Reunion [Khyan]

The Luxium represents the upper half and primary seat of the Solunarian Capital and one of the dual-cities that comprises Solunarium Proper. Situated between the foot of the volcanic Mount Sorokyn and the wide River Vasta, this above-ground metropolis boasts five thriving districts beneath the shadow of the glorious Palatium Furiarum (The Blazing Palace) from which the Solar Court rules in splendour. This bustling metropolis is by far the most populous region in the realm and, along with its shadowy sister-city the Umbrium, houses upwards of eighty percent of the Solunarian population at any given time. During the reign of a Solar Court, every major government agency in the kingdom is headquartered in the Luxium, with the notable exception of The Silver Sentinels, the covert intelligence agency run by the House of Phaedryn-Sol’Aværys.

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Hilana Chenzira
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9 Ash, Year 122

[Closed - Khyan]

With the plumes of smoke and ash having cleared, Hilana was able to relax inside the shop again. Of course, ‘relax’ was a relative term, because for her, work meant being busy, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. That energy that had served her well as a child was still helping her now that she was channeling it in a more constructive manner. She did enjoy working with her hands and learning - not just from Vasilei’s talks and explanations, but from the books as well. She cared less for the selling aspect of her job; but she had come to understand that at least part of it was explaining to patients why they might need something and why it would help. Communication was key. Reining in her mouth was important. Tiaz was back to accompanying his owner now that the the atmosphere was back to normal, and the python was lounging contentedly on a driftwood branch in the fading sunlight of the day, enjoying his basking until she would pick him up and lock up the apothecary to take him home. It was late enough in the day that she wasn’t expecting too many more clients, but she was visible from the front windows to those passing by. Her long hair was down, though it was pulled back from her face with a ribbon. She still had her relatively plain attire on, her form-fitting sleeveless shirt with the long tiered skirt, though this one was cut asymmetrically.

For now, she was sorting out unlabelled bowls of dried flowers and herbs with a large stack of written labels that Vasilei had provided her, but the challenge was that there were twice as many labels as she had samples, and none of the samples were fresh. They were all aged and dried, and that meant a couple of clues that she would have been able to figure out from seeing it growing wild or in the garden were no longer there. But that was part of the challenge.

“Identifying a plant is crucial, Hilana. If a quality doesn’t match what you think you have on hand, and you misidentify it, you could hurt, or worse, kill your patient. Consider hydrilla or waterweed. Both look the about same. But can both restore a Vasti from severe dehydration? No. One of them will, but which one? One is toxic, and will hasten death. Many desperate Vasti have ingested it, only to die in a viciously agonizing fashion, seeking a restorative. But which one helps, and which one harms?”

“Waterweed is the one that will aid in rehydration. Hydrilla is the toxic one,” she had said.

“Good. Now which is which?” He had put two bowls in front of her, before taking away the heavy book that he had given her for the purposes of studying as she was reaching for it. “Ah. You’ve been able to look at it here, and take it home. Let’s see what all you’ve retained from the book.” He tucked it under an arm. “Consider this a test. Show me. Which one is which, and why?”

They were dried. One was a lighter colour still, which helped. She lifted one of the samples, looking between the two, grabbing a second sample. “The waterweed is wider and has up to 8 leaves in the whorl,” she said after a few minutes. “The hydrilla is thinner and more feathery. It only has a maximum of 6 leaves to a whorl. This one is the hydrilla.”

“Do you feel confident in your choice?” Vasilei challenged her.

“Yes,” she answered him, setting the dried plants down.

“Then eat the waterweed,” the tall Vastian told her, looking down at his student. “If you’re willing to prescribe it, you have to be willing to take the medicine yourself.” Without looking away from his gaze, Hilana selected the plant she had identified as the waterweed, taking a chunk off of it, and put it in her mouth, chewing. After a minute, she was feeling the effects of the plant, as a thirst she hadn’t realized she had developed was feeling quite slaked. “That was the right one, hmm? Here’s more for you,” he indicated the table full of bowls and the stack of labels. “You have between now and closing to get them sorted out. I’ll be checking tomorrow when I get in. If clients come, you tend to them too. You’ll rarely ever have the opportunity to identify something with all the peace and quiet you want to focus. Good night, girl, and good luck.”


She was almost done, having helped a dozen clients since Vasilei had left for the night. Mostly easier requests, though a few she had had to really think about. And yet… for months, she had had a quietly discomforting distraction that she had tried to bury down, deep inside of her, and push it away. She had heard the verdict, heard the sentence… and made an effort to take a quick look through the Forum regularly, all in an attempt to try to find the young noble that she had met last season. Even if she had found him, what would she had done? A number of the prices for slaves were well beyond what she made in a season. She could have asked her father for a loan, or gone to the bank… but that would have raised questions that were difficult to answer.

Wild grapes or moonseed? Wild garlic or death camas? It didn’t help that Vasilei had deliberately mixed in a number of poisonous plants with the sample… but when the familiar jingle of the bell rang to indicate someone was coming in, Hilana looked up from where she had been checking out the contents of the bowls, already beginning her greeting. “Salve, wel—-“ she cut off as soon as she realized who it was, getting up and coming around the table at a surprising speed with wide eyes. “Khyan!” On her face, there was an overwhelming relief, mixed with delight to see he was alive and intact, and yet mixed with pain to see the collar on his throat. “Are you alright?” She stopped short of touching him, not at all sure how he would have reacted to it.

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Khyan Nykara
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Khyan had been ambivalent about seeing Hilana again pursuant to the Fall of the House of Nykara. He'd been more than encouraged to believe that his old life was over, and his new life was not his own for over a month. More recently he'd taken up residence with a new master who held him to no such standards, because he himself had been a part of that former life that was supposed to have perished. Still, it was strange to see those he'd known before. Especially during the day when he was obliged to wear a collar about his slender neck, lest his master's father catch wind that Khyan was being pampered and instill harsher routines, or worse.

Hilana had, at least, been a more recent acquaintance. She may have known him as a haughty princeling, but he'd already been a haughty princeling in decline. She'd let on that she knew of his family's misfortunes and, when they'd parted ways, it had seemed more likely he might be executed than held in bondage.

He was not alone as a servus amidst the shops and stalls. Many of the higher castes sent slaves to do the shopping for staple goods. Shopping for basic spices and foodstuffs wasn't as fun as being served sparkling wine in a clothing boutique in the Aurecine or Sorokyne, so their liveried servi were set to the task. Slaves were not infrequently harassed, but rarely did that go beyond the verbal variety of attack. Their collars were a sort of armour, for harming them was an offence to the master- And a wealthy Solunarian could invoke the wrath of the Founders to answer their umbrage.

Today, he'd volunteered to take a trip aboveground to do a spot of shopping for the household. His master primarily resided in the Umbrium, and he'd been bade he might lose his tan if he didn't spend at least some of his time aboveground. With basket of his purchased bounty on one arm, he found himself before the sign for 'Sweet Remedies'. He chuckled to himself. He hadn't consciously come here, and yet there it was. Hilana's shoppe.

He took a deep breath and sighed it out, before stepping through the door and glancing around. She'd last seen him in a borrowed cloak, and his present tunic wasn't much better fitting. Despite of the simple livery, the collar was something to behold. It marked him for a special sort of servus. Expensive.

His eyes darted to Hilana, and he shrugged- forcing a sad smile.

"I've been better." He wrinkled his nose and held up his wrist, "I'm afraid I lost the bracelet..."
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"Sometimes the Short End of the Stick is the Sharpest"
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Hilana Chenzira
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That gold collar certainly was something, the way it was cut and crafted to fit the former lord. Even in the sunlight and the lamplight around the strange shop, there was no way to miss the way it caught and danced on the gold band. But for Hilana, it's beauty was tainted by what it represented, Khyan's enslavement. "I am so sorry, Khyan," she told him, looking at the now-bare wrist, and at the shopping basket over the same arm. With her left hand, she took the basket from him, and with the right... strong, slender fingers found his own, and she gave him a gentle squeeze. "I can make you another one. Come, come in, please." Perhaps oddly, she seemed to have had less qualms about touching him now that he had been stripped of the rank he had been born with. But she had given comfort before when she had first met him that way, in an act of touch. She knew the bracelet wasn't all that he had lost... but it was kind of him to remember it and her, despite everything.

The herbalist's shoppe was certainly unique to look around. There were so many scents of plants, fresh and dried and all those in between. Glass jars of all shapes and sizes lined the shelves on the walls on either side of them, all of them filled and labeled with flowers, herbs, and all of their parts. Some would be easily recognizable if he had ever gotten used to perusing the spice vendors of the forum, and many more so looked quite complicated. They went through one of a few aisles, lined with dozens upon dozens of paper packets in different colours, each of them with a written label as to the name of the product. Teas and remedies that had already been portioned out for the more common ailments; fevers, nausea, cough, weakened blood, infection... Vials of oils and ointments, jars of unguents and concoctions... there was an awful lot to look at in here, and over by the side on a little stand, he could see the snake that had been so interested in him before. "Tiaz, look who is here," Hilana spoke to the snake as she led him further in. On pegs on yet another wall, above the door he had come in and along the back wall where they were now going, albeit higher up, he would be able to see the sweetgrass that she had made his bracelet out of before, drying in wreaths and bundles, some of them bigger than others. Bundles of herbs and flowers were hanging from ties from racks descending from the tall ceiling of the space, apparently making the most out of just about every inch of it.

It was to the table she had been sitting at before that she brought him, setting his basket down and out of the way, and only then did she let go of his hand, indicating one of the two seats before she began to move the unlabeled bowls and the stack of labels out of the way. Founders only knew what she was doing with them all, but once she was satisfied that the table was sufficiently cleared, she collected the snake and brought him over to Khyan, offering him to him. The python's tongue flickered, and if Khyan wanted him, the snake would be happy to drape his coils on his lean frame and over the tunic he now wore. "Have you time for tea and something to eat?" Hilana offered as she retrieved a few strands of the sweetgrass from a large jar, returning to the table with him before she sat down. "I've been looking for you," she admitted, almost in the same breath, "but I wasn't been able to find you. I've checked the Forum daily, and others were watching the Sub-Forum below."

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Khyan Nykara
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Khyan just wearily shook his head at the expression of sympathy. He didn't really know what to do with that, even as frequently as it came these days. It was one of the reasons he was keen to avoid people who'd known him when he'd been a Magnatus. It was so awkward to bask in their pity, and they often had questions he wasn't of a mind to answer. Why would someone who'd fallen so far want to share the details of their life in abjection? Hilana, mercifully, spared him any such inquiry.

He nodded and smiled, when she offered to replace his lost bracelet. Allowing himself obligingly to be led further into the shoppe.

"I think they'll let me keep it this time." It hadn't been his current Dominus who'd taken it in the first place. He wouldn't have cared about such a pittance, and now that his adornments were few- such a simple thing as a bracelet of woven grass felt like a luxury. He let her take his basket. He might have seemed more sinewy than last time. He'd been more physically active of late, so the lean muscle showed more clearly beneath the flesh of his bare arms as they were extended.

"Ave, Tiaz..."

He smiled as he was led past the python to take a seat at the table. When Tiaz was brought over, he held out both hands, palms up, to let the snake decide for itself whether it wished to make a perch of him- helping the serpent situate itself when it decided in the affirmative.

"I've plenty of time..." He conceded, and hunger to boot, though he wouldn't say so outright. "But I won't be able to pay you for your kindness, this time... Not unless..." He bared his teeth and the fangs flipped down demonstratively for a moment, before retracting so he could speak without a lisp.

"You looked for me?" He knitted his brow, "Whyever for?"
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"Sometimes the Short End of the Stick is the Sharpest"
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Hilana Chenzira
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She did note that he’d lost a bit more weight, but she had manners enough not to point it out. Hilana did wonder why; she’d always thought that keeping one’s thralls in decent shape showed wealth, and if anything, it kept them going longer. A domine would get more use out of a healthy slave than a sick one, but that was assuming they cared. Maybe it was due to stress and whatever he had had to go through. But as to what that was, she wasn’t about to prompt him on it. If he decided to tell her on his own, then that was his choice, and she would listen. But sometimes, the shame one couldn’t lift away was best left to lie. Move past it, and on to other things.

Tiaz was quite content to leave Hilana’s hands for Khyan’s, the muscular reptile starting to wind his way around Khyan’s hands and onto his arms and torso. The heat of the young man’s body from the rays of the sun outside was quite enjoyable to the python, but chances were, the snake did remember him from their last encounter near the middle of Searing, and considering Khyan’s confidence and comfort with them as an Animus himself, the python was soon scenting the collared man, that tongue flickering in a relaxed fashion.

It did please her that he said he had time to spare for now, and she was glad of his visit. Once he was situated with the snake, she took a bowl and moved over to the wall, opening jar after jar to add pinches and leaves of this ingredient and that. Apple, some sort of yellow candied fruit, lemon balm, hibiscus, three types of berries, sea buckthorn… but when he said he wouldn’t be able to pay her, she tilted her head, looking over her shoulder at him. “Your presence is plenty,” she told him gently. “You’ve no need to pay me for this. But if you wish to produce venom, my offer still stands to pay you for it. And… if you need the money hidden from your domine… I can hold it for you.” She hadn’t stolen from him when they had first met, and it didn’t seem like she was about to start now. But at his last questions, Hilana realized she may have said too much again, as she brought the bowl of herbs to the counter, though she didn’t add them to the copper teapot just yet. She poured water into the vessel with a practiced eye and a flourish before setting it over the fire.

She had to think about how to put it into words. The budding herbalist knew how she would have said it to the bankers, or even to her father, but those were excuses to hide the fact she wanted to try to help someone and put it in terms that made sense to them. That it was for a business investment. But that wasn’t something she would have ever have told Khyan - it would have been cruel to reduce him to what he could do for her openly, especially when that wasn’t how she felt about it. Despite the circumstances, he was still very much a person. Even if the law said otherwise.

“I was worried,” she admitted finally as she opened her rucksack, tucked out of the way on a shelf before pulling out a waxed bag of fresh pitas and a larger jar of some sort of chicken and chickpea stew. The jar was emptied into a clay bowl, and she set it by the fire to warm up. It didn’t take long for the smells of garlic and onions, of tomato and cumin and paprika, of chicken and lemon to start to take over the already aromatic apothecary. “I know that there are many who have little regard for others here, and malice can be a sport in which others compete,” she added, using a hook to pull the whistling kettle from the fire and adding the herbs to it to start steeping. “And I didn’t want that to happen to you.” She gave the stew a quick stir with a spoon before she used thick gloves to bring the bowl to the table where the pitas waited. Sitting down with him at last, she opened the bag, passing one of them to him and leaving the stack there for him to help himself for when the first was finished, taking another one and ripping off a piece before dipping it into the stew and scooping some up. “Cene bene,” she encouraged him to start.

She didn’t seem entirely satisfied with her own explanation, he would likely be able to tell. But perhaps it was less that she had some malevolent intentions, and more that she was trying to find a way to say it without sounding like she had lost her mind.

Last edited by Hilana Chenzira on Wed Sep 07, 2022 11:21 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 857
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Khyan Nykara
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As the python settled onto him, Khyan let out a strange purring sound through slightly parted lips. It was slightly louder and more open than the purr of a cat, like a rapid, rhythmic clicking. It was derived from arching his tongue up so part was flush to his soft palate and slowly exhaling between. The soft palate would then vibrate against the tongue, creating the purr. It might have just been a peculiarity of his personal anatomy that had always enabled him to create that sound. It may have even been part of what had drawn him toward serpentine forms, as people used to joke that he was a little viper when he'd emit it as a child. People who heard it more recently tended to assume it was a byproduct of his Animus, like the fangs, but such was not the case.

Whatever his reasons for having that ability, he knew that the vibration from his neck would reverberate for the python. The hearing of a snake was different from that of a human, he'd learned firsthand. Every species- even every individual was, of course, different but he had a pretty good idea of what would be appealing to a snake and, from Tiaz' reaction, his effort paid off.

After a few moments, Khyan ceased his purring and glanced up to Hilana at her offer. He did have a large sum stowed away. His father had been savvy enough to plan for that in advance of their fall, but it might be smart to prepare contingency plans. His other stash might be compromised. Besides- If he was ever to rise out of this predicament, he'd have been benefitted from more money than they'd been able to furtively hold onto. The sum was enough to get a life started, but nowhere approaching the life to which he'd grown accustomed.

"That might be worth exploring..." He conceded, reluctantly. He turned his head to watch her go about preparing the food. How often people had prepared food for him, and he'd rarely if ever thought to be grateful for their labours. Now that he dwelt amongst the class most prone to serve, he was more appreciative.

"Gratias." He offered with a faint smile as he broke off a piece of pita and dipped it into the stew. He took a bite of the sauced up piece and placed the rest back down as he chewed.

"My master is an old friend. His father is a hard-hearted old martinet, but Cetus took me on to protect me. I shudder to think what has become of my parents, but... Well, I am quite literally powerless, so..." He took up the pita once more and dipped it again, finishing it off in a few more bites. He didn't seem by any means ravenous. He dined daintily.
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"Sometimes the Short End of the Stick is the Sharpest"
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Hilana Chenzira
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The sound he made fascinated and delighted her. It did sound serpentine to her, and she wondered if it was part of his being an Animus. She resolved to ask him later, when they had the time, but Tiaz certainly reacted well to it, his tongue flickering along the skin of Khyan's jaw. Warm, interesting person that made proper sounds. He may not have had the pheromones of a constrictor, but he had, perhaps, won the python over without them.

Hilana wouldn't pressure him about it. The offer had been made, with the reassurance that it still stood. She knew that if she pushed the matter, it might sour things or come off poorly, and so she was content to let it be. If he made the decision to do it, then she would pay him. She had a feeling that there might be some pride at play, considering how he was raised, and she knew it was important to let him keep some of it. Even should she manage to get her hands on other snakes, there was no such thing as too much venom... Or too much antivenin, for that matter. It was something that they would make good use of, in the cities and beyond the walls.

"I don't know if it is any consolation... but your parents haven't been in the Forums either," she offered once she had swallowed the food in her mouth as she was tearing off another piece of the floury flatbread. "I haven't seen them either on my rounds, and there are a number of older Vasti women who will sit there and watch it all day when the slaves are brought out, to see who is there and who isn't... and so I inquire with them, too. Gossipmongers," she smiled a little at that as she dipped the bread again, enjoying the spiced mixture. Sometimes the old eyes were the sharpest, but Hilana was able to trade teas for aching joints for the bread that they were eating now, and she rather liked the bartering system. It reminded her of the Expanse.

She remembered his expression at her earlier sympathy, and changed the question that she was going to ask him. "If Cetus is your friend, would he know or be able to find out?" she tilted her head. "You are an only child, yes? What was your relationship with your parents like?" she asked him. It may have been a bold question, but he did seem to be concerned for them. Hilana didn't have much of a frame of reference with her own experience with her sire.

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Khyan Nykara
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"No..." Khyan sighed, dispensing some pieces of chicken into the middle of a pita, "They wouldn't be." He spooned a bit of the stew over the chicken, like a sauce, before rolling it all together into a makeshift sandwich.

"Consul..." And he said that title scornfully, applying it to such a flagrant usurper, "Argenti wouldn't deprive himself of the pleasure of humiliating my father personally. I expect that contempt extends to my mother as well, but he doesn't really know me, so he had little reason to deny Cetus' request to take me on. I expect he assumed his son would share his penchant for humiliating the Nykara..." He trailed off, and took a bite of his chicken roll. He let out a contented little sigh through his nose, and waited a moment to voice his next thought. He seemed he wasn't raised to speak with his mouth full.

"Thoughtful of you to explore that, though..." He knitted his brow a bit, unsure as to why he'd made such an impression on the girl. He supposed the nature of their introduction had been an unique one, and perhaps it had particularly stuck out in her mind. He'd have understood it better if he still held his former status, or even if he seemed to have any prospects for reclaiming it. Then her generosity might be well rewarded, but such as things were- She was giving away her resources to a nobody. Worse than a nobody- a pariah. He was grateful, all the same.

"It's just me, yes..." He ran his tongue over his teeth, "I don't suppose you've aught with which to wash this down?" His eyes darted from the table before him over to where she'd prepared the food to see whether a carafe, or better yet a flagon, was visible.

"A bit complicated..." He replied, "I'm closer with my mum. She was a bit more indulgent with my youthful whims, but father was confounded that I wasn't more interested in politics. I told him I'd get round to it, when it seemed more imperative. I know-..." He winced, "Well, I knew my responsibilities well enough- I just wanted to have a bit of fun before duty, well..." He had to chuckle darkly at the word that came to his mind, "Enslaved me."
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Hilana Chenzira
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She listened as he spoke about the intricacies of these politics that were in play such as they involved himself and his parents, as he spoke of the Consul who had managed to take his father’s place. Truth be told, she had never paid much attention to such things, and they were as alien to her as trekking around the deserts on a camel would have been to him. But she knew, at the same time, that these details were important. They filled things in for her that she didn’t know, and the old women that she might sit by and listen to, did not have this information either. Not that she would ever share it; what was said between them would stay between the two of them. Namah’s husband had had political aspirations, last she knew, at least in Tertium in an effort to get himself into the ranks of Solunarium’s political classes. Foolish man.

“Oh! Right, right,” Hilana set her pita down and returned to her rucksack, crouching down and pulling from it two bottles that were slightly bigger than individual serving ale bottles. “Here,” she offered him one, the liquid contents were a rich purple as Hilana sat back down. She knew the tea would hardly be cool enough to drink without scalding him, and she really should have thought first… “I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it,” she apologized. There was a faintly sweet scent to the drink contained within, without being overly sweet. “My mentor has been trying his hand at brewing, and this is one of his attempts. Blackberry mead. Vasilei didn’t like it, I did, so…” she shrugged with a bit of a downright impish grin. They were getting some libation, at least. One thing was for sure, while the flavours of the drink were pretty well balanced for a honey wine, it kicked like a camel.

Her grin faded as he talked about his relationships with his parents. In truth, she hadn’t known what to expect in that regard, but she was curious. “It’s hard,” Hilana nodded in commiseration. “Fathers demand a lot of their children, and I expect he put a lot of pressure on you as his only child and his heir. One of my old guardians… used to say that it was that many fathers fear their children not being ready for the world, but they know iron sharpens iron. Doesn’t always work out the way they want it to, does it?” She smiled a bit wryly, opening up her bottle and tipping it towards him in a toast. “To those of us who didn’t toe their lines,” she took a sip and exhaled as the blackberry flavours hit her tongue before setting it down and picking up her pita again. Hilana hadn’t had the same pressure on her, at least. The youngest surviving child, she had been the black sheep from the start, an unholy terror that had no relationship worth speaking of with any of her immediate family. “But… your not doing as he wanted surely saved you from the current Consul, since you said he doesn’t know much of you. If you were more active with your father and the political arena… you might not be here now. But the wheel always turns. And it will turn again.”

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Khyan Nykara
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“Ah! But that sounds splendid!” Placing down the remaining half of his pita wrap, Khyan wiped his hands together to cast off excess flour. His response was a bit more that of the pampered noble accustomed to being served than his current predicament might warrant, but it was nice to feel a modicum of familiarity in his new situation. He would take it where he could and, if Hilana didn’t balk, he would make miles of inches offered.

He took the bottle greedily and gulped down a good opening portion, before placing it down with a satisfied sigh as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He’d been a heavy drinker, though not so much of late and he hadn’t been particularly drawn to sweet things for how easily they went down and how hard they came back up. But day drinking was another formerly familiar pastime that he welcomed back with vigour.

“Well, I think the toughest thing about my father is that he treated me so starkly differently from everyone else. I couldn’t even get sympathy from anyone who knew him, because hew such a bloody charmer! I swear- if the Crown truly wants to bring the wyrms back into the fold, they should send Khyos into the Thalamum Draconum, and they’ll join Her Radiance’s small council inside an hour.” He sighed in irritation and took another gulp of mead.

“Plus he’s so bloody handsome! He’s half Platinum, which you don’t see in his features, but he’s aging like marble. I had to stop bringing friends round our house, because they’d be so distracted they’d forget I was there.” It was a rapid twist away from frustration, but all at once Khyan’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes welled with tears.

“Gods, I hope they’re all right.” His hand clenched the neck of the bottle and a tear slipped his right eye, sliding down his cheek to land on Tiaz’s scales. He took another sharp swig of wine, before reluctantly handing the bottle off to Hilana. “Anyway…” He wiped the errant tear trail from his face and nodded.

“Quite right. I shall have to say, ‘I told you so’ next time I see him.” His jaw clenched.

If… I see him.”
word count: 393
"Sometimes the Short End of the Stick is the Sharpest"
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