before something makes them stop.

[Aurin]

The Low-City wasn't small, but he knew it fairly well. Juggling his semblance and masquerade tricks at the same time was a challenge, but that was good for him. Challenges helped one get better, and getting better made it less likely one would get dead. He had no desire to meet Wraeden anytime soon.

Yshvold had said a few things about his tricks down in the Midden, and a few more things in his sleep. Apparently, their experiences of it were quite different. The semblance trick felt so passive to him, just opening himself up to his surroundings. The challenge was more allowing himself the vulnerability of that and then having the context and time to figure out what he was sensing. Yshvold had made it sound like some tentacle monster from the Warrens or a summoner's kennel. He didn't know if that was just particular to how Lysanrin saw things with their own inborn abilities or maybe even prejudice against rune magic since they apparently couldn't survive an initiation.

He was no mage; he didn't know. He just hoped the kid would sense him and come running instead of running away. Not that he would blame him.

Something flickered on the edge of his awareness and he stopped, peering down a dark alley.

'Twould be just like Yshvold to sense him first and then flirt with the edges of his awareness. Well, he didn't know the lad well, but it seemed like him.

Aurin walked into the darkness and there, dropped his tricks as a show of good faith.

"Kid?"

He knew his name, of course, but he was used to calling him Kid and he supposed Yshvold might recognize him better if that was what he heard.

"I've got news."

[Yshvold]

So he couldn't sense intent or emotions, that's good to know.

Yshvold took in this information as he let his fierce gaze drop. The man is too naïve to simply walk into an unknown alleyway without full confidence in what was down there, simply acting on the notion that something was in fact there, or he was confident he could handle unknown threats. Either way he had the boy's attention.

From a cold glare to one of pure disgust, Yshvold swapped his expression as he eye'd the man down. Why one would flaunt his aether like this in the open he would never know, nor want too. Was it to simply flex his magical muscles at the plebian masses before him? In a way Yshvold can respect that, just without all the touching.

"That magic, do you often go to places to touch people like that? Are you pervert? Is your news that you are coming to tell me that you are a pervert?" Yshvold folded his arms together and spoke his mind to the man. His usual disguise left abandoned and true nature laid bare for the world to see. While he was mostly clean when they first met, he had the grime and dirt as a true street pauper covering his person now. Hair matted and left to knot where it pleased with various smudges all over his face.

Yshvold sighed, looking down with his eyes closed, as he finished bombarding the man with his disapproval. He looked up with one eye open to see if the threads were still there, to find nothing was touching him anymore, and sat himself down on the garbage he called his bed. It fit him properly with his dirty appearance and bad attitude, as though the garbage pile was made specifically for him in mind.

"Where is the other one? I thought you were partners?" Yshvold looked around to see if she was actually stalking him from his flank or above, it's what he would do in this situation.

[Aurin]

From the shadows, he came into a bit of light, at least enough to see Yshvold by. He leaned against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest and his legs at the ankles casually. Remembering how flighty the kid had been, he left him plenty of room to exist and plenty of room to escape if that was his will.

"She knows whereabouts I am and who I'm looking for," he allowed. "But she's not my lackey. She doesn't follow me around like a dog. And I don't know what you're talking about touching people with magic. I just pour a little of myself into the rune and my senses open up. Figured either I'd pick up some sense of you or you'd be hungry for magic and you'd scent it. Either way, hi."

He smirked, but really that was just the path of least resistance for his face. Honest smiles were few and far between because the world didn't deserve many of those.

"Just wanted to warn you in case you were thinking of diving back down into the muck... There's something down there way above our pay grade. Not going to tell you what to do but it's a surefire death wish. That key from the bogeyman... it's magic was beyond my mean tricks to suss out. Shielded or warded or something. Showed someone with actual magical clout and it scared him shitless." He might have been exaggerating Talon's response, but the demigod princeling had seemed perturbed, at least.

"Said the key led to darkness and vengeance deep in the Midden, maybe even in the Warrens beneath. Blistered his hand to warn him away from that line of inquiry, though it was cool to the touch when he dropped it back into my hand." He rubbed at his jaw angrily; he didn't like this at all.

"So there you have it: the news. Anyway, sounds like you're fighting your fights over here these days. People are noticing, so be careful. You need a bolt-hole far from here, get up to the Plaza of Jeweled Arches. Alley back behind the Three Sisters. There's a red-roofed cottage. It's mine. I'm not there all the time, but if I am, well, you know I probably won't murder you in your sleep." He smirked again and pushed off the wall to leave. He didn't know what he had expected, but Yshvold didn't seem pleased to see him, so he wouldn't bother him further.

[Yshvold]

The boy sat silently as Aurin talked, letting him give off every bit of information before coming up with a conclusion of his own.

The key did seem strange to him, but not anything worth being afraid for. As for something being vengeful and angry, that sounded about right to him. He thought about going down again just to see if he can sucker punch it and run away, and maybe do it a couple dozen times to instill the right amount of fear into the tentacled bastard. Then a house?

"Wait..." Yshvold stood up against his better judgement, licking his lips while he put further thought into what he was about to ask. "...does it have a bed?"

Every time he had been around Aurin, or someone he had little contact with, Yshvold never let the cracks show in his emotions. Anger, hate, and pride were at the forefront of course but not once did he give them insight to who he was beneath it all.

Now he showed uncertainty. His fists clenched together as he moved his thumbs across the tightened fingers. He would stare at Aurin for a second and look at some other direction as though to find the next word to say and then back towards Aurin again. He finally decided on his approach and put the metaphorical mask back on as he stepped forward to follow Aurin. While the look in his eyes is there, he had a very obvious twitch in his eye brows as both anxiety and excitement boiled over.

No more sleeping in garbage! Somewhere, deep insde, Yshvold was jumping for joy, not that he would ever show it.

"What would I have to do? Is there food? Can I hold onto the key sometime?" As he put on his tough act the inner child in him reared its head with rapid fire questions that demanded immediate answers.

[Aurin]

Aurin's mouth opened to answer, then he blinked. Yshvold turned on a dime, and he moved to keep up and, if possible, keep ahead. The kid might be precocious, but he wasn't a fucking idiot either.

"Wait, all of that intel and you want to know more about where I live?" He laughed, a short bark. "Of course there's a bed."

The questions themselves belied the cool exterior. Aurin got it. He had been similar as a boy.

"There's food there now, and generally when I buy it. I didn't have strings attached, just said you had a place to lay low for a while if you ever need it. If you feel obligated, you can always bring me more intel. I'm sort of in the business. And I guess you can hold the key if you prove trustworthy. I don't have anything too valuable in there, but if you don't try to hustle me and sell it for some coin, I might be more inclined to give you the key."

He squinted at Yshvold.

"Did you want to come to check it out now?" he asked dubiously. He had put in some work since his new job had brought much more money in; there weren't a lot of valuable things lying about, but the plumbing was solid and the kitchen was better prepared for actual cooking now that he wasn't just relying on what was available at the Velvet Cabaret. He could take a walk and have a drink, leave Yshvold with the key so he could take a bath and maybe change into some of Aurin's old clothes—they'd be too big, but they'd be clean. He could bring hot food home from one of the local taverns, feed the kid, get him settled, then go sleep elsewhere. He had options. It didn't look like Yshvold did.

He could already hear Arry's tart comments, but Mists, if Yshvold wanted a job and could bring him good intel, he could pay the kid well enough to keep his own place and he knew from experience as a kid like that how much that might mean to him, to be able to support himself well on his wits. He just needed a break.

[Yshvold]

"Of course, a bed is more important right now. After that I can work on killing that thing after." Yshvold spoke with complete confidence in his idea of events to come.

"And for what you told me, there isn't much I can do with that right now. I hate that the thing is angry instead of afraid, like it should be, but I'm not ready yet." He looked down at his hands and tried to spark up some sort of crystal to show Aurin but nothing manifested. "I need aether."

Preparations were obviously needed and he could only get away by the skin of his teeth from the guards that pursued him from time to time. They might be fools but they are well trained fools, and soon they might finally corner him. He needed a place to train his gift, away from prying eyes.

As for what the man would hire him to do...

The excitement of having a proper roof over his head took a backseat as he registered that he would have to work for his keep, and he was fine with it. The details were just to vague for his tastes. He needed more information and a proper target to put his skills to use.

"What do you need to know? Does someone need to go away? How much aether will you give me for completing this task? Do you need me to go now?" Yshvold stood straighter as he stayed with Aurin and put his 'business face' on.

With a look of fierce readiness and steadfast loyalty towards someone willing to put food on his plate told of a boy ready to jump into the fires of hell to earn his way, so long as Aurin was willing to get him what he wants.

[Aurin]

This was moving fast, but Aurin could deal with it.

"Right, beds are important." He squinted again at the need for aether, but he considered as the questions kept coming.

"I need to know everything," he said. It was true in a sense. "But if the Low-City is too hot for you right now, we'll have to figure out where you'll fit in best, the better to listen. I can train you to sift through what you see and hear to figure out what's worth something and what's dross. Sometimes people need to disappear, but that's a last resort." Fuck, this kid was too eager.

"I'm not a mage," he said, which might be at odds with his tricks, but that's all they were to him: tricks. He didn't study magic. He had a couple of runes that he knew basically how to work to his advantage. "I don't know how to... quantify... aether. I can feed you, clothe you, put a roof over your head. We can negotiate on the aether, I suppose."

He pushed off the wall again and turned to go.

"I don't have anything you need to do tonight, so why don't you come and check out the place and see if it's enough. If the deal seems good to you, we'll figure out the rest and you'll likely have a place of your own and plenty of food by the time Frost rolls around and kills those less fortunate than you, the ones still sleeping on garbage." He didn't say it with judgment; he had been there. But if Yshvold owed him one, it'd be easier to mold him into a good informant, and if they didn't end up working together indefinitely, it'd be good skills for the kid and he might show up with good intel to sell later.

Aurin didn't believe everything had to be a zero-sum game.

[Yshvold]

Gainful employment and a place to sleep that didn't smell like someones leftover dinner scraps, truly Yshvold felt as though he had been blessed by some caring god of sorts. He wished he could go back on his cold ways and make the man beg for his help, but he is desperate for some sort of aid. He could retreat below for the frost to subside but he would rather die than live down there another day if he could help it. Between the guards, and that especially dogged captain-of-sorts that seemed to have taken an interest in his nightly activities, along with his sloppy movements lately he needed a respite.

His pride will have to take a hit, living took priority. Aurin didn't seem to care one way or another on the surface but his actions spoke otherwise. If he was simply going to use the boy then the boy would squeeze the man for all his worth and come out more powerful. Such is the way of the world.

"I see, if you need to know things then I should be down below. Some gangs might want to kill me, but that's only because they are sore losers. Otherwise I know my way around decently above ground, just not as well as other places." Yshvold flipped his mask out of his cloak and placed it over his face before he let himself go out into the remaining light of the evening.

Putting on his mask made him feel like some other person. Someone much stronger and more confident, with no need to fear the actions of others around him. It kept the weakness within him at bay and let him mentally operate at the level he needed for stalking prey.

Yshvold looked on at Aurin and couldn't come to a conclusion as to how he should categorize the man. He was neither prey nor an enemy, nor would he consider him an enemy. A friend would be a stretch but he could trust him to not point a knife at his throat in his sleep, but there was something amiss.

It didn't take a people person to see Aurin's suspicion of Yshvold's want for aether. He felt that he might have errored in some way and put quick thought into how to rectify this. A good deal is one thing, but without trust then the relationship might end up messy for both of them.

It must be said again that Yshvold doesn't hate the man, anyone willing to put their own safety behind them to help him with no benefit is respectable in his book, just the things that he does with his aether made him very uncomfortable. What Aurin must think of him must be corrected if Yshvold would have a stable place to stay.

"You seem to not like something I said, is it about aether? I can answer any question you have..." Yshvold said this with nary a thought and paused. The man is going to be an employer of sorts, but it didn't need to be one sided.

"One question for free, more will require payment. I accept fighting lessons from the other one as payment." Yshvold holds out a hand as though what he wanted was something tangible and put up the other with his pointer finger and thumb touching together. All could be seen past the broken mask is an unbroken bored gaze as the boy sawt compensation for his own personal information.